#that is too many cousins to not be in contact with any of them

[seitmai]

Ahh so many thoughts

Steve Rogers left you in your hotel room, a quivering emotional, mess.

I hope hehas left as quivering, emotional mess too 🤭

A lot happened in a short amount of time that caused you to deny your feelings for him. And now you were no longer trying to keep him out. 

Good for her!

He was definitely a distraction, but now you couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer. You just needed to be a woman about it and tell him.

Yeah let's woman up 💪🏻

Steve had to stop himself from going back up to your room three times after he left.

As he should 😌🤭

He finally exited the hotel and stalked down the street back to the Rebirth building to his car and pulled out his phone, dialing Bucky and pulling out of the garage. “Remember that shopping trip we took a few weeks ago? For the ring?”

Before you thought too hard, you sent it to Steve, then jumped in bed and pulled the covers over your head with that feeling of dread and panic when you don’t know if you’ve done something supremely reckless or not.

Literally me every time I send a message that stresses me out for various reasons haha (most of the time it's just my anxiety lol)

“It absofuckinlutely was. You’re joking about it being the wrong thread, right? That is mine, correct?” You shivered at his double meaning and at his possessiveness. “Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

👀

“You can have whatever you want...”  A sense of power flooded Steve’s body, both heady and intoxicating at your admission. “You should be very careful when you make that offer, Peach,” he said softly.  “I trust you.” 

They're jumping straight in

This man was wearing a corduroy suit and he made it look damn good.  And he made you feral.

Valid 🤷🏻‍♀️

You decided to give your cousin a hard time to prevent yourself from becoming a simp. “You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

Hahaha ballsy coming from a woman that just almost drooled over a corduroy suit 😂

She didn’t look at you as you yanked her chain. She just continued to follow Bucky’s every move and lit up when he glanced her way. She was gone, girl.

Let them be! They are in love🥰

His smile when you made eye contact knocked the breath out of your lungs. In that moment, you realized that you were in love with Steven Grant Rogers. 

Yeah and making fun of others being in love just a few minutes before 🤭

“Hush, I’m trying to get the dirt. Now Nico, tell the truth…” Steve sat back and listened to your unhinged behavior on the drive over to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Your spirit and your laugh made him warm inside, despite the cold day.

Haha love that she interrogates Nico and Steve is just sitting there watching her like 🥰😍

“I know Nico wouldn’t crack, but I could tell from the way he went red. Those whores….” “Literal Freaks,” replied Steve. “Bunny is an appropriate nickname for him, because he and your cousin…” 

Hahahha 😂

“Beautiful,” you murmured. And then you noticed that he was looking at you.

I'm swooning 🥰

“I want to capture the way your nose crinkles when you're annoyed, or how you're gripping the bench like you're about to get up and run.”

It's in the details 🤭

Steve’s eyes lit up and he reached for you, pulling you into his lap as his lips crashed into yours. His hands were everywhere. He tugged you closer as he kissed you and both hands came down to grab your ass and pull you onto his erection. His desire for you was apparent. When you broke apart, you chased his lips and then kissed him again, greedy.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

“I’ve been ready. Been yours for a while, now Peach. Since the day I saw you…” His voice was gentle and he was looking at you like you were fine porcelain. You felt so safe in his arms. He pulled back to look you in the eye.

“What if I don’t want you to behave? Like you said, you have the pavilion reserved. You can bend me over the bench and fuck me raw. Right here.” Steve’s pupils took over his eyes and his jaw clenched. Your stomach dropped as he looked as if he was about to do just as you suggested. But he took a deep breath and smiled. “We’ll explore that kink later. Our first time needs to be in private.”

Yeah let's just put a pin into it 🤭

“Your heart's beating so fast,” you whispered.  “You do that to me, Peach.” “Really?” you questioned, suddenly unsure of yourself. “You have no idea how much power you have, do you?” 

I'm swooning

“Oh god, Steve. I- I love you too.” Your smile blinded him. If he blinked it was because of that. Not that he was going to cry. Not at all. 

Yeah, absolutely not because of any tears 🤭

Then, he pulled his underwear down, eyes on your face for your reaction. It was classic, your mouth hinged open and your eyes were like saucers. There was no way anyone could be that perfect.

🤭🤭🤭

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby.”

Is that a promise? 😉🤭

 Inch after thick inch, he claimed you, stretched you, with a delicious push/pull of pleasure/pain. His length was one thing, but his girth was everything.

🥵🥵🥵

“You want me to cum inside you? You trying to have my baby?” “Unnnnnnghhhh! Maybe….” 

That's not no 👀

“I would die for you, Y/N L/N,” Steve murmured against your temple, panting. He held you tight, carding his fingers in your hair. “I promise to keep you safe, and give you everything you need, I promise you that.” “I believe you, Steve. I trust that.”

Ahh finally, them are making so much progress 🥰

“Hmmmmm. I’d have to marry you before I answered that question.” Your heart slammed against your chest and your eyes went wide in the dark.

Huh? 👀

"You can’t be compelled to testify against your spouse. It was a joke, Peach.”

Yeah, a joke, right👀

“Do you… are you saying that you want to get married?” Steve thought about the ring that he had at his penthouse.

Omg

“Nah… what we looking like just up and getting married like that? We hardly know each other.” “True. But when you know, you know.” Steve kissed you and the small amount of logic in your brain was rapidly dissipating. “Would it make us look crazy…?” You could sense Steve’s smile in the dark. “…Or would it be so beautiful?” He replied.

Omg this conversation between them is everything! They so are gonna get hitched right away!! And everyone will think it's crazy, except for them because they think it's beautiful 🥰😌 and you know who else is gonna find it beautiful? A certain cousin and best friend, because this is gonna be the last push for Bucky to get down on one knee too 🤭

“If you ask me, I’m ready…” The light switched on and you were staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Steve Rogers.

I have a feeling that he is on one knee or getting dressed speeding to his penthouse to geta certain thing 🤭😍

Peach VI

Peach V | Peach VII

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. You two FINALLY admit your feelings for one another and seal the deal. But how far are you willing to go for this love?

Pairing: Art Dealer/Artist/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: This is it! I hope the smut is up to par. When I tell you I’ve agonized about this. But thank you to all who were in my inbox and dms giving me encouragement this week. Love you bunches! ❤️

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach V. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angst. Slow burn, Mutual pining, idiots in love, eye fucking, Steve Rogers is an artist, y'all!, sending (almost) nudes, phone sex, possessive Steve, references to shibari, mutual masturbation, pining, references to sex in a car, the "L" word, oral (f recieving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple play, size kink, pleasurable pain with sex, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, Lil bit of Dom Steve if you squint, references to murder. Something big may or may not happen after the last line.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

Steve Rogers left you in your hotel room, a quivering emotional, mess.

He’d made you cum, hard, but you felt that he was holding back, that if you’d told him how you felt it would have been so much better.

Or maybe that was all in your mind. Steven Grant Rogers was on your mind since you met him as Grant Stevens in Atlanta.

A lot happened in a short amount of time that caused you to deny your feelings for him. And now you were no longer trying to keep him out. 

He was definitely a distraction, but now you couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer. You just needed to be a woman about it and tell him.

What’s the worst that could happen? You weren’t going to marry the guy, you just want to explore these mutual feelings. It shouldn’t be complicated.

Right?

You still had the rest of the week in New York to stress out about it, so that was a plus. The afternoon was ahead of you and the next day was the Summitt.

After that, you had your one on one with Steve.

Bucky told you about Steve being an artist himself during your meeting with him. So, for your meeting with Steve, you requested that you see some of his artwork, and he agreed.

You were curious to see what he could create, and you were anxious and turned on at the thought of him as a creator.

You were so into Steve Rogers.

And you didn’t know what you were going to do about that.

—--

Steve had to stop himself from going back up to your room three times after he left. He finally exited the hotel and stalked down the street back to the Rebirth building to his car and pulled out his phone, dialing Bucky and pulling out of the garage.

He needed a drive and a little alone time to clear his head and come down from you, but he also needed his friend’s help.

“Wassssaaaap! Did you get the–”

Steve cut Bucky off.

“Remember that shopping trip we took a few weeks ago? For the ring?”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Meet me on 47th street.”

—-

That afternoon, you just kept your distance from Sharon and ignored her, focusing on the task at hand and all business. You didn’t want to waste energy on her.

Your energy was spent on thinking about Steve and wondering if he was thinking of you too. You wanted to text him, but you were chilling. You didn’t want to seem to eager.

You were successful in your self control until 11 pm as you tossed and turned in your hotel king bed. Doubts, but mostly need and desire, coursed through you. 

You were going to find out exactly what Steve was doing right now and who he might be with. You shook your head at how much you cared; it was definitely not something you regularly did. You were used to feening for someone.

You were choosing violence as you posed on the bed in front of the mirror. You sat on the bed, crossed your legs and snapped a picture.

You weren’t naked, but your panties were skin tone and your sleep bra was sheer and you were feeling needy.

Before you thought too hard, you sent it to Steve, then jumped in bed and pulled the covers over your head with that feeling of dread and panic when you don’t know if you’ve done something supremely reckless or not.

—

Steve was ready for the Summit, but he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Sleep was elusive, so he was self medicating, sketching your body from memory of mostly touch.

His phone vibrated and he almost didn’t pick it up, but when he saw your name, his heart sped up.

He clicked through to your message and his heart started hammering in his chest. 

Sorry, wrong thread.

The picture you sent along threatened to give him a heart attack. He zoomed in a couple of times and then read the message again. What the fuck?

——-

In less than a minute your phone was ringing. You picked up immediately.

“Don’t fucking play with me, Peach.”

Steve’s growl got you wet, but you instantly regretted your horny decisions.

“It was a mistake.”

“It absofuckinlutely was. You’re joking about it being the wrong thread, right? That is mine, correct?”

You shivered at his double meaning and at his possessiveness.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

Your voice was needy and that awakened a hunger in Steve. He was beyond frustrated that he wasn’t there to spank your ass raw, but he remained quiet.

You sensed his mood.

“If I were there, I’d make it up to you…”

You were testing the waters, experimenting to see if he would give you what you wanted despite his annoyance.

If he would give you what you needed.

“What would you do?” 

Steve’s baritone was silk in your ear.

“What?” 

You suddenly found that you couldn’t breathe.

“What would you do if you were here?”

“I’d kiss you,” you rushed out in a whisper.

Steve paused, letting your sentence hang in the air.

“And?” 

There was an edge to the question. 

“And… My lips. All over you.” 

Fuck, he was hard. Just a few words in your husky voice, and Steve delirious, imagining his hands in your hair as you kissed him.

“Where?” he asked mercilessly, his voice broken with lust.

“Everywhere…your face, your neck, your nipples, your abs. Your cock.” 

You were definitely not a virgin, but you were blushing through the phone although your hand was rubbing the skin at the edge of your underwear.

“Want you in my throat.” 

Steve had to concentrate to stay hard. 

“Oh? What if I want more than that?” 

“You can have whatever you want...” 

A sense of power flooded Steve’s body, both heady and intoxicating at your admission.

“You should be very careful when you make that offer, Peach,” he said softly. 

“I trust you.” 

Holy fuck. Why did that mean everything to him?  He cleared his throat.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered.

“Okay.” 

You complied so readily, it made Steve even harder.

Your clit was so hard as you circled it.

“Are you wet, Sweetheart?” 

You moaned and Steve reached into his sweats and curled his fingers around his aching cock.

“My pussy is so messy for you, Mr. Rogers,” you whispered, thrilled and afraid of how much you wanted him. 

Steve rolled his eyes as his cocked jerked for you.

“Such a good little slut.” 

“Fuck…” 

You realized the breath you’d been holding as you listened for his voice.

“Your pussy is so beautiful Peach. And god, you taste so good. Just like a sweet peach.”

Steve knew he had you in the palm of his hand. But fuck, you had him in yours too. 

“But your cunt is so tiny. I’m gonna needs to get you ready for me, Baby.”

“Is it going to hurt me?” you whined. 

Steve was about to explode at your little innocent voice asking the most nasty question.

“Yes, Peach. It is,” he growled as your anticipation reached 100.

Your breath sped up and so did your fingers. Steve grunted, his fist moving faster, thumb swiping the copious dribbles of precum dripping from his slit.

He should have known it was over as soon as he opened your message.

Hot sex was happening.

Electronically.

As the coil in your belly wind tighter, you realized with both joy and dismay that you were addicted.

“Steve, “m so close…” 

“Of course you are.” 

Steve soaked up your cute little sex sounds, thirsty for more. 

“You know what I’m thinking about, Doll?” 

A shaky breath was your only response. Steve continued.

“I think I want to tie you up. Silk ropes all over you, pretty little knots. I’d tie your arms behind your back, so those tits would sit up pretty for me to slap, lick and suck. That ass would be tied up so sweet and open so I could eat it.”

Your eyes rolled at the sensations his words and your fingers were sending to your clit. 

“I’d fuck your throat and cum all over that soft, sweet body. Over and over, while I tease your greedy little cunt. I want to see it drip down your delicious nipples, your belly, your hungry pussy, your pretty face. I need to see all of you covered in my cum. Everywhere, marking you as mine…Mine.” 

You gasped, and then moaned and your entire body tightened up then released.

Your mouth hinged open as you came. 

“Mine,” Steve hissed, tightening the knots around you both and jerking his cock until cum spurted out. He listened to your breathing and knew that you’d just cum as well. 

Suddenly, he missed you.

“You good, Peach?”

You hesitated.You heard the yearning in his voice and you wanted to be in his arms, but you lied to him anyway.

“Yeah.”

Steve smiled at you. He shook his head even though you couldn’t see.

“Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.”

“Night Steve.”

—---

You needed a distraction.

Steve looked so delicious this morning, sitting on stage and serving art intellectual in a dark turtleneck and brown corduroy suit. A suit that was tailored to the detriment of everyone who looked at him. 

Holy shit.

This man was wearing a corduroy suit and he made it look damn good.  

And he made you feral.

You decided to give your cousin a hard time to prevent yourself from becoming a simp.

“You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

She didn’t look at you as you yanked her chain. She just continued to follow Bucky’s every move and lit up when he glanced her way. She was gone, girl.

You teased her some more until you saw Steve. You sighed and gazed at him, straightening your spine as you remembered how he made you cum twice yesterday. And he’d hardly touched you. 

As if sensing your gaze, Steve’s head turned. Those mesmerizing blue eyes locked with yours, and the rest of the world disappeared in an instant. For a moment, you were frozen. Pinned in your seat by his magnetism.

This feeling was so heady.

When you realized you’d been caught staring Steve down, you tried to change the unspoken subject.

“Bucky is pretty much the man.”

“Fucking-A.” 

Her chuckle was all-knowing. Then she read you.

“Steve is the shit too.”

You couldn’t front anymore.

“He’s amazing. I had no idea about everything that he does. Have to say, I’m impressed.”

She was speechless and so were you. You both continued enjoying the forum when your phone buzzed.

You look beautiful today. You’re my favorite thing to study. Can’t wait for today’s art experience. Meet me at the Laguardia Place entrance immediately after the talk. Sunlight is precious.

You were his favorite thing to study!

You waited on the edge of your seat until the end of the summit. Then you were up and walking out toward the entrance post haste.

The hair on the back of your neck raised when you saw Steve watching you from the door of Rosenthal Pavilion.

His smile when you made eye contact knocked the breath out of your lungs.

In that moment, you realized that you were in love with Steven Grant Rogers. 

Holy hell.

His deep voice greeted you as you arrived.

“I’m anxious to get started.”

Steve searched your face and found a different look from the partially closed off expression you’d showed him since Thanksgiving.

Your face was open and trusting. His heart did a funny thing in his chest. It was almost too good to be true.

Could you love him, too?

He tempered his mood with sensible words, filling the space that he wanted to fill with romantic declarations.

“I’m going to take you to my favorite artistic landmark in the city. I’ve loved it since I was a boy.”

You smiled up at him and took his hand.

“Let’s not waste any more time.”

—--

The driver that was taking you and Steve to your meeting place was the same one who picked you up from the airport. The one that your cousin knew so well. 

You stared at the back of his head and then glanced over at Steve. He raised his eyebrow at you because of the look on your face. You grinned back, then leaned forward to tap the driver on the shoulder.

“So… Nico…” 

Your eyes cut over to Steve with a mischievous look. His heart beat out of his chest at the joy you were serving him along with your chaos. 

“You ever drive my cousin and Bucky around the city?”

Nico stole a look at you and smiled.

“Yes ma’am. All the time.”

“Do they ever do the nasty back here…?”

Nico laughed heartily as Steve shook his head.

“Peach…”

You shushed Steve.

“Hush, I’m trying to get the dirt. Now Nico, tell the truth…”

Steve sat back and listened to your unhinged behavior on the drive over to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Your spirit and your laugh made him warm inside, despite the cold day.

—-

Nico stopped the car at the Washington Avenue entrance to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Steve got out, shouldered his backpack, and then reached for your gloved hand with his own.

For some reason, you felt like a princess as you stepped on the path. The air was crisp, and there were traces of snow lingering on the ground.

You came out of the car chattering and laughing, making Steve’s heart light.

“I know Nico wouldn’t crack, but I could tell from the way he went red. Those whores….”

“Literal Freaks,” replied Steve. “Bunny is an appropriate nickname for him, because he and your cousin…” 

Steve shook his head and rolled his eyes, although he fantasized about christening the backseat of the Lincoln for you and him.

The wrought-iron gate creaked softly behind you as you entered the Garden, and you looked around in wonder as the gravel path crunched beneath your boots. A magnificent metal and glass structure was in front of you.

“This is the Steinhardt Conservatory. Wait until you see the inside.”

Steve smiled and took your hand as you stepped through the glass doors into sudden warmth shaking your head at him. 

There was a heavy scent of flowers and a haze of the waning rays of sunlight beaming through the glass panels overhead. It gave everything golden highlights, including you and Steve. 

You squeezed his hand as you looked around in awe. 

“Beautiful,” you murmured.

And then you noticed that he was looking at you. 

“Yes…”

You grew warm as you looked into his gorgeous blue eyes.

“It’s like a completely different world in here.”

“It’s our world for the moment. Just you and me.”

He wanted to add the word Forever, but he didn’t. You felt it though.

You started on an indoor path and Steve pointed out the unique flowers and plants in his warm baritone. You were impressed, again, with how much he knew.

Steve Rogers was not a stereotypical mobster. This was a man who followed a path in life that landed him where he didn’t want to be and was trying to make up for it. 

As he spoke, Steve drew you into his enthusiasm, and you found yourself smiling and relaxing, asking questions and marveling at the vast indoor space. 

When you came to a small alcove furnished with a wooden bench and beneath a sprawling magnolia tree, Steve stopped and took his backpack off his shoulder, and then taking off his coat and draping it over the bench as you did the same.

"Please, sit." 

His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the subtle command.

You hesitated. 

"Why?"

"So I can sketch you."

Your stomach did an odd little flip. 

"Here? Now? I wanted to see your sketches, not be your sketches."

You performed on stage in front of hundreds with barely no clothes on and you were so nervous to let Steve Rogers sketch you with winter layers of clothes on. What was wrong with you?

Steve raised his eyebrow and his gaze swept up your body slowly, making you shiver. Clothes couldn’t stop the intimate of that look.

“Too late for that.”

You raised your eyebrow at him and you felt irrationally happy. Steve had drawn you.

“Do you not trust me?”

You regarded him, guardian your reaction because you didn’t want to seem too eager.

“I do Steve. I trust you.”

It was true.

Steve smiled. 

“Then please, sit down.”

You gave in with a sigh and lowered yourself onto the bench. 

"Fine," you muttered. "But no weird artistic liberties. I better have a nose."

Steve chuckled, flipping open the sketchbook. 

"I make no promises."

You watched as he proceeded to balance the sketchbook against his bended knee. Then he looked at you seriously, holding your gaze for a moment before his attention returned to the page, and his pencil began gliding effortlessly across the paper. 

His thick fingers were surprisingly agile, moving with long, sure strokes. But then again, you shouldn’t have been surprised, with the way his fingers had previously made you feel…

For a few moments, the only sound was the soft scratch of his pencil against paper. 

You attempted to sit still, staring at the plants around you. You also tried to pretend that you weren’t aware of the way he studied you with that relentless focus, switching his gaze between you and the sketchbook.

After a few minutes, Steve made a soft noise, something between a hum and a chuckle.

“What?” you asked, turning your head and narrowing your eyes at him.

“Nothing.” 

He didn’t look up. But he spoke.

“It’s just... you’re trying so hard not to move, but you’re fidgeting anyway.”

You caught the hint of humor in his tone and it made you a little too happy again, so you decided to cause problems. 

"Well, maybe if you didn’t look at me like that.”

"Like what?" 

His lips curled into a knowing smirk, looking up at you quickly, then back down.

You fidgeted again.

"You know…"

Steve chuckled, deep and low and shook his head.

"Oh. Am I ‘sparkling my eyes at you again?’”

You scowled at him and he laughed.

“I'm an artist, Peach. I study form." 

His eyes traced up and down your body, lighting you on fire again.

You clenched your thighs together to fight the flow of arousal threatening your thighs. This was dangerous. Steve was dangerous.

"You're insufferable, Steven."

“Well, can you suffer on a little longer, so I can capture more detail?”

You cocked your head in that adorable way.

“What details do you need?”

“I need…” 

Steve looked at you like he needed all of you. 

And he did. 

“I want to capture the way your nose crinkles when you're annoyed, or how you're gripping the bench like you're about to get up and run.”

You unclenched your hands and sat back.

“You’re making me nervous.”

He tapped his pencil against the sketchbook. Then he looked down again to continue drawing.

"Interesting."

"What is?"

He licked those red lips of his and your eyes tracked the movement.

"The fact that I make you nervous."

The way he was looking at you made butterflies riot in your stomach. That special electricity was buzzing around you both. 

Suddenly, his pencil stopped. Then, without warning, he reached out, brushing his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your face slightly.

You stiffened.

"Hold still," he murmured. 

His thumb ghosted over the curve of your jaw and settled at the edge of your throat.

Your breath hitched.

Steve’s eyes were dark now and his voice was softer when he spoke again, but there was an edge to it now, hinting at something rough beneath the surface.

“You always do this?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“React like this when someone touches you.”

You pursed your lips together and shook your head. 

Just you.

"You’re doing it again," he mused as he stroked the side of your throat with his thumb.

"What, Mr. Rogers?"

You were about to combust. He clenched his jaw and increased the pressure of his fingers on your neck.

"Fighting it."

"I- I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You do," he intoned, his voice stern.

"Don’t hide from me, Peach." 

Your pulse beat beneath his fingertips.

"You think I don’t notice how you react to me?" 

Steve’s hand grasped your throat, pressing more firmly before he let go.

"Hold. Still," he murmured, those blue, blue eyes stormy.

His fingers tilted your face up with authority now. You froze for a moment as his thumb came up to pull your chin down to open your mouth.

“Breathe.”

He slowly pulled his hand away and you had to stop yourself from chasing his touch. 

Steve clenched his jaw, trying to restrain himself. If he had to guess, you were wet and ready for him to do whatever he wanted to you right now. But he willed himself to be patient. 

He picked up his pencil again, rolling it between his fingers, like nothing had happened. 

"Good girl," he offered to the page as he returned to his sketch.

Steve knew what he was doing. Knew exactly how much he affected you. You waited impatiently, clenching your thighs together desperately as his pencil continued to scratch on the paper. 

"Done," he said, as he lifted the sketchbook toward you.

You gasped as you looked at the page. 

The drawing was stunning. Steve had captured you with uncanny accuracy, from the curve of your parted lips to the shading of the different colors in your eyes. The hollow of your throat seemed to pulse, and you could almost see the indentations of his fingers. 

The portrait was beautiful. And it told you everything you needed to know about how he felt.

“This is… how can I thank you?”

Steve’s heart flipped in his chest as he reached out and grabbed your waist, pulling you toward him on the bench.

"Steve…"

His eyes went to your mouth.

"Say that again," he murmured, barely above a whisper.

Your whole body was burning, but you stayed quiet. You were paralyzed with the possibilities.

"No? Too shy now?"

His voice made you impossibly wet. If you gave in, you were about to get everything you didn’t know that you wanted. And that scared you.

You let out a shaky breath. 

"Steve."

Something flickered behind his eyes. Something hot.

“Have I told you that I love the way you say my name?”

His hand came up again against your side, slowly, more deliberate. His fingers moved over the curve of your side, and slid against your breast, his thumb ghosting over your nipple.

He continued, tracing over your cleavage and finally landing against your throat again, pressing against your pulse and driving you crazy.

"You're shaking," he murmured, voice low, thick with need.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and gave you a kiss against your throat. And he lingered, lips warm against your skin, before pulling back just enough to smile against your skin.

Your whimper told him so much. 

"You act so tough, but you’re so easy to ruin."

You raised your arms and pulled him close, fingers playing at the nape clutching the hair spilling over his collar.

“You made me this way, Steve. And I don’t want you to stop.”

His now dark blue eyes searched yours as his fingers tightened on your waist. 

“What does that mean, Peach?”

He’d pulled you closer, his eyes on your face as he waited for your answer. The anticipation was so much. He huffed and then dove into the curve of your neck, inhaling and tasting you there, as if he couldn’t help himself. His large hands palmed your breasts, pressing your nipples insistently.

“Oh…my….Steve!”

You squirmed in his grip.

“I asked you a question. Do I need to stop touching you so you can answer?”

“Please, no, Steve. Need you...”

You were the queen of changing the subject.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

His lips were on the curve of your jaw, so close to your lips. You whined. He cocked his eyebrow, the question not so silent.

You huffed, making your decision to go for it as your hands came to the side of his face so that he knew your intentionality. You wanted to look into his eyes when you said it.

“Moment of honesty? I want you Steve. I feel…I want to be yours. Really been yours since you put your hands on me in Atalanta. I can’t categorize or control this feeling. So I’m giving in. Are you ready for the chaos that is me being yours?”

Steve’s eyes lit up and he reached for you, pulling you into his lap as his lips crashed into yours. His hands were everywhere. He tugged you closer as he kissed you and both hands came down to grab your ass and pull you onto his erection. His desire for you was apparent.

When you broke apart, you chased his lips and then kissed him again, greedy.

“I’ve been ready. Been yours for a while, now Peach. Since the day I saw you…”

His voice was gentle and he was looking at you like you were fine porcelain. You felt so safe in his arms. He pulled back to look you in the eye.

“And this feeling? This is exactly how it should feel when it's meant to be.”

He kissed you again and his mouth took possession of yours in a way that was tender, yet full of promise. 

“I gotta let you know that if you’re mine, I’m gonna give you what you need. When you need it. Do you want that? Do you trust me with that?”

This was the important question.

“Yes, please. I want that, Mr. Rogers, sir. And I trust you.” 

"That’s so fucking hot… but I’m trying to behave. Even though I reserved the pavilion just for us, we’re still in a public place,” he murmured. 

His voice was calm, controlled. But those sea blue eyes told a different story.

"You call this behaving?"

You rolled your hips against his cock. Steve kissed you again and let out a sexy chuckle, then stood you both up, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"If I wasn’t," he murmured, "you’d already be begging me for more." 

You linked your arms around his neck and looked up at him as the cutest woman on earth.

“What if I don’t want you to behave? Like you said, you have the pavilion reserved. You can bend me over the bench and fuck me raw. Right here.”

Steve’s pupils took over his eyes and his jaw clenched. Your stomach dropped as he looked as if he was about to do just as you suggested. But he took a deep breath and smiled.

“We’ll explore that kink later. Our first time needs to be in private.”

Steve reached for your coat and helped you with it before putting his own on and gathering his things. He took your hand and led you out and across the grounds. He pointed to a familiar building. 

“Your hotel is right there. Or do you want me to call Nico to take us to my place?”

You looked up at Steve as your breath vaporized in the cold air.

“We need my hotel. I’m ready. Right now.”

—--

You were in your room again, not entirely sure how you arrived, the journey through the park hurried and full of anticipation. You weren’t thinking too hard, you just knew you needed Steve. Immediately.

You were pushing his coat and blazer off his body and feeling his chest. The steady thrum of his pulse tapped a staccato in your palm.

“Your heart's beating so fast,” you whispered. 

“You do that to me, Peach.” 

“Really?” you questioned, suddenly unsure of yourself.

“You have no idea how much power you have, do you?” 

“Me?” you asked in a small voice. 

Steve nodded.

“You drive me crazy. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” 

It was confession time.

“It’s you that has the power, Steve. I can't stop thinking about you. Your voice gets me there.” 

You felt tongue tied as you told him your raw feelings, all the while taking off your and his clothes. 

“Sometimes I — I think I'm going to cum just from hearing you speak. Today, at NYU, I could hardly sit still. You're like a drug, pulling all my attention.” 

Steve’s shirt was off now and you were in your bra and he pulled you near him to get his mouth on your tits.

“When I'm near you, I'm so hard it aches.”

 “Really?” you whispered. “Are you aching right now?” 

Steve groaned as you pulled back to unzip your skirt and take off your boots. He leaned back against the wall and palmed his crotch over his pants. 

“Like you wouldn't believe.” 

Steve couldn’t believe that he had you here like this, giving yourself to him. He had to tell you the truth.

“Look at me, Peach.”

You looked into his eyes.

“I’m In love with you.”

His rough voice pulled an involuntary sound from you. 

“You're mine, Peach You always have been.

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart thudded against yor ribs.

“Oh god, Steve. I- I love you too.”

Your smile blinded him. If he blinked it was because of that. Not that he was going to cry. 

Not at all. 

He laughed as an expression of joy and then your lips met.

The kiss wasn't soft or sweet. This was feral, sharp, and intense. You moaned into his mouth, sucking his bottom lip into yours as he unhooked your bra.

“I fucking want you,” you whimpered into his mouth. 

Steve smiled against your lips.

“Good, cause I fucking need you, my sweet Peach.”

Steve stood, looming over you, all big and fucking magnificent. The vision of him, all lithe muscles covered in smooth skin, and light feathering of hair making its way down his torso, between the defined planes of his abs and into his waistband, was… Good Lord.

You licked your lips, mouth instantly dry. 

Steve’s mouth hooked up on one side as his fingers worked his belt and fly. His pants fell in a matter of seconds, and there he was, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.

Steve was all thick thighs, and long, powerful legs, his hand slowly stroking himself over the sizable bulge in his underwear. 

You gaped at him. 

Then, he pulled his underwear down, eyes on your face for your reaction. It was classic, your mouth hinged open and your eyes were like saucers. There was no way anyone could be that perfect.

His dick was long and wide, at least eight or nine inches, and curved eloquently (if a dick could do that) against his abs. It was so pretty and your mouth watered for it at the same time your pussy clenched, as you were thinking he was correct. You would struggle to take him.

His smirked deepened as he reached for you and pulled your panties down slowly, his short fingernails scratching your legs and making you shiver.

For a moment he just stared, drinking in the sight of you spread before him

“Fucking sublime,” Steve breathed, the words filled with reverence. 

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby.” 

He leaned over you and set about doing just that, kissing you deep and filthy, tongue diving to claim every inch of your mouth. You cried out, scratching at his broad shoulders as he suckled and nipped, worshiping your breasts until you were mindless with sensation. 

Steve took his time tracing your torso with his lips, teeth and tongue, learning your body and  paying attention to every sigh of pleasure as he climbed down your body.

The press of his mouth to your pussy made your back arch, and a ragged moan escape your mouth. Steve growled into you, the vibrations running through your soaked cunt.

He parted your pussy lips with his thumbs, and dove to lick your clit with the hot velvet of his tongue. 

Slow, thorough licks made you writhe beneath him. 

“That’s it,” he whispered, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Ride my face, Sweetheart. Fuck my mouth ‘til you cum all over it.” 

You arched like a bow as he latched on to your clit and sucked, two thick fingers thrusting deep to stroke along your inner wall. His practiced fingers found your g-spot and massaged it ruthlessly, curling and scissoring until you sobbed his name.

“Love when you call my name, Peach.”

He looked at you like you were something to be worshipped, and then continued what he was doing. When Steve bit down gently on your clit, your orgasm crashed over you in a burst of white light. 

You shuddered through the aftershocks, trembling as Steve lapped at your folds. Each lick sent a jolt of electricity through you, on the edge of too much. 

Rising to his knees, the thick, heavy length of him rose up again, even more swollen and glistening at the tip. 

Steve notched the thick head of his cock at your entrance and his eyes crossed as he slowly sank into your tight, dripping heat. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Inch after thick inch, he claimed you, stretched you, with a delicious push/pull of pleasure/pain. His length was one thing, but his girth was everything.

When he bottomed out, you both groaned at the intensity of the connection. He looked you in our eyes as your hearts pounded in sync, your breaths mingling as you got used to his size.

“I’ve never felt so full, Stevie…”

You quivered in his arms. And he knew that he was utterly possessed by you. It was more than just physical; it was an overwhelming sense of rightness. 

“Perfect,” Steve rasped.

“So fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart. Like you were made for me.”

He dropped his head and trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, pausing to suck hard at your pulse point. 

“Please,” you whimpered, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable. “Move.”

“As you wish.” he whispered, brows knitted together. 

You whimpered and your hands grasped the sheets as he started to move. He bent and sucked your nipple hard, causing a jolt of electricity through your body. Your brain was cloudy and your scratched his back as your eyes shuttered closed.

“Open your eyes, Peach,” Steve ordered darkly. 

As he looked you in your beautiful eyes, Steve couldn’t hold back any longer. He started increasing his pace until he was fucking you roughly, pushing your knees to your chest. 

“Yes.. feels so good Steve. Oh my godddddd, fuck me!”

Steve’s eyes roamed your body as he did as you asked. Your beautiful breasts bounced. The bed knocked against the wall and you gasped for breath, your face transfixed on the eye contact between you and Steve.

He was lost, one hand gripped your hair, and the other braced on the headboard. He fucked you hard, grinding against your clit with every stroke. 

You were whimpering, on the verge of screaming as you two made noise up and down the hotel hallway.

He leaned up and grasped your throat, gritting his teeth as he asked a question.

“You want me to cum inside you? You trying to have my baby?”

“Unnnnnnghhhh! Maybe….” 

You opened your eyes and pouted up at him.

“Paint my walls, Steve...”

Steve choked on air as he spurted hot cum into your welcoming pussy, but he pulled out, shooting the last jet of cum on your clit and pussy lips. Then, like a heathen, he bent between your thighs and started licking. 

You sobbed, writhing as he devoured you. 

“Need to eat you more than anything, my sweet, sweet Peach. 

“Steve, Stevie… oh my god!” 

You clutched his hair, tugging sharply. It was too much.

“Oh my God. Please Steveeeee!” 

He raised his head, grinning as you fully collapsed, limp and spent. Your pussy was tender, your face flushed, your eyes gleaming. 

You were eautiful.

You looked at him and shook your head as he took you in his arms. 

“Are you mine?” 

“Yes,” you whimpered out. 

“I would die for you, Y/N L/N,” Steve murmured against your temple, panting. He held you tight, carding his fingers in your hair.

“I promise to keep you safe, and give you everything you need, I promise you that.”

“I believe you, Steve. I trust that.”

—

You and Steve stayed up late, ordered room service and talked about a lot of things, music, your parents, his friendship with Bucky, Nat, and Steve, everything.

You laughed and cried, and then settled back in his arms in the dark to sleep, his hand rubbing your hip as his breathing began to slow.

“Steve, can I ask you a question?”

It had been nagging at you for a while.

His sleepy voice answered you.

“Shoot.”

You chuckled.

“That’s just it. Have you ever… have you ever killed someone?”

Steve stirred, pulling you closer to him and moving his mouth next to your ear.

“Hmmmmm. I’d have to marry you before I answered that question.”

Your heart slammed against your chest and your eyes went wide in the dark.

“What?”

You tried to keep your voice even. You didn’t know what this feeling was that came over you. Steve continued, seemingly calm and not spiraling like you were.

“You can’t be compelled to testify against your spouse. It was a joke, Peach.”

You were silent for a good while.

“Oh.”

Steve stirred, leaning up against his elbow.

“Do you… are you saying that you want to get married?”

Steve thought about the ring that he had at his penthouse.

You laughed.

“Nah… what we looking like just up and getting married like that? We hardly know each other.”

“True. But when you know, you know.”

Steve kissed you and the small amount of logic in your brain was rapidly dissipating.

“Would it make us look crazy…?”

You could sense Steve’s smile in the dark.

“…Or would it be so beautiful?” He replied.

Steve wrapped you up in his arms and settled down again. Your mind spun as his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm and you spoke again. 

He was probably asleep, but you had to get it out.

“If you ask me, I’m ready…”

The light switched on and you were staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Steve Rogers.

——

I’m so anxious about this one! Please let me know how you feel? Reblog, comment, like. TIA!

[minarisplaything]

High Rise ft. IVE Wonyoung

Pairing: IVE Wonyoung x Male Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2.4k Tags: Daddy kink, Exhibitionism, Choking A/N: i said i would didn't i? probably the fastest i've made a fic recently which also means please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes you find. might not be my best work but it sure was fun to write o7 Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction/parody

Dating a k-pop idol wasn’t easy. Especially when you were a so-called commoner. There were the obvious reasons, like you had to keep your relationship a secret until they reached their thirties, if you made it that long.And the not-so-obvious reasons; like watching your girlfriend parade around in sexy stage outfits and having to contain your desire to fuck her in them.

Or maybe that was just you.

When your girlfriend was Jang Wonyoung, a hyper-popular It girl – you cringed at even thinking those words aloud – the restrictions were even worse. Like that one time you had wanted to bring her flowers at her group's concert in Seoul and had to be snuck backstage with a bag over your head. Or the time someone had caught the two of you flirting candidly and Wonyoung blurted out that you were her cousin to save face. Embarrassing but somehow also cute when it came from her.

All this was to say it wasn’t easy.

But it certainly wasn’t without its benefits.

“Fuck, that one looks so good, princess,” you praised.

You snapped another photo as Wonyoung posed, biting her bottom lips and giving the camera a smoldering look. She hooked her fingers into her hip-hugging jeans, tugging them slightly as you quickly snapped another series of photos.

Honestly, you were somewhat shocked when Wonyoung told you her idea. It had felt provocative, mature even, and thus far each photo had proved that assumption right. But you rarely, if ever said no to her, even if her motivations were somewhat questionable. In fact, you wondered if this was all your fault.

“You left a like on Yuna-nim’s photo,” Wonyoung had said at the time. Her tone carried an accusatory hint.

“Did I?” you had stammered, trying to play naive. “I was just scrolling my feed and must’ve double tapped.”

“So you follow them?”

“Them?”

“Other girl groups,” Wonyoung clarified.

One thing you had learned about the IVE princess was that while she was sweet as a button on most days, she carried a jealous streak that verged on volatile. Sharing was not in her programming, least of all when it came to you.

You had recognized the trap forming but it had been too late. “Well, I mean, just to keep up. You know you do challenges sometimes and appear on their feeds.”

Her arms crossed over her chest, hip cocked to the side and slight pout was all the answer you needed.

That week you had gone without any physical contact from your girlfriend. Though she made sure to send you the filthiest selfies possible throughout. Which, oddly, worked. Because no matter how much you touched yourself to the photos she sent, it didn’t compare to the real thing.

It had seemed like the incident was over and in the past but as you snapped a few more photos of Wonyoung by the windowsill, you briefly wondered if this stemmed from it as well.

“Are you sure you’re going to post these on Instagram?” you asked, after a particularly racy photo.

“Mhm,” Wonyoung nodded. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. Remember the bathroom?”

“Oh, I remember.”

You also remembered the ones that hadn’t made it to social media and were sent directly to you. But this still felt even more daring than this.

“How many likes do you think this will get?” she asked, coolly, giving the camera a sultry look. An innocent question. At least on the surface. But you remembered her comment one night as you two relaxed together.

“Besides, it’s to promote the sponsor, that’s all. This will get the most engagements,” she added. Her gaze dropped and a small smirk formed on her lips, “In fact, I’d say it’s already working.”

You followed her gaze, looking down to see a rather obvious tent had formed in your sweatpants. You laughed, a flush coloring your cheeks. “Well, shit. Can you blame me?”

“I guess I can’t,” Wonyoung said coolly.

The way she unbuttoned the top button of her jeans, spoke to more mischief however.

“Wony,” you wet your dry lips, “Are we still doing the shoot?”

“Mhm “ she nodded cutely, “Of course.”

She did another pose, pushing the waist of the jeans down to expose the lace underwear she had on underneath.

“You know, I love it up here. It’s perfect,” Wonyoung said. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yeah…” you muttered, more focused on the sight of her exposed abs and smooth skin than her question.

By here she was referring to the penthouse you were using for the photoshoot. Funny enough, she could easily afford a place like this on her own. Though that would only spur on more talk about inequality among the rookie group.

“Being so high up…” she turned her head to look out the window. Your breath caught as you watched delicate fingers slip inside of her jeans. “We can see everything but no one can see us. Even if we were naked against this window they’d never know…”

Now you weren’t the smartest bulb in the room. In fact, sometimes you wondered if it was your self-proclaimed himbo status that Wonyoung liked most about you. But even you could put two and two together. And Wonyoung’s words combined with the side-eyed glance she was giving you were all screaming one thing.

“I could show my naked body to all of Seoul and no one. would. know.”

Her tongue pronounced every syllable while she locked eyes with you. As sweet and kind as Wonyoung could be she had an undeniable minx side to her. You were also fairly certain your girlfriend got off on the power high of being such a desired person but you had never actually confirmed that.

If you were starting to get hard when she pointed it out earlier, you were practically aching now. You tossed your phone onto the couch and made your way over to where Wonyoung was by the window. She let out a delighted squeal as you pushed her up against the glass, kissing her passionately.

Your hands moved against her stomach, feeling her toned abs that were shown off by the outfit she was wearing. Honestly, you should send a bouquet to whatever designer sent this to her to promote. You nipped at Wonyoung's bottom lip, your hands sliding into her unbuttoned pants to squeeze her ass.

"It took you long enough," Wonyoung gasped, mischief gleaming in her eyes. "I thought was going to have to beg you to fuck me."

Your cock twitched, straining painfully against your jeans, "You still could you know."

She must have been in a good mood because the idol looked at you with large eyes, biting on her bottom lip. "Please fuck me against the window, daddy."

Oh.

You see, it had taken some time but you learned that your girlfriend had two modes. The arrogant queen who knew all of Seoul was her playground and made you worship at her feet. Then there was the submissive princess who begged to be pleased until she was satisfied. Often her mood was some mixture of the two but neither one left you unsatisfied.

"If that's what the Princess wants," you growled.

A delighted smile crossed the idol's features followed by another joyful squeal when you spun her around to face the window. Her hands rose, catching herself as she turned her head to look over her shoulder. You could see the aroused flush creeping up her neck and coloring her round cheeks.

"Didn't you say something about showing everyone your tits?" you whispered in her ear.

Not waiting for a response, you pulled her top down, exposing her tits to the cool glass of the window earning a gasp from Wonyoung in response. You pressed further against her, the bulge in your pants pushing against her ass.

"This whole shoot was just to rile me up, wasn't it?" you said, your breath hot against the shell of her ear. Your hands moved quickly to yank the jean pants she was wearing, exposing the white lace panties that she had teased you with a peek of earlier.

"Maybe," Wonyoung mewled, arching her back perfectly.

Your hands hooked into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down to reveal her bare ass to your hungry gaze, "Bullshit. You knew what you were doing."

"Maybe I just wanted to remind you of what's right in front of you," she said.

There it was. That switch up she was capable of. It also confirmed your theory that your girlfriend hadn't exactly forgiven and forgotten about the Instagram incident. Well, there was no time better than now to put the matter to bed. You gripped your cock, slipping it between her legs to get it slick from her dripping sex.

"Oh, I'm well aware of what's in front of me," you started. Slowly you began to slip your thick cock inside of her, inch by inch with each syllable. "The most beautiful." More. "Talented." More. "Gorgeous." More. "Perfect." More. "Princess."

"Fuck!" Wonyoung moaned, her forehead bracing against the window.

"Is the princess feeling full?"

"So, so full…" she cooed.

"And I didn't even get to mention how good a girlfriend you are," you teased.

You could feel her pussy quivering around your length, stretching to accommodate the familiar intrusion of your cock. Wonyoung's hands were splayed against the windows of the high-rise, her ass pushed out and into you. She was on full display and only you were lucky enough to see it.

You could take it slow with steady, languid strokes, gently fucking your girlfriend against the window. But something told you that wasn't what she nor you wanted at that moment. Your fingers flexed around her waist, pulling out your cock until just the tip remained inside of her before thrusting your entire length back inside of her. Wonyoung's body jolted with pleasure as she braced her nude body against the window.

"This is what you wanted isn't it?" Harder. "To know how much you turn me on." Faster. "To see how fucking hard you get me." Deeper. "No one else makes me like this." Repeat.

A mixture of mewls and moans fell from the idol's mouth at your relentless rhythm. Her head fell forward, her cheek pressed up against the glass. Perspiration was starting to form across her flawless skin and you had to resist the urge to lean forward and lick it up. You wanted to prove a point, to fuck Wonyoung to the point of exhaustion for the whole city to see. After that maybe you'd enjoy the little perversions.

"You probably say that to every - fuck - every girl," Wonyoung panted, glancing at you from over her shoulder. "You're probably just waiting to move onto the next idol you're drooling over."

She didn't say it with enough conviction for you to believe she truly felt that way. For starters, while Wonyoung may get jealous, she was not insecure. At least, not enough to ever think another idol was above her. It was more often a toxic possessive kind of jealousy. But nonetheless, in the heat of the moment you'd take the bait.

"Is that what you think?" he said, your breathing growing heavy with your harsh thrust. Conversation wasn't exactly easy at this pace. "Did you miss what I said earlier, huh?"

One hand moved from her waist to slip around Wonyoung's throat. She inhaled sharply, her breath catching in her throat as you squeezed. For a passing second there was no sound save for the repeated slaps of skin against skin as your hips were flush against Wonyoung's ass each time you entered her.

"I only want you," you finally gasp. "Always you."

Rather than another vulgar display to go along with your words, you merely lean over her, capturing her lips in a sideways kiss. It's messy and imperfect but it's also loving and passionate. Your tongues dance together all while your bodies remain intertwined. You can feel Wonyoung pussy quivering around your cock intensely as she moans into your mouth. When you pull back, you look at your girlfriend with a raised eyebrow.

"Did you just cum from that?" you asked.

"S-shut up," Wonyoung retorted. You noticed a bright red hue of embarrassment coloring her cheeks before she hid her face, "Don't stop until you finish inside of me,"

It was always adorable when she continued trying to be dominant after her own orgasm. However, her words had an undeniable effect on you. "If that's what the princess wants."

You returned to the task at hand, focusing your efforts solely on chasing your first release and Wonyoung's second orgasm.

"Daddy," Wonyoung mewled, finding her voice. "I want you to cum, daddy. I want you to cum deep inside my tight pussy.""

You had a sinking suspicion that her words were payback for causing her embarrassing moments earlier. Her attempt at provoking you to blow your load sooner than you had intended to.

Regardless it worked to immediate effect. Your hips jerked, slamming against hers from behind. Your sweat-drenched body pressed flush against Wonyoung, pushing her up against the high-rise window. Your cock twitched, ropes of your sticky seed shooting inside of her womb as her walls convulsed around your length.

Of course the two things that pushed her over the edge would be you saying how you loved her and her revelling the power she had to make you cum on the spot. Truly a representative of her duality.

After a moment had passed and you began to regain your bearings you pressed a kiss to Wonyoung's shoulder.

"That was incredible, Wony," you muttered.

"I know," she said, her form practically radiating. "You weren't bad either."

You let out a chuckle, placing another lazy kiss to her skin, "Maybe we should've included that in the photoshoot."

Wonyoung smiled but didn't immediately respond. After a moment of delay she turned in your arms to look at you.

"Did you mean all those things you said?" she asked.

Her wide eyes looked at you and you reached up to brush aside a strand of sweat soaked hair. There was no hesitation in your response when you answered her.

"Absolutely. And don't you think otherwise for a second."

A smile beamed across the idol's face and she leaned forward, burying her face into your neck. Your arms wrapped around her and quietly you wondered if you weren't the luckiest man in the world.

BUY ME A COFFEE - if you enjoy my stories considering buying me a coffee! always appreciated, never required.

[heartfullofleeches]

[brief mentions of non-consensual touching]

I kinda wanna flesh out yan cheater and "cheater" reader more. Fuel up the angst. I'm thinking high school sweethearts who promised to be each other's first as they went off to college. Yan sees the whole thing with reader with another person and goes to a friend for comfort. The friend sees this as an opportunity to tear the two apart as Yan was previously going to join their band instead of a straight shot to college. A few drinks down they're kissing the first person who makes eye contact with them at the party, forgetting all about their woes and promises - and skipping town without closure or a proper goodbye to their lover.

Couple years down the line and they're now a big shot - carrying little resemblance of the person they once were. Shows sold out in every venue and a different fan on their lap every night. They all have some feature that reminds Yan of their former flame which they muddle over to the very day their paths cross again.

Their latest tour leads them to a familiar place. A town where nothing ever happened and everything stayed the same. They learn their ex is still working hard for their degree and takes night shifts at a nearby gas station. The tension is thick from the moment they walk in. They didn't even want to be there, but it was the only station in close proximity. What do you even say to someone who's caused so much heart break after all this time?

"That'll be 21.10... Cash or credit?"

That's it.... After everything you put them through. After all those nights they spent crying over you - and craving your warmth in their bed. The future that you pictured together. The life you dream of in each other's arms. You tarnished what little hope they had - and that's all you could say to them...

"A "how've you been?" would've been nice...."

"I have nothing to say to the person who abandoned me. Can't even say that much since you hardly remind me of them."

Really classy from the one who caused this mess in the first place.

"Don't act like you're free of any guilt in this... I saw you with them that day... You seemed a lot more cozy with that stranger than you ever did with me."

"Stranger, what are you...." Your eyes dart around the room as the gears in your head click. Pulling out your phone, you fight back tears as you show them a picture of that stranger. "Is this who you're talking about?...."

Please say no....

They scoff. "So you do know who I'm talking about. You still together or did you run off with someone else same as you did me?"

The sadness and pain just... vanishes. All these years, you thought you had been the problem. Made to many promises. Loved then too much or too little. From what it seemed like now - they were the one who never loved you enough.

"That's my cousin....."

They didn't hear you - they couldn't. Couldnt acknowledge that maybe...

"What?"

"That's my fucking cousin, asshole."

Everything they ever believed was the painstaking truth - was a only a cruel misunderstanding.

"We hadn't seen each other's since we were kids. Their mom had just died... I tried calling you when I got home, but you weren't there. Did you seriously think I cheated on you? And you just ran away?..."

"I....you...." Were their everything. When they saw you that night the pressure of every problem weighting down on them finally snapped. They couldn't think rationally at that time - if only if they'd put the faith in you they always prided themself in having.

"You coward...." You throw their change across the counter, adding issult to injury as you point for the door.

"Get out of my store. Get out of my life."

"Y/n, wait..please."

"I said... GET OUT!"

The foundation of their new self crumbles. After your alleged betrayal they rebuilt themselves from the ground up as an overconfident, self serving individual, but like everything else to this point - it was all a lie. There were always those days they wondered "what if". What if they had stayed. What if they had tried to fix what had broken in your relationship. Knowing the truth, those fantasies return with vengeance. The truth would've came sooner and the wounds to mend would have been lesser. You'd talk over the miscommunication and they'd apologize fully by taking you out to your favorite restaurant. You'd start school together the upcoming fall. You'd kiss and make love and enjoy fleeting youth as one. There'd always be rough patches, but in the end you always had each other.

That's how things should have been.

They spiral - crawling to the closest bar to relinquish their pain the only way they knew how beyond finding someone new to bed. The thought of sleeping with anyone that wasn't you made them nearly lose the alcohol poisoning their system. Had you been dating since then? Had you given yourself to someone? Did they make you feel loved and saved - just as they should've

By the end of the night they wound up too drunk to even stand on their own feet. The bartender asked for a number to call to have someone pick them up. They gave the only number they could remember after all these years - and intoxicated.

The drive to their hotel room is quiet. You had nothing to say while they had the world - but none of it was anything you wanted to hear. You just wanted this night to be over so you could go back to forgetting they ever existed.

You help them into their room and give them some water from the sink. Despite everything they've done, you didn't have the heart to leave them like they did you.

"Drink. You need to flush out your system. You'll probably have a headache in the morning, but that's none of my concern."

".....how many people have you slept with, Y/n?"

You place the cup on the nightstand. "This isn't the type of conversation we should have right now."

"Have you been with anyone - or are you still waiting for that special person? I've done a lot of shit I'm not proud of, but at least they've given me experience. I can make your first the best. I can make love to you better than anyone. I already know you better than they do...."

Their hands creep around your waist, hugging your midsection same as they use to on school nights when their parents forbade guests - and you crawled through their window anyway. They always held you like you meant the universe to them. You still do.

Their lips gloss over your exposed stomach as your shirt crawls upwards, heavy tears staining your skin. "Just one night. That's all I need to prove myself to you. We were made for each other. Let's forget about the past for one night and pick up where we left off. A promise is still a promise - even if it's broken.

Their fingers dip below your waistband. You immediately shove them off you and to the floor. "Are you fucking insane?! You can't forget something like what you put me through. I've been so afraid of connecting with anyone because I'm scared they'd just run off like you did. I'm finally becoming me again- and I won't let you take that back from me. Don't call me."

The door slams as you storm out - reverberations their sole companion in their misery. This is the same thing they did to you. They deserve to be alone, to suffer - but they can't. It'll kill them. They can't live without you...and soon enough you won't be to live without them. You're soulmates, meant to be. They have power now - influence. They can support you however you need-

And destory everything that gets in the way of your happy ending.

[gor3-hound]

SLY FOX // DUMB BUNNY - ZENIN CLAN

ft. fox!toji, naoya, naobito, jinichi and ogi x bunny!reader

a/n: thank uuuu to @sqiim and @kaitkatme for beta'ing !!! another commission for @nexysworld :333 coolest gal out there on god 💪 gangbangs are... hard to write but... think i cooked???? fb and rbs appreciated !!

cw: 18+ content, gang bang, mxmxmxmxmxf!reader, knotting, dubcon, power dynamics, ooc naobito?, double penetration, breeding, creampies galore !!, mating press, doggy, biting, very small blood mention, size difference-ish, cockwarming, the zenins aren't nice, misogyny

word count: 2.6k words

Being a servant in the Zen'in family was difficult. Being a rabbit among a den of foxes was another thing entirely. You could feel narrowed, judgmental eyes following your every movement. You could sense their gazes on you at every moment, even when you thought you were alone.

Some of them liked to play with you for sport - tugging on your floppy ears, baring their teeth at you to watch you tremble or sneaking up on you to watch you jump. It keeps you on edge, but more than anyone, Naobito fills you with a sense of dread.

It's his silence - the way his watchful eye scours the compound. He does not discipline his family for their mistreatment of you, but he does not engage in the behaviour himself. If anything, he seems wholly uninterested in you, addressing you only when he sees fit.

You're tense when he approaches, every muscle fibre pulled taut in your body. His gaze is locked on you, but his movements are slow. Languid. Like he enjoys watching you squirm as he approaches.

“Here, little rabbit.” He orders, voice firm and unwavering, but not cruel. Your ears twitch at the authority in his tone, and you're quick to walk towards him until you're right in front of him. He nods his head to the side, turning and walking away. A silent command for you to follow.

He's silent as he leads you to the clan meeting hall. There's a few faces you recognise here - the next most eligible heads of the Zen’in clan, along with its very own black sheep, Toji. Naobito orders you to strip, and you shakily comply, shaking slightly under the fox’s heavy gazes.

“You've all failed to produce any useful heirs to secure your place as the next head of the clan. Ogi has given us women, Toji - a bastard. My own son has not even produced a child, and as for you, Jinichi… I do not even wish to speak on the matter. You have somehow disappointed me more than your brother.”

Naobito kicks your trembling form forward, your body bare as you catch yourself before making contact with the floor. The wood is rough against your soft skin, your eyes flickering across the many faces of the Zen'in men staring down at you.

“A bunny. Not ideal, of course. But fertile enough I'm sure one of you will be able to fuck a useful heir into her by the end of today.”

The men are tense, gazing at each other for a few silent moments, as if eyeing up who gets first dibs. Ogi is the eldest, but seems thoroughly disinterested. Toji, although cocky, knows well enough that a fight will break out if he attempts to be the first to approach. The toss up is left between Naoya and Jinichi, who both look like they're about three seconds away from tearing each other apart.

Naoya steps forward first, which sets Jinichi off. He takes two large steps forward, his form dwarfing Naoya's as he squares up, determined to be the first to have you. Naoya's fur bristles, his tone conceited when he speaks up.

“I'm the rightful heir. It is my duty to breed her first.” He grunts, stepping in front of his cousin, glaring as he gazes up at the older man.

“You're nothing but a spoiled brat. I could tear you apart in seconds, little fox.” Jinichi growls, thick brows pulling together as he pushes Naoya to the side, baring his teeth at his cousin in frustration. He kneels, his hand coming down to smack your clit harshly before he forces two thick fingers into your cunt.

“Your son is too arrogant, uncle. You should teach him some respect.” He grunts, scissoring you open. You're much wetter than fox girls he's been with, slick gushing from you eagerly, streaming steadily down his hand to his wrist. “Bet a cock like that wouldn't even stretch out a tiny bunny girl like this, hmm?”

Naoya's tail bristles, a low growl forming in his throat as his lips curl back. “You watch your mouth old man, or I swear I'll-”

“Enough. Both of you. I'm sharing the girl as a gift to our clan - a means for you to produce heirs. Do not think I won't keep her to myself if you don't behave.” Naobito cuts in, his eyes narrowing as he gazes at the other Zen'in's. Ogi remains silent next to him, but his gaze is harsh and unwavering as he gazes at Naoya, making his disdain for his attitude abundantly clear.

Toji, who has been too busy watching his brother’s fingers splitting you open, scoffs at the eldest Zen’in. His eyes flick up to his uncle, and he cocks his head to the side. When he speaks, it's with barely restrained amusement. “You think you can keep up with a bunny at your age?”

Ogi speaks up for the first time then, his gaze narrowing in on Toji. “You should consider yourself lucky that a runt like you was even invited to join in on this.”

“Runt, huh? I'm bigger than you, ya old bastard.” He growls, ears pulling back as he straightens up, making himself appear bigger. You whimper as you gaze at the two men, but Jinichi doesn't stop stretching you out, leaving you mewling despite your discomfort.

Jinichi ignores their bickering in favour of pulling his fingers from your tight cunt, shedding his kimono and pulling his cock free. Your eyes widen as you get a lock at it, your chest heaving with nervous breaths.

“That's not… it's too big.” You squeak, eyes wide as he grips the back of your thighs, folding you in half effortlessly. In return, you get another harsh smack against your cunt, one that has you jolting with a whimper. He bares down on you, forcing his thick length into your tight hole, bottoming out with a low groan.

The stretch stings, making you whine and squirm against his body. His grip is unwavering, not allowing you to pull too far back from him. He doesn't grace you time to adjust as he presses your thighs to your chest, the weight of his body keeping you pinned. He sets a brutal pace, fat cock rutting into you mercilessly.

“I'm sick of waiting.” Naoya growls, his ears pulling back as he glares at his cousin. Jinichi bristles as he approaches, body growing rigid as the younger man approaches. “Let up for a second, huh? ‘M just gonna join ya. Fuckin’ brute.”

Jinichi scowls, but relents, pulling out of you long enough for Naoya to lie down, lifting you so your back is pressed against his chest. He sinks into you with a whine, tail swaying contentedly under him. The larger man returns, slowly pressing his length in along his cousin's with a grunt.

“Fuck… she's even tighter.” He practically purrs, continuing the brutal pace he set before. Naoya starts moving too, their cocks pistoning in and out in a rough rhythm that steals the air from your lungs.

Jinichi senses your discomfort, but the most he offers to soothe you is his tongue lapping at your skin, a soft growl rumbling in his chest. His head dips down to your chest, dark locks tickling your skin as he latches onto a nipple, sharp teeth grazing the fat of your breast. You mewl at the feeling, slick gushing from your cunt to aid in the movements of the cocks inside of you.

“So wet. Acting all shy, but your body knows what you're meant for.” Naoya coos, a condescending tone underlying his words. He sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck as he fucks into you, the sharp pain making you cry out. He loosens his jaw, lapping at the blood spilling from the bite. “A bunny bitch acting like she wasn't born to be bred.”

The other clan members watch the exchange, but Toji is most notably affected. His eyes are hooded as he stares at the way your hole stretches around his brother and cousin, eyes narrowed in on your slick cunt.

Jinichi's thrusts grow sloppily as he reaches his peak. He feels his knot swelling, and he pulls back from your breast and grits his teeth to surpass the urge to force it past your tight ring of muscle. He growls as he spills inside of you, filling him with your seed.

“Can't keep up, cousin?” Naoya teases, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. Jinichi snaps at him in warning, easing his softening cock out of you.

“I'll rip your throat out with my teeth, you insolent brat.” He sneers, stepping away from you as Naoya continues to pound into you. Naoya rolls his eyes, his expression still smug as he rolls the both of you over and yanks your hips up so he can fuck you properly.

“Presenting all pretty f’me.” He teases, draping his frame over yours as he ruts into you desperately. “Just like a good breedin’ bitch, hmm?”

You whine low in your throat, bunny ears flopping limply by your face as you claw at the ground, pussy already sore from being treated so roughly. You do your best to roll your hips back to meet his thrusts, but you're already tired and your movements are sloppy and disorganised.

“Gonna knot this bunny cunt.” He murmurs, brows furrowing as he fucks into your drippy cunt. His knot catches your entrance, and he forces it in with a hiss of pleasure, tail twitching behind him. You feel his cum filling you, joining his cousin's as he rides out his high. He sits back with a satisfied sigh, making you yelp as his knot tugs you back with him.

“Did ya have to knot her?” Toji growls, tail stiffening as he approaches. “Been waitin' long enough as it is.”

“You can wait longer.” Naoya huffs, stretching his legs out to get comfortable as he waits for his knot to deflate. The next few minutes are tense as Toji's gaze remains locked on his cousin, waiting impatiently for his turn.

As soon as Naoya's knot deflates enough for him to wriggle free, Toji steps forward. He's stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder, Ogi's face expressionless as he pulls him back.

“I'm not sharing with the runt.” Ogi says simply, stepping towards you as he frees his cock without bothering to disrobe. “And I'm certainly not letting his seed dirty my cock. He can wait.”

Toji lunges, clearly looking for a fight, but one firm look from the head of the clan has him stopping, seething as he steps back again to watch his uncle slide easily into your used cunt. You're already sore and tender, and you know you're not going to last long with the deep, slow strokes Ogi's delivering.

You whimper as you clench around him, cumming on his cock. Your eyes water, lash line gathering tears that threaten to fall down your face. Ogi doesn't speak, or so much as acknowledge you, using you for nothing more than his own pleasure. The overstimulating pleasure has your back arching, and you mewl as you squirt, release flooding his cock and coating his lower abdomen.

His face wrinkles in distaste, but he just continues rocking his hips against yours until his knot swells. He doesn't knot you - but he buries himself to the swollen base of his cock before cumming deep in you. He pulls back, putting his cock away before nodding once in the direction of his brother and leaving the room.

Toji steps forward, cock already aching and drooling as he approaches. He seems to soften at your fucked out, exhausted expression and twitching thighs, his features softening almost imperceptibly.

“Shhh, it's alright, little one.” He coos, voice low as he nuzzles a floppy ear so only you can hear it. He knows what it's like used and discarded by the Zen'in’s, albeit in an entirely different way. “Won't make ya take my knot. I'll be careful.”

He sheaths his cock into you slowly, guiding each inch carefully into your swollen cunt. His thumb rubs circles into your clit, hoping to give you pleasure as he chases his own. He stays still when he's buried into you fully, the head of his cock twitching as it presses firmly against your cervix. He licks at your ears gently, coaxing you to relax before he starts fucking into you.

You whine and keen under him, lips open in a silent gasp as he fucks into you. You can barely keep your eyes open, lids fluttering as you peer up at him.

“Keep your eyes open, bunny.” He purrs, tail swaying behind him. “Don't pass out on me just yet.”

You whine softly, but force your eyes open. He grabs your hips, manhandling you so he can pull you back to meet his thrusts, bullying himself into your cunt with low grunts. “So fuckin’ tight after bein’ stretched by so many cocks, lil bunny.”

The squelching sounds of your abused cunt fill the room with every shift of his hips, your moans and whines growing louder as your orgasm crashes through you once again, your walls tightening around Toji's cock. He growls at the feeling, thrusting shallowly before shooting hot ropes of white deep inside your trembling form. He stays buried inside of you for a few moments, nuzzling at your neck before pulling back, ruffling your hair between your ears.

Naobito gestures for everyone to leave once Toji redresses before he beckons your exhausted body towards him. You can't even walk straight, your body shaking with exertion as you approach him. Cum drips down your inner thighs, the sensation making you cringe.

He fishes his cock out - its hard and leaky, the tip flushed red. You whimper softly at the thought of being bred again, but he clicks his tongue to silence you. He hoists you onto his lap, ears twitching as he slowly slides you down on his length. He grunts as he bottoms out, nosing at your hair before his tongue darts out to run along the length of one of your ears.

“Shh, little bunny. Just keeping you plugged, hmm? Making sure one of those useless bastards gives our family an heir.” He coos, uncharacteristically soft. His tail sways gently, greying fur brushing the soft skin of your thigh.

“You're one of us now. Gonna be carrying Zen’in kits in you soon. I'll make sure you're looked after.” He murmurs, holding you close to his chest, large hands rubbing up and down your back.

He starts thrusting slowly, tongue coming out to lathe gently across your skin to soothe as he guides you up and down on his cock. He barely pulls out, only shifting you a few inches so it's more of a slow grind.

“You're going to take my knot, little one. Then you can relax, and I'll have the servants draw you a bath.” He murmurs against your skin, nosing at the crook of your shoulder. He's old, and his stamina wasn't what it used to be, so it's not long before he pops his knot in you.

He holds you close as he floods you with his cum, your belly feeling full from all the loads you'd taken. He reaches up to stroke one of your floppy ears, running his fingers gently along your soft fur.

“Sleep, little rabbit. I will personally see to arranging a chamber for you in the compound until we can find out who the father is.” He almost purrs, gently stroking your ears until you drift off.

[aewon]

golden

heeseung x f!reader g: fluff, angst ⚠️ : cursing, kissing wc: 1.8k

—————————————————————————

Growing up wasn’t easy for you.

Your sister was the golden child, loved by all, hated by none.

You on the other hand were the “other” child in your parents lives.

The one who didn’t get as much attention no matter what you did.

You yearned for the affection and praise from your parents that your sister got daily.

Even in school, your sister was popular with many friends while you had a small few.

You knew your sister truly hated you when you confided in her about a crush you had sophomore year, and she began dating him a week later.

Everything you wanted, your sister got.

Every birthday she was showered with love and lavish gifts, while yours were days mostly spent with friends as less effort was given by your family.

Family…can you even call them that?

It was at 18 when you decided to go low contact with your family, your sister included.

You vowed not to let them hurt you anything with their lack of care for you.

You’re now in your senior year of college, and living without being in your sister's shadow has brought more happiness to you than you could have ever imagined.

She decided to pursue school out of state, while you stayed.

You’re going to be graduating top of your class, but of course your sister’s graduation is overshadowing that.

Which is why when you get the text from your parents inviting you home to celebrate your sister, you want nothing more than to say no.

But you know if you do, they’ll raise questions and it’ll be a whole repeat of the conversation you tried having years ago.

Before you left, you tried talking to your parents about your feelings. How you felt inferior to your sister in their eyes.

They, of course, vehemently denied any accusation of favoritism, claiming you were overreacting.

That was the end of that.

So, you suck it up, telling them you’ll be there.

Your apartment and school are a good hour and a half away from your hometown.

You make the drive the next day, dreading being in the same room as your family for the next 2-3 hours.

When you arrive, the house is already crowded.

You pass uncles, aunts, cousins.

None of them bother to greet you, making you regret coming already.

When you find your parents and sister, they make half an effort to greet you.

“Sis, I’m so glad you could make it,” your sister says.

“Congratulations.” You smile, albeit awkwardly.

Without even saying thank you, she rushes off to greet one of her friends.

You saunter away from your parents, finding a somewhat quiet corner to bury yourself in.

You’re scrolling through your phone when someone sits next to you.

You’re surprised to see Lee Heeseung, one of your sister's friends since high school.

You think he’s just sitting down to relax, but then he’s talking to you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You look up, “…Hi?”

You remember whenever your sister had friends over, you weren’t allowed to talk to them because it upset her.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” Heeseung says.

“Yeah, I moved a couple towns away for college.”

“How have you been?”

“Great! I’m graduating this year.”

Heeseung, who's the same age as your sister, graduated before you.

“Congrats, that’s a big deal. Are your parents gonna arrange a party for you too?”

Your smile slowly fades, “Probably not.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, “Why not?”

You want to tell the truth, the fact that your parents have never cared for you the way they do your sister.

The neglect, the lack of affection, you want to spill everything.

But, he probably won’t believe you, so you wave it off, “I’m just not really a party type.”

He looks like he’s about to say more when you hear your sister squeal his name from across the yard.

Before you know it, she’s rushed over, grabbing Heeseung by the sleeve and dragging him toward their friend group.

You sigh, it’s probably better you don’t talk to him anyway.

The hours drag on and your parents gather everyone’s attention, clanking a fork on a wine glass.

“We’re so happy to have everyone important to S/N here to celebrate her special day. 23 years ago we gave birth to the light of our life and everyday has been a blessing. Our daughter is smart, hardworking, kind and so much more. We can’t think of anyone more deserving. Please, a toast, to S/N.”

Everyone raises their glasses, toasting to her.

You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help the tears that begin to form.

Getting up, you quietly leave the backyard, heading upstairs to your old room.

It’s empty, with nothing but a bed and dresser, no essence of you anywhere.

When you moved out, you made sure to take everything with you.

Now, as you sit on the bed, you let the tears fall.

You knew your parents didn’t care for you the way they did your sister. Yet, some part of you still hoped you had a place in their hearts, but clearly that was not the case.

This feels like a knife was twisted in your heart.

“Y/N?”

Heeseung’s voice interrupts your thoughts as he enters the room.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, coming to sit beside you on the bed.

“It’s nothing,” you say, wiping your tears frantically.

“You’re crying, Y/N, that’s not nothing.”

“Why are you here, Heeseung? Why are you talking to me?

“Because you’re sad, and I hate to see you sad.” His eyes are soft, looking at you like you’re fragile.

“You don’t even know me Heeseung, why do you care if I’m sad or not?”

Without warning he cups your face, pulling you forward into a kiss.

Your eyes are wide open in shock, before you relax in his hold, closing your eyes and enjoying the kiss.

Your lips move desperately, as he scoots impossibly closer.

You’re so drawn into the kiss, you don’t hear the footsteps making their way upstairs.

“What the fuck!”

You hear your sister’s voice and immediately break away.

“S/N-” You try to speak but she cuts you off.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? I’ve always told you to stay away from my friends and this is what you do in return. You know he’s mine.”

You look between her and Heeseung, stuttering out an apology before you rush out of the room.

Running downstairs, you hear footsteps behind you and you run into the living room.

“What happened?” Your father asks as S/N and Heeseung follow closely behind you.

“Y/N apparently thinks it’s okay to kiss another girl's man,” S/N says, huffing.

Your parents turn to you, disgust evident on their faces.

You know it shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

“Is this true?” Your mother asks.

“I…I didn’t know—” You’re grasping at straws, trying to defend yourself.

Everyone is staring at you, looks of disappointment on everyone’s faces.

You feel a new onset of tears coming down and without another word you rush out of the house.

S/N watches you go, then turns her attention to Heeseung.

“Are you okay?” She asks, “Did she force herself on you? I swear I’m gonna—”

“Stop!” Heeseung shouts, silencing everyone’s whispers.

“She didn’t force herself on me S/N are you fucking crazy? I kissed her!”

S/N has the audacity to look confused. “Why would you do that? You know you and I are—”

“We’re nothing!” Heeseung shouts. “We have never been anything more than friends and we never will be.”

“What are you talking about? Don’t tell me you actually like her? She’s a loser, why would you like someone like her?” S/N is blabbering at this point, saying whatever is in her mind.

Heeseung looks at her in utter shock, terrified that someone could talk about their own sister like that.

“You know what I think S/N? I think you’re a spoiled, bratty, insignificant human being. The fact that you could talk about your sister like that, your own family, is appalling. I don’t know what planet you’re living on, but this one doesn’t revolve around you.”

S/N is shocked, “What do you mean? I’m insignificant? She’s the one who’s insignificant!”

Heeseung smirks, “I get it now. You’re jealous. Jealous that she’s pretty, that she’s smart, kind, successful… everything you’re not. And it seems you’ve been nothing but enabled your whole life,” he says with his gaze on your parents.

With that, he heads out the door in your direction.

He gazes down both sides of the street, looking for your figure.

Heeseung finally spots you, on the other side of the road, down a hill that leads to a park.

He jogs, nearly tripping on his way down.

He approaches you cautiously, hearing your small sniffles.

You’re sitting on a bench, criss-crossed, head buried in your hands.

He sits next to you, “Y/N.”

You glance at him, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you. What S/N said isn’t true. We’re not together, in any way.”

You sit up, “Even so, we shouldn’t have been talking to each other in the first place.”

“Why? Because S/N doesn’t like it? Who cares what she thinks!”

“S/N has always been the favorite. Everything she wanted, she got. I.. I never meant anything to my parents, no matter what I did.”

“They’ve enabled her behavior, haven’t they?”

You nod, “For years, I just wanted some kind of acknowledgment from them. But I know I’ll never get it, especially not now.”

“You don’t need people like that in your life. You deserve to be surrounded by people who appreciate you and give you what you deserve,” Heeseung says, pouring his heart out in hopes you’ll understand.

“Like who?”

“Like me.” He smiles. “I didn’t kiss you for no reason. I like you, Y/N.”

Your beautiful eyes blink up at him, “Me? Why? We’ve barely interacted in the past.”

Heeseung leans back against the bench, looking up at the sky like he’s thinking.

“Well, it all started when I came to your house for the first time. I came into your kitchen for water and you were just standing there, looking beautiful as ever. We didn’t talk other than you saying ‘excuse me’ but I knew then that I liked you.”

For the first time today, you smile, a genuine smile.

“That was my first kiss.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened in surprise, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s okay. I liked it,” you say, reassuring him.

He smiles back at you, “Then, can I do it again?”

You don’t answer with words, instead leaning forward to peck his lips.

He chases your lips, pressing them together again, longer this time.

When you part, he looks blissful. “Y/N, would you give me the honor of taking you on a date?”

You lean into his side, snuggling into it as he wraps his arm around you.

“I’d like that.”

For once, you have something your sister doesn’t, and damn does it feel good.

—————————————————————————

note: hi, this is based off the number of reddit stories i’ve read about golden child’s and bullshit like that so hehe, enjoy

[jilyandbambi]

Can I just...make an embarrassing plea for nuance for a second?

As a Daniel Molloy enjoyer who's thought a lot about his relationship with his family, and his daughters, in particular, based on the few throwaway lines we've gotten, fandom jumped on the Daniel Is a Deadbeat Dad Whose Kids Hate Him train a little too readily, in my opinion. Especially since we have so few details to go off of when it comes to Daniel's life.

Look, there's obviously strong textual hints that Daniel made some pretty big mistakes in his family life, let his wives and daughters down in major ways. Maybe he was a bad father from the moment his kids were born and they have no good memories with him and now they can't wait for him to kick the bucket so they can inherit whatever's left of his estate... But also, maybe not!

There's a lot of nuance to relationships with imperfect parents that I think fandom overlooks. I'll elaborate using some of my own family's dysfunction as examples:

I have a cousin who was a Daddy's girl like me, who had a father who doted on her when she was little. But when she was in elementary school, he had a nervous breakdown after being attacked, and they lost contact while he was in and out of institutions. Now that she's an adult and he's doing better, they're trying to reconnect without much success. My cousin loves her dad very much, but he's a stranger to her, which, coupled with residual feelings of abandonment, makes it hard for her to reach out. That said, she still wants a relationship with him and looks back fondly on her childhood with him.

I have a great-aunt that I'm close to who would, off-and-on, go through extended periods of not talking to her father, my great-grandfather because he was old, sickly, losing his memory and blind in one eye, and yet as a "retired" contractor would still paint and remodel the rooms of his house, and the fact that he didn't take his health seriously stressed my aunt out to the point of seriously impacting her own mental and physical health. She loved her father dearly, but had to prioritize her own health when he proved to be unconcerned with his.

So, let's imagine for a sec that there's some gray area to play around in here.

What if Daniel was in denial in the first few years of his Parkinson's diagnosis and was still taking dangerous assignments like nothing was wrong and his daughters had to stop checking in for the sake of their sanity, which had been crumbling under the strain of sitting up at night panicking over their terminally ill father jetting off to the MENA to interview Kurdish militias for a documentary on ISIS?

What if Daniel was a doting father at first who made it to birthdays and recitals and holidays, etc. but after the girls' mom picked them up from their dad's and found used needles strewn about the coffee table one too many times, his visitation was restricted, and the relationship fell apart in the years after?

What if Daniel was a workaholic that no-showed at Christmas, birthdays, and parent-teacher conferences, but who came the fuck through when it was time to sell Girl Scout cookies (and any other school fundraiser), pulled out all the stops when either of the kids had a school project that required tons of research (in the days before Internet, mind you), and was fully down to stalk their high school/college boyfriends with them to see if they were cheating?

What if Daniel was a workaholic who sometimes freebased coke on weekends he had the girls and forgot to pick them up from school and missed every birthday party, but also would bring the girls to work with him all the time and when he did, they'd see their old artwork pinned to the walls of his office and his colleagues would congratulate one on the regional Spelling Bee one of them came first place in and the other on getting her blue belt in karate. Yeah, Daniel wasn't there for any of those but the fact that he cared enough to brag about it at work...yeah. What if Daniel let them skip school on days when middle/high school was just Too Much, and they'd go to Coney Island and ride The Cyclone til they forgot about Jennifer inviting everyone else on the swim team to her party.

Here's another thing: while yes, Daniel puts a premium on truth and honesty and has a blunt, pull no punches manner of speaking--old people are fucking DRAMATIC. Daniel's daughters are adults with busy lives of their own. Meanwhile, he's stuck at home bored out of his mind in retirement. What if his relationship with them is fine (all things considered) but they take a week to respond to his texts because hello? busy. Do any of you have grandparents who are retired? The other day I was informed that I'm "bad at texting" because it took me a few hours to reply to a message asking me if I watch The Diplomat. What if "My daughters won't even talk to me!" is just Daniel being miffed that neither of the girls had responded to his text in their Groupchat asking if they'd had a chance to check out his Masterclass yet?

Look, all this is to say, dysfunctional parent-child relationships are of course, messy and painful, especially if the parent was less-than-stellar during the child's formative years--but that doesn't mean that that's all there is. Oftentimes, there's a lot of good mixed in with the bad; and there's almost always a lot of love and a mutual desire to mend things in the time you have left. Every relationship on IWTV has its highs and lows, both joyful and devastating moments and memories. There's no reason the same can't apply to the relatively blank slate of Daniel Molloy and his daughters' relationship

[maxdibert]

hi! i saw in one of your posts you wrote about how Sirius Black had no reason to bully Snape and i thought about it…..i mean doesn't his hatred seem too personal? we have Lupin who has no contact with Snape after book 3 but Sirius goes crazy when Snape is around and they are alone so he can attack him (kitchen scene in book 5). and he knows so much about him: who he hung out with at school, his relationship with Lucius; at the same time he doesn't know about the mark, about how Severus was the one who brought the prophecy to voldemort that led to Lily and James death. and yes he is stuck at age 21 but even then they graduated school and as he says they never heard of Snape in those years. It seems a bit odd: don't bullies usually try to downplay their role in what they did to the victim, or even try to make it look like nothing happened? And he and Remus try to do that with Harry, but at the same time he seems incredibly proud and pleased with himself when he talks about the prank. One moment confused me when I was reading book 3: when Sirius has Peter at gunpoint with his wand, he is extremely focused on him. He doesn't take his eyes off him, because it was for this moment, the act of revenge, that he escaped from prison. As far as I remember, Harry describes it as "nothing could distract him at that moment" or something like that. But as soon as Remus even mentions Snape, Sirius' attention suddenly switches: he turns away from Peter and asks about him again. Or when he watches Snape during the OWL exams??? Especially when Rowling describes his reaction after the exam, when he sees him under the tree, as the reaction of a dog to a rabbit. He seems so obsessed and like something happened between them that really got to him. Or he's just as intolerant of half-bloods as his family. I completely agree with you that Sirius bullied Snape simply because James did it and he found it funny. But his hatred seems excessive, he has no reason to hate Snape so much. James has his excuse about Lily, but Sirius has none of that. But he still tries to kill him and it doesn't really matter hides, lol. I've read an opinion that he hates him because of his unrequited feelings for James, where Severus is the reason James even noticed Lily, which I don't really agree with, to be honest. Sorry, it got too long, ahaha. What I want to ask is: do you have any thoughts on this?

Well, the explanation for his relationships at school is quite simple because Sirius doesn’t leave home until he’s 16. Considering that his brother goes to Slytherin and that Narcissa is his cousin, it’s not strange to deduce that Snape’s name, along with other Slytherin students, probably came up at some family dinner/lunch/meeting. Like, talking about who in Regulus and Sirius’ year might have ‘potential,’ for example. It seems coherent to me that, considering Sirius’ environment until he leaves to live with the Potters, he’d be aware of certain things.

Leaving that aside, let’s talk about Sirius Black, because I think in recent years the Marauders fandom has ruined this character, and he’s actually a character with a lot of depth. Or at least more than many others in the saga.

(This is gonna ne so fucking long lol)

Sirius is a posh kid. He’s a posh kid who is embarrassed about being posh and feels guilty about it. He’s the typical rich kid from a conservative family who’s had issues with his mom (in this case) and his way of getting back at everything he felt was missing from his childhood is to vehemently oppose everything he thinks she represents. And the funniest part is that (as is often the case) his problem with his mom is that they both have a terrible character, which is why they clash. Because Sirius has the kind of terrible character that is incompatible with anyone else who has the same terrible character. But despite everything, he’s still a posh kid. Because he comes from an aristocratic family and was raised with those values of superiority. Because he’s never had to fend for himself (he leaves home but goes to another rich family, the Potters, and on top of that, his uncle Alphard leaves him his entire inheritance, so he has plenty of money) and he has always enjoyed the privilege of his surname, his blood status, and the fact that he’s (according to Rowling) super handsome. In other words, Sirius belongs to the ruling class and behaves with the same arrogance, entitlement, and lack of empathy that is typical of that class. No matter how much he tries to deny it and distance himself from it, he can only do so on a superficial level (Muggle posters, being a Gryffindor, enchanting a Muggle motorcycle) because when it comes down to it, he has no idea how to deconstruct himself, nor is he interested in giving up or losing his privileges, because he’s quite comfortable with them. He’s like the typical aristocratic kid from an Opus Dei family who thinks he’s better than everyone around him because he votes for the left and has been to four protests, but at the end of the day, he still lives a bourgeois life and doesn’t understand the root of social problems.

That said, let’s move on to James.

I think James was everything Sirius wanted to be. No, not be, I think James had everything Sirius wanted to have: loving parents, a family that wasn’t involved in a cult, a pleasant environment that allowed him to do whatever he wanted instead of being constrained by traditions and social norms, liberal and progressive ideals… James had the life Sirius had always wanted, but with one key detail: he was also rich and from an old, prestigious family. This is super important because when Sirius chooses his rebellion partner, he doesn’t pick some random Muggle-born, or a half-blood, or someone from the middle or lower class. Sirius chooses as his best friend someone who embodies everything he wants to be/have, but who at the same time belongs to his same social stratum, both economically and in blood status. Sirius chooses a future Gryffindor rebel with very different ideas from his family, but ironically he chooses like anyone from his family would: someone with money, status, and power. And I find this super amusing because it’s so coherent with his character. I mean, if Sirius were a real person, he would’ve done the same thing because guys like him are like that: the kings of cognitive dissonance and double standards.

Sirius always wanted James’ validation, or at least that’s how I see it. I think for him, feeling that James approved of what he did was a way to legitimize himself as someone different from his family. James represented the “progressive” social elite that Sirius aspired to by rejecting the traditional values imposed on him. So, unconsciously, he understood that if he did everything James wanted, and I’ll go further, everything he thought James would like, then he would distance himself from that Black image and gain validation as something entirely opposite. The problem is that Sirius, unlike James, was raised in an environment where ethical and moral values were very different, and where it was clearly established that certain people were “the other,” an “other” sociologically understood as the idea that some humans are inherently less than others. And although Sirius consciously rejected this idea, unconsciously he had been raised with it. Therefore, consciously, he didn’t reject people based on their blood status because he could identify that as something his family would do, and family = bad. But unconsciously, he was conditioned to see other people as non-people, and this is where Severus comes into play.

James dislikes Severus because he sees him as an obstacle/threat/nuisance in his crush on Lily. By default, and because of that constant need for validation from James, Sirius also focuses on him as a hostile element. And if he’s hostile to James, who in a way is his moral compass, then that guy must be trash because, of course, it’s obvious. But not only that, this guy is also a half-blood and poor, so poor he wears old clothes. And on top of that, he’s ugly. And not very masculine. So he has all the elements for Sirius, the aristocrat raised in luxury under the premise that he’s better than others because of his origins, to see him as “the other” and exercise all his power and privilege to oppress him without remorse, because for him, it’s justified. Justified unconsciously by the education he received, and consciously because if James hates him, there must be a good reason to hate him, so everything is justified. If we add to that the fact that Severus desires everything Sirius has always tried to reject: more social status, more recognition, power, belonging to Slytherin, rubbing shoulders with important wizards, forgetting the Muggle world he grew up in… well, we have a molotov cocktail for him to make Severus’ life unbearable. And Severus is an easy target for someone like school-age Sirius Black: he has no friends, no surname, no parents to protect him, and no stable socio-economic situation. Sirius can project all his frustrations onto him without any consequences. He can completely dehumanize him and stop seeing him as a person. He can behave like a Black.

I think the Prank is a good example to see the difference in upbringing between Sirius and James. Both are bullies, both are abusers, both have zero remorse when it comes to using their status and power to make life impossible for those they believe deserve it. But James was raised in an environment where he knows that actions have consequences, that you can’t cross “certain lines,” such as murder, for example. Sirius was taught the opposite—he was raised to think that the life of “the other” holds no value, and that is something that in his story with Severus goes too far. James understands that death is something serious and can bring terrible consequences, while Sirius does not. For the Black family, death is nothing if there is a reason for the person to die, and Sirius has his own reasons for playing with Severus’ life the way Bellatrix would play with the life of any Muggle-born.

(This is something I really like as well—the way Sirius and Bellatrix are fundamentally alike, and how little that’s discussed. But I’ll leave that for another time, otherwise I won’t finish.)

I don’t think it’s a matter of Sirius being obsessed with Snape, but rather that, for all the reasons I’ve explained, he uses Severus as a catalyst for his repressed anger and that sadism he inherited from his family. He can’t channel it toward anyone else because that would lead to absolute rejection from James. Since James hates and despises Severus, he’s never going to question Sirius for channeling all his pent-up rage on him, so it’s a free pass. If he had reached that level of sadism with someone who didn’t provoke the same level of animosity in James as Severus did, he would have risked confronting his biggest fear: that James would see him as a Black, not as Sirius. Losing his validation as the black sheep to become just another one of them. So he focuses on Severus because it’s a safe bet.

Moving on to their relationship during the book canon…

We don’t really see a proper confrontation until the fifth book. I mean, in the third, it shows that Sirius still sees Severus as “other” by dragging him along while unconsciously banging his head. In the fourth, there’s that scene where Dumbledore forces them to shake hands, and it’s clear they still hate each other. But it’s not until the fifth book that we get a real confrontation, where Sirius loses his temper. I think this has a lot to do with (drumroll) once again that cognitive dissonance between what Sirius always wanted to be and what he actually is, especially given the role he plays on the chessboard at that point in the story.

Sirius did everything he could to distance himself from his family, and the climax of that was joining the Order of the Phoenix and actively fighting against that same family, several members of whom were “soldiers” for the opposite side. Sirius is finally achieving what he wants—to be a hero. To stop being part of the elite dark villains and instead be part of the heroic elite. The noble of high birth who fights valiantly for the good of the realm, just as James was destined to be. It’s the climax, the absolute fulfillment of his adolescent desire. But then he’s thrown into Azkaban, and when he gets out, he finds that the poor, weird kid addicted to dark arts, who sucked up to future dark wizards, who hung out with purists and even joined the “bad side”—the side of Sirius’ family, the villains—is now the most important member of the Order. He’s none other than Dumbledore’s right hand. He’s a double agent risking his neck every day and has more responsibility than anyone else. That kid Sirius called Snivellus for being a crybaby has more guts and more endurance than most people. The one who always wanted to be part of the elite Sirius hated is now the one playing them all, making them look like idiots. The one who looked frail and effeminate turns out to be more “manly.” And that hurts. That hurts a lot. You go to prison, and when you get out, the person you didn’t even consider a person not only ranks above you, but is playing in a league you can’t aspire to. And the best part is, Sirius can’t fully accept it because he’s still Sirius—a classist, privileged aristocrat incapable of accepting that (as is only logical) the poor working-class kid turned out to be far more useful than him in both politics and war.

To me, it’s poetic justice.

[somedaylazysomeday]

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You catch Silco's eye at The Last Drop, but he isn't the only one interested in you.

Silco x fem!reader x Sevika

Rating: Explicit. Minors, please do not interact.

Word Count: 5,900

Warnings: Clubs, predator/prey vibes, sex, interrupted sex, minor voyeurism, threesomes, anal fingering, double penetration, anal sex, sex toy use.

Masterlist

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You were on a bed, sandwiched between two warm bodies. You were trying to stay afloat in the wash of touches, your body stretching in ways it never had before. With the all-encompassing sensations, you were struggling to remember exactly how you had gotten to this point. 

You hadn’t been drugged or anything. That much needed to be said, especially somewhere like The Last Drop. But no, the fuzziness of the evening had started from the first time you had caught the Shimmer-glowing eye of Silco himself, and you were drunk on everything that had happened since.

Catching Silco’s attention wasn’t something you had set out to do. Just the thought would have made you dizzy with nervousness and intimidation. Those weren’t emotions you had very often. Growing up in the deepest shadows cast by Piltover had left you with the distinct impression that there was no further you could sink. 

And there were always predators in the deep. 

When you had first noticed that mismatched gaze fixed on you, you had put on your best blank expression. Every Undercity resident worth their air knew that Silco wasn’t someone to fuck with. And if he had decided that he didn’t like the look of you, it would be better to leave The Last Drop before he had a chance to kick you out personally. 

Admittedly, he would be more likely to send his second-in-command, Sevika, to get rid of you. That didn’t make it any more pleasant, though she was easily as attractive as he was - just with a different sort of danger. 

In any case, you lost sight of him after that, though you couldn’t help but scan the crowds regularly for a sight of that glowing eye. Every time you didn’t see it, you relaxed a little more, though you couldn’t help recognizing that there was a part of yourself that rode a wave of disappointment. 

Silco was known for being dangerous, but he was also undeniably handsome. That trim body and sharp fashion sense were paired with the keenest wit the Undercity had seen in decades, and he used it to his best advantage. Silco could take apart his enemies with a few well-placed words and a single command to his army of followers. 

And he fucked.

Very few people could claim the distinction of having been with the Eye of Zaun, but everyone seemed to have a story about the time their friend’s older sibling’s cousin had spent a few glorious hours in the chem-baron’s company. 

You would be willing to dismiss those stories as urban legends, a simple desire to make Silco’s power personal by having it exercised over you directly, but the stories all shared a few too many details. Firstly, they almost always started with someone catching Silco’s eye in The Last Drop. 

Second, he was always very much in charge. It wasn’t something you would struggle to believe. If Silco was going to hook up with a stranger, it was only smart to make sure he was in control of the situation, if only to keep from being double-crossed. 

Third, the person was never contacted again after their initial encounter with Silco. If they met him somewhere else, he was cool and indifferent toward them. It was clear that he was interested in short-term pleasure, not long-term commitment. 

There were a few other factors that featured in most stories, but they weren’t entirely consistent and you didn’t count them. For instance, a lot of stories had Sevika involved, but not all of them. Some listed favorite positions or toys that were used, but those reports were so varied as to be pointless. 

Overall, you considered the stories a fascinating look at how folklore supported shadowy figures in the Undercity. It was an interesting way to pass your time, even if it felt a bit voyeuristic. But you were simply interested in a major Undercity player, and found the pursuit of trends in stories a good indicator of that. You were watching solely as an academic exercise, not from any personal interest. 

That was why you had regularly chosen to drink at the Drop for the past few months. The only reason.

Still, despite the stories - nay, Silco’s sexual exploits had reached the level of legend - you hadn’t expected to actually make eye contact with Silco himself. Even then, your tipsy-but-watchful demeanor hadn’t been enough to see him a second time. 

Perhaps it had been a fluke. You weren’t stupid enough to think it had been anyone other than Silco, but you were also willing to concede that he probably observed the goings-on of The Last Drop. It wasn’t impossible that he had been watching the crowd at the same moment that you had been looking around. Still, there was something about the way his gaze had slowly slid away from yours that made you think he had been watching you for a while.

And you had to consider the tingling feeling of being watched, dancing invisible fingertips between your shoulder blades.

But you hadn’t seen Silco again. Not until you had gone to the bar. The bartender had slid you a drink before you had even ordered, directing you to a hallway that led from one side of the room. There, you found a staircase, and the door at the top had been unlocked…

When you opened the door and stepped into the darkened room beyond, Silco had been inside. You couldn’t claim to be completely surprised - who else would have a bedroom in The Last Drop? 

You also weren’t stupid enough to believe that the room was actually where Silco slept. No, the bed was ridiculously big and the shelves against the walls held a variety of lascivious-looking toys. This was clearly where Silco hooked up with people from his club. 

That, at least, ended up being correct. Silco had shared a drink with you, telling you bluntly that he was interested in fucking you that night. He asked if you were interested in that, too. Your immediate and resounding ‘yes’ was embarrassing, but he only gave a small smirk and told you to finish your drink while you discussed preferences and limits. 

When that was settled, you found yourself on that giant mattress, flat on your back under him as he ravaged your mouth. He explored you thoroughly, taking control so casually and naturally that it only seemed to make sense. 

And then he was inside of you, pushing himself deep as you arched your back and cried out for him. Your voice was loud in the room - too loud, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was thick and hot, and you could feel him throbbing. Or maybe you were the one throbbing, your inner muscles working around him as your body tried to decide whether to pull him deeper or push him out of you entirely. 

Just as you were beginning to relax around and under him, a loud bang made you jump. You couldn’t see much from under the canopy of Silco’s body, but you managed to spy that the door was now open. More importantly, someone was standing inside. 

“Scoop told me to come find you- Oh.” 

The voice was low and rough, so much so that it took a moment for you to realize that it was female. And there was only one person you could think of who wouldn’t be apologizing profusely by this point: Sevika. 

To your mingled surprise and embarrassment, Sevika stepped around the bed until she could see you more clearly past Silco’s shielding body. Her lips curved into a sardonic smirk as her dark eyes wandered over every bit of you visible in your current position. 

“Nice going, boss,” Sevika congratulated lowly. “If you didn’t wreck that pretty pussy, I was gonna do it myself.”

Your breath caught at that, the muscles of your core fluttering at the unexpected filth. 

Silco rolled his hips, pressing further into you and driving a gasp from your lungs. “Mmm, she liked that. And, as it happens, I’ve already started working on ruining her.”

“Everything I’ve seen so far seems pretty tame,” Sevika said with a scoff. “I think you’re losing your touch. Maybe you should let an expert take over.” 

Silco bared his teeth, holding your hips tight against his to keep himself buried deep as he rolled. When you were on top, still laying with your chest pressed to his, Silco raised his eyebrows at Sevika. “I am the expert here. If you don’t believe me, perhaps you should see for yourself.” 

Sevika grinned, teeth flashing brightly in her smile. Her lightning-quick wink was the last thing you saw before she stepped out of view once more. 

When you would have turned your head to keep her in view, Silco gripped your chin and held it steady to press a kiss to your lips. When he let you pull away, he murmured, “Pay attention. You’ll hurt my pride.” 

The feeling of his chest rubbing against your stiffened nipples made your eagerness surge, but the sharp gasp was pulled from you by a different sensation: fingertips running upward along one side of your entrance, trailing around where Silco’s length had you spread wide around him. You couldn’t help a squirming shiver when that touch traveled up and between your cheeks. 

“Sensitive little thing, isn’t she?” Sevika asked, a warm chuckle rumbling through her voice.

“If you could feel her the way I can, you would not need to ask.” Silco punctuated it with a pulse of his hips that made you gasp and cling to him. 

Normally, this was not your kind of thing. You preferred to be an active partner in your sexual encounters, and the fact that most of the comments being tossed around were pointedly not directed toward you should have made you nervous. Probably would have in any other situation, if you were being honest. 

But you felt exposed like this, knowing someone was watching. Someone who had plainly stated that she was also interested in your body. That, combined with the knowledge of how dangerous both of them were, kept you calm as they spoke around you rather than including you in the conversation. You felt as if you were slowly turning into a pile of flesh and nerves, able to do nothing but limply receive the pleasure you were offered. 

Somehow, it was working for you.

“But you have yet to tell me,” Silco continued, giving another lazy thrust that made you squirm down onto him more firmly. “How does she look?” 

“Needy. Hot. Desperate. Sexy,” Sevika said with a hum. Her attention was still between your legs as she scattered adjectives through the conversation. She played idly with you and - if you were to guess from his low growl - with Silco as well. Her fingers pulled you wider, as if testing how far your folds would spread. “The only way she’ll look better is dripping with cum, too fucked-out to move.”

You were listening intently to her, but a sound in the room made it hard to focus. It was only when they both chuckled that you realized the sound was a whine, coming from between your own parted lips.

“I can think of something else that may be better still,” Silco mused. His voice sounded teasing, but he didn’t continue. The silence felt heavy, weighed down with expectation and more than a hint of anticipation. 

Silco’s hand smoothed over your temple, making you twitch with surprise. You glanced up to find him watching you. “What do you think, pet? Shall we invite Sevika to join us?” 

Your mouth went dry. You didn’t want to risk trying and failing to speak, so you settled for a fervent nod. Silco’s lips curled as he glanced behind you. There was a knowing light glowing in his mismatched eyes, but they were aimed at Sevika, not you. 

“Where do you want me?” Even Sevika’s low voice and brusque tone couldn’t disguise her interest. There was a stab of satisfaction in your gut - you may have been needy, but she wasn't as unaffected as she wanted to seem. 

"Hmm…" Silco drawled, tracing circles on your skin that made you shiver. "If we truly want to ruin her, there would seem to be an obvious choice." 

His touch lifted your chin once more, pulling your touch-drunk gaze toward his. With that orange eye burning deep into your mind and soul, Silco asked, "Shall Sevika and I share you? Take you at the same time?" 

You nodded again, but Silco stared harder. "And has your lovely rear ever taken anything before?" 

Feeling inexplicably disappointed in yourself and your past sexual partners, you slowly shook your head. 

"And would you like to try?" 

Your eyes snapped back to Silco's face, core throbbing. "Yes, I would." 

Silco's lips curled into a pleased and slightly predatory smile. 

Behind you, Sevika barked a laugh. "She can still speak." The chill of metal fingers against the side of your face made your eyes flutter closed. "We'll fix that." 

"Get harnessed," Silco ordered, and Sevika's artificial touch disappeared from you. "Use the smallest toy. I want her ruined, not destroyed." 

Even as your body gave a throb, clearly of the opinion that it wouldn't mind either way, Sevika said, "I’ll get ready. You keep doing what you were doing."

Silco took her at her word. He started slow, guiding your hips up and down on his length. When you had found the right combination of movements on your part and the right amount of Silco thrusting into you from below, your pace naturally built back to where it had been before. 

The sound of your panting breaths filled the room, pairing chaotically with the sounds of sex. You had almost forgotten about Sevika entirely in the sprint toward your impending orgasm. But Silco stopped you with a steady press of fingers against your hips, his attention moving to something behind you. When he gave an approving smile, you glanced back as well. 

Sevika was standing behind you, baring more skin than you could remember seeing her display. Her muscular arms were on full show, leading up to broad, strong shoulders. She was wearing a black breastband, but it could hardly contain the rounded swells of her breasts and your mouth watered at the idea of seeing them without any cover at all. Her abdomen was taut, a hint of muscle definition casting shadows on the flat expanse of her stomach. There was a suggestion of a rounded lower belly that made you itch to touch Sevika’s dusky skin, but that bit of softness was covered by a pair of black, form-fitting boxers. 

When your eyes finally fell between Sevika’s legs, you could see that the boxers doubled as a harness. The toy held in place by the boxers was also black, and you struggled to pick out its edges against the darkness of the background. Sevika helped you - perhaps inadvertently - as she worked the short shaft, coating it with shining lube. 

You watched her fist the toy, laying a thick coat of slippery gel over the surface. Your mouth was dry, but you did your best to pretend that you weren’t utterly entranced by the sight. 

Silco gave a rumbling laugh, and it buzzed pleasantly through you. “Like what you see, pet? Do you think you can take her?” 

Sevika smirked at you, hand spreading open between the toy and the boxers so you could see it more clearly. It was… smaller than expected. 

“That’s it?” you asked, cringing at yourself a moment later. 

Sevika laughed out loud. “For your first time? It’s plenty, trust me. Anything bigger and we really would destroy you.” 

You smiled back, but Silco was already moving on. “Sevika is going to prepare you. I want your eyes on me.” 

When you turned back to face the man beneath you, Silco nodded slowly. “One moment.” 

Silco’s hands were firm around your hips. He used the leverage of them to spear himself as far into you as he could get, pressing deep and deeper until there wasn’t a fraction of space between your pelvis and his. Your mouth had fallen open somewhere along the line as you dealt with the flood of sensations, but he wasn’t done. 

His palms slid up either side of your spine, pulling you forward until you were lying flat against him again, your breasts crushed to his chest and his length shifting oddly inside of you. You weren’t sure what look you were wearing when you stared down at him from inches away, but the pupil of Silco’s green eye was blown wide and you thought you would drown in the darkness of it. 

Sevika’s touch made you jump just a bit, but it was enough to pull you free of the trap in Silco’s gaze. She must have been touching you with her metal arm, since her hand was cool and firm against you. She found the place where your spine met your ass, the spot where the sway of your spine rose past your tailbone and into the swell of your hips. 

When her hand was on that anchoring spot, Sevika pressed down. It wasn’t painful, even with the unyielding metal of her replacement arm. However, it did lock you in place against Silco, holding you steady even when you tried to squirm at the feeling of him inside of you. 

The feeling of warm, slippery fingers came a moment later - hardly a surprise, even as a gasp fought to escape you. That touch traveled closer and closer to the center of your ass, working its way toward that secret place hidden between your lower cheeks. 

She quickly found your rear entrance and pressed a finger against it. You made an inhuman sound at the firm touch even as you fought to wiggle your hips closer. When her hand on you and Silco’s anchoring grip made that impossible, you settled for arching your back to give her better access. 

Sevika laughed, and the sound warmed your face. “Responsive. I like her already.” 

“Just wait,” Silco told her lazily. “She’s the best I’ve had in some time. Not overly chatty, either.” 

“Just the way you like ‘em,” Sevika remarked. Her fingers playing against the small of your back made you shudder - or perhaps that was the way her other hand was poised and ready to breach you. When Sevika spoke again, her voice was closer to you, as if she had leaned in. “Don’t worry, we’ll get some sounds outta you either way.” 

Somehow, you managed a halfway sexy laugh. "Promises, promises." 

A firm slap to your ass took your breath away. It was a good spank, but it also forced you further into Silco's cock and ground your clit against his pelvis. 

"Sevika," Silco's voice lashed lowly through the room. "Enough teasing." 

As if to prove his own point, Silco used his grip on your hips to pull you up off of him and slam you back down. The suddenness of it made it all the more intense, and you started riding him without any further prompting.

"We'll start you off slowly," Silco said, offering a nod past you. 

A cool drop of liquid landed just above the crack of your ass, sliding slowly downward. The first drop was followed by another and another, until the slippery gel had started working its way down to your heated core. 

Searching fingers slipped between your cheeks and you tensed reflexively. Sevika's voice was low and close as she said, "Relax."

That wasn't going to happen any time soon, not with her touching what she was getting ready to, but you made an effort anyway. The tension drained slowly from your muscles, and you were so focused that you hadn't noticed the way Silco had stopped moving again.

His hands traveled upward to splay across your back once more, holding you steady as one of Sevika's fingers found your rear entrance and began to press against it. 

Your vision seemed to dim. Not from the sensation itself - though that was certainly a source of interest - but because you were concentrating so hard on the way it felt that you weren’t fully using your eyes anymore. Beyond a vague recognition that Silco was watching you closely, all of your focus was on something you couldn’t see. 

With the lube that was coating you, Sevika’s finger provided almost no friction. If not for the press of her knuckles against the softness of your cheeks, you would hardly know what she was doing. Her finger was equally slick (you suspected it had been coated with a fresh sheen of lubrication), but far more noticeable with the way it pressed against you. 

Your entrance braced against the intrusion, fighting to keep it out. As the pressure increased against you, you drew tighter and tighter. Silco made a surprised noise at the way your inner muscles squeezed around him. It was quiet, but just enough to distract you. You relaxed as you glanced at Silco, and that was all it took for Sevika’s finger to breach you. 

Naturally, you tensed. It was an unfamiliar sensation. Not uncomfortable, but different in a way that stole your focus. That ring of muscle seemed to stretch impossibly wide around the invader, and that feeling only grew as more and more of her finger sank into you. 

“You’re a fool not to take her ass yourself,” Sevika informed Silco. “She’s gonna be perfect.”

“Perhaps I consider the privilege a reward for your excellent work,” Silco countered. “Besides, she is strangling my cock now. I think this will prove pleasurable for both of us. And even more so for our lovely guest.” 

Sevika hummed in agreement, the fingers of her free hand dancing over the small of your back. “If she can walk after this, we haven’t done enough.” 

With a twisting motion, Sevika curled her finger all the way into you, stopping only when her knuckles were pressing against the cheeks of your ass. The noise you made was short and sharp, an audible expression of your pleasure. 

“Are her eyes crossing yet?” Sevika asked. 

Silco caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, carefully turning your face from side to side. “I do not believe so, but we have plenty of time. Sevika will keep her finger in you, pet, while we resume our activities. I want you used to taking something in two places at once before we start in earnest.” 

It wasn’t a question - no part of it had been, but you nodded anyway. Silco grabbed your hips again, guiding you in a new rhythm. He stayed deep inside of you, his tip never quite leaving your core even as he thrust. You picked up the pattern and started to follow it eagerly. There was a different dimension to the pleasure with something in your ass. 

Sevika followed your movements with her hand, keeping her finger buried in you. It spurred you on, adding spice to every thrust as you adjusted to being stretched in two places. 

A warmth at your back warned that Sevika was leaning in again. “Let’s take him apart.”

Your movements stuttered when her finger started to move inside of you, but she didn’t start to fuck you with it. Instead, she curled the digit, timing each curl perfectly to catch Silco’s tip at every thrust.

Silco’s brows furrowed, a harsh curse leaving him. He picked up speed when yours faltered, holding the rhythm even when you were completely distracted by the feeling of Sevika pressing against the thin wall that separated her from Silco. 

At last - and long after your brain had melted entirely - Silco seemed to have had enough. With his chipped teeth bared, he hissed, “Sevika. Take her.” 

The abrupt feeling of Sevika’s finger sliding from you made you gasp. She and Silco both chuckled, though Silco’s voice sounded a little strained. 

“Ready?” Sevika asked, ducking forward so you could see her without straining your neck. Her eyes seemed even darker, excitement sharpening her features. You could only nod in silent agreement. 

Her hands pressed you forward against Silco’s chest once more. You felt them travel down slowly, teasing where you and the chem baron were joined. Her touch dipped briefly lower and Silco cursed again. “Focus, Sevika.” 

As if enticing her to do exactly that, Silco grabbed as much of your ass as he could possibly hold, spreading your cheeks wide as your face went hot. Sevika’s hastily stifled groan eased your embarrassment, but your breathing had picked up and you were fighting not to push back toward her. 

A metal hand against the base of your spine drew your attention from your own eagerness for a moment. “Keep relaxed for me,” Sevika urged. 

It was an impossible thing to ask, but you did your best as she placed the tip of her toy against your ass. You felt your eyes widen as she started to push into you. 

You had seen the toy. It was small, almost laughably so. But now, it felt immense against your rear entrance. As it started to spear into you, it seemed to stretch you impossibly wide. The intrusion burned slightly, even with the generous amounts of lube that coated both you and the toy, and you would have shifted away from it if Silco weren’t holding you so tightly. 

Your mouth opened, ready to call things off and walk away, but there was a slight popping sensation that made you jolt. “Head’s in.” 

Sevika’s explanation answered your unasked question, but you couldn’t acknowledge her verbally. The steady slide of the toy into you was smooth and inevitable, your body letting it in with minimal struggle. 

The firm press of her boxer-clad hips against your ass made you jump again, but Sevika’s hands smoothed down your sides. “Doin’ good for me, pretty girl. We’re gonna stay like this for a minute.” 

You nodded, agreeing to yet another thing that hadn’t truly been a question. Slowly, Silco urged you to sit upright on him. You winced at the feeling of being stretched in two places, but it wasn’t painful. Silco wasn’t a small man and it was always odd to move this way with someone inside of you. Sevika’s toy was small, but it was odd and different enough to make you double-check every sensation to see whether it was good or bad. 

Sevika started things, gently massaging your breasts from behind. Her touch was gentle but insistent, bringing your body back to eagerness. Silco joined in soon afterward, focusing his attention between your legs. His nimble fingers teased your folds around where he was speared and further back, but most of his attention was fixed on your clit. 

Your lips parted as your breathing picked up. Silco and Sevika’s motions synced up, and Sevika’s fingers rolled your nipple just as Silco gave your clit a firm rub. You moaned aloud, head tipping forward in time to see a smirk spread over Silco’s face. 

“It sounds as if our pet is ready to be fucked,” he remarked conversationally to Sevika. “Shall we?” 

“Hmm…” Sevika hedged, rolling her hips against your ass as she thought. The motion knocked you off-balance, pushing you forward along Silco’s cock and spearing you back onto both of them when you corrected your position. You let out a plaintive sound. “How can I resist when she sounds like that?”

“Are you ready?” Silco asked, grabbing your chin once more. 

That grip kept you from nodding. With your three functional brain cells, you managed, “Yes. Please.”

“Please,” Sevika repeated, amused. “You don’t have to beg. Yet.” 

And then they started to move. The first few thrusts were disjoined, leaving you tossed back and forth between them like a toy boat in a storm. But they found a devastating rhythm soon enough. Silco pumped in and out of you, using his length to best advantage. Sevika had less of a shaft to work with, but she focused her energy on giving a little swivel of her hips with every stroke. The combination was lethal. 

It seemed that you had just started when your body tightened. Tension was screaming through every muscle, warning that you were only moments away from utterly imploding. 

“I- I’m–” you stammered, someone taking the words from your lips before you could get any further than a single word into your warning. 

“We know,” Silco said, smugness written across his face. 

“Surprised you made it this long,” Sevika agreed. 

You decided that the best revenge would be to come. Your body wasn’t waiting for permission from your brain, but the timing was great - no sooner had you made your decision than every muscle in your body locked down. 

Colors burst behind your eyes as the most intense orgasm you’d ever had roared through you. You had always imagined going through a hex-gate would be like that: an all-encompassing experience that robbed you of every sense until you were through. Of course, if the hex-gates felt anywhere near as amazing as it did to come on Silco and Sevika’s cocks, you would understand the exorbitant prices for passage. 

If not for Silco’s hands on your hips and Sevika’s arms around your torso, you would have stopped moving entirely, other than to collapse forward. Somehow, they kept you upright, even when they edged you toward overstimulation. 

Silco let out a low, wordless growl as he fucked up into you hard for a thrust, then two. When he was buried as far into you as he could possibly get, he came. The condom he wore kept you from feeling its heat, but his staccato pounding pushed you into a strong aftershock. 

He was almost pretty like that, you reflected, watching Silco writhe beneath you. Fierce, of course, and always imposing, but somehow pretty. Maybe it was the way his eyes flashed, or how his face narrowed even more with the intensity of his pleasure. Or maybe it was the way his jaw dropped, a helpless sound of pleasure leaving him even as his brow crinkled with irritation at his own vulnerability. 

Eventually, Silco lay slack on the bed, watching you and Sevika as his cock slowly softened inside of you. You were still pushed forward and back on him, moving slightly with Sevika’s thrusts. It felt inappropriate somehow, having your ass fucked while you were watched by the man you had started the night with. But Silco seemed unbothered, tracing lazy circles against your hips as he held you still to receive Sevika’s thrusts. 

You could come again this way, you decided idly. Anal was a slower build to orgasm than you were used to, but it was certainly more powerful when it got there. 

“Close yet?” Silco asked eventually. It could have sounded impatient or jealous, but his tone was nothing more than curious. 

“Close,” Sevika confirmed. “It’s a smaller hilt than I would have wanted.” 

“Did you choose the one that vibrates?” 

You couldn’t see Sevika’s expression, but there was something close to glee in her voice as she said, “Forgot about that, but yeah.” 

“Allow me,” Silco offered valiantly. He reached to grab something from a nearby table, and then you were too busy writhing to worry about what he was holding. 

Sevika’s toy buzzed violently in your ass, and you were choking on air at the unexpected sensation. You could only squirm with the surprise of it, but when you had regained some control of your muscles, your instincts hijacked your brain. The only thing you could do was lean forward onto hands you had planted against Silco’s chest, pulling away and thrusting yourself back onto Sevika’s toy as quickly as you could manage. 

Between your sudden eagerness and Sevika’s continued thrusting, the toy pulled free of and punched back in far more often than it had up to that point. A small, almost silent part of you recognized that the ache would be fierce the next day, but that concern was overwhelmed by the vast majority of you that insisted this was necessary. You needed to come again. If you didn’t, you would die. 

At last, Sevika gave a sharp, staccato cry and buried her face in your neck. The flexing of her hips buried the toy as far inside of you as it could get. The buzzing brought you to a small but powerful second orgasm. You reveled in every second of it, even as Silco turned off the toy’s vibrations and soreness immediately set in. 

Sevika pulled out of you, and the resulting motion of your hips allowed Silco to slide free as well. You collapsed on the surface of the bed, your fall cushioned by blankets and the arms of the two strangers you’d had sex with.

They started a low conversation above you as you throbbed and basked in the afterglow. Either they were speaking too quietly for you to hear or your brain wasn’t quite capable of processing speech yet. Either way, you were largely left to your own thoughts. 

You hadn’t watched Sevika come. That was the only part of the experience you regretted. Silco was beautiful when he came, and you were willing to bet that Sevika had been the same. Unfortunately, she had been behind you and there were no mirrors that you could see. You felt cheated, almost, robbed of the chance to see a strong, stunning woman brought to her knees with pleasure from your body. 

But you couldn’t truly complain. The rest of the night had been incredible. Silco truly deserved to have so many people talking about his talents in the bedroom. If he had orchestrated the whole scenario - and you strongly suspected that he had - he was both a master manipulator and someone with a keen need for pleasure. 

Yes, if you were only going to get one chance at this, you were satisfied in how things had played out. And you had been with both Silco and Sevika! Two of the most dangerous people in the Undercity had let you share their bed, and they had cared enough about your pleasure to be sure that you came twice. 

Now, you had your own story to share… but you didn’t think you would. This felt like something to keep quiet and close, to treasure for the rest of your life. And, of course, to get off to when you were feeling particularly lonely or needy. 

“Is she wrecked enough for your tastes?” 

Silco’s quiet question was the first thing you had understood in quite some time, and you realized with a start that he was talking about you.

“Mmhmm,” Sevika hummed, sounding wickedly satisfied. “Look at her.” 

Since they were sitting at the right angle to be staring at your sensitive core, you didn’t bother to keep your eyes open. You were tempted to be shy, but sleep was calling louder and louder. They had made a mess of you, after all. They could look at that mess if they liked. 

“I would like to try her mouth next time,” Silco added, almost absently. 

Sevika let out a short laugh. “Works for me. I wanna bury my tongue in that pussy until she’s sobbing.” 

“We’ll have to do this again soon,” Silco agreed. 

You could hardly believe your ears, but even your excitement couldn’t keep you awake. You faded into soft and filthy dreams, the words ‘next time’ echoing in your ears as you went.

---

Author's Note - The reader character does and says a lot less than I'm used to writing, so my apologies for that. Honestly, this was fueled by scraps of a weird dream after I had too much wine one night. My excuse is that it was a very overwhelming dream for an ace-spectrum writer, so I just got it all down on paper as soon as I could!

Thanks for reading!

[fae-renjun]

...AND EVERY CHRISTMAS AFTER — o.so

PAIRING oh sion x fem!reader ── .✦ GENRE childhood friends to lovers, fluff, very mild angst ── .✦ WARNINGS just kissing, the most fluff i've ever written ── .✦ SYNOPSIS in which you’ve spent every christmas growing up with sion, and if you’re lucky, you’ll spend every christmas after with him too. ── .✦ A/N this is my entry for the @k-films 2024 advent calendar! ── .✦ WC 1.4k+

⋆⁺₊❅.─ 25th december 2024, 11:27am

It’s Christmas day, and the whole house is alive and in a hurry. Shouts of “mom, where’s my sweater?” and “get out! I need to use the bathroom!” fill the air, drowning out George Michael’s voice in Last Christmas as it plays from the living room speakers. Frantic relatives rush through the hallways past fairy lights and fake wreaths to get ready for the guests to arrive. It’s the first year in your life that the guests haven’t stayed over on Christmas eve. 

“Y/N, can you make me hot chocolate?” shouts Sakuya from the floor above. “Why would I?” you reply to the brother in question. “I’ll do your dishes tonight.” “Deal.”

While you stir away at the two cups of hot chocolate in front of you, it becomes difficult to get your mind off the foreboding you’d felt in the pit of your stomach since waking up that day. You love your family, you really do. Winter break has been beyond fun with your cousins in town. But just this once you wish you could spend Christmas at your friend’s party instead. Just so you could avoid him. You still don’t have it in you to face him. Not after last December.

Almost as if your thoughts hold summoning powers, the doorbell rings, “Kids, come to the living room, they’re here!”

You walk out of the kitchen to face the family of your mother’s best friend, including her son: Oh Sion. The boy you hadn’t seen since new years, when you took a chance and kissed him and he didn't kiss back. The boy who stared back in disbelief after you pulled away which was more than enough to add to your mortification. The boy you’d made every effort to avoid all year.

⋆⁺₊❅.─ 24th december 2016, 7:54pm

“They’re so stupid, why would they use that door?”

“The point of the movie is that they’re stupid Sion.”

“Okay, but-”

Before the argument you’re having over Home Alone can go on any longer, your mother shushes both of you, “be quieter, everyone else is trying to watch the movie too.”

You lock eyes with Sion and then both of you turn back to your mother, “Now you’re just lying mom.”

“Yeah Mrs.L/N, it’s a kids movie, none of the adults here care. Not even you.”

“And Saku isn’t even old enough to know what’s going on.”

Your mother reopens her mouth as if to say something, but then seems to change her mind, smiling at the two of you and shaking her head. The two of you turn back to the movie as she turns to Sion’s mom, saying something about how no matter how much the pair of you bickered, you had a habit of standing up for yourselves together. If nine-year-old you cared to listen, you would have heard them say they hoped you two stayed this way forever.

It’s Christmas eve, you’re sitting next to a boy you would realise you loved 5 years later, and your mothers already think you are meant to be. 

⋆⁺₊❅.─ 25th december 2024, 12:02pm

Since he got here, you had avoided eye contact, excused yourself to finish making hot chocolate, excused yourself to go to the bathroom, excused yourself to set up the lunch table. Alas, there were only so many excuses you could make before being forced to sit in the living room with everyone else. By some Christmas miracle, when you got there the only open seat was the one right next to Sion.

Sion shifted to the side, making more space for you to sit, but instead you maneuvered yourself to sit on the carpeted floor right next to the Christmas tree. You manage to get through a lot of the wait time before lunch by eating candy, drinking your hot chocolate, only speaking when asked a question (usually “yes my studies are going great” or “yes, I've started looking at a few colleges”), and most importantly by looking everywhere except at him. Yet, your mother just had to shatter your nearly flawless streak of avoidance.

“Y/N, why don’t you get some hot chocolate for Sion too?”

⋆⁺₊❅.─ 25th december 2021, 1:27am

“Shhh, they’ll hear!” you whisper-yelled at him.

“I didn’t even say anything!” 

You just shook your head in response and reached over to redirect the light from the phone in his hand to the stairs in front of you, tiptoeing down, hoping the wood underfoot won’t creak. The boy next to you grabs your hand with his free one, pulling the two of you closer together than you were before. You stare at the hands and then at his face.

Sion leans to reach your ear to whisper, “I thought I heard something from upstairs.”

All you do is nod in response and continue carefully making your way down. Sion’s face stays close to yours, his hand continues to envelope your own.

You reach the entrance to the kitchen at the bottom of the stairs, turning on its lights. Sion takes his hand off yours, coughing awkwardly as he moves away and turns off his phone's flashlight. You head to the shelf in the furthest corner, getting on your toes in an attempt to reach the cookies right at the top. Sion approaches from behind leaning over you to reach the cookies easily. The gesture and the proximity make your fourteen-year-old heart flutter.

He takes a seat on the floor, placing the cookies down, just as you do the same with the cola you pulled out of the fridge. 

“I can’t imagine a Christmas without you. Or uh- you know. Without all of this,” he says quietly.

“Me neither,” you respond, just as quietly.

It’s Christmas day, you’re sitting on your kitchen floor with a boy, and you’re beginning to realise you may not just have a silly crush on him. You might just be in love. 

⋆⁺₊❅.─ 25th december 2024, 12:27pm

The kitchen has always been just out of earshot of the main living room area. The voices of both of your families fade into the background as the two of you walk in, the rapid beating of your heart becoming louder by the second and filling your ears. You start making the hot chocolate as he leans on the counter next to you, trying (and failing) to meet your eyes. 

“You’ve been avoiding me. Not just today, all year. Since new year’s.”

“I don’t really want to talk about new year’s.”

“Hm?” he hums with a questioning tone.

You stop stirring, finally meeting his eyes, “It was just- you know. A mistake. Drank a little too much. Won’t happen again.”

“We only had one beer each that night. I know your tolerance is higher than that. And I’d like it to happen again.”

There’s a pause. You process what he’s just said to you. Sion can tell by the look on your face that the cogs are turning in your head and a smirk begins to form on his face.

“Oh.” 

He nods, then after another pause you continue, “But you didn’t kiss back.”

“Because I was surprised! You’ve got to give a guy a second to figure out what’s going on before you assume the worst,” he shakes his head in mock disappointment while he smiles at your stunned expression, “I was surprised you liked me back.”

“You liked me?” “I might actually be in love with you.”

“Oh,” your voice now reduced to a whisper out of shock, “I might be in love with you too.”

Now your body turns to face him fully, just as his hand moves to your cheek. He leans down, his lips meeting yours as your hands go to his sides, grabbing his sweater. You’ve kissed people before but with Sion it’s different (especially when he kisses back). You pull apart for breath, “Ok now this is our first kiss, the new year's one doesn't count.” You laugh in response, “Deal.”

Sion engulfs you in a hug, the warm kind he’s always given you. His arms wrap around your waist as yours encircle his neck. As you hug the two of you confess how much you missed each other all year. When the hug breaks he kisses you again and you can feel the smile on his lips.

All of a sudden your attention is brought back to your previous task, realising the hot chocolate must be getting cold. Sion watches you with adoration in his eyes as you turn back to the counter to finish stirring. The adoration has always been there, you’re just beginning to notice it.

It’s christmas day, you’re standing in your kitchen with the boy you love, and you finally know he loves you just the same. You’re excited for new years day, and every christmas after, because each one will be spent with him.

© 2024 FAE-RENJUN. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy or steal any of my posts. networks: @kstrucknet

[casuallyobssessed]

Fairytales & Firesides - Bodyguard!John Wick x Fem!Reader ❥ 6.1k Words

A/N: My Keanuverse Secret Santa gift for @at-wicks-end, hosted by @97keanu ! I hope you love it! P.S. I don't live in an area that gets snow, sorry if this is inaccurate! 🫶🏼

Before You Read: bodyguard AU, fluff, canon typical violence/descriptions of violence, short-ish slow burn (I tried lol), angst, no beta, use of Y/N, :3c

gif creds to dalekinapaintedparadise - divider by bleachbambi

Archive of Our Own Link

Winter crashes into the mountains like a raging bull, forcing you inside for the foreseeable future. Sleet and snow dominate the weather forecast, rendering the outdoors dangerous in more ways than one. While the snow comes down, you could usually be found tucked away in your home library. Warm light from the fireplace bathes you in an orange and red glow as you curl up in your comfiest chair with one of your many books. This has always been your treasured safe space. 

At least, it was, until things with your uncle got more complicated. For a while now, you've been living in one of your uncle's mansions, kind of doing whatever you want. He allows you to stay there only because you promised to look after the place every winter when there aren't as many people around to help on the property due to the snowfall in the mountains. 

Your uncle, Diego, is into some pretty shady stuff. Gangs, drugs, secret societies? You name it, he has his fingers in it. Recently, Diego had some kind of drug deal gone bad with a very prestigious group of people involved. Since then, they've hired a hit on your uncle and any of your family that they can get their hands on. A distant cousin, one aunt, and your great grandfather have all fallen victim to revenge killings. Diego fears that you could be next since you live in one of his properties, so he's hired a selection of bodyguards for your protection.

Unfortunately, the newly hired muscle made your comfort space feel more like a prison. As silly as it might sound, you felt like a princess locked away in her secluded tower. Being a full grown adult, something like this seemed like overkill. You didn't need twenty four seven protection from everything that goes bump in the night, but you were dependent on Diego’s generosity, so you accepted his offer of security with gritted teeth. 

As the time passed, your bodyguards came and went. You never had the same one for more than a week at a time. Many of them were kind to you, and thankfully, only one of them had been a creep. They were promptly dealt with (according to Diego, anyway). 

It didn't take too long for daily life to start losing its spark. You plowed through a good portion of your books in the first couple of weeks. This prompted you to start writing your own book. Really, it was more of a journal documenting your experience, but who said it couldn't be both? 

The guards were usually your only contact with the outside world, so you appreciated your conversations with them. Trading stories of their heroic actions for your recounts of the fantasy books you had been reading, you were able to keep your imagination running wild and your notebooks full of ideas. 

After one particularly difficult week, Sunday rolled around and it was time for a new guard. You bid farewell to the previous one and patiently waited to meet the lucky new bodyguard. Diego would brief them on their duties before they were dispatched to your side. You just hope they were kinder than the last. 

Your newest guard is set to find you on the floor in your library, busy reviewing pieces of your story journal. The click of the door opening snatches you back to reality, turning your attention to the man entering your sanctuary. Standing up, you step over your journal and various papers scattered around the floor, and slowly walk over to where he stood. 

“Good Morning, Ms.Y/N,” His voice is as smooth as honey.

“It's nice to meet you,” You offer your hand and he takes it, giving it a firm shake, ”What's your name?” 

“John. I see that you're busy, I'll keep out of your way.” 

John looks past you, at the chaos spread about the room, and gives you a curt nod before assuming his post by the door. You return to work on your journal, hoping he doesn't notice the urgency in your writing as you occasionally steal glances at him, documenting the handsome new guard. 

John is not a bad looking man. He stands a good bit taller than you with slicked back, dark hair and a matching, well groomed beard. He has beautiful brown eyes that twinkle as though they hold the secrets to the universe. Maybe that last part is all in your head, but there's certainly something mysterious about this man that captivates you.

Out of your way is where John stays for the next couple of days, quiet and mostly indifferent to your presence. He followed you whenever you left your library but kept a distance either in front or behind you. At night, he sat on the couch in the far corner of your room. Under normal circumstances, it would have made you too uneasy to have someone watching you sleep, but after weeks of constant surveillance, you were used to it. 

Come the third day, you are determined to break the ice with him. Two days of no conversation other than one word responses was driving you mad. It never took this long for a guard to warm up to you. So, you decide that you are going to try your best to get some kind of response out of him. 

Small talk definitely isn't going to work. This man is clearly not one to gossip or discuss the weather with. Your first attempt is to ask him about current events. ‘What's the world like out there right now? Anything important happening that I should know about?’ You're met with only a shrug and a small, well meaning smile. Strike one. 

Next, you try asking him about himself and his home life. ‘Have anyone at home missing you while you're busy here? Do you have any pets?’ Unfortunately, these questions don't receive much of a response either, not even so much as a shrug. The look in his eyes hardened after the first question, though. You figure it's best not to push it. Strike two. 

For your last attempt, you decide to ask him if he has any interesting stories about jobs he's had in the past. This was a common question you had for your guards as their answers would usually help inspire your writing. ‘Do you have any cool action stories or experiences you could share? I can tell you about some of the books I've been reading in exchange!’ Finally, John looks at you with somewhat of an amused expression on his face. It's the most emotion you've gotten out of him, so far, but he doesn't say anything. Strike three. You're out! 

…Or are you? 

John shifts on his feet before clearing his throat to speak, “I suppose there are a few I could share with you.” 

“Awesome. Let me grab my notebook,” you say incredibly calmly, desperate not to give away your excitement. Mentally, you're doing a celebratory victory dance. 

-

For hours, you two trade stories. His were outlandish, but true. Each story is more nail bitingly exciting than the last. Yours range from the worst romance novels you've ever read, to the best fantasy books you have shelved in your library. You filled half your journal with wonderful ideas thanks to John. And on top of that, it seems like he is getting more comfortable with talking to you. It's an overall win-win for you. 

That night, you become keenly aware of John in the corner of your room, reading one of the books you suggested to him. You're not sure what changed, but you feel very differently about having him here. Sure, you feel protected, but something inside you has started to feel warm and gooey knowing he's always nearby. Maybe you just need a good night's rest. It's been a long day. You snuggle up underneath your comforter and drift off to sleep. 

The next morning you wake yourself up from tossing and turning. You can't catch your breath, you're completely flushed, and your heart is racing. It takes a moment, but suddenly your dream from last night comes flooding back and you're blushing like a schoolgirl. 

You had a dream about John. Oh God. Your cheeks must be burning bright red from embarrassment. Looking over at John, he is seemingly still asleep. His eyes are closed, head leaned back, arms crossed on his chest, and legs spread wide. You wonder what would happen if you were to crawl between those long legs and… Nope! Nuh uh! Shaking the rogue thoughts from your head, you promptly get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom. You need a cold shower, pronto. 

Upon returning from your shower, John was finally awake, reading the same book from the night before. Realizing you’re back and wearing only a towel, John excuses himself and steps outside the door to wait for you to change. 

You don't know how you're supposed to face him, but you know that the thoughts you're having aren't fair towards him. John has been completely professional with you while he's been here and it would be inappropriate of you to cross that line. 

Getting dressed quickly, you pick out a pair of plaid pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt. Never leaving the house has some perks. You rarely have to get dressed up in stiff, fancy clothes unless you really want to. Days like today, you can lounge around in pajamas with no consequence. 

Once you’re finished dressing, you leave your room and briskly walk past John without a word. You don't necessarily want to be cold towards him, but until you get a grip on yourself, it's probably better that way. 

John dutifully follows you back to the library and posts up by the door. You tend to the fireplace, rekindle it as needed, and then plop yourself onto the bench next to the window adjacent to the hearth. Frost is crawling up the edges of the window, obscuring your view only slightly. As you stare out into the wintry wonderland, you try your best not to think about John and the contents of your dream. 

Instead, you focus on the snowflakes as they dance down from the sky in a flurry and collect on the ground below. With how soft the snow looks, you have no trouble imagining yourself making the perfect snow angel, right in the front yard. You're not sure if going out there is the best idea, given the weather and the unpredictable danger, but a little freedom might just be what you need right now.

Maybe if you move fast enough, you could get past John and escape outside. It was worth a shot. You nonchalantly rise up from the bench and silently shuffle back to your room. John trails along behind you, looking moderately confused. You hurriedly shut the bedroom door, accidentally closing it in his face.

“Sorry, John! Give me a minute, I'm changing again,” You call out.

A muffled ‘Okay’ can be heard as you dig through your closet looking for your puffy winter coat. You find it half shoved in the back corner, dangling precariously on its hanger. After pulling your coat on, you slide into your snow boots, wriggle your fingers into your gloves, and head towards the front door. 

As fate would have it, a big coat and snow boots are not the smartest choices when you're trying to move fast. You make it as far as the foyer, reaching for the door handle before he stops you. So much for keeping your distance from him today. 

“Ms. Y/N, where do you think you're going?” John grabs your arm tightly enough to keep you in place. You try shrugging him off, but he's got too strong of a grip on you. 

“Outside. I want to see the snow.”

“You can see the snow from in here,” He responds as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I want to feel it, John. I want to remember what it's like to breathe fresh air.” 

“It's my job to keep you safe. Inside,” He replies sternly.

“I'm going out and you are not going to stop me,” You spit back at him, putting your foot down. 

John reluctantly lets you go and takes a step back. He considers you for a moment before he speaks again.

“Fine. Diego won't be pleased, but at least let me put on my coat.” 

You oblige his request and wait for him patiently until he returns wearing his heavy, black coat. Though you do feel a little bad for how you spoke to him, you don't regret it. You have been cooped up in this house for far too long. 

John insists on stepping outside first to make sure it's clear before allowing you to follow him. The second you cross the threshold, cold, crisp air hits your face and you breathe a sigh of relief. Being inside all the time gets incredibly stuffy and winter isn't the ideal time to be opening windows to air things out. You stare up into the sky as snowflakes land on your face, only to melt against your skin. 

Everything is still and quiet. From the house to the trees, it's a peaceful, untouched spread of snow, give or take a few sparse animal tracks. Off to the side, John is watching you and your surroundings with a sharp eye.

You trudge around in the snow looking for the best place to make your masterpiece. Just in front of the windows to the library, you find the perfect spot. 

Without another thought, you fall back into the snow, moving your arms and legs to create the shape of a snow angel. You feel as giddy as a kid, smiling ear to ear and laughing like a fool. Who knew something as simple as playing in the snow could make you feel so happy, so free? 

“John, come on! Make a snow angel with me. Please?” You’re begging him to have some fun with you even though half an hour ago you were plotting how you could avoid him indefinitely. 

His footsteps crunch in the snow until he's standing over you with a smile almost as wide as yours as you look up at him. You feel as though the heavens have opened up and you're staring directly at an angel. The frost nipping at your nose pales in comparison to the heat bursting inside your chest. 

He solemnly shakes his head at you, “I can't, I'm sorry.”  

You stay like that for a bit until the cold from the snow starts to overwhelm you through your coat and pajama pants, sending chills down your spine. You stand up from the ground to admire your handiwork. It's a solid outline if you ignore John's big footprints in the snow above the head. You decide it's an easy eight out of ten.

Satisfied with your creation, you move on to your next activity. You scoop up a handful of snow and pat it into a ball in your hands. Luckily for you, John is turned away, distracted by something off in the distance near the trees. Now’s the perfect chance to strike. 

You wind up your arm and toss the snowball at him, smacking him squarely between the shoulder blades. Pumping your fist in the air, you holler out a loud ‘Yes!’

You hear an exasperated sigh come from John, and quickly, you realize you may have messed up and taken things too far. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-” Your apology is cut off by John whipping around, grabbing a fistful of snow, forming it hastily in his hands, and then throwing it at you, landing in the center of your chest. 

Stunned, you let out a loud laugh before returning fire. John obviously has the better aim of you two. Missing every other shot was an improvement for you, while he was landing every hit flawlessly.

Unsurprising to you, John ends up as the winner of the snowball fight. You gave up once your stomach started rumbling and you realized that you hadn't eaten any breakfast yet. Hungry and defeated, you head back inside with your bodyguard in tow.

In the foyer, you strip off your coat, gloves, and boots, tossing them to the side. You had plenty of time to worry about them later. John hangs his coat up carefully on the coat rack and turns to you expectantly. 

“Thank you for going out there with me. That was a lot of fun,” You exclaim while rubbing your hands together to bring back the feeling in them. 

“It can't happen again, but you're welcome,” He looks genuinely sorry. 

“I know,” You understand the danger, but you wish things were different, “Are you hungry? I can make us some mean pancakes.” 

“Sure, Ms. Y/N,” Once again, John is smiling at you and it's enough to ignite even the coldest parts of you. There was no way on earth you could keep trying to avoid him when he made you feel this way with just a smile.

-

Breakfast went off without a hitch. Well, there may have been a minor hitch involving the pancake batter, but John stepped in and saved the day. He ended up offering to take over the process entirely, and you agreed. That gave you a chance to watch him do something besides stand still and look all serious.  

Once you’re done eating and all the breakfast dishes are clean, you scurry back to your library with John right behind you. Your journal and miscellaneous papers are still spread around the floor from the night before. John had really given you some wonderful stories to fuel your imagination, and now it's time to incorporate them into your book. 

By the door, John stands perfectly still, aside from the sly glances he throws your way. Seeing him stand over there by himself tugged at your heartstrings a bit after the eventful morning you've had. It suddenly felt very selfish to have someone on their feet, at attention, all day and night just for you. From your seat on the floor, you gesture to the chair right beside you.

“You can sit down if you want. I'm sure you can still protect me from any threats just as well over here.”

“Thank you for the offer, Ms. Y/N, but it's in your best interest if I stay here.”

“Are you sure?” You think for a moment and then continue, “What if I said I felt way more safe with you sitting next to me?” 

John gives you a hint of a smile before quickly resuming his professional poker face, “I really shouldn't… but if it makes you feel safer, I guess I can do that.” 

You lean over and pat the cushion of your comfy chair, encouraging him to sit. He makes his way over to you and sits in your chair, sinking down into it like it was made for him. After a few minutes of sitting together in silence as you worked, you begin to wonder when the last time he was truly able to relax was. 

“Hey John?” You look up at him, journal in hand.

“Mhm?” His voice thick with unease as he looks down at you.

“Can I read you some of what I have written so far? Will you tell me what you think?” 

“Sure.” 

Ever so slowly, John starts to truly relax as he listens to you. He spreads his legs just so and lets his shoulders ease back into a comfortable position, listening to you intently as you tell him your story enthusiastically. You stop occasionally to get his opinion on a set of dialogue or how a sentence is phrased and he's more than happy to advise you. By the end of the day with him, you've completely filled another notebook and you've fallen totally head over heels for John. 

-

The next few days pass by in a blur. John assists you in nearly completing your book, lets you sneak outside again (a couple, glorious times), and he even makes breakfast for you on Saturday morning. 

On Saturday evening, knowing that he'll have to leave soon, you convince him to have a movie night with you by letting him pick whatever movie he wants. You make a huge bowl of popcorn for the occasion and get settled on the couch while John peruses your Uncle's movie collection. He decides on an obscure western you've never heard of, and settles onto the couch, leaving one seat's worth of space between you for the popcorn bowl. 

Subconsciously, you wish he was sitting closer, but you'll have to settle for accidentally touching hands while reaching for popcorn at the same time. 

So far, the movie is a total snoozefest. You wouldn't dare say that to John, considering he seems to be enjoying it. If it weren't for his proximity to you keeping your heart racing, you definitely would have nodded off by now. Surprisingly quickly you run out of popcorn, so you set the bowl on the coffee table to get it out of the way and break down that final barrier between you and John. 

Half way through the movie, you find yourself scooting inches closer to John. You hope he doesn't notice, but something about him just has a magnetic pull that draws you in effortlessly. 

-

Now three fourths of the way through the movie, you start to feel brave. Taking notice of how lonely his hand looks resting on his thigh, you make the bold move to place your hand over his during a particularly high action scene. His hand is warm against yours and the feeling sends tingles through your fingertips. 

You're pleasantly surprised when John doesn't shrug you off, but instead looks over at you with a small smile, before lacing his fingers with yours. Your heart is thumping inside your chest as he gives your hand a squeeze, but you're sure it's going to explode when he lets go of your hand to pull you into his lap. 

Your senses are overwhelmed as you get a light whiff of the warm spice of his cologne as you lean in close, taking all of him in. His hands are gently holding your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. You look to him for silent permission before closing the gap between you, pressing your lips against his. The feeling in the air is positively electric as his lips meet yours. 

-

The two of you stay like that for what feels like hours. John's the one who breaks away from you first, looking absolutely debauched. His hair is slightly tousled, cheeks and lips are brushed red, and the lustful look in his eye is burning a hole right through to your center. 

It's him who decides to ignore the tenting in his pants and politely recommends that you go to bed. As much as it kills you to do so, you reluctantly peel yourself off of him and go straight to your room to take another painfully cold shower. 

Your entire night is filled with another round of tossing and turning mixed with racy dreams featuring your bodyguard, who never finds his way into your room throughout the night. You assume he's keeping watch from the living room, only slightly neglecting his duties of having an eye on you at all times. 

-

Saying goodbye to John the next morning may have been one of the most difficult things you've ever had to do. No amount of begging or tears could have changed Diego's mind. ‘Getting attached to these people is like falling in love with a mutt you know you can't keep. They're here for your protection, Y/N, not for you to play with.�� His words stung. Even if it was the truth, you didn't want to hear it.

With tears in your eyes, you watch through one of the library windows as John's car retreats down the driveway. The hole in your chest feels massive, like it’s destined to swallow you whole if you aren't careful. Holding yourself tight, you curl up in your comfy chair and cry. It's the only thing you can muster the energy for. 

-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

You're startled awake from your sleep by loud, insistent thuds of the brass door knocker echoing throughout the otherwise silent house. You're not sure how long you’ve been out for, but the sun has gone down and the only light left is coming from the crackling embers in the fireplace. Rubbing your eyes, you drag your feet to the front door and open it without thinking twice.

Standing on the other side is a wall of a man. He has to be taller than John by at least half a foot, and twice as wide. He's wearing a simple black suit, not unlike something one of your bodyguards would wear during their time here. That must be it, he’s the newest guard hired by Diego. Since you had been asleep, you haven't checked your phone yet to see if you had any missed calls from him.

“Y/N, I assume?” His voice sounds like gravel, in an unpleasant sort of way. It lands roughly on your ears and makes you wince.

“That would be me. Did Diego send you?” 

The man ignores your question and gestures towards the foyer, “Can I come in? It's freezing out here.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry, come on in.”

As you step back to allow him through, he slams a massive hand against the door, knocking it wide open and shoving you harshly onto the floor. Before you can make sense of what's going on, he's got a hand in your hair, dragging you further into the house. 

You kick and scream as he lugs you down the hall and into one of the spare bedrooms. You try digging your nails into the back of his hand but he doesn't seem affected by the pain as he picks you up off the floor and tosses you onto the bed. The second he lets go of your hair, you scramble off the bed and towards the door. In a flash, the man grabs you by the ankles and drags you back over to the bed. 

This time, when he chunks you on the mattress, he produces a gun from his waistband and places the cold barrel directly against your forehead.

“Don't move again or I'm gonna blow your fuckin’ brains out.” 

Your eye twitches as you stare at him, afraid to even blink. He puts the gun back in his waistband and reaches into a pocket inside of his suit jacket. Out of his it, he pulls a pair of shiny metallic handcuffs. 

You're tempted to make another run for it, but you recall the feeling of his gun against your skin and you decide better of it. He grabs one of your wrists and slaps a cuff onto it, and when he reaches for your other wrist, you snatch it away. 

This appears to be your second mistake of the night. The man rears back and slaps you harder than you've ever felt before. 

“Stop acting like a brat,” He hisses at you. 

Tears well up in the corners of your eyes as pain shoots through the side of your face. You barely register it as he successfully grabs your hand and places the remaining cuff around your wrist a little too tightly. The cuffs dig into your skin painfully, taking your mind off of the pounding in your head.

The mystery man paces around the room checking the windows and shutting the bedroom door before stopping in front of you. He places a hand on your shoulder and clears his throat to speak. 

“All right, listen. Here's how this is gonna go. When I get the go ahead from my Boss, I'm gonna kill you. Until then, we wait.” 

You shrug his hand off your shoulder and your brain starts to spiral into full blown panic mode. There's no way you can muscle your way out of this. You could try playing the money card, he might fall for it. 

“You don't have to do this. Do you want money? My uncle can pay you double whatever your boss is paying. Call him, I'm sure he-” The man presses a finger to your lips, shutting you up. 

“Stop talking.” 

With that, he goes back to pacing around the room, occasionally checking his phone for that green light to take you out. Your mind races a million miles an hour as you pull against the handcuffs, knowing you can't slip out of them. Sniffles fill the room while your eyes start watering again. The man gives you a disgusted look as your breathing quickens and your lip trembles. 

“Are you really crying right now? Give me a fuckin’ break. This is just business. Eye for an eye type deal,” He snarls before going back to the window.

“Shit. Shit!” 

He sees something he clearly doesn't like, and backs away from the window. In a huff, he's grabbing your arm, and snatching you off of the bed. You resist, pulling away from him and stumbling backwards. The man growls before charging at you, grabbing your waist, and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Put me down!” You scream and pound your fists against his back to no avail.

With his other hand, he pulls out his cell phone and makes a call that goes unanswered. He hastily leaves the bedroom and carries you down the hall, heading towards the kitchen. You try to grab everything you can as you pass by to try and slow him down: the walls, picture frames, even a curio cabinet that only topples over and smashes, littering the floor with glass. Unaffected by your attempts, he stops in front of the back door, overlooking the patio. 

“Hope you like the cold,” He grumbles and opens the door, cold air blasting into the house. 

Not giving you a chance to resist this time, he walks out into the snow and tosses you on the ground, landing you hard in the snow. 

“Get up, come on,” He's got his gun out again, pointed directly at you, “Towards the trees. Go!”

You try to collect yourself to stand up, but you're shaking so bad that you can barely keep your balance on your bare feet. Lacking the patience to wait for you to get a grip, he tucks an arm underneath yours and starts dragging you along again. 

The cold bites against the skin around your cuffed wrists. Your feet are so painfully frozen, they almost feel warm as you try to keep up with the man holding a gun to your head. 

It's a long walk to the tree line and by the time you make it there, you can't feel your feet or hands anymore. Your pajama bottoms are soaked through from the snow and you're convinced there's no possible way you can take another step, so you don't. You collapse at the base of the nearest tree, slipping out of his grip. 

“Any last words?” The man raises his pistol to your head once more, “I'll make this quick.”

As you look up at him, your attention is drawn to the black outline of a figure running through the snow behind him, about halfway between the house and the trees. Your brows furrow in confusion, prompting the man to turn around and follow your gaze. 

“What the fu-” You watch in disbelief as a sickening splatter of blood, bone, and brain matter explodes from one side of his head, tainting the bright white snow with a glistening red. All that can be heard besides your own heavy breathing is the loud crack echoing against the mountains. The light disappears from his eyes as his body crumples beneath him, landing with a soft crunch as the snow packs down underneath. 

You'd scream if you could feel any part of your body, but the best you can do is screw your eyes shut and hope you're not next. Your tears freeze against your cheeks as you cry and hold your arms as close to your body as you can for warmth, even if it's futile. 

Not long after, you hear fast approaching footsteps stomping through the snow, headed right your way. 

“Y/N?!” Your eyes snap open. You know that voice. 

“J-J-” With how bad your teeth are chattering, it's hard to speak. 

In an instant, John is in front of you, pulling off his coat to wrap around you. He crouches down to eye level with you and places both hands on your cheeks, looking at you, his deep, brown eyes are full of concern. 

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

You're not sure how to answer that question without crying even harder, so you just lift your hands up to show him the cuffs digging into your wrists. He seemingly understands what you're trying to say and turns towards the unmoving heap of a man on the ground. He searches through the man's pockets, pulling out a wallet, a cell phone, car keys, and finally, the keys to the handcuffs. John unlocks the cuffs quickly and tosses them into the snow beside you before gently rubbing the sore areas around your wrists. 

“Let's get you inside, hm?”

You nod eagerly and try to stand up with him, but you can't feel your legs and you end up losing your balance again, almost toppling over into the snow. Thankfully, John catches you before you hit the ground. 

“I c-can't-”

“Shh, I've got you. Hold on to me,” He reassures you. 

With that, John is placing your arm around his neck and picking you up bridal style. The walk back to the house seems even longer and colder than before. You hug his neck tightly as he carries you, hoping that your shaking doesn't bother him too much.

-

John carries you into the house, past the broken glass and snow that's blown in from the open doors, not stopping until he reaches your safe space, your library. He sets you down in your comfy chair and kneels down while holding your hand. 

“We have to get you out of these wet clothes, is that okay?” His tone is soft and sweet, yet urgent. 

Again, you nod and let him help you out of your freezing, wet pajamas. He starts with your bottoms, tucking his fingers under the waistband and pulling them down your legs. Next, he pushes the coat he gave you off your shoulders and carefully helps you lift your arms up to slide off your shirt. He dumps them in a soggy pile on the floor next to your chair.

“I'll be right back,” He pats your knee comfortingly before leaving the library.

You sit alone and shivering for a minute until John returns with a big, fluffy blanket. 

“Do you think you can take your underwear off by yourself?”

You look at him with wide eyes and then down at your hands. With how bad they are still shaking, and the fact you only kind of have feeling in them now, you aren't sure what you could do by yourself. 

“I'll help you. I won't look, just wrap yourself up in this.”

John wraps the blanket around the front of your body, then reaches around behind you to unclasp your bra and places it on top of your shirt in the pile. He kneels down again and reaches beneath the blanket, slowly pulling off your underwear and dropping them on top of your bra. You can feel your cheeks heating up from embarrassment, and you're glad at least some part of you seems to be warming up. 

Now that you're free from the clutches of the wet clothes, John turns away from you to relight the fireplace. While he's occupied, you pull the blanket around your shoulders and hold it closed in front of you, still partially numb to the fact that it was John who came to save you and you did not die back there. 

When he's finished with the fireplace, John comes back over and kneels on the floor in front of you, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly, like you'd float away if he lets you go. He still bears a twinkle of concern in his eyes but he doesn't say anything else. Together, you sit quietly, thawing out your extremities and regaining some of your composure. 

You’re first to break the silence once you're feeling properly warm again. 

“You came back?” You whisper.

“Of course I did, Y/N. I couldn't stay away.”

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Putting aside all of the jokes and technicalities and such…do you think Marinette is a stalker?

Buckle up folks, this is gonna be a long one.

Personal Bias

When I was 14-years-old, a "friend" of mine got a crush on me and I made it clear that I wasn't interested. He then proceeded to follow me around school, often blocking my path so I couldn't go anywhere without talking to him. He knew I was uncomfortable with this, but refused to stop until I got school authorities involved. By the time it was all over, he basically had a school-imposed restraining order where he wasn't allowed to go near me unless he wanted detention.

When I was 16, another "friend" was so upset that I was dating someone who wasn't him that he figured out how to get into my school email and, through that, one of my socials. He proceeded to try to break me and my boyfriend up. He almost succeeded.

When a male friend of mine was around 16, he turned down a girl who had a crush on him. She and her friends proceeded to harass him on a consistent basis because she knew his schedule and used it to trap him in certain spots like when he was waiting for the bus. They wouldn't stop no matter what he did or said. It only stopped when school officials got involved.

When my cousin was in high school, a boy started following her home every day. It got so bad that the cops were called, but they refused to do anything because he wasn't "threatening enough." Her family had to move and switch what school she went to in order to get away from him.

As you may know, I have seen Miraculous. So has my male friend. So has my cousin. We were all some level of fan at one point or another and have talked about the show critically together. Guess who didn't phase any of us?

Marinette.

Stalking 101

Definition One

Stalking is pattern of behavior directed at a specific person that would cause a reasonable person to fear for the person’s safety or the safety of others; or suffer substantial emotional distress. (Source)

Definition Two

“Stalking is a pattern of repeated and unwanted attention, harassment, contact, or any other course of conduct directed at a specific person that would cause a reasonable person to feel fear,” according to the Department of Justice. Similar to crimes of sexual violence, stalking is about power and control.

Stalking laws and definitions differ from state to state. Stalking behavior can take many forms including:

Making threats against someone, or that person's family or friends

Non-consensual communication, such as repeated phone calls, emails, text messages, and unwanted gifts

Repeated physical or visual closeness, like waiting for someone to arrive at certain locations, following someone, or watching someone from a distance

Any other behavior used to contact, harass, track, or threaten someone

(Source)

Marinette Overview

When I say that Marinette isn't a stalker, this isn't me blindly defending my favorite character*. It's me considering her against the real-life stalkers I have actually dealt with as well as professional discussion on what stalking is and why it happens. When I look at those and then look at Marinette, she just doesn't fit the label.

"Stalker" is not a synonym for "creep." It's a term for specific patterns and types of behavior. When people use the term "stalker" for her, it never seems to come from some deep nuanced argument about her overall behavior. It comes from a handful of scenes where the writers absolutely take her too far. Those scenes understandably creep some viewers out. If those viewers just called her "creepy," then I wouldn't argue against them. Instead, they slap the "stalker" label on Marinette and call it a day without a second thought. I find that incredibly annoying in an analytical context and incredibly unappealing in a writing context for reasons we'll get to at the end.

That doesn't mean that I agree with Marinette's every action. The writers have made her do some extremely questionable things and I'm happy to criticize those moments! But, while I will happily agree that individual episodes take her too far, the overall picture doesn't fit a stalker even if you take things at face value and pretend that nothing is a joke/ignore that Miraculous is a comedy which is not how good analysis works. Ignoring the fact that Miraculous is a comedy shows poor media literacy and is another reason I can't take the stalker claims seriously.

If Marinette is a stalker, then every adult who showed up at Adrien's house in Party Crasher needs to be arrested because wtf were they doing showing up to a party thrown by unchaperoned 14-year-olds? If we take that episode seriously, then it's super creepy! But it's clearly not meant to be taken seriously because this is a comedy. The adults showing up was just done to make Adrien's party seem insane, not concerning like it would be in the real world. If you can wrap your head around that, but you're also trying to argue that Marinette's behavior in this episode was "problematic," then I just can't take you seriously. Pick a lane. Either all of the jokes are serious character beats or none of them are.

Marinette Analysis

To really dig into this, let's quickly look at a few of Marinette's worst behaviors and talk about why they don't set off my alarm bells for her character being a stalker. As we go over these, I want you to keep two things in mind:

stalking is about patterns of behavior not one-off bad choices

stalkers use stalking as a way to control and own their victims

Following Adrien Around

If Marinette were written as a stalker, she'd be doing this on the daily. She'd follow Adrien home every time we see him go home. She'd be at every one of his outdoor photo shoots. She'd transform into Ladybug and use binoculars to watch him in his room. But she doesn't. Most of the time, Marinette is happily living her life while Adrien lives his. She's more likely to watch his commercials than watch him which is not how stalkers work. That is how you write a fan, not a stalker.

There are a few episodes that do have Marinette follow him around, but it's always done as a way to start the plot and never as a fun little character beat like Marinette making Tikki hats. Even then, I think the Shanghai special is the only time when Marinette just randomly follows him somewhere to be with him (it's her most stalkerish moment, imo, but it's quite notably a one-time thing). Most of the time, there's an inciting incident that leads her to follow him for some reason other than just watching Adrien.

For example, Oni-Chan has Lila being creepy and lying her way into Adrien's home, leading Marinette to follow to see what's going on. That's not stalker behavior. That's comedically exaggerated concerned friend behavior. I could see Alya or Nino doing the same thing if they were allowed to be smart when Lila was around.

Sneaking into Adrien's Home

Once again, this doesn't happen in most episodes. I can only think of four out of 125: Chat Blanc, Party Crasher, Oni-Chan, and Gabriel Agreste. In each of these episodes, Marinette sneaks into the mansion - or tries to sneak into the mansion - because of some sort of mission or special circumstances and not as part of her normal behavior. For example, Chat Blanc is arguably the most questionable of these, but it starts because Marinette's girlfriends challenge her to give Adrien a present and not because Marinette just decided to go to the mansion:

Rose: That's it, Marinette! No more picnics, sleepovers, or going to the movies with us until you give him that gift! You made that hat for Saint Athanasius Day, which is today! How is Adrien's supposed to know you're thinking of him on his fifth name's day if you don't give him your gift? Alya: She's right. Today is the day! All the girls except Marinette: Go, go, go, go, go, go!

But when Marinette gets there, Nathalie won't let her in or allow her to wait. Nathalie doesn't even offer to take the gift, so Marinette sneaks in to leave the present behind. Good behavior? No, but not Marinette going to the mansion of her own volition to creep on Adrien. While this leads to the totally creepy pillow sniff moment, that's pretty much all Marinette does outside of leaving the gift. She doesn't go snooping in Adrien's room like Lila does in Oni-Chan because the point of this episode wasn't to make Marinette look like a villain or a creep. It was about punishing Marinette for using her powers to give Adrien a gift with her name on it as that's too selfish, I guess.

In fact, none of these episodes were trying to make Marinette look like a villain or a creep. Each one made her do something questionable, but only so that the plot would work. No present, no Chat Blanc. No party crashing or fake butler disguise and Marinette isn't there for the akuma. When there's no plot-necessary reason for Marinette to be at the mansion, she isn't. That's not how you write a stalker. For her to be a stalker, she needs a lot more Chat Blanc moments where she just sneaks in to leave him things or sniff his pillow. We need a pattern, not a one-off moment.

Having Adrien's Schedule

I know I'd said I'd take things more seriously than a comedy calls for in this discussion, but it's impossible to take this one even remotely seriously. How would Marinette even have Adrien's schedule for the next three years? Where did she get it? How is she keeping it up to date when things absolutely change on a weekly basis? How is anyone missing that this is a joke, especially when you consider how the show writes Marinette outside of this episode (Gigantitan)?

While Marinette is sometimes shown to know about things like Adrien's fencing schedule, most episodes present Marinette as if she's reacting to things that she just learned about. For example, in Backwarder, she freaks out about Adrien going to England with Kagami for a wedding that would have been on Adrien's schedule for months if not years.

Why would Marinette do that if she has his schedule? If she's a stalker, then as soon as she heard about the wedding, she'd be on a mission to find out if Adrien has a date and if there are any threats in attendance. She'd probably even find a way to stop Kagami from going like messing with her food. But Marinette doesn't do any of that. Instead, she's written as if she just found out about the wedding and is making up a plan on the fly:

Marinette: Girls! We have a very serious situation! (The girls are cuddled up in the couch, all of them except Rose looking extremely tired)Adrien and his father have been invited to the Royal Wedding in England this weekend. Alya: (annoyed and exhausted) That's the “emergency’’ you called us over here for on a Saturday morning? (frowns) Marinette: You don't get it! Kagami and her mother are going too! (paces around the room doing dramatic hand gestures) Which means that Adrien and Kagami will be spending an entire weekend together!

And her plan ends up being to give Adrien a note and hope for the best. Not exactly the obsessive, controlling behavior you'd go for if you were writing a stalker.

This also implies that, at most, she probably knows his weekly routine which isn't weird since that's something he'd talk about to his friends. Like all of Marinette's worst behavior, the "knows his schedule for the next three years thing" was a one-off gag. Please stop obsessing over it. This isn't how characterization works.

(Note from my male friend who I discussed this post with: the line about the schedule did put him on edge because of his experiences, but that quickly passed as Marinette's behavior didn't back up the line from a stalking POV.)

Stealing Adrien's Stuff

I'm pretty sure the only time Marinette steals something from Adrien when she takes his phone in Copy Cat. "I left an embarrassing message and have to delete it" is an established comedic plot that has been done by dozens of shows and not something uniquely chosen for Marinette, but let's ignore that for a moment and pretend that it's a serious character beat and not a comedy doing something silly because it's a comedy and that's how they work.

Even if we remove all that context, Marinette still isn't acting like a stalker. When my stalker hacked into my email, he was doing it in an effort to control me, not to delete an embarrassing message. He read everything he could find and used that to mess with me. It's actually how I discovered he'd done it. He knew too much. Marinette doesn't do anything like that. She deletes her message and then puts the phone back because stealing the phone wasn't about stalking Adrien. It was about fixing her mistake. A stalker would go through the phone to learn everything about her obsession.

Conclution

None of this is meant to say that everything Marinette does is totally fine and I think people are overreacting if her worst moments upset them. I hate many of the choices they've made for her character and think they were total missteps. If a real person was doing the things Marinette does, then I'd be getting psychiatric services involved because this isn't healthy. I could even see it devolving into actual stalking as the early warning signs are there.

However, Marinette's behavior isn't meant to be realistic and taken at face value. She's the fictional star of a comedy where the writers decided to make her failed confessions a running gag so they had to keep coming up with ridiculous situations to put her in based around her crush. That context matters when evaluating her character and deciding if her actions are meant to be as serious as Chat Blanc ending the world or silly as adults at a teenager's party in Party Crasher. For the majority of seasons one to five, it's very clearly Party-Crasher silly. That doesn't mean you need to like the jokes - I certainly don't - it just means that you do need own that they're jokes if you're trying to do any sort of serious analysis of Marinette's character.

I went through several elements of her behavior not to say that she's totally pure and fine, but to show you that people are taking a handful of really bad moments and acting like it's her standard behavior which isn't how large-scale character analysis works. I was also highlighting the difference between a character who is purposely written as a stalker and a character being the victim of a bunch of adult men making massive missteps while trying write a comedy about a teenage girl with a monster crush. If you want to take her behavior seriously in the context of what jokes are appropriate and what ones go too far, then be my guest! But that's not character analysis even if the analysis is focused on Marinette's character. It's a comedy or writing analysis. Any quality analysis of Marinette's character as a whole and how we're supposed to read her has to take the context of her actions into account.

To write Marinette as a real stalker, you have to go a lot further than the writers did. You have to make her worst behavior constant and not just occasional bad calls. You have to make her feel dangerous and change the tone from comedy to horror. You need to have her friends react with concern instead of egging Marinette on or pushing her into situations as if Marinette's behavior is fine. You need to have Tikki being deeply concerned and not just mildly exasperated. Canon doesn't do any of that because the writers don't intend Marinette's behavior to be read as concerning. When you look at the full context of canon, it's glaringly obvious that the problem is that the writers sometimes make poor calls when exaggerating her crush to tell jokes and not intentional elements of Marinette's character that you should take at face value.

Bonus Salt Fic Discussion

I said at the top that I find the stalker Marinette takes "incredibly unappealing in a writing context" and so I'll end with that as that is more nuanced than bad analysis.

Did canon give us a handful of moments that you can really lean on to back a read that Marinette is an unhinged stalker? Yes, it did. I can't say that people are making that shit up. The Shanghai special and Derision are especially solid "proof." Is fanfic often about obsessing over single moments and little details to an absurd degree no matter how insignificant those details are? Yep, I can't deny that either. That's not unique salter behavior.** Does Miraculous have wildly inconsistent characterization for basically every character with more the one appearance, making it so that you have to pick and choose what you're going to embrace as "canon" for you version if you want to be even remotely coherent with your own characterizations? 100%

All of that is why I'm on the record as saying that I get where the Marinette salt is coming from just like I get the Adrien salt and the class salt and so on. It's standard fandom behavior to bash characters you don't like and the salt takes aren't even doing that thing where people make shit up. It's all based on canon because canon keeps making terrible choice after terrible choice! I just don't find it fun because salt fics are all about embracing the worst writing in the show and expanding upon it, which is the exact opposite of what I want to see when I'm reading fic. I read fic to see better versions of canon! I don't want to be reminded of canon's very real problems. Problems I only expect to get worse as time goes on.

I have no doubt that season six will bring with it a bunch of new moments where Marinette and others act terribly. I wouldn't even be shocked if we reach a point where I agree that Marinette's standard behavior makes her feel dangerous because season five's ending certainly set things up to go there. However, for now, the worst label I'd put on her is "creepy" and that's only in the context of specific episodes. Generally speaking, she's fine.

*Btw, Marinette isn't actually my favorite character. My favorites are Alya, Plagg, and Adrien

**As an example of fandom obsessing over a more neutral detail and elevating it beyond anything canon ever dreamed of, I'll draw your attention to the fandom's obsession with Adrien saying that Marinette is "just a friend." I have come across multiple fics that would have you think that's his catch phrase. A pattern which was deeply confusing because I could only recall him saying it once or twice. After some digging, as best I can tell, he says those words four times and it's never even to Marinette's face, which is wild when you think about how many fics have her parroting the line as if he says it to her all the time. I've even had people tell me that he says that line all the time when that's very clearly not the case. I'd say it's weird, but it's probably just a variation of the fact that eye-witness accounts of crimes are notoriously inaccurate. People just don't remember things accurately.

[msookyspooky]

Fours a Franchise

Part 17

wordcount: 8,467

Jill looked at herself in the small mirror she had on her bedside table at the hospital. A small compact she had from her bag she used to repeatedly check up on herself to make sure she looked the part of the poor survivor. Her eye was still screwed up but not as red. Bruises here and there; just not as swollen. What hurt the worst was the stab on her back that asshole gave her. Unlucky for him and collectively for you; it missed major organs but damn did it hurt.

She smoothed her long dark hair with her hands as she did her usual side part with a sly smirk. She just couldn't help smirking to herself. She actually got away with it! She couldn't wait to get home and privately celebrate. Well, not too soon. She still had to look devastated for her friends and mothers deaths. With her Mom dead and her not being 18 for another few months, would she have to live with her estranged Dad or distant relatives or someone else for a bit? Oh well, who cares!

She was going to be so rich and famous that in a year she'd 'go to college' just to keep up appearances, then if she wanted to drop out she could and be swimming in cash. For life. YN this, YN that. Won Court cases, fame, a new paid for house somewhere, book deals. Well now, it was Jill Roberts' turn to shine.

She knew she should be more cautious but today was a good day. She was being discharged from the hospital under police protection tomorrow because soooo many people were chomping at the bit to know about the final girl. Flowers all over her hospital room, cards, even expensive gifts, paid for everything and news stations trying to get in contact with her.

You? Well, it was an easy decision. She still hadn't come right out and blamed you. Trying to play the innocent sweetie pie act a bit longer. Really milk it out. Wait till you got caught. However, as soon as she thought you might be a problem; she was gonna tell the police when they asked for yet another statement that now that her head was more clear and everything 'sank in'...Yes...Yes, it's shocking. YN must have been working with those two men to kill everyone. And they recruited Charlie? But that can't be!...Oh, but it is. Maybe that's why her Cousin and Uncle tried to kill YN years ago? Because she was actually the villian this whole time and they knew her secret. And YN attacked her and YN must have helped kill everyone this time too! The monster deserved to be behind bars boo hoo blah blah what a tragedy. Fake cry. Sniffle a bit.

People will eat that shit up. Especially once the authorities find you with those two. The manhunt for you was most definitely on; considering you escaped the hospital in the middle of the early morning with those two unnamed men after a Deputy was shot by them.

Jill had to not giggle or smirk too much; still in the public eye. The hunt for the 3 of you would be Legendary. Once they find you with those two, who the fuck would believe your side of the story anyways? Jill would be the sole survivor. Any nah sayers locked up or killed. This was in the fucking BAG! Soon, she'd be on the Ellen Show and Yahoo Mail articles and Facebook posts and Tweets and the ID Channel-

Her thoughts of grandeur were interrupted by a short forceful knock. She quickly went to get back in bed acting sore and sad.

"Don't bother rushing. I can see you standing from the window." A female voice rang out.

Jill faltered and had to stop herself from moving too fast. "Oh, it's my...Um, stitches. They want me to walk just not too much." She told the older woman as she entered without even asking.

Gale Riley Weathers whatever the hell her name was...Of course it was.

Gale nodded and closed the door behind her. Back to dressing in her old 'Reporter' style she probably had stuffed in the back her closet behind her robes and casual wear as Mrs. Riley. Stay at home 'writer' that hadn't wrote diddly shit in years.

Jill forced a smile upon her youthful face. After all, the nosey hag was the best in the biz and could get her one helluva a book deal. It's why Charlie spared her.

“Gale, what a surprise.” Jill put on that smile and soft voice, "How's your shoulder? Does it feel okay?"

Gale gave a wry smirk and a slight huff like chuckle. "...It's fine. Good enough for me to go home. Especially since you got a lot more damage and you're going home, right? I mean, if you can have that happen to you and be discharged soon then what a wimp I'd be to stay."

"Oh yeah, matching Shoulder stabs. Twinsies." She jokingly gave that carefree air-head teen act adults seemed to love from her. "And some bruises but nothing I can't handle. I mean, I got it bad but I don't think shoved off a landing and stabbed is anything to mess with...You're tough."

"Yeah." Gale nodded. "Yeah you're a scrapper yourself. Do what you need, do what you want, thrive not just survive...Kinda like looking in a mirror."

Jill forced a slight chuckle at that. The smile not reaching her eyes as a bit of silence stretched between them. Gale moved around the room, heels clacking against the hospital floor as she pondered something. "...Huh."

"Yes?"

She glanced over at the teen. "Nothing just...How funny. Us having matching superficial wounds. What are the odds?"

"Yeaahh....Yeah, pretty lucky." Jill nodded with a reluctant look.

"Almost too lucky." She gave with a wry smile that didn't reach her eyes either. “I swear, it seems like it was almost planned.”

Jill cautiously watched her as Gale acted aloof. ‘Reading’ labels on objects while talking. What was this old bitch getting at?

Gale mused aloud, "I mean, YN gets stabbed in the gut twice and those two, that we are not naming apparently, were shot and stabbed in many places and even almost gutted. Didn't think any of them would live...Trevor got his face peeled off...Coroner said alive while it happened just like YN's old boyfriend in ‘96-"

"I was there. Can we... Not talk about it?" Jill mumbled. "Just makes me uncomfortable. I mean, he was my first love and my…" She trailed off with a strained voice. Not too much, just enough.

Dewey would've been apologizing and comforting her for overstepping. Gale just stared.

The middle aged woman walked about the room a bit. Thinking before replying to the teen girl. "Sorry about that...I guess. But ya know… You'll have to answer to the cops and media about all this in a lot of detail. Over and over. You know how it is..." The silence etched on as Gale looked around while leaning on her good shoulder against the wall. "It's just really bizarre that me and you got wounds that weren't fatal. The final girl and the prize winning journalist that can help the final girl. Everyone else was butchered. Hung like a dead fish, burned, skinned, repeatedly stabbed, gutted, shot…Yet we both only got banged up and shoulder wounds... Daammmnn lucky."

Jill looked uncomfortable at Gale probing as she retorted in a short tone of voice, "Well, we should be grateful to be so lucky. I mean my poor friends...My own Mom…God-" She pretended to hug her face to potentially cry. A tiny forced shaky sucking in of breath as her shoulders shook. “I just…I just can't believe they killed my mother-”

"Cut the shit.”

….

Jill stiffened as Gale coldly told her, “I'm not part of the media anymore. There's no cameras."

...

Jill stilled and looked up for a moment trying to keep the innocent act up. "Excuse...Me?" She drew out shakily.

Gale just stared her down with a raised brow, "Your eyebrows aren't turned up, you're forcing your eyes to water by not blinking this whole time then blinking rapidly, the waver in your voice needs work too and stop sniffling so soon. People don't sniffle till the snot is running down their faces. Interviewed a lot of people including guilty people…I know fake crying when I see it. No Oscar for you anytime soon."

“What are you saying?” Jill just stared at her. "...Are you seriously claiming a girl that lost her friends, mother and boyfriend is fake crying? Are you seriously insinuating that?...Gale?" She said her name with an edge.

"I only accuse or go after the truth. And you?...I feel like maybe you hit your head just a little too hard. You know, what with that giant scuffle that happened. Somehow a teen girl fought off two grown men and a teen boy and now YN too? 4 people at the same time, huh? Things aren't adding up. Especially after YN fled the hospital...Whaddya gonna tell the cops when they ask why?" Gale asked mockingly and folded her arms.

Jill sat on the edge of the bed, body tense and ready to pounce if need be. "I'm gonna tell them the truth. I visited YN and she attacked me and two men attacked me and I was lucky to escape with my life till Dewey showed up. What? You got a mic on, Gale?" Jill's voice dropped an octave to her real voice, not the fake sweet act. "Ohhh…I get it. You want me to say it was Billy Loomis and Stu Macher like Sheriff Riley is convinced? Is that it? Is this some kind of bribe to get your old namesake back by proving something? Or maybe so you and your husband don't look like crazy lunatics saying two dead murderers are alive after such a tragedy?" She mocked back haughtily. “That's sick to do to a victim, Gale. Very tactless.”

"...No." Gale mumbled. "One: I don't have a mic.”

“Sure you don't.”

“Two: of course not. Without them captured; that's career suicide for both of us. They'll label you as crazy or a conspiracy theorist as well as me. I'm not stupid, you lil shit." Gale huffed, "... But you do have to talk, you know. This 'Oh poor me. I'm just a weak fragile teen girl who was victimized.' crap isn't gonna cut it forever. You were in this hospital room when Dewey and I recognized them and by the way you looked…You did too. You weren't surprised it was them. You couldn't wait for Dewey to shoot them so they couldn't say a word.”

“I was stabbed. I just wanted them caught for what they did; I didn't care who they were…And if that meant killing them to spare others the same fate then so be it.” She replied tilting her head and narrowing her eyes in barely contained annoyance at this back and forth between the two.

Gale was quiet for a moment before adding, "They're gonna search your phone too."

Jill sighed with a shrug, "If they find it. I lost it. Need to get a new one. Old one went missing that night and never found it in all the chaos. Couldn't remember my passwords or anything either. My Mom handled all that and I forgot what she said it was. So a new account, card, phone and cloud storage too I guess…I'm really devastated about it. I had so many pictures of me, Olivia, Trevor and Kirby on there.”

Gale scoffed, “It's 2011 and you don't use an email?”

“I'm a kid and schools don't like us to even have phones in class let alone use them for anything constructive. You know, they're bad for our learning. My one teacher had to have a student help her with a password change on her computer…I didn't check any email or password often. Mom did almost everything for me. So, I just plan on getting a new one and having someone help show me. " Jill feigned innocence with such a shitty lie.

"...How convenient." Gale grumbled before she sighed heavily and shifted her stance. "So what?...Get rid of the phone evidence then try and get rid of anyone in your way? All your friends, your Mom, your accomplice. Is YN the enemy now? Had to get her outta the way to get the spotlight? Those two were a surprise to you too I'd say with how things played out and now you're running with it as extra measure to not get caught.” Gale smirked wryly in realization of something. “...You're not giving a real statement because you're buying time to see if they get YN or not."

Jill scoffed loudly, "Listen Lady, I don't know what you're talking about-"

Gale laughed in outrage and smacked her hip with her good arm, "Man, you are really trying to sell it!” She lost her mocking smile, “Seriously, I'm not a bleeding heart like my husband. And we both know…We both know-" She repeated, lowering her volume. "You were not visiting YN in the ICU when she wasn't even awake yet. You had to rip off all your monitors and sneak with all your injuries under cameras and away from nurses just because you were sooooo worried about her…Worried about her ratting you out, more like it. You had to get rid of her when you realized she wasn't dead."

Jill felt her body tense and a slight sweat breaking out on her skin. This goddamn bitch. She should've told Charlie to stab her in the fucking head.

"...I told you, I was worried. The killers were still alive." She clarified once more in a firm tone. “I was attacked by YN then by them. Okay? I was just checking on her. I was scared for her.”

"Oh! So, you snuck in just to see her and got close enough for YN to wake up from surgery trying to randomly hurt you?" Gale mocked. "Are you fucking kidding me? One minute you're worried, then you want her dead and claiming she's involved, now you're straddling the fence to buy time-"

"The bitch attacked me! I don't know why; She panicked or something and then those two showed up." Jill argued with her tone accidentally becoming defensive.

“Oh, but not at the house? You and her supposedly tried to save each other's lives and you held her hand just for her to try and kill you in the ICU when you went to her room when she was just out of surgery? Sneaking too?” Gale demanded. “I still am on the fence with those two involved now…But I know one thing; you're full of shit. You are way more involved than you're saying and we both know it. In fact…Dare I say, YN might be right about you that night.”

Bitch.

Jill sneered, "...I could have your career tanked for questioning a victim like this. AGAIN. All those tabloids dogging you like it's 2000. So how about you back off before you become a nobody.”

Gale stood up from the wall and glared at her, "I'll come back on top; I always do... I think we both know how you knew the type of wound I got without even speaking to me or my husband. We both know you did not leave your house before Ghostface attacked your Mom and two Detectives. We lost two good men on the force... I know you could care less about them when you're the one that stabbed them. And we both know who actually helped Charlie this whole time. It wasn't those idiots. It was you. You and him. He fucking stabbed me in a way that you could keep me alive for your stupid little book idea."

Jill gave a sharp laugh of outrage as her nerves got to her. "Ha! Oh, so the honor roll student, good girl killed people? Killed her wn Mom!? Her best friend's!? You're SICK! You are so fame hungry and sick- I can't believe this! Leave."

She went to press the call button. Fingers hovering over it just a second as Gale spoke.

"-You know they're gonna look through all those snuff films of these murders, right?" Gale quickly rushed out.

Jill scoffed while hitting the call light. "No shit."

"Oh?" Gale smirked haughtily. "So you know...That one of Olivia Morris was recorded from two different angles?"

"Yeah, Ghostface. Ghostface's. And a partner was probably those two creeps in the bushes or something while Charlie killed her. YN was across the street, you know, their accomplice. She almost got me killed on that staircase." She spat with a smartass smug smirk at Gale. Trying to frame everyone but herself at this point.

"Then why was that one video recorded from your bedroom?"

....

....Jill felt her heart plummet. Everything froze as her ears wrang and her palms tingled like the bed dropped out from under her.

“...What did you just say?” She asked in a hushed tone, brows furrowing.

“That second angle of the video was filmed from your bedroom window, Jill.” Gale coldly replied.

. "...What? T-That's insane-" She furiously shook her head with a nervous laugh.

Gale gave the same smartass smirk back to Jill in return. "See, there's no way that video came from anywhere but your bedroom window. You had a clear shot. Are you seriously going to claim it was Kirby? Especially when at one point you can see her left hand in the shot when the video was recorded from the left side of that glass? C'mon! You can hear your voices and she sounded more scared than you!... She didn't have that camera, Jill. Billy and Stu weren't in your room. And YN was actually trying to get into the house from outside to help your friend at the time…No one but you could've recorded that."

“I didn't-”

“You did. Police have it. Got it off a website these murders were posted on. I just saw it in evidence today. But rest assured, they have it.” She chuckled in smug amusement. “Good luck trying to do what Roman did. Police stations, especially during a murder case, are like fort knox to break into.”

“I didn't!” She yelled.

Gale chuckled, “Oh really? Hm. It got uploaded that night…Are you gonna say Charlie did it? You were injured at the hospital, so you never saw Charlie alone and now with your phone mysteriously gone?...How convenient." She drew out and tilted her head in satisfaction at how tense Jill was.

Jill stared with wide eyes, brows furrowed, breath quickening as Gale smirked at her.

…This goddamn bitch. Fucking cunt. Nosey piece of shit. Skinny ass old hag fucking-

The insults in Jill's head were endless as Gale figured it out.

A nurse tried coming in and Gale quickly blocked the door with a chair. Banging persisted as Jill gripped the bed sheet, teeth gritted as Gale smugly told her as quickly as she could in a hush whisper as close to Jill as possible, "That video came from your phone and even if you destroyed it; It's still in the phone records with the carrier you stupid ass moron! They can dig and dig and diiggg-"

Gale jerked back as Jill yelled, "And what would an old washed up Boomer like you know ANYTHING about tech? Huh?! You probably still call it the net and print out pictures of memes and shit off pinterest!"

"I got sources including tech geeks I talked to…And I'm fucking GenX!” She quickly rushed out without taking a breath. “This ‘old hag’ would've recorded the old fashion way on a camera recorder hidden in your friends room and uploaded it using a public computer at the library or at least a laptop with a DPV or VNP or whatever the fuck its called! Not my smartphone connected to everything about me and in my fucking room beside a witness that knows me, you dumbass!" She jeered back as the door slammed open and people rushed in.

Jill felt her heart had been hammering in time with the door banging. Eyes darting looking for something to bash Gale's head in. Seething with anger and fear as she was damn tempted to stab Gale with her fork on her tray and claim she had to defend herself somehow…Until witnesses barged in.

They questioned Gale as Jill felt her world crumbling around her...Everything she thought she was so clever at and it went up in smoke in an instant.

"And when we find YN! She'll fight you! Then this will have to go to court and WAY higher than Woodsboro PD will be involved, sweetheart. It'll all unravel…It's over, Jill!" Gale called over the security guard's shoulder that was shoving her to the exit.

A nurse came in to check over Jill as the teen trembled and breathed heavily. Panicking at the idea of them realizing that particular video's angle was shot in her bedroom. She hid that and got rid of her phone that they'll soon recover calls and text and videos from. She was so focused on getting the video to let people see the murders she never suspected...She never thought-

"Get out...Get out! Get the fuck out!" She screeched at nurses who looked bewildered but complied after Jill stood and threw a tray, "GET OUUTTT!!"

Once alone she started hyperventilating. Grasping her hair and hunched over. Not even feeling the stab Billy gave her on her back, the stitches and pain dulled by morphine and fear.

If they find you with those two? She had a chance. You being with two wanted killers and even if people thought they were dead it would overshadow her…Maybe.

...If they found you alone? And you told the cops the truth? Gale was right...Court. Her phone gone out of everyone else's still on their person; she'd be the main suspect. They'd go to her phone carrier with a waiver to go through records, even videos and calls and texts all deleted but still there on their end. She thought a VPN on the web was enough and deleting evidence then getting rid of the phone! Most of all? Nothing could get rid of evidence that it was recorded from her bedroom window looking at Olivia's room. Eye witnesses including YN and Mrs. Meeks knew she and Kirby were there when it happened. If they find you? It's over! She couldn't even kill Gale, no doubt FBI getting involved in this case if it goes to court. It went from the sole survivor's only word against a bunch of killers to now...It's fucking over.

"Shit..." She tensely gave her voice genuinely shaky now. No more acting "Shit, shit, shit, SHIT, SHHITT!!" She screamed, throwing her tray against the wall.

————————————

You stood in front of Billy's bedroom door. Feeling sick to your stomach…Seriously, you might throw up. Skin clammy and breathing shallow. Debating heavily should you or should you not? Your voice wavered in uncertainty as you forced out, “Stu?...Can I come in?”

“Go away.”

Honestly, his tone alone was enough to make you want to agree and leave him be. Stu proved clear back in 1996 that when this side of him came out; he was dangerous. Maybe even more dangerous than Billy could ever be.

Your fingertips danced over the doorknob. Upperteeth skimming your body lip in trepidation before a sigh escaped you.

Despite his warning, you didn't listen.

Opening the door because you couldn't handle this silent treatment or the unsaid any longer. Not anymore. You had no one but him and Billy in this mess and despite what Stu says about ‘never seeing him again’ he WAS dangerous and he was quite the ‘sore loser’. Billy knew it. Hence his ‘We'll have to sleep with one eye open’ argument after Stu stormed away to the back of the trailer. And what can you say? You just couldn't go back to constantly looking over your shoulder especially over a misunderstanding you knew if he would just listen you could mend…Maybe.

So, you forced yourself to walk inside despite the fear. If he killed you; what else was there to lose? Best Friend dead, friend who was like an older brother to you hates you, can't see anyone, might never go home, the whole Country might soon hate you, you might go to prison…

“Stu.” You softly said his name and gingerly closed the press board style door behind you. He had a lamp on, rereading that letter that you saw he had ripped in half. It crinkled in his hands when you came in; his features twitching in irritation.

He didn't answer you. Just glared down at that paper. You lightly swallowed, trying to find any words you could without him attacking you or Billy getting involved again.

“Stu…We gotta talk. We have to.” You hesitantly mumbled, already getting a headache from this. “We just have to…Please?”

“About?” He mumbled back while not looking at you. His voice was uncharacteristically stern.

“Everything.”

He rolled his lips before smacking the paper. “...This is bullshit.”

You just nodded. “Yeeeaahh. Yeah, I call it bullshit too. Could've saved everyone trouble if he was more blunt.”

Stu scoffed, “So, you want him to admit it? Wow.” He said with a wry smirk on his lips.

You sighed, “Stu, please. That's not what I meant.” You rolled your eyes softly. He was already starting it.

“What do you mean then?” He demanded and tossed the ripped letter aside. “Because why would you keep this if it means nothing to you, huh?” He gave a bitter chuckle under his breath. “Why would you go to him over me? Why?!” He demanded, getting upset all over again. His emotions were like a raging tornado that threatens anything in its path once he gets worked up.

You stayed near the door and replied in a low voice, “I told you, you were passed out-”

“That's not what I meant and you know it!” He snapped. Sucking in a breath as he lowered his voice. “...I left my number there at your cabin for a decade and you didn't call me. Not once.”

Yeah, he had you there. You still argued, “I didn't call Billy either. And you never called me.”

“I was doing what you asked! I left you alone!”

You averted your gaze, “Yes, okay fine… I did want that…I wanted to be left alone at the time. By you and him.” You grimaced at the honest truth.

“WHY!?” He demanded with raised brows in outrage. “Why!? I was already at your house on and off so why the hell did it matter?”

“Stu. Because you're a killer.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, classic excuse.”

“Seriously, Stu! I did not want Randy or Dewey to accidentally see you. They came over randomly, you came over randomly, and I was just a huge ball of anxiety 24/7.”

“Oh please.” He huffed, “I evaded them seeing me for years before you told me to get lost. Nah, there was another reason. Probably some guy. Probably rat boy in there. And you're a rat too so how about you leave me be and both of you go off and have your backstabbing rat life together and get married in a sewer and have your ugly ass rat babies.”

He flopped back on the mattress acting like he was going to go to sleep. You frowned, feeling annoyed that he just didn't get it. Instead he was pouting like a child.

You warily sucked air through your nose and tried to stretch your neck. “Okay… Because I didn't want them hurt by you.”

He huffed with his eyes closed while putting his hands behind his head, “What are you on about, man? I haven't laid a finger on them since we were teens.”

“No but you were planning to. You thought about it and that was enough. You even thought about killing Randy in the barn when he found us days ago. I had to draw my gun out on you and Billy!…All these years later, Stu. And you still think about it when all else fails.” You retorted with a frown. “It's why I didn't want you around a decade ago.”

He shrugged with his eyes still closed, “Eh, but I didn't. And even in Hollywood years back, it was just an idea and you got your granny panties in a bunch over it for nothing. You chicks are all the same. Getting all worked up and holding grudges.”

You gave a mild glare as he was just irking you more and more. “Okay, new one. Because you didn't hesitate to scare the shit out of me in that motel the second things didn't go your way. And I didn't feel like being scared in my own damn house after that. THAT is another reason I went no contact. For my safety and my friends.”

That made him go from pretending to try and calmly chill to jerking up ready to snap your head off . “Hey, what the- YOU had a gun on ME first!” He pointed at you with venom in his voice.

Your eyes narrowed. “Because I felt threatened and you were gonna kill me if I stopped you from killing my friends.” You argued, old resentment resurfacing from a decade ago even if you tried to be calm but it was failing the more he talked.

Stu sneered, “You're nuts and freaking delusional, man! I was not. It was just a scare tactic. We were desperate and lacking sleep and turning on each other and you wanna act all innocent when you threatened me and him-” He pointed to the living room. “With a gun multiple times!”

“There should've been no tactics!” You exclaimed, failing miserably at trying to be calm. “And considering how you both were and how fast shit escalates with you two; what choice did I have?” You jerked your arm to the living room where they had just beat the shit out of each other hours ago. “I mean, damn! You both go from 0 to 100 in 3 seconds. I can't take a risk of thinking it's ‘just’ a scare tactic.”

“Oh cry me a river; it was a decade ago. Let it go.” He waved you off in annoyance. “And tonight is different. I've had it.”

You groaned and rubbed your face leaning back against the door. You both ran in circles verbally. Damn him. Doing this at this hour while you felt like shit. Seriously, was it the pills or just exhaustion?

You clicked your tongue and rolled your head back in exasperation. “...M’kay, back to my first and most important point. I didn't want to be caught. There. Billy did not get some special treatment either.” You grew serious trying to make him listen. “I didn't need or want my friends and family finding you at my house even if you didn't do anything. Or the cops of all things or the media. No one needed to know you lived and you were at my house. My secret needed to be kept a secret!"

He bitterly laughed, “Oh and look how good that turned out.” He jeered, giggling out the reply sadistically. “Randy was, ya know, just hanging out! Dewey is probably blubbering like a baby right now that you betrayed him too.” He grinned. “So what good did that do you?”

You felt a deep anger turning in your gut at his mockery of your best friend's death and the situation with Dewey. It was so fresh too. The wounds are still red and hurting to prove it. You wanted to throw something at him, scream at him but somehow you couldn't even move. The anger wasn't hot, it was cold. A chill over you at seeing him for who he was; a cold blooded killer.

“...Wow.” You gave in a lower tone with a heaviness in the air.

“Yeah, wow!” His tone was defensive in turn. He stared at you long and hard with an almost bored expression and shrugged. “Tough. It's the truth. Now, you have no one after all this time. Including me. You blew it more than Monica Lewinsky-”

“I know that, asshole!” You snapped, losing your patience and will to live through this the more you talked to him. “I know the irony. I didn't plan this. I didn't plan for you and Billy to be at that barn, and worst of all…Okay, the worst thing is-” You bitterly chuckled, shaking your head and voice catching.

“- Worst is that these two new killers had no idea you and Billy existed! You both could've stayed out of it completely and none of this would've happened.” You scoffed. No light in your eyes as you still wanted to cry over all this but barely held it together for your pride's sake. “My friend died because of a mistake that could have and should have been prevented. That's on me for life. Everything I tried to prevent blew up in my face. EVERY. DAMN. THING.” You smacked your hand with each syllable. Stu seemed unmoved as you ranted, “Seriously, every single thing that could have gone wrong, did! Are you happy? Is THIS what will make you smile back in your big mansion you claim you have? This gonna make it all better for you while you're with models and preparing for your next big gig or party or whatever?”

Stu raised a brow. A silence in the air for a moment before he mumbled. “You done?”

You stared at him. Pouring your heart out and he didn't care. You…You didn't…Damn, your brain was almost not working!

“...Fine.” Was all you said as you went to turn and he ordered.

“Stop.”

You stopped on command from leaving out of pure instinct at the tone he used.

“No, I'm-”

He cut you off. “I said, stop. You wanna talk? Don't run away the second the fire's on your ass instead of mine. You have bellyached about the same shit for years now it's my turn to be the victim for once. Sit.”

You turned to him in outrage, “I don't owe you shit after what you just said to me! It's…It's not the same thing. Randy and Dewey-” It died in your throat. You'd be venting, sobbing, pacing and heartbroken about this for quite some time. But you only had a select amount of time to clear this shit with Stu even if you both still parted ways permanently. At least he might not try to kill you years from now. You wanted to leave and never look back or even turn you all in but you shoved your fragile heart to the side right now. Either try and convince him for your safety down the road or live on edge for life. Cause vengeance and Stu was…A Casey Becker.

You paused and thought it over. Then nodded and rolled your lips in resignation. “Okay…Okay fine.” You gingerly went to the bed to sit at the edge.

Stu glared at you. “...I treated you well, YN. Better than any skank I've ever been with.”

You glared a bit, opening your mouth and he angrily shut you down. A rant of his own at what he knew you were gonna say.

“Before you say it; Screw Tatum. You knew her for a short part of our lives. Best friend my ass, you knew her for a few months.”

You went to open your mouth.

“I'm talking now. Shut it.”

God you wanted to smack him. You held back digging your nails into your palm with what you knew was a sour look on your face. You old injury from years back hurting as you fisted your hands.

“ I meant what I said. Tatum was a quick fling that didn't mean shit to me. I only dated her as a cover so me and Billy could kill Sidney. Billy's idea, not mine. She was cute with a nice rack so I played along. She didn't mean anything. You did. Alright? You were different…At least I thought.” He used a stern tone you rarely heard from him. “You were so much higher than any girl to me back then.” He raised his hand as if you were metaphorical on a pedestal before smacking his leg. “So much fucking higher, man.”

He leaned forward as you shrank back a bit. His blue eyes full of an emotion you couldn't read. “I gave you EVERYTHING…Everything, YN. My future, my plans, my freedom, my life, my friendship with Billy. I risked it all for you and you broke my fucking heart in half. I tried to save you and you stabbed me in the back. Then I tried to make up for everything after Windsor and you never forgave me after years of me thinking we were finally cool. Then, I had one slip up. Okay? One tiny fuck up and you cut me off like I'm chopped liver. Well, till you need me in our 30's for help…You're a using bitch. Always have been, always will be. You damn me but you're just as sick playing with a guy's heart just to save your own ass.”

You averted your eyes and didn't grip your fist so tightly. Feeling your palms sweating, feeling nauseous from what you inferred was anxiety, feeling bewildered at the emotion in his voice.

He huffed, shaking his head as if trying to find the words. His blue eyes seemed to bore into you as he gave in a hushed tone, “You…You told me you loved me. Do you know how fucked up that was? No girl told me she loves me. My own mother barely said it.” He hissed out. Pain in his voice you rarely got to hear. Always covered by a cocky attitude or perverted joke. “You wanna talk about fucked up? You played me like a fiddle and I forgave you for YEARS. Then you wanna play victim the second I get pissed? Fuck that and fuck you. I deserve to be pissed! FUCK YOU!”

You flinched at the boom in his voice at the last part. Angry Billy; What's new? Angry Stu and hurt Stu was a scary creature to deal with. You looked at him a bit differently as he spoke. What he said was hateful and nasty earlier but what do you expect from Stu Macher of all people? But this?...It made that note with his phone number you kept but never called all these years burn a hole in your chest. Your emotions are in turmoil with fear, anger, shock and hurt and…And guilt.

“Stu…I-” You fidgeted. “Look, I understand why you're hurt and angry.” The words felt uncomfortable to even say.

“Damn right I'm hurt.” Voice a low mumble in his throat; sounding almost like a growl of sorts as he glared daggers at you.

“But the big 3 words and why well…I mean, you were trying to kill me. I was…Kinda desperate?” You reluctantly gave while wincing as it stammered out.

Stu's eyes narrowed, “No excuse.” He grumbled.

“I mean…It's kind of a good excuse.” You tried to smirk and joke but It died in your throat at the glare he gave you. You sighed heavily. “C'mon. Give me a break, even a tiny inch here, Stu... Stu, we were kids! I was scared. You were trying to choke me to death. I was running for my life and trying to save everyone.”

“Did you love me?” He demanded.

“I…It probably wasn't love. Again I was a senior and scared but…I did care about you-”

“Bullshit.”

“I did.” You affirmed. “I don't know what I felt but I know I cared.”

But he just shook his head, “Oh cut the crap. You've never cared about me! You were scared of me or using me as a guard dog; no in-between.” He bitterly grumbled.

You rubbed your face trying to avoid any bruises or soreness from fighting Jill. “No I-...I guess… Yeah. Sometimes.” You reluctantly admitted with a heavy sigh. Your stomach was sinking and turning. “I'm sorry but sometimes I probably did.” You sighed out all the fight in you dissipating.

He stared.

Long and hard he stared at you before scoffing with a wry smirk, “There it is. That's all it was. I forced myself on your life and you were scared of me and just said whatever to save your ass!-” He didn't finish his sentence and flung a pillow in a fit. Thank god it was just a pillow. For now.

“That's not all, okay? I did care about you!” You tried to save yourself like a drowning woman at sea.

“Stop lying!” He yelled getting closer to you on the bed. You expected Billy to burst in at any moment with the volume your voices were reaching.

“I am not lying.” Pivoting on the bed to face him while scooting back. “Stu, you were my friend before you did what you did! Why can't you or asshole out there remember that?”

“Oh that makes it better? You only cared as a ‘friend’! You never cared past your guilty conscious and moral compass. I was your ‘friend’ because I put in the effort while you only knew me from Tatum.”

You groaned, “We had a class sitting beside each other; that's not true.”

“It is. And then you were my ‘friend’ to save your ass years later from me or from Billy or anyone else wanting to kill you.”

“No-”

He laughed in outrage, “Ohohoho, okay. So you cared huh? I loved you and you only cared? You never even cared that much!”

“Stop it, Stu!” You lashed out, finally yelling back. “I cared in High School even when I shouldn't. I really fucking did. When it was so wrong and sick and…Too much and...” You sighed and trailed off.

His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

You clamped up realizing you admitted a bit more than you were proud of. Always claiming to yourself and others you cared about them as friends only but…Who the fuck were you kidding? Even then? It was just too confusing and wrong and then the mix of hating them at the same time for what they did intermingled with that. Maybe not Billy as much until these confusing feelings with this letter happened but Stu had years of you getting to know him without the mask and talking and dinners at your cabin on and off or a chat on the phone…How could you not have some level of fucked up confusion over all that?

“Hey. Talk.” He snapped his fingers and intensely eyed you. “What? Are you trying to tell me… That you…What? You had a crush on me or something?” He taunted mockingly.

You felt your face scrunch up and looked away. “It's not the time for this, okay? I just lost everything. I'm just trying to clear the air about NOW not 15 years back.”

His taunting smirk receded and he looked at you in surprise. “...No, it's the perfect time. Now say it.”

“Stu.”

“Did you like me as more than a friend? I won't kill you, you have nothing left to lose now anyways, Billy will save you, we might all die or go to prison anyway so say it! Did you or did you not want me?” He pressured looking at you with desperate demanding eyes. A glimmer of what you would describe as hope under all that rage.

You didn't answer and he gripped your arms and shook you, “YN!”

“Ow, Stu-” You grimaced at him touching your arms that were fucked up from the last few days.

“I'm gonna hurt you more if you don't fess up! Fucking talk, woman!” He ordered but his action didn't match his words as he loosened his grip

You groaned inwardly and shot him an annoyed look. “...Yes. Okay, fine. fine! FINE!” You raised your voice each word and shoved him off you as you had his undivided attention.

You shakily ran a nervous hand over your head, unsure how to even come back from saying what you've known for years and hated yourself for. “I did. I had a crush on you…I'm not saying love, okay? That is a big word for people like us…I mean, you.” You swallowed. “But I did have a crush, I guess. I know it was probably obvious but clearly not if you thought it might've been just to save myself.”

“You did?” He looked taken aback before he scoffed clearly not trusting you as he leaned back. “Oh suurree. I bet you did on Billy too, huh?”

You frowned and looked away.

“No way.” He grumbled.

“Billy's name with mine; per usual.” He rolled his eyes.

You sighed realizing there was no point in hiding it. “...Well sorry, but it's true. I liked you both in your own way before you got with my friend or...Oh fuck. Before guys attacked me at my parents house.”

“Then why not get with me then?” He demanded eyeing you up and down skeptically. “Why hide it?”

You scoffed a humorless smirk on your face in exasperation. “It was the 90's! I was confused how I could crush on you and Billy at the same time and felt like a slut that you both were taken by my friends. I felt awful!...So, of course I just said it was a fleeting thing that would go away. I never wanted to admit it. I don't want to even admit it now.”

“Did it?” He pressed easing closer.

You rolled your eyes, “...I don't know, okay? Your asking questions that don't matter-”

“Oh, but they do.” He urged.

You rolled your eyes feeling sweaty yet chilled as he was up in your breathing space. “No it doesn't…” When he wouldn't stop staring you groaned and begrudgingly just started admitting it like pulling teeth. Feeling awful and lightheaded. “...Sometimes it did. Sometimes it didn't. Okay? Sometimes the feelings came back then left just as quickly the second you open your mouth.”

He gave a look that was almost a stubborn pout at that. Like a kid not getting the answer he wanted. “Yeah yeah. Then you dated Randy two years later. Why not just be the friend group's bicycle, huh? Maybe all of Woodsboro could have a ride if you gave James of all guys a chance!” He bitterly insulted you. “The horror movie logic? I grew up and realized it doesn't exist. Even you can live.” He grumbled with a triumphant smirk

…But as he said it with that haughty smirk he glanced at you.

At the expression you had; you saw him frown. A slowly forming frown after the words left his mouth. The smirk and sadistic glee left his eyes a bit. He adjusted in his seat and cleared his throat looking down. Rolling his eyes whether at himself or you was undecided.

“Yeah. I'm not too shocked you think like that of me. Of any woman really.” You numbly replied. You felt your chest ache. “I guess I can admit it now. James was a piss poor distraction from how confused I felt and so I wouldn't be the spare tire in the group. As for Randy? Ray and I dated as a fling out of pure confusion. Make no mistake, I was happy for him and Karla. We were young and almost died and he was in a coma after college. We were confused kids. And truthfully? I guess it worked out because you and Billy would've found an excuse to kill whoever I was with. James or Randy. Derek was a distraction too…The one that got away. Got snuffed out, shockingly not by you two, was that Detective...Mark Kincaid was it if anyone had been it and he's dead. He's been dead over a decade.”

You saw the bitter jealousy in Stu at the truth. He tsked in irritation, “...Yeah he was just to save your ass. You knew him a few days and he wanted to bust me and Billy.” Stu grumbled with narrowed eyes the second you mentioned Mark's name.

"He was the only one that understood me without being crazy." You just coldly told him. “But no, that's what you want to think. That I can't care past using like you and Billy are. You're projecting your own personality onto me. I cared at that party or I would've killed you when you got knocked out or let Sidney. I would've turned you in. Shot you at my house. Shot you at the motel. I cared not to ever turn you in; YES! Out of fear but also out of your well being which is way more than a scumbag like you deserves. Seriously, you have tried to kill me, killed my friends, tried to assault me once, tried to kill me, saved my life, then was good to me for years, then tried to kill me again, then came here to save me, now you're insulting me and making me feel threatened again- It is a fucked up conundrum loving someone like you, Stu! Can't you understand that!?” You almost pleaded with that thick skull of his as it just blurted out.

“You are such a whiny victim wannabe, I don't know how I put up with you all these years. Constantly boo hooing! Poor YN, poor wittle YN so pathe-...” He froze as he realized what you said. “Wait…Wait, wait…”

“ME!?” You yelled, still heated. “You ate my food, crashed at my house, threatened me! Who the fuck?-”

His eyes were wide as he shushed you, “Wait, what did you say?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

He looked at you in wonder, “You said you loved me.”

You looked bewildered. Flabbergasted…Mortified even. “I-I did not!”

“You did!” He urged scooting closer. “You said it's a Conundrum loving someone like me? What the fuck does that mean?” He searched your face and huffed. “What? That I'm too messed up to love?”

You stared back with wide eyes, kicking yourself. You usually had more skill than that then to just blurt something like that out. You sighed and looked at him reluctantly. “...Yes, I mean no I-” You softly addressed the elephant in the room. “Maybe if you weren't who you are I would've…I might've…” You trailed off voice shaky and unsure. You closed your eyes with a grunt of embarrassment. “Damn it, why are you like this!? You just have to press; That's you! You have to have your way or you kill or manipulate or insult! I don't owe you anything; this was just me trying to not have you fight Billy or kill me no-”

!!!

You didn't get it out as your eyes snapped open at feeling something bump against your face. Kinda hurt, actually. Your eyes widened as you tried to understand what the hell just happened before realizing you felt his lips…On yours and-

Stu Macher was fucking kissing you. Deeply. Passionately. Stu was kissing you on Billy's bed.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Authors Notes:

Okay, between life just being weird right now. Seriously, I wasn't even excited for Halloween and that is not me...

I had a tiny scene from Scream 4 show up on Tiktok of Jill recording Olivia's death and thought "Wow I didn't see that...Wow, that's stupid of her...Wow, this messes with my plot- OH FUCK!!"

And I redid like 20k words give or take because I had all of Scream 4 done ready to post till I saw that and I just couldn't ignore it PLUS writing my own books (It would be cool if yall bout them once I publish 👉👈... It would be neat of you guys and stuff.) plus life and trying to get a part time job and writing for clients bc a bitch got bills and just...FUCK!

So yeah. That is why this is so late and I've been MIA recently. Ily all for supporting me and your patience I am so sorry but Jill being that stupid in canon is too much to ignore and I lowkey like this plot better even if it's riskier.

I'm gonna try every 2 weeks every weekend now that I think I have a clear plot and have most of 4 done.

[shotmrmiller]

best to worst at handling the news that it’s gonna be twins/triplets/multiples? feel free to include other characters too if you want

john^2- so happy to be here oh what a joyous occasion (let's you tear his ear off his head because the one that's gonna be bearing the brunt of it will be you. must be nice being a man whose back won't feel like bella's in breaking dawn at 4 months if triplets. john wants twins, johnny wants as many nuggets as possible.)

kyle- he's cheeky because he was hoping for twins. runs in the family. didn't think to tell you because either he's gone no contact and doesn't think of them or they're distant relatives or something. didn't think it mattered. boasting about it to anyone that'll listen and now everyone's calling him kyle 'the over-achiever' garrick

simon- freaks over a pregnancy scare. he can't deal with new life. terrified of it. the thought of having a human dependent on him for 18+ years makes his palms sweaty. doesn't matter how many it is, he's looking at the belly like it's a world wonder.

graves is a southern man who dreams of a nuclear family so any kind of multiples is always good news. that's what he bought that big ol plot of land for in sweetwater texas.

alejandro thinks twins are a blessing ofc. latinos tend to have big families to fucking bring em. they gotta have so many cousins no one keeps count anymore. (and if he provides said cousins too, great! will get neutered when his so is ready to close up shop.)

and we all know konig is a bastard. he's got his austrian farm. has many apples to pick in the orchard. needs many helping hands.

[witchybitchycrybaby]

A secret so sweet

Davos Blackwood x Aeron Bracken

Warnings: none except this being a tooth rotting fluff, Davos is so in love

Words: 2k

✨✨✨

The meadow at the boundary of House Blackwood and House Bracken lands was a place that held many secrets.

And most important of all of them was Davos Blackwood's and Aeron Bracken's secluded meeting spot. Nobody ever really went there; in truth, not many people even knew of the meadow. Except these two boys, of course.

For it was here, under the cover of ancient trees and blooming wildflowers, that they had found solace in each other’s arms, safe to do whatever, not caring about a thing in the world.

On this particular afternoon, the air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the gentle hum of insects. Davos and Aeron lay together on their cloaks in the grass, Davos with his head on the other boy's lap. He hummed with content every time Aeron brushed his fingers through his dark, unruly hair.

Davos couldn’t take his eyes off Aeron; maybe it was because of the dreamy smile on his lips, or the love and affection in his gaze. Maybe it was the way in which the sun caught in his golden hair, making him look like an angel. Davos' very own angel here on earth.

Gods, wasn't he just the luckiest man alive.

“You’re so beautiful,” Davos whispered, his fingers gently tracing the line of Aeron’s jaw. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

Aeron smiled, a blush creeping up his cheeks. "And you're incredibly cheesy as of late. What happened to your dark, impulse demeanor, hmm?"

"Well, it so happens that I'm in love," Davos said and leaned on his elbows to be closer to Aeron's face. Their lips brushed ever so slightly, sending electricity through their bodies, when he added, "I'm utterly, helplessly and completely in love with you, Aeron Bracken."

Aeron's breath hitched in his throat at the confession, and blush grom earlier turned into a more crimson shade. "Oh, you're such a sap, Blackwood," he whispered and crushed his lips against Davos'.

At first the kiss was hungry and fierce, burning bright like fire. There was urgency and desperation in it, as their hot breaths mixed together. Davos reached his hand and rested it on Aeron's neck to keep him even closer. He, in turn, pressed his hand on the small of the other boy's back, making Davos arch into him.

Davos was on fire. It was like an inferno, and only Aeron had the power to make him feel it; no one else had ever ignited this kind of flame within him. Every nerve in the dark-haired boy's body responded to his lover's touch, making his body sing only for him.

When they finally broke the kiss, both of them moaned at the lack of contact. Davos' hand moved from Aeron's neck to his cheek, softly caressing the skin there.

"Is it even legal to kiss someone like that?" Davos whispered. He really wasn't sure if his voice would crack, not when Aeron looked at him like that.

"Only if you're ready to commit the crime again."

As Aeron leaned in again, wanting nothing more than to feel Davos against him, they heard rustling nearby. They froze, their hearts beating and panic flashing in their eyes. As they heard more rustling, they quickly pulled apart, breathless and startled, only to see Davos’ younger cousin, Elias. The ten-year-old stood at the edge of the meadow, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Davos? There you are!” Elias called, stepping forward.

Davos felt his heart sink. He felt overwhelming need to shield Aeron's body with his own, hiding him from his cousin's eyes. It was, however, a bit too late for that now. “Elias, what are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice shaky.

The young boy tilted his head, looking between Davos and Aeron with innocent curiosity. “I was looking for you. Mother said you were supposed to help with the horses. But… who’s this?” He gestured to Aeron, who was also standing now, his face pale with fear.

"Um, this is... This is Aeron," Davos stammered, his mind racing to come up with any kind of excuse. "He's... a friend."

Elias' grin widened. "A friend, huh?" he said, a knowing glint in his eyes. "You two looked pretty cozy for just friends."

Davos felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Elias, it's not what it looks like," he tried to explain, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue, but the younger boy wasn't listening.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Elias asked as if he didn't hear his cousin, his tone full of innocent curiosity.

Davos felt as if the ground under his feet opened up and threatened to eat him alive. His heart hammered in his chest and he couldn't help but to shot a quick, panicked glance at Aeron. He looked so scared and Davos wanted nothing more than to shove his cousin in the bushes and make him promise to never tell anyone. He'd use violence if it were necessary.

But then little Elias said something that made Davos' mind stop in it's tracks: "It would be really cool if he was. You two look nice together."

For a moment, the world stood still. Davos stared at Elias, dumbfounded, as if the boy had just spoken in a foreign language. Aeron, too, looked equally stunned, his wide eyes reflecting the same disbelief that had Davos in its grip.

"It's... We are... We..." Davos stammered, not really sure what he was supposed to say.

"Yes, we are, kind of, together," Aeron said, saving him from further embarrassment. He then placed a hand on Davos' shoulder reassuringly. The feeling of the truth being finally spoken out loud was almost dizzying.

"Kind of?" Elias rised his brow in question. He then glanced at their cloaks lying on the grass and his mind connected the dots upon seeing the characteristic pin in the shape of House Bracken sigil. "Are you a Bracken?"

Davos could feel the frustration boiling in him. It's over; Elias will tell everybody and they'd be done for. He couldn't even imagine the severity of the punishment that will be imposed on them. He stopped breathing when he realized that his own cousin just put Aeron in danger. Oh, when he gets this little shit in his hands...

"I thought Brackens were supposed to be mean and dangerous. But you don't look mean and dangerous," Elias said looking at Aeron with his head cocked to the side.

Davos swallowed hard and glanced at Aeron for help. Any help. This couldn't be real, right? He was just dreaming right now, nuzzled into his lover's side, and this nightmare just conjured up to scare the hell out of him.

But Elias just shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I don’t care,” he said simply. “I’m just happy that you’ve found someone who loves you, Davos.”

Davos faltered, but Aeron's strong hands held him still. This was too much excitement for one day. The relief that washed over Davos was quickly followed by a new wave of anxiety. “You can’t tell anyone,” he said urgently. “No one can know about this.”

Elias nodded solemnly. “I won’t tell,” he promised. “I swear.”

One of Aeron's hands found it's way to Davos', intertwining their fingers. “Thank you, Elias,” he said softly, squeezing his lover's hand. “It means a lot to us.”

Elias beamed, clearly pleased with himself. “Can I stay with you?” he asked. “I want to get to know Aeron better.”

Davos hesitated, but Aeron shot him a quick glance and once again squeezed his hand. “Of course you can,” he said. “I’d love to get to know you too, Elias.”

They sat back down in the grass, Elias setting down between Davos and Aeron. The younger boy looked up at Aeron with wide, curious eyes. “So, how did you and Davos meet?” he asked.

Davos groaned internally, but Aeron just smiled. “We met in the forest,” he said. “We were both out patrolling the boundaries, and we ran into each other. We started talking, and… well, it just happened.”

Elias nodded, satisfied with the answer. “That’s nice,” he said. “Davos doesn’t talk about his feelings much, but I can tell he really likes you.”

Davos felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Elias,” he muttered, trying to keep his composure, “you don’t have to say everything that comes to your mind.”

Aeron chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I think it’s sweet,” he said, nudging Davos with his elbow. “It’s good to know get to know some more about you."

Davos groaned, out loud this time.

Elias grinned, clearly enjoying the situation. “Davos is always so serious,” he said in a conspiratorial tone to Aeron. "And doing some silly things too. You should have seen him when he tried to impress a girl by climbing the tallest tree near Raventree Hall. He got stuck halfway up and had to be rescued by Benji!"

Aeron burst into laughter, the sound warming Davos' heart. He then looked at him with a mix of affection and amusement. "This does actually sound like something you would do."

Davos buried his face in his hands, feeling his ears burning. “Elias, you’re going to make him think I’m a complete fool. Why do you have to bring that up?”

Elias giggled with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Because it's funny! And because Aeron should know all sides of you."

Aeron wrapped an arm around Davos' shoulders, pulling him close. "I love hearing more about you," he said softly and kissed him on the cheek. "Even the embarrassing parts."

Davos peeked out from between his fingers, meeting Aeron's eyes. The genuine love he saw there made his breath hitch in his throat. "You do?"

"Of course," Aeron reassured him and leaned in to kiss him again. "I actually find them adorable. It’s all part of what makes you, you."

Elias watched them with wide eyes, clearly fascinated by the display of affection. "You really love him, don't you, Aeron?"

Aeron looked at the younger boy with a gentle smile. "More than anything," he answered once his gaze came back to Davos' face.

Davos felt his heart beating faster. He didn’t care if Elias embarrassed him in front of Aeron. All that mattered was that Aeron was here, by his side, loving him despite his flaws.

As the sun began to set, Elias didn't stop talking and shared with Aeron most of the stories from Davos’ childhood, much to Davos’ embarrassment and Aeron’s delight. “Did you know,” Elias said with a mischievous grin, “that Davos once tried to ride a sheep? He thought it would be faster than a horse.”

Aeron shook his head, his laughter echoing through the meadow. “I can just imagine you chasing after that sheep.”

Davos couldn’t help but smile, despite his embarrassment. “I was just a kid,” he protested weakly.

"A kid with great ambitions," added Aeron smiling brightly at his lover.

Elias smiled, satisfied like a proud mother. “I think you two are perfect for each other. Even if Davos is a bit stubborn sometimes.”

As the evening wore on, the three of them lay back on the cloaks, watching the stars come out one by one. Elias had fallen asleep, his head resting on Davos’ shoulder. Aeron snuggled close to Davos, their fingers intertwined.

“You’re amazing with him,” Aeron whispered, his breath warm against Davos’ ear. “He adores you.”

Davos smiled, pressing a kiss to Aeron’s forehead. “And I adore you,” he said softly. “I’d do anything for you, Aeron. No questions asked.”

Aeron smiled, his eyes shining with love. "Just love me," he said simply. "That’s all I’ll ever ask."

"In case you haven't noticed already," Davos chuckled. "I love you with every beat of my heart and every breath I take."

As they lay there in the meadow, wrapped in each other’s arms, Davos knew there was no greater joy than loving Aeron, no greater happiness than being loved in return. His heart, his soul, his everything belonged to the boy who had stolen his heart and made him whole.

[equipment-manifest]

What do you think of these axon looking things?

Given the similarities to axon terminals I was wondering if they were for delivering information/status report of their surrounding equipment

But the one at moon's gravity disruptor feels more like its sampling data from the engine (the last few times I went through that room it ragdolled very hard upon entering due to the gravity lol)

And looking at that screenshot I just took from the map website, it also has the "reading halo", so it probably is catching on information rather than relaying it

Ah, these things - there's not a lot to go on with them, but they're certainly interesting. I'm going to use the game's internal nomenclature and call them "coral stems" for clarity.

Coral stems seem to interact with an Iterator's internal biota in much the same way as their more common cousin, the wall mycelia. Both organisms sprout from the Iterator's internal walls, attracting to their hyphae neuron flies and the free-floating hyphae of coral neurons and inspectors. The sparking effect produced upon contact with these organisms is identical to that seen between interacting overseers, so I'm inclined to believe it represents the exchange of information (rather than say, energy or nutrients) between an Iterator's stationary machinery and its free-floating organic parts. The question then is how the role of coral stems in this interface differs from the role of the wall mycelia.

As you implied, the segmented body of a coral stem closely resembles an axon wrapped in a myelin sheath, the part of a neuron that transmits signals away from the cell body. In such an analogy, the cell body would have to be the machinery the coral stem is anchored to. The wispy mycelia growing from that machinery would then seem to fit the description of dendritic branches, thin growths that receive signals from other cells. So one interpretation could be that the coral stems and wall mycelia perform opposite functions, delivering messages to and receiving messages from the free-floating biota respectively.

Another possibility is that the wall mycelia and coral stems are both sensory organs, but with complementary roles. The mats of wall mycelia are not especially dense, but their hyphae extend into a large part of an Iterator's internal spaces. This makes them well-adapted to sensing macroscopic organisms like neuron flies or coral neurons. These organisms are unevenly distributed in a way that requires hyphae to be able to reach them no matter where they are in a room, but their large size and weight ensures that any nearby hyphae will certainly be disturbed by their presence and brushed against them. In contrast, small particles like microorganisms or chemical traces in the air would be unlikely to collide with the scarce hyphae of wall mycelia, and too light to be reliably detected when they do.

The bundled hyphae of coral stems could act like scent traps for these particles—when one happens to wander into a coral stem's bristles, it's likely to become trapped and bounce around among the dense hyphae for a time, the repeated collisions ensuring that there are many chances for it to be detected. Of course, coral stems are distributed much more sparsely than wall mycelia, but that would be just fine for this purpose. Diffusion ensures that the distribution of small, light particles is relatively homogeneous throughout a space: the air in one part of a room is about the same as the air in any other part, so there'd be no need for too many coral stems close together.

I hope this provided some food for thought, thanks for the ask!

[drdemonprince]

When other people say that they do not have enough time to get something done, they (often, if they're quite healthy) mean they are taking into account the time it takes to do the laundry and arrange new pieces of furniture and cook dinner and meet up with friends to see a movie and run to the post office or the hair dresser and take the dog for walks and do the dishes and paint their nails and drive to the store and go to their cousin's wedding and go to the barbecue their friend is throwing on the weekend

they don't winnow their life down to just spending time at the computer, working from when they wake up until they cannot focus their eyes anymore, granola bars, coffee, and bottles of water all around them because of course they did not take time to have lunch or breakfast, only dragging themselves away from work when they are truly too exhausted to do any of it anymore, and then lacking the energy to do much of anything that remains of life but to eat a tiny bit more, sponge themselves off, and go to sleep.

i just saw a video of a fursuiter on their bed, legs kicked back, head propped on their hands, delightedly announcing that after many years of hard work they had finally finished their Master's degree. And some part of me, some sick withered part, thought really? you had time to do a Master's degree while also getting a fursuit done? and going to conventions, presumably? you had time in the day to research fursuit makers, have a sona designed and drawn by someone else (or to draw it yourself), to contact a maker to make a duck tape dummy of yourself, and to have a friend over to help you make it and to cut it off of you, to send it in the mail to the maker, to then get it and make videos? you had time to set up this beautiful bedroom that i see in your video, with a soft pink sham on the bed and LED lights behind your bookshelf and lamps and all kinds of stuffed toys? you had a life? you were out playing, and dancing, and pursuing your hobbies, and you did a master's degree?

because when i was working on my doctorate, there was nothing. three layers of foam on the floor with a fitted sheet over it. a folding card table from aldi that had cost $40 that my grandparents got me. no food in the fridge. no time to even get the internet installed, just stolen wi-fi when my laptop could pick it up. i woke up, got dressed, and slunk into the office. i sat alone in the dark working until my hunger made me furious and i could not write another word. and then i walked to the grocery store, got something to subsist on, went home, ate, kickboxing video, went to sleep. every day. with almost nothing breaking the routine.

and ive gotten better, so much better, but my brain still kind of works that way. i feel like i have to quit my job and stop being a writer if i want to have hobbies. to paint my bedroom. to marinate a meat for longer than fifteen minutes. to get a driver's license again. to take a trip. but i dont want to be like that any more. how do people know when to stop? i feel like i have to give everything my absolute all until there is nothing left or else i have done nothing. i feel that i would have to treat a hobby like a job to get it done. I feel that anything that takes more than two minutes is a huge waste of time i must feel guilty for. i am working on all these things. jesus i have been working on them for years at this point. but because i have been so successful at telling people to do less, i get pulled in. interview. workshop invitation. email. urgent in the subject line. call from my agent. meeting request from my boss. new book idea, better sell it now while my sales figures still look good. recording studio session. deadline. writing. can you talk about this. can you talk about that. tag. email. book idea. deadline. long heartfelt email. still so often i have to take my own damn advice.

and this is why i am getting a fursuit made!! and going to cons! and going to leather and latex events! and making socials that are separate for these things!! i am going to let myself be silly and soft and do frivolous things. i am so sick of what i do to myself, all the pursuit of seeming like a strong mature adult.