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makeitmingi · 5 months ago

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When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 1]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.1K

(Chapter warning(s): Character death, grieving/ funeral, injury, recollection of previous argument, Hongjoong is in a weird place with his feelings.)

"Thank you for coming." Hongjoong had a stoic look on his face as he deeply bowed to the people that came to pay respects. The people bowed back, reaching out to shake his hand with a comforting smile on their faces.

"She was a good woman. Kind." They patted him on the shoulder. All he could do was stiffly nod in reply.

"Please help yourself to the food and refreshments." He forced a small smile and gestured to the buffet spread where the other people were all seated.

"Should we ask him to take a break?" Yunho leaned over to ask Seonghwa as the older collated the beoseom money together.

"You can try but he's not going to like it. Just let him do what he needs to do." Seonghwa replied.

"Hyung loved his mother. They didn't have the best relationship but I know he always missed seeing her and talking to her." Yunho sighed with a small frown. Seonghwa hummed in agreement.

"But this is for him to figure out. We'll just help him where he wants us." Seonghwa said.

Hongjoong recognised all the people that came. All friends of his late father and now, mother, or his own allies. They were men that worked for him or with him. Although they didn't know his mother at all, he knew that Wooyoung had gathered all their men to come and support him as the leader.

"Oh, coming." Hongjoong noticed some people going to pay their respects and went to his post as the son, keeping his head lowered as they bowed to his mother's casket.

"You have our condolences, Hongjoong sshi. If you need anything, let us know." The leader of a small gang shook his hand.

"Thanks." He nodded. Hongjoong knew their motive, it was to create favours and forge loyalties with Ateez.

"Umm, excuse me." Hongjoong looked up at the sudden entrance of a light, tinkling voice. He eyes fell on the girl that entered, she looked so different, sticking out like a sore thumb.

Who are you?

"Here you go." You took out an envelope of money and handed it to Yunho and Seonghwa, who received it with a bow.

"You can head that way." Seonghwa gestured to where Hongjoong was standing. From the looks of it, Seonghwa seemed just as entranced and/or curious about you as Hongjoong was. You nodded and headed to him.

"You must be Hongjoong sshi." You looked at him with familiarity, still cradling the small bouquet of flowers in your arms. All Hongjoong could do was nod.

How did you know him? He, for sure, didn't know you. There wasn't an inkling of recollection seeing your face or hearing your voice.

"If it's okay with you, can I place this bouquet by the casket? It's our favourite flower." You asked politely.

"Go ahead. Thank you." He nodded. 'Our' favourite? His eyes followed you as you placed the bouquet of white tulips by the casket. The bouquet was simple but elegant.

"I'll miss our afternoon chats. Take care of yourself and rest easy." You prayed softly as you bowed to his mother's casket.

"Thank you for coming." Hongjoong said to you when the both of you stood up from your kneeled positions.

"S-Sorry..." Your bottom lip quivered and tears streamed down your face as you struggled to wipe them all away. There was so much grief and upset on your face, you probably felt more grief than Hongjoong did. Hongjoong held his handkerchief out to you but you hesitated, you didn't know him to take it.

"It's okay." He whispered, trying to convince you. With a shaky hand, you took the white cloth and dried your tears. All this time, Hongjoong was trying to study you.

"Thanks." You smiled awkwardly.

"How do you know me? Did you know my mother?" He asked, even if the answer was obviously yes.

"She comes by my shop almost every afternoon to chat with me. She'll even bring tea and snacks with her. I recognise you from the photos she shared with me." You giggled.

"I see... Well-"

"Hongjoong hyung, there are more mourners. Do you want me to take over?" Someone came over.

"No, it's fine, San ah." Hongjoong assured his brother and bowed his head to you before going back to where the casket was. You tucked the handkerchief into your pocket.

"There are snacks and refreshments." You were directed to the area where the other mourners were chatting, eating and drinking. There were barely any other women around, all men dressed in suits. It almost felt like a business convention, not a funeral.

"Who is that?" Wooyoung asked San when he came back to where they were seated.

"No idea." San shook his head. The 7 Ateez members watched you with curiosity. You sat in the corner by yourself, you didn't take any food or drinks.

"Do any of you know her or recognise her?" Mingi blinked.

"I think she genuinely knew my mother." The boys looked up to see Hongjoong standing behind them.

"Really?" Even Seonghwa was shocked too. They all knew that everyone who came didn't know Hongjoong's mother. How did someone like you befriend Hongjoong's mother?

"She's definitely not from underground." Yeosang said. You were still wiping stray tears that escaped your eyes.

"She's... really grieving the lost of my mother... Even more than me." Hongjoong observed.

"Her name is (y/n)." Yunho said, reading from the mourners book of those that came. The others didn't even notice that Hongjoong left them, going over to where you were seated alone. When Hongjoong pulled out the chair next to yours, you blinked, breaking out of your reminiscing moment.

"Apologies." He said.

"Don't apologise, you must be busy having to do this on your own, on top of the fact that you're mourning and grieving too." You shook your head with a soft smile.

"I have a good support system." He nodded over to where the other Ateez members were.

"You must haven known my mother well to know her favourite flower." Hongjoong brought the conversation back.

"She always came to buy them from me, along with other flowers. That's when I learnt that we both have the same favourite flower. I'm a florist actually." You informed.

"Oh... And here, I didn't even know my mother had a favourite flower." He chuckled.

"Hongjoong sshi." You shocked him and frankly, yourself too, when you placed a hand over his own in comfort.

"I'll miss her too but it'll be okay. From the way your mother spoke fondly of you, I could tell that you both had a great relationship. At least you'll still have your good memories of her with you." You smiled softly. Suddenly, Hongjoong retracted his hand.

"Excuse me." He stood up, buttoning his blazer. He watched as your face fell.

"Hongjoong sshi. I-I'm sorry." You stuttered, realising what you just said to him and how your words crossed a boundary. Hongjoong clenched his jaw and walked back to where Ateez was.

"Woah, hyung. You okay?" Jongho asked, noticing the sudden change in Hongjoong's mood and expression.

"I'm fine." Hongjoong replied through gritted teeth.

Despite what happened, you still stayed until the final standoff. Hongjoong was unexpectedly hypervigilant of where you were, standing on your own at the back of the crowd.

"Hang on." Before the Ateez boys could load his mother's casket into the back of the hearse, he stopped them.

"Captain?" They were confused. Leaning down, Hongjoong grabbed a stalk of flower from your bouquet and placed it on top.

"Carry on." He cleared his throat, side eyeing you. You were watching the entire time as you cried softly to yourself. All the mourners that hadn't left bowed to the hearse as it closed. Hongjoong, still holding his mother's picture, walked to the front seats where he would follow along to the burial site.

"We'll follow behind, hyung." Wooyoung said to him. Hongjoong nodded and entered with Mingi closing the door behind him. The 7 entered their respective vans that were prepared.

As the hearse began to pull out of the drive way, Hongjoong spotted you walking along the streets, arms hugging yourself.

"Who are you?" He whispered as you walked further away.

When the news of his mother's passing first came until this moment, Hongjoong hadn't shed a tear. Was he cruel or unfilial for not doing so? Or were tears just a sign of weakness?

"Good memories?" Hongjoong turned to his mother's picture, remembering what you said to him.

You sighed as you made your way into your apartment. After you removed your shoes, you fell back onto the couch.

"I can't believe you're gone." You said, feeling tears well up in your eyes again as you thought about Mrs Kim and her not being around any longer. Maybe because you grew up without a mother, she was the closest thing to a mother that you had.

"Can I help you?" The doorman asked when he saw how confused you were upon entering the building.

"Oh, good morning. Sorry to bother you but I'm looking for Mrs Kim? I hope I have the right address." You scratched your head, bowing to the older male.

"Do you mean the Mrs Kim that stays in the penthouse? I'm sorry but she passed away yesterday." He informed.

"W-Wait, what?" You couldn't believe it. The flower bouquet slipping from your hands.

"Are you okay, agashi? Yes, unfortunately, Mrs Kim passed." He picked up the bouquet, placing a hand on your shoulder. It was so shocking you couldn't even cry.

"Are you family?" He asked. It took you a while to answer as the news was still sinking in.

"N-No... I'm not but I knew her..." You tried your best to form a coherant answer in your head but it was too difficult.

"I'm sorry, agashi." He said sadly. You bowed your head and turned around, leaving the building. When you reached home, you searched funeral homes online and there it was, her name and her picture. It only solidified that what the doorman said was true, the closest person to a mother that you've had was gone.

"I can't believe I said that. (y/n), what did you do?" You facepalmed when you remembered what you said to Hongjoong. Who were you to tell him that?

"He's her real son, you're not." You scolded yourself, holding Hongjoong handkerchief in your lap.

Mrs Kim always spoke about Hongjoong with such a sad smile, indicating that their relationship wasn't amicable.

There was love, of course. But you could hear the regret and guilt in her voice. All you knew was that if you were to run into him again, you'll definitely apologise for overstepping.

Hongjoong seemed cold but you were grateful that he placed one of your flowers on top of her casket before the hearse left. Whether it was done for you or for her, Hongjoong's gesture warmed your heart.

"Where's he?" Seonghwa asked as he climbed up the stairs to the second floor. The younger ones nodded over to Hongjoong's back. The captain leaned against the banister of the terrace, a glass of whiskey held by his fingertips.

"He's still there. Been there since we've come back." Yeosang informed.

"(y/n) (y/l/n). She's a florist in Hongjoong hyung's territory, studying botany part time. Practically as normal as it gets." Jongho walked over, closing a folder. Seonghwa took it and read it.

"As long as she isn't a threat." San shrugged.

"Far from. If there was a motive for her to get close to Mrs Kim, it's not in the file." Jongho said, pouring himself a drink.

"But damn, she seemed to be closer to Mrs Kim than Hongjoong hyung was." Mingi stated and Seonghwa slapped the back of his head for being so direct.

"What? It's the truth..." Mingi rubbed his head. Yunho sighed, patting his best friend's back.

"Hyung will be fine, right? He has to be. He's our captain and our leader. Let's just give him some time then he'll bounce back like always." Wooyoung said with a small frown. Seonghwa nodded in agreement. Although Hongjoong suppresses his feelings and emotions, he always puts Ateez first.

"Yes, Hongjoong will be okay. He just needs space now. And don't bring up the girl anymore, okay?" Seonghwa said. The younger 6 nodded their heads obediently.

"Hyung, what happened between Hongjoong hyung and his mother?" San asked.

"No idea. Even if I did, it's not my story to tell." Seonghwa shrugged.

He is Hongjoong's best friend and second in command, but he didn't know what was Hongjoong's relationship with his mother. It was almost a love-hate relationship, for Hongjoong at least.

"Go back to work. Give Hongjoong a few days off, I'll be taking over his duties in the mean time." Seonghwa informed.

"Sure, hyung." All of them split up to go back to work. Seonghwa cast one more worried glance at his best friend's back before leaving.

Hongjoong sighed as he took another sip of whiskey. Even as he shovelled the dirt over his mother's casket, he didn't shed a tear. The heartache was there but he couldn't will himself to cry. He watched as the flower he placed on top got sullied by the dirt.

"She's really gone." He breathed out.

"You're really gone." He repeated as if he was speaking directly to his mother, clenching the glass in his hand.

You, the girl that appeared out of nowhere, seemed to have a much better relationship with his mother than he did. You cried while Hongjoong was emotionless.

"Damn it." Hongjoong must have channeled all his frustration to his hand because before he knew it, the crystal shattered into pieces.

"Hyung!" Yeosang rushed out, having seen the whole thing.

"I'm fine, Yeosang." Hongjoong hissed, cradling his now injured hand. Yeosang gently took it into his own hands, looking at how bad is was. Blood began to drip on the tiles.

"No, it's not fine. There's crystal shards in your hand now. Come." Yeosang frowned and brought Hongjoong in.

"Get someone to clean the terrace." Yeosang said to a passing butler, who nodded with a deep bow. He brought the captain to his office where his medical supplies were. Thankfully, Hongjoong didn't protest and sat down, patiently waiting for Yeosang to get what he needed to treat his hand.

"Don't move." Yeosang said as he took forceps and tried to remove the crystal pieces from the cuts. Luckily it wasn't too deep that he would need stitches.

"Are you not going to ask me anything?" Hongjoong asked as Yeosang took a magnifier to look for any smaller pieces.

"No. What's there to ask?" Yeosang asked back. At that, Hongjoong sighed and just leaned back in the seat.

"This is going to sting. Bear with me." Yeosang took the antiseptic and spray it over Hongjoong's hand, causing the leader to let out an onslaught of curse words and winces.

"I saw the butler cleaning glass on the terrace. What happened?" San came in.

"Just a small accident." Hongjoong sighed again, watching Yeosang use gauze to wrap up his hand.

"We're done. If it starts to bleed through the bandages, you have to get them changed. If not then I'll check on them in a few days." Yeosang said as he used clips and medical tape to secure the bandage. Hongjoong nodded and stood up.

"Thanks, Sangie." He left Yeosang's room. San stared at where their captain disappeared to.

"Everyone deals with grief differently, whether they want to admit it or not." San said and Yeosang let out a hum in agreement, clearing the bloodied gauze and area.

"He'll be okay. Hyung is strong." Yeosang assured.

When Hongjoong went upstairs to go back to his room, he walked past the second floor lounge and saw a file there.

'(y/n) (y/l/n)'

So, the boys went to search up on you and who you were. Reaching down, Hongjoong took the file and tucked it under his arm, retreating to his room.

"Florist... Studies botany... That's it?" He read the file as he walked. If there was anything else, even secrets, he knew Jongho and Yunho would have found it by now. No piece of information escapes those two. They can source information about a person's entire life on their computers, it's why they're the best.

"Oh?" Hongjoong paused, eyebrows raising when he saw the location of your shop. It was in the territory that he took care of, which was also the area where his mother's house was.

Despite that, Hongjoong has never once visited his mother nor has he spoken to her in years.

"How could you do this? How could you do this to me?! To us?!" Hongjoong yelled, seething with so much anger.

"I know... I'm a horrible mother, I'm sorry Hongjoong ah." His mother shook her head, tears in her eyes as she faced her angry son. She didn't even bother to give an excuse.

"Why?! Why would you do this?" He faced her, his own tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I couldn't just standby and watch. I couldn't." The woman wrapped her arms around herself pitifully. This time, Hongjoong didn't hug her.

"After everything, you'll still side with him. After knowing what he did to all of us, including you, you still..." Hongjoong shook his head, unable to finish his sentence. He was just filled with so much rage he couldn't even breathe properly.

"Get out. I never want to see you again." He turned away, hearing her soft footsteps leave his office and disappear.

"Seonghwa." Hongjoong called out, knowing that his second in command was standing nearby and most probably overheard the entire exchange that happened.

"Yeah?" Seonghwa walked in.

"I want her out of here now. Buy her a house or whatever, somewhere I don't have to see her." Hongjoong ordered.

"Sure, Hongjoong." Seonghwa bowed his head and exited the office. Hongjoong let out a yell, angrily swiping everything off his desk. Papers flews and things broke but he didn't care.

Seonghwa ended up buying his mother a penthouse apartment in the territory that Hongjoong managed. Although Hongjoong didn't like that idea, Seonghwa gave an excuse that at least Hongjoong could keep an eye on her.

He didn't know that Seonghwa did that so if he ever wanted to see his mother again or let her make amends for what she did, he'll know where she is.

But it was too late anyway. Hongjoong's mother was gone, there were no more amends to make, no more apologies.

"Great relationship? Good memories?" Hongjoong bitterly scoffed once again when he remembered your words, throwing your file aside and going to take a much needed shower.

He needed to get out of his head.

Series masterlist

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pacifierpuppy · 3 months ago

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There’s just something so, so special about diapers. I mean, I love every aspect of being babied, but diapers are the most important part.

When you first put them on, when they’re so crisp and pristine and brand new, they feel good. They feel clean, and safe, and cozy. The padding sliiiightly spreading your legs apart, the cushioning on your butt when you sit down, the crinkles to remind you how little you are. The thick padding helping absorb sensations, you can just start rubbing yourself and humping and it just…. There’s nothing like it. It’s like humping a pillow, but it’s attached to you. Just rubbing and rubbing and rubbing in bliss as you hear the crinkles telling you how futile it is. If this were the end of it I think I’d still love wearing them because they just start out so perfect.

But that’s not where it ends. Diapers were made to be used, and no matter how you choose to fill them, it’s always soooo much fun. When you’re holding your bladder to the point of failure, rubbing your crotch and the pressure and sensation make you leak a little bit. The warmth soaking up into the padding, surrounding your crotch as you leak more and more until you just give out and let it allllll flood into the diapers, swelling around you, the new thickness forcing your legs apart as you are forced to either waddle or crawl. The warmth surrounding you, unable to escape it as you feel the new, squishy texture all around your sensitive bits, easily conforming into the perfect shape to cradle them.

You can also just let go whenever, no holding at all, going whenever you feel the slightest twinge in your bladder. It’s freeing. You don’t have to care about stopping whatever your doing to use the restroom, you can just let it all slowly dribble out as your diaper ever so gradually inflates, until it’s eventually undeniable that you’ve been using it. Sloooowly leaking your warm pee until it’s that wonderful, squishy padding that you love.

Once it’s full, you can REALLY start rubbing it, feeling it squish around your crotch, when you hump into the squishy padding it’s like you really are fucking something, I’ve seen ppl cum hand free by just humping the air in their wet diapers, feeling the squishy padding move up and down along their shaft, perfect conformed to it, until they reach orgasm. It’s almost like a wearable fleshlight. But even if you don’t have a penis, or don’t like penetration, it still feels amazing to have that slick, slippery, warm padding rubbing against you. As you slowly get wet, leaking pre, that doesn’t get absorbed by the padding, in fact, the moisture from your accident helps keep it perpetually wet and slick, so it’s always just sooooooooo slick, sliding nicely around your most sensitive parts as you hump your brain away on your favorite plushy, or someone’s knee, or another cutie’s diaper.

Even when it slowly, slowly starts to grow cold, the cool, wet, squishy padding is exciting in its own way. It makes sure you can never forget what you’re wearing or what you’ve done. Maybe you leak more, briefly warning the padding around your crotch, but the cold can almost be refreshing in its own way,,,

And then you get to take it off, feel the cold air against your skin that’s been trapped in your own mess for so long. You get feel the cold baby wipes getting into every little area, making sure you’re nice and clean, before you get a new diaper slid under you. You’re tickled as the sweet smelling baby powder is applied, and it starts all over again as you’re wrapped up in fresh, new, crinkling padding.

Who wouldn’t want that?

#lmk if I should talk abt why I love messing too. I tend to just wet because clean up is a hassle #but man #it can be nice too #ab/dl t4t #t4t ab/dl #4g3pl4y #4gepl4y #@gepl4y #@geplay #ab/dl #ab/dl little #diaper regression #md/lg little #ab/dl trans #trans ab/dl #ab/dl diaper #diaper pee

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

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Sum of All 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Thor guides you through the immense house as your awe struggles to keep up with your feet. He turns you through another arched doorway and at once, you’re met with a tidal wave of fear as two terrifying dark eyes glare back at you over the snarl of long teeth. You yipe and through your hands up, teetering on your short heels.

Your heart pounds against your lungs, pinching off the flow of blood to your head as you gape at the large beast before you. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself tipping backwards. The room evaporates into the black cloud that speckles across your vision.

You’re trapped in the thick dusk, spinning in the dark, until a flicker of light tweaks at your consciousness. Your ears itch as voices drone around you. Your own scrapes dryly in your throat as you groan.

“What did you do?” Rogers’s rocky growl has your eyes snapping open.

“I was only showing her the place,” Thor answers with amusement. “She just sort of... toppled over, like a bowling pin.”

“Why the hell do you have that thing?” Rogers’s huffs.

You shift, your head lolling on Rogers’ arm as he cradles you around your shoulders. You flick your lashes, clearing away the haze, and once more are met with the most horrifying animal you’ve ever seen. The big brown bear is posed in attack, paws in the air, claws exposed, teeth gleaming in light in a silent roar.

“Ahhh,” you cry out again.

Rogers looks down at you and Thor guffaws, “it is harmless, lady. Dead for some time,” he goes to slap the creature’s shoulder. You babble and shake your head.

“You alright?” Rogers asks.

You look at him, speechless. Embarrassed now that you realise what happened. You fainted over a glorified teddy bear. As you look at the bear, it’s not as scary, more sad.

You press your hands to the floor and sit up out of Rogers’ arm. He stays as he is, on one knee, looming. You rub your forehead, “sorry, I was surprised.”

“You could’ve warned her,” Rogers barks at Thor. Another chuckle.

“She is just fine.”

“Is she?” Rogers retorts. “Did she--” he stops and looks at you, “did you hit your head?”

“I caught her before she could crash,” Thor assures.

“Hey,” Rogers ignores him, “you good?”

“Fine,” you bend your legs and sigh. “I just think I need some water. Long drive in.”

“Oh Rogers, you fret too much,” Thor leans his arm over the shoulder of the bear, “we can always find another accountant. My brother is gifted with numbers himself--”

“Another--” Rogers scoffs and offers his hand to help you as you get up. “Sure, we can, but that’s more time wasted.”

“Hmm, suppose,” Thor tilts his head and narrows his eyes. At you. You look between him and the other man. “Why don’t you go get her some water and get her settled. It seems you’ve had a long day. We can begin tomorrow with fresh minds.”

“Fine,” Rogers keeps a hold of your arm. You’re not sure he realises.

“I’ll have someone bring you some refreshment,” Thor flutters his fingers carelessly. “I’ll see to my own woman. Surely she is missing me sorely.”

Rogers sighs. He turns you around, dragging you by the wrist out of the room. You clack beside him in your kitten heels and nearly trip up the first step as your left shoe slips off your heel. He finally slows and lets go of you. He rubs his fingers together as if surprised at himself.

“Come on,” he demands and continues up the stairs.

You follow with a series of echoing taps and scurry after him down the hall. His long strides are unstoppable, his posture unbendable. He is just as scary as the bear.

He opens a door and backs up to point inside. You hurry up and enter ahead of him. He follows and slams it behind him. You jump and turn to face him.

“Sir, I didn’t mean to--”

“He shouldn’t have that thing. It’s cruel,” he snips.

You silence. You’re relieved that he isn’t upset with you. You’ve seen what happens to people who set him off. The thought makes you wobbly.

You cautiously move toward a cushioned chaise, staying close just in case you need a soft landing. He paces as you watch. His fist balls and opens as his lips move noiselessly. His hair falls into his face and he growls and pushes it back.

He halts and faces you, “look, you gotta be careful around here. Around these men.”

“Yeah,” you nod.

“No, I mean it,” he marches toward you and you tense, brows rising nearly to your hairline. “Look, you’ve seen what I can do, they can do just as bad and they’ll do worse. I got limits. Standards. Rules.”

You nod fervently. You won’t mention that he was rabid that day. Oof, the memory makes your head feel loose on your neck.

“Hey,” he waves his hand in your face, “don’t pass out.”

“I’m not,” you lie. He puffs out through his nose doubtfully.

“Anyone messes with you, tell me. I’ll do exactly what I did to the guy on the street,” he snarls.

“What?” You murmur, your face fuzzy. He stares at you as you struggle to keep from swaying.

“Better yet, stay close to me,” he orders as he pushes his jacket back and grips his hips. “You’re under my protection and I don’t take that lightly. I got a reputation and even Odinson isn’t gonna mess with that.”

“Mm,” you hum and feel behind you with your fingertips. You bend your knees until you touch the cushions and you sit on the chaise, “close, I can do that.”

“Trust me, I got a handle on it.” He turns and drops his hands, rolling his shoulders. “All you need to worry about it the numbers, sweetheart. That’s it.”

He removes his jacket and hangs it on a chair. He stops and looks at his hand, balls it, then punches his other, clasping his fist. He growls and exhales again.

“Been a while since I had to play enforcer,” he snorts.

“Enforce...” you utter as your lashes flicker.

“Sure, you gotta work yourself up. You don’t just strut into the boss’ office and ask for a promotion,” he says. “You earn every single drop of blood.”

“Blood,” you gurgle and lean heavily to one side, bracing yourself with one up.

He cracks his knuckles and turns to face you, “this is a big deal but it could just as easy start a war--”

“Erp,” you fall onto your elbow and shield your face, trying to contain your pulsing brain.

“Woah, ho, sweetheart,” his voice lightens as he rushes over. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He hooks his hand under your side and helps you sit up. “Sorry if I scared ya,” he brings his other hand up to your cheek. Somehow, that isn’t a comfort. That little curve in his lips is less than reassuring. Since when does he smile? “Let’s get you laying down, huh? That pretty little head of yours needs some rest.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #sum of all #au #mob au #marvel #mcu #avengers #captain america

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hannahbarberra162 · 3 months ago

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The Crocodile's Gambit, Part 4 (Croc X Reader)

18+ MDNI on Ao3

The other chapters

Warning: description of prior abuse /medical violence in this chapter

~~~

You watched with your mouth a perfect circle as Crocodile’s hook fell to the floor. “B-but, your hook -”

“We both have our histories, our secrets, our scars. They make us who we are, not who we were.” Crocodile was unsure how he remained eloquent when surely all his blood was in his aching cock. Your eyes searched his face, trying to determine if he was going to switch his opinion and mock your scars.

“May I touch it? Your arm?” you asked hesitatingly, your hand hovering over his arm. No one had asked since the doctor had removed the stitches binding his skin together.

“You may,” Crocodile said, allowing you to run your fingers over the scarring.

“I’ve never seen you without your hook,” you stated, Crocodile transfixed by your slim fingers gently cradling his stump.

“No one else has either,” Crocodile said, puffing on his cigar with his hand. Normally brash, impudent, and cheeky, you ran your fingers delicately over his pitted and marked skin. Crocodile allowed you to move his arm and inspect it as you saw fit. It felt refreshing to be so open with a sexual partner, especially one who had scars of their own.

“Does it hurt?” you whispered, still tracing the faded pocks where the sutures had been.

“It aches at times, but nothing too bothersome” Crocodile said, blowing cigar smoke above your head. To Crocodile’s surprise, you began to massage his stump with your deft little fingers. It felt incredible, nothing like the rough kneadings he gave himself. Crocodile bit back a groan as he leaned back further into his padded chair. He finally had you, naked, sitting in his lap, and his first groan was elicited from a hand massage.

“You should let me help you with it,” you offered as you continued to work. Crocodile hummed his response. It really did feel quite good to have your nimble fingers working out his tension. He’d agree to it later, right now you were looking delectable with your little furrowed brow concentrating on him, tits gently swaying with your movement.

“Maybe another time. Right now, I’m going to help you,” Crocodile said, rising to stand while holding your bottom in his arms. You squeaked from surprise, clutching his shoulders as if in fear Crocodile was going to drop you. Crocodile strode with purpose towards the bedroom, his cock tenting his pants in anticipation of being buried in your heat.

He set you down none too gently on his bed, you ass bouncing on the mattress. Crocodile undressed rapidly, wishing he was still wearing his hook to slice through his expensive clothes. Putting his cigar in his bedside ashtray, he dove right after you, pinning your wrists down above your head with his hand. “Finally, captured by the King,” Crocodile droned into your ear. His legs in between yours spread them wide open, your wet core sloshing on his thigh. Crocodile wanted nothing more than to sink into your sweet cunt immediately but he knew he had to wait. You weren’t some plaything he’d forget the moment after orgasm. Crocodile needed to show you that he was worth the ride, so to speak. “Will you be a good girl for me? Keep your hands above your head?”

“Mmhmm. I can be good. I can be very good. I have manners now,” you purred to him.

“Talk is cheap,” Crocodile said with a smile, kissing between your tits. Crocodile growled, biting a nipple gently, earning him a yip. He kissed down your delicious stomach, licked some of your parallel line scars down your legs to your already sopping cunt. “You’ll have to show me,” Crocodile said, licking his lips and hiking your legs over his broad shoulders.

Two orgasms later and you were no longer very good as you had claimed. At first you had been, mewling and keening for his tongue like a good little slut as you came at his command, your hands where he’d left them. But after the second delicious orgasm you were whining for him to fill you, tangling your hands in his hair in desperation, trying to squirm away from his tongue. Crocodile tsked at you. “So? What’s your answer, hm? Are you still a good girl for me?” Crocodile asked before running his tongue up the length of your cunt, flicking your over-sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue. The action had you writhing under him, trying to move him closer or farther away, he couldn't tell.

“Not such a good girl then, hm? Can’t stay still for me?” Crocodile teased as he brought himself up to loom over your face. “That’s alright, I like you wicked,” he said with a smile, kissing you deeply. You tasted your own delight on his lips and tongue, winding your arms around his neck with a contented sigh. Crocodile adjusted you to his desired position, bringing your knees up to your chest, legs hanging over the crooks of his arms in a modified mating press. Crocodile maneuvered the tip of his heavy cock to your entrance.

“Are you ready? I know I am rather… large,” Crocodile said softly, searching your face. You grinned and patted his cheek, causing Crocodile to kiss your palm.

“Fuck me, baby,” you said with a smile. You gasped as you felt Crocodile enter your tight heaven, your channel squeezing him like a vice. You were wet and slick but so tight Crocodile had to hold himself back from pounding into you. Your back arched up as he continued feeding your sweet pussy more of his cock. Pushing himself into you inch by inch, Crocodile groaned as he finally bottomed out, your tinny whine music to his ears.

He started moving his hips with a slow roll, making you groan your satisfaction. He kept an even tempo even when you mewled at him for more.

“You don’t tell me how to fuck you , brat,” Crocodile smiled against your temple. But he did rise to his knees, using his now free hand to rub your pretty little clit.

“C-crocodile, I’m close,” you uttered, eyes screwed shut with pleasure.

“Look at me,” Crocodile demanded, pinching your clit. You opened your eyes as you yipped with the sensation. “Look at me as you come, look at who can make you feel this way,” he growled at you, rubbing your sensitive nub faster now. He began thrusting more forcefully, rocking the bed frame with the strength of his movements.

“ Ah..ah..f-fuck! Crocodile! I’m c-coming!” you stuttered out, your tight channel gripping and spasming around Crocodile like a vice. Your toes curled as your legs tensed, clenching around him even tighter. It was music to Crocodile’s ears and he rode you hard through your high as you came undone around him. He was near his own pleasure and relentlessly pursued it while dragging out your own. Never overly expressive during sex, Crocodile grunted as he gripped the bedpost, cracking the wooden frame under his hand. His orgasm hit him harder than he anticipated, bringing sharper relief to his aching cock than he’d felt in months. Fighting the urge to collapse on top of you, Crocodile laid to your side and rolled you onto his chest. You were still dazed from your third orgasm and breathing heavily.

“So, what do you think, brat? Am I a selfish lover?” Crocodile teased, kissing the top of your head.

“Dunno, need to test my theory again. Best two outta three?” you said with a throaty laugh. Crocodile grinned, his scar spreading further across his face.

Later that night, Crocodile dozed off easily with your face pressed against him, drool pooling on his chest from your slack mouth. You were exhausted after enjoying each other's bodies for hours, now resting on top of Crocodile’s warm chest. He’d retrieve the hook in the morning, he thought to himself. For now, he enjoyed the warmth of your smaller body on top of his own as he pulled the blankets over the two of you.

Crocodile was an early riser by nature but the spot you slept in grew cold by the time he awoke to the breaking rays of the sun. He would reach for you in the morning only to find your lingering scent on the pillow. Today was no different as Crocodile woke to an empty bed. You’d started spending your nights in his bed, usually romantically, but sometimes just talking quietly together until you fell asleep. Crocodile didn’t have a sense of humor that he was aware of, but you were able to get him to chuckle quite frequently. You told him jokes, relayed funny information you’d heard and did an impressive Mihawk impersonation. Your keen intellect was always on display even when you were nestled into his side drifting to sleep. He frequently sought your opinion about Cross Guild matters and gave it as much weight as Mihawk’s.

“What should we do with the Marines that are brought here?” Crocodile asked. Mihawk very strongly wanted to kill them but Crocodile was undecided if that was the best option.

“Keep ‘em. Er, at least the high level ones. Shows you can contain powerful Marines. And the others, just kill ‘em,” you said with a yawn.

“Kill them? I’m surprised that’s your opinion dear,” Crocodile said, kissing the top of your head.

“Did you call me dear ?” you asked incredulously.

“Mmm. You are dear to me, I should hope that is clear by now. But why kill them? I would think you’d be opposed to the murder of innocents,” Crocodile mused as a blush spread across your cheekbones. You were unused to romantic affection, but Crocodile sought to remedy that with his own brand of tenderness.

“Why would I care? They’re not innocent. They’re part of the World Government, just as bad as the people on the top. Maybe worse because they sign up for it. I’ve changed my mind, I think you should kill 'em all,” you said with a pout crossing your adorable features. You were generally easy going in nature towards others, with a notable exception for Marines. Crocodile assumed your negative perception of Marines had something to do with your previous enslavement, but you’d tell him when you were ready, it wasn’t his way to pry.

He got dressed and headed for his kitchen with a scowl. He was going to address the issue of leaving his bed without him later today - either you had to wake him up with you or you had to remain until he was ready to let you leave in the morning. He’d grown accustomed to your presence and wished to spend the early morning with you.

Pouring from the coffee carafe you’d thoughtfully prepared for him, Crocodile looked out the veranda at the island. Although it wasn’t chosen for its beauty, the island was rather pleasant in the early morning and in the evenings, when most of the crew was sleeping off their hangovers or preparing themselves for another. Crocodile’s coffee soured in his gut as he saw you from afar exchanging a hug with the Clown by the entrance to the Clown’s tent. You stayed in conversation with him afterward, smiling and laughing at the foolish man’s animated words and limbs flying about in the air. Crocodile had no idea what someone as intelligent as yourself could possibly say to such an imbecile but he’d long stopped trying to interfere in your relationship with your Captain.

Throwing his beloved jacket over his shoulders, Crocodile stalked towards you, no longer willing to hide his jealousy. The Clown and Mihawk were aware of his feelings towards you, though neither had said anything. As Crocodile rounded the corner to the tent, Crocodile realized the Clown was speaking to you about himself. Pausing to listen in, Crocodile heard the remainder of the conversation.

“ - could get you away if you needed it,” the Clown said quietly, holding your hand.

“Nah, I like that old bastard,” you replied, nuzzling his hand on your face. It would have been a touching display of affection if it was himself, not the Clown.

“But if there’s problems, let me know. Shanks's pretty good at chess too, watching you kick his ass would be fun,” the Clown added, putting his hand on your shoulder in concern. Crocodile gave the Clown’s words some thought. Though the fool irritated him to no end, Crocodile appreciated that the Clown was watching for your best interest even if it was against his own, he thought, chewing on his morning cigar. To offer to send a crew member to a rival Emperor was a sign that he cared for your safety, even if he had no reason to be. For this transgression of offering to take you away from Crocodile, he would only verbally wound the Clown, he wouldn’t raise his hook against him.

Coming fully around the corner, you smiled as you saw Crocodile’s own frowning face. Despite having his back to Crocodile, the Clown tensed, quickly removing his hand from your shoulder, correctly guessing the identity of the interloper.

“Good morning, Dear. Buggy,” Crocodile intoned, tilting his head in an outward show of respect towards the Clown, making you beam. You always appreciated when he showed a modicum of respect towards the Clown though it was not sincere. “Come, let us eat breakfast. Buggy, I will see you later at our meeting,” Crocodile said mildly, resting his hook on the Clown’s shoulder in a mirror of the Captain’s own movements. It always felt odd calling the Clown by his name - like referring to a an animal by a human name, but he had agreed to the terms of your service. Crocodile wasn’t going to hurt the Clown, but he didn’t need to know that now. A little negative anticipation would benefit the Clown’s mood for later. You kissed the Clown’s cheek and bade your goodbyes, walking with Crocodile back to his increasingly finished mansion.

“What was that conversation about?” Crocodile asked, though he felt foolish confirming information he already knew.

“Captain Buggy was making sure you’re treating me right,” you replied easily. Crocodile hummed and took your hand and placed it on his arm as the two of you strolled back to his residence. He had to walk slowly to match your shorter stride but he didn’t mind enjoying the cool morning air with you.

“I know you were eavesdropping, you’re not as slick as you think you are,” you said with an impish grin. Crocodile grunted. He was slick for everyone else, just not to you.

“I’m not old,” Crocodile replied.

“You are. You’re like 50,” you said matter-of-factly.

“47, brat. Maybe I need to spank the impudence out of you later tonight,” Crocodile mused.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you said with a wink and a laugh. Crocodile’s lips quirked into a small smile. Crocodile led you past the marina towards his residence when you spotted new prisoners being unloaded from a pirate ship.

“Oh, new Marines? Anyone good?” you asked curiously, watching the prisoners being brought to the prison. Your idea had been an incredible success, Marines began arriving to the island semi-regularly. Of course, all high ranking captures were published in the news by Cross Guild, further weakening the bonds the Marines had with the less stable islands.

“Mm. This time we have mostly low ranking Marines with a notable exception. The Mad Medic has been brought in, apparently captured and detained by his own subordinates. A rare occurrence, but nothing -” Crocodile ceased talking as he took in your countenance. You had paled, your cheeky attitude from moments prior evaporated completely. Your gaze was fixed on the ground, no longer watching the scene play out in front of you. Crocodile frowned, he hadn’t seen you this on edge since the first time he’d properly met you. And even then, you were more nervous than anything else. Your hunched shoulders and lip between your teeth told Crocodile you were scared. And that was not an emotion Crocodile liked seeing in his brave, resilient maid.

“Dear, what’s the matter?” Crocodile asked quietly, walking even slower now. His hand on top of yours kept you from removing it from his arm completely, you were practically tugging him to get further away from the marina. You were frantic to get away, your normal sassy attitude completely absent from the conversation, unlike the easy, leisurely walk before.

“Nothin’, just wanna go,” you whispered back, resuming pulling on his sleeve once more. Crocodile had never seen you so withdrawn - it must be the introduction of the Marines. Crocodile scanned the incoming prisoners, the only one of note was the Mad Medic who was decidedly unamused by the circumstances. He was examining the island and his eyes landed on Crocodile and his companion. A sickening sneer spread over his face as he leered at you from afar. Things quickly clicked into place in Crocodile’s mind as he made a quick decision.

“And go we shall. Come along,” Crocodile said, hand on the small of your back, guiding you away from the marina. Your eyes darted back towards the boats, as if to make sure you weren’t being followed. Unfortunately, the time for discretion had ended. You were going to have to tell Crocodile what had happened to you so that he could determine the level of torture the Mad Medic would face.

Wheeling you into his house, Crocodile brought you into the study, sitting you down in your usual chair. You started to set the chess board automatically, your mind obviously elsewhere. Crocodile wasn’t in the mood for playing chess but allowed you to continue as a way to settle your nerves. Crocodile poured two cups of coffee from the carafe you’d left, handing you one after adding one teaspoon of sugar and a large amount of cream, your preferred presentation.

“The Mad Medic,” Crocodile stated.

“Yeah,” you said absently, staring at the chessboard. Crocodile made the first move, trying to ease the burden on your mind.

“Describe how you know this person,” Crocodile rumbled, crossing his legs and steepling his fingers against his hook. You studied the board and made your move, countering his pawn with one of your own. You waited for Crocodile to make his next move before you resumed speaking.

“Before Captain Buggy bought me, I was a medical slave for students training to be doctors to Celestial Dragons. They don’t train on animals or oranges or poor people, they train on slaves for accuracy. Um, like me. I had to go through lots of invasive physical exams, sutures, venipuncture, intubation, surgery…and lots of other stuff was done to me by students. It was um, bad. Really bad. That’s where some of the, um, scars come from. Suture practice. He would, um, make cuts and sometimes rub stuff in them to make them worse for the students to clean and fix. That’s why they’re so even and there’s so many of ‘em, they were for practice. And um, a buncha my veins are ruined from, um, being stuck bad too many times,” you stated, showing him the crook of your arm again. The irregular puncture wounds and parallel scars made sense now. Given the hundreds you had, Crocodile couldn't imagine how many times you had to endure being sliced just to be poorly sewn again or stabbed over and over. You were jiggling your feet and rubbing your hands together, clearly in distress.

“Come here,” Crocodile said, holding his arm out to you. You got up from your chair and came over to sit in his lap sideways, tucking yourself against his chest. “Thank you for sharing this, little one, I know it is difficult for you,” Crocodile said, rubbing your back with his hand. He kept his sand from swirling, he didn’t want you to worry about cleaning the chair.

“And he was, um, in charge of the program. He used me more than any other slave. Said I had good skin and blood for it, I dunno. And healed faster, but I don’t think that’s true. So. That’s how I know him,” you spoke in a rush, as if you needed to get it out quickly before you stopped yourself. “That’s, um, part of why I got so good at chess. I used it as a distraction during procedures or when in recovery, which was a lot of the time. You know, thinking about moves, playing games in my head, since um, I was strapped down and um, y’know, gagged most of the time, ” you continued, staring out the office window. You hadn’t made eye contact with Crocodile since the sighting at the marina, something that bothered Crocodile immensely.

“I see,” Crocodile said easily, like you were telling him you wanted two teaspoons of sugar in your coffee instead of one. In reality, he was imagining the myriad ways he was going to enjoy torturing the Medic to death. He didn’t want to think of you, scared and in pain, strapped to a medical table as students practiced on your precious skin.

“And the final test for doctors who want to work for the Celestial Dragons is, um, how I got the neck scar,” you stated, though your voice had dropped to nary above a whisper. “They, um, well, he, um, slashed my throat with a razor and a fourth year student had to sew up the wound before I died. If I died, they wouldn’t pass. It was….” you trailed off, not finishing the sentence as you relived what was likely the worst moment of your life.

“But um, it took me too long to recover since the student who did mine wasn’t all that good, and um, they sold to the auction house since I couldn’t work, and um, well, you know the rest,” you ended abruptly. Crocodile didn’t want to press for the details, he would find out all he needed to from the medic in due time.

“So that’s why I hate Marines. The medical school was affiliated with them and if they were really going to protect people, they would. They would have stopped the program. But they don’t care about us. No one does,” you finished, wiping your nose with your sleeve. Crocodile reached into the pocket of his vest, retrieving his handkerchief and handing it to you. You took it and wiped your nose and eyes, sitting miserably with tears staining your pretty cheeks.

“Would you prefer to watch his torture or participate yourself?” Crocodile asked, his head at a slight tilt as he removed your tears with his thumb.

“Wha-what? I thought you were keeping the high level Marines alive, that it-” you sputtered, finally looking at Crocodile’s face. Crocodile cut you off with a wave of his hook.

“No. This one dies by my hand. Or yours, should you wish for it,” Crocodile stated in a flat tone.

“You’d…do that for me? I know this is fucked up, but that’s…really nice. Maybe the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I mean, aside from buying me and freeing me,” you said, wiping your nose again.

“You are precious and irreplaceable, I will kill anyone who dares raise their hand against you. That is not a threat, it is a promise. Now, answer the question. Would you like to participate, watch, or neither?” Crocodile asked, rubbing his hand tenderly on your cheek.

“Hmm. I don’t - I don’t know. I don’t want to see him at all. I wasn’t, um, who I am now back then. It was - I wasn’t - um, I just can’t, I’m, um, scared,” you said, avoiding Crocodile’s eyes once more. He gently put the flat or his hook under your face, tilting it up towards his own.

“It is understandable that you are afraid but you have nothing to fear. Why don’t you let me attend to this matter for now, hm? It is, after all, my area of expertise,” Crocodile said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. You gave him a watery smile, but kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, Crocodile,” you said softly.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Crocodile said, sand already swirling as he adjusted his hook.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff

#croc x reader #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader #protective crocodile #soft crocodile #buggy one piece #captain buggy #x reader #reader insert #tw violence #tw prior abuse #op x y/n

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naturistgirl · 20 days ago

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NAKED SNOW WALKING AND THE BIRCH MOON

The first new moon after the Winter Solstice has various names. Some call it the Ice Moon, others the Snow Moon. Here in the High Pennines the snow has been plentiful and deep. The weather feels exceptionally icy. Here in the Britain however it is rarely ever far below freezing. We have a mild climate compared to say, Continental Europe or the Northern States. It's a great time for naturism!

We headed up to the Wild Wood on January 6th. It was an invigorating walk, uphill. We walked briskly, we had to! Walking clothes free when it is this cold is a very different experience to textile walking. In the depths of Winter, people tend to layer and muffle up. True, all those clothes DO keep you warm when sedentary; layers trap body heat. However, as you exercise, particularly when walking briskly, things are very different. Muffled up in layers, you rapidly slow down as you overheat, carrying the burden of heavy clothing. Naked, you walk briskly, unencumbered by the weight of clothes. You don't want to stop or slow down and your naked body soon acclimatises to the cold. Stepping out and climbing the hill to the wood felt refreshing, invigorating and ever so free!

The wild, wooded hills around here were once heavily mined for coal and yellow clay to make bricks. The industry left its scars for a while, even after it had gone. Nature will always reassert itself and soon, woodland returned. The countryside began to recover. One of the first trees to regenerate is birch. The Wild Wood has older trees, mainly oak, but around it's fringes, birch and alder predominate. On snowy days like this, the silvery bark of birch shines like a beacon. It isn't a long lived tree. The soil is thin and rocky here. Birch often succumbs to the ravages of winter storms. Birch has a more human life span than other trees; 80 would be a good age for a mature specimen. This tree is nonetheless a hardwood and has long been used for all manner of beneficial things.

Birch, being the first tree to grow back after devastation, has a connection to birth and new life. Baby's cradles were made from birch wood and the tree is deeply associated with fertility, renewal and re-birth. Birch twigs make good broomsticks, perfect for a clean sweep of your house at the start of the year. Cattle were herded with a bunch of birch twigs which was also thought to ensure fertility. When birch grows again in Spring, its delicate pale green leaves are heart shaped. The sap of the birch tree is also used to make a delightful wine. Britain's Queen Victoria was said to have been very fond of it!

We made our way to the very summit of the Wild Wood. Here, the woodland is denser and criss-crossed by little paths. Holly shines green and glossy amid the larger trees. There are also larch, oak, ash and sycamore. Out on the sheep pasture beyond, sheep were scraping at the snow, searching for grass. We walked the wood but saw nobody. There was only one other set of prints on the previous night's snow. We stopped to take the photographs which we have shared in this blog. Thank you to Mart, my loving husband for these. He adores naturism every bit as much as me.

The ground temperature was low and I was glad of my pink wellingtons with two layers of socks. My green wool beanie (thank you sheep) was a must; most of the heat you lose is from your head. We hope you find our photographs inspiring.

It would be lovely to see other's photographs of their own naked snow hikes. We look forward to seeing your posts. Tumblr has way too many endlessly recycled photos of naked young women on summer beaches! Give it a rest. The promotion of naturism needs contemporary photos of yourselves, enjoying your local environment as nature intended. why not write as well, describing what you do. Non-sexual nudity should, and does represent, all manner of body shapes and types. You are never too old to walk naked. You were born this way.

We receive lots of messages of affirmation from likeminded naturists. Thank you so much. I also receive some flattering yet less suitable comments and requests from others who are; how shall I put it? - not exactly passionate about naturism, more about sexy naked ladies! Let's face it, who isn't? Sex is great and I love it. It isn't however the focus of this blog.

My purpose in writing this, is to inspire you to your own naturist activities. So while it is gratifying to have you send photos of one tiny part of yourself, please don't. Most of these messages come from Tumblrs who follow hundreds of others yet are entirely empty with no avatars. Sadly, I have come to realise that these accounts are best blocked, no offence. We do welcome messages of support however as well as photographs of your own naturist jaunts and hikes. So if you want to follow me and have me follow back, post an avatar which is actually you and some real pictures of yourself in your blog. Message and tell me what motivates you to naturism! OK?

Stay naked!

Jane xx

#naturist #nude outdoors #clothesfree #nude in nature #normalize nudity #girlblogging #outdoor nudity #hiking #woodland walk #winternaturism #winter #naked hiking #naked in the woods #naked in nature #nonsexual nudity

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mpreglover225 · 25 days ago

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The early morning sun is just starting to warm the backyard pool at the Alpha Papa Rho (APR) house on the University of Texas campus. Soft chatter and the clinking of ice in pitchers of lemonade drift through the air. It’s APR’s Annual Pool Day, a tradition where the fraternity’s pregnant members are treated to a day of pampering and relaxation—no small feat in a world where male pregnancy is both celebrated and hard work.

Inside the house, Jake Gutierrez, APR’s social chair, is going over last-minute details. He’s at six months himself, cradling a distinctly visible belly under his loose-fitting tank top. He’s already panting slightly from the hustle of organizing, but his eyes light up when he sees a group of pregnant brothers slowly make their way out onto the pool deck. Each is sporting swim trunks, some with an undone button at the top to accommodate their bumps. They exchange excited greetings, grateful for a break from finals-week chaos.

Cameron Smith, who’s nearly eight months along, lowers himself into a lounger with a relieved sigh. Nearby, Malik Robinson—leaning back on another chair—chuckles about how he’s never been so grateful for a day off from classes. “I swear, if I have to waddle across campus one more time, I’ll camp out in my lecture hall,” he jokes, resting both hands on his belly.

A handful of fraternities from across campus start arriving, each group bringing their own “spa station” in a friendly competition to outdo the others’ hospitality. The men of Kappa Theta roll up with a set of portable massage tables, determined to provide soothing back and foot massages for the APR dads-to-be. Meanwhile, the Omega Delta Nu brothers set up a mini fruit-smoothie bar under a bright canopy, offering fresh blends to keep everyone hydrated in the Texas heat.

Soon, the poolside transforms into a laid-back festival. A speaker plays a soft soundtrack of summer tunes, and there’s laughter when Zach Coleman tries to sip from his smoothie while lying on a lounger, nearly spilling it over his belly. “Dude, watch the baby!” jokes Hunter Evans, who’s only four months along and still marvels at how quickly some of his fraternity brothers have grown.

The massages begin in earnest about an hour in. The Kappa Theta guys respectfully ask each pregnant brother about pressure preferences. Cameron’s relief is palpable as he finally gets the knots in his lower back worked out. “I might not leave this table,” he half-murmurs, half-laughs. Over in the next station, belly rubs are offered—some find it silly at first but end up loving the gentle circular motions that ease pressure and make them feel cared for.

Throughout the day, people drift between stations: foot rubs, gentle shoulder massages, or simply floating in the pool to take the weight off tired feet. Between breaks, Jake hustles to ensure fresh towels are on hand, pausing to catch his breath whenever his baby gives a firm little kick.

By late afternoon, the pregnant brothers are dozing contentedly under umbrellas, bellies full of fruit smoothies and minds free of deadlines. Polaroid snapshots of the event are pinned to a corkboard near the refreshments: a gallery of glowing faces, rounded stomachs, and wide smiles. As the sun begins its slow descent, the visiting fraternities pack up, exchanging high-fives and promises to return next year.

#male pregnancy #mpreg #mpreg belly #mpreg kink #pregnantman #mpreg birth #mpreg art #mpreg ai #mpregbirth

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mixingandmelting · 2 months ago

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Winter Series: Day 2- Put that thing back where it came from or so help me

Summary: Dick thinks a bunny is a perfect addition to the family. You’re the one pointing out he stolen a test subject from the company he happened to screw over

⚠️Warning: Spoilers for Nightwing 2024 - #120!

He’d be lying if he were to say he isn’t having fun right now. His face threatens to crack a grin as he watches the corner of your lips continue to twitch, signaling you’re close to caving in. Not too long ago, he had come back with the rescued rabbit that was being used to energize an organization’s anti-hero weapon. Seemed like you were awake and filled in by Babs on what had happened when, as soon as Haley started barking, you ran out of the bedroom to stop her from trying to attack the little animal in his arms. You managed to soothe her and place her in the shared bedroom before coming back out and standing in front of him unamused with both hands on your hips. What was intended to be a calm conversation turned into a squabble between the two of you as you bluntly said no before he could even muster a word.

Yes, he could’ve simply chosen the easy way out to get you to let him keep the rabbit. But where’s the fun in that? Especially when you had been wearing his t-shirt as your top while waiting for him to come back (unfortunately you were not wearing his matching sweatpants but he’ll get you to do it some other time). So, of course he would choose to be a tease instead, riling you up for being cute.

“Dick, stop whining and actually think about what could happen if you keep the rabbit.”

“I’m not whining! You’re just being heartless to this poor BunBun, not considering his well-being and the trauma he went through at all.”

“He’s a test subject. A test subject from the company that’s trying to ruin Bludhaven by making weapons against all the vigilantes. What makes it a good idea to keep him, even more so raise him here?”

“Excuse me, are you going to ignore that he's a rabbit? A very cute and fluffy one, in fact, that would make a perfect friend to have whenever you miss aside from Haley?”

“For the love of Earth-Dick. Dick, dear? He’s not a pet or a normal bunny. It’s either you put back Mr. Bun where you got him from or so help me-“

“I hope you realized just now you called him Mr. Bun.”

Speed forward to now where he’s holding the rabbit up to your face, making sure he’s giving the same eyes the rabbit is giving you to seal the deal. It isn’t helping your case that “Mr. Bun”, as you had called him, instantly had become attached to you, constantly kicking his feet in the air as he readied himself to jump toward you at any given moment. Finally, your resolve breaks when the rabbit tilts his head softly, eyes still trained on you. He walks over with a smirk, smug at seeing you covering your face with both hands to muffle your groan.

You send him a glare, though gently grabbing Mr. Bun from his hands and cradling him in your arms. Carefully, minding how the rabbit shifts and nestles into your arms from his, he engulfs you into a hug, placing a kiss on the top of your head. He snorts when he picks the words you grumble under your breath as you stay in his arms, something along the lines of becoming an animal hoarder is his fault and that his influence was what was causing Damian to adopt every animal he sees.

The next day, with much reluctance after having to appease Haley all night from jealousy of all the attention being given to the rabbit, he wakes up and smiles. Seeing you sleep peacefully with the animals on both sides you soothes his soul and refreshes his mind, reminded how last night’s mission was worth it as he treats the scene as his hard-worked reward. He then gets up to deal with the aftermath of what he had done, but not before he brushes your hair out of your face so he could place his hand on your cheek and enjoy the warmth he gets from you in his heart a moment more.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader

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dojunie · 11 months ago

Text

MISDIAL; LJN [CH5] VOICEMAIL REDUX

[★]; [MISDIAL MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

info;

lee jeno x fem!reader

college au

chaptered

very slow burn

genre; not-quite-friends to lovers, older brother mark lee, brothers best friend lee jeno, light angst, yn is a menace to society, story/character driven

warnings for this chapter; kys mention in joking manner

chapter wc: ...13K

a/n: i couldn't decide between posting this monster whole or cutting it into two parts, but two parts kind of makes the pacing weird, so here she is in all her glory! been editing this so long that i've gotten sick of looking at it so im just going to release it into the world now LOL, pls pls pls give me feedback on this chapter, im not 100% satisfied w it but i cant tell if its because it sucks or i've just been rereading it too much 🥸

current tl: @hibernatinghamster / @jenoxygen / @eaglesnotravens / @donutswithjaminthemiddle / @jvjsssnaa / @huangrenhyucks / @luvenshiti / @shiningdery / @jaeminsbebu / @aliceinwhateverland / @bebsky / @gem-gem / @jkjkseo / @jenosbliss / @pewpewpwe00 / @ti–red / @philanarose / @softbbyg0rl / @aaasteroidsky / @carelessshootanonymous / @en-boyz / @jlsavyy / @roseymerrie / @bangchanisemo / @skuezk / @jaehyuns-adorable-dimples / @ourbeautifulaffair / @jeonnyread / @jvjsssnaa / @episkeyjeno / @bockhyun / @jenojammin / @zarastrawberry / @peachie-bear / @itadaramaterasu / @alymii / @cuteejeno / @episkeyjeno / @nohunlee / @ooojisoo / @luv4jeno / @jydivrs / @pinkysinnerbaby / @jenojenoyes / @maeyoung / @axmdocs / @nctzennikki09

FORGET WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT NEVER BEING ABLE TO GET MAD AT SOMI, BECAUSE THIS TIME, YOU’RE REALLY GOING TO KILL HER.

At this exact moment in time, the Aegon Showcase is set to begin in about fifteen minutes. You’ve got half of a chocolate muffin stuffed into your mouth (courtesy of Somi sneaking a few snacks from the audience lounge, since the dancers technically weren’t supposed to be eating any of the guest refreshments), and you were about halfway through swallowing this chunk of bread when Somi said something that made you nearly choke.

For context: six and a half days have passed since you’ve last spoken to Jeno.

And you haven’t been counting, either. It just so happens that it is surprisingly easy to recall every passing minute when each one feels like it’s been put there specifically to test you.

The afternoon after the Balcony Incident, for example— a few fresh hours after you left Lee Jeno behind on that overlook with the full intention of never looking him in the eyes ever again. After a late breakfast with Somi you’d told her you weren’t feeling too well, that you’d be leaving a little earlier than planned (which, even though you’d said your pain was of the intestinal variety, wasn’t untrue; you didn’t feel well, if the widening pit in your stomach caused by that morning was anything to go by) and departed her penthouse a little after one.

You’d foolishly hoped that Jeno and his entourage would have plans literally anywhere other than Mark’s place for once, wanting to do nothing but silently mope around the apartment for a few hours once you'd gotten home, but you’d been naive.

You’d been so, so naive.

“Oh!” you’d heard. Renjun. Brown hair, big dark eyes peeking at you around the doorframe as you cradled your now-aching nose bridge. You opened the front door and crashed face first into something solid. “Hey, you. Perfect timing. Do you wanna come grocery shopping with us? Jaemin’s cooking tonight!”

“We’ll even let you ride in the cart,” Chenle chimed in from further into the hallway, grinning wickedly, but you couldn’t focus on either of them because they were both half-hidden behind what you’d smashed into with your haste to get inside. No gray flannel this time, but the same unreadable expression on his face as he, much like he did at the party last night, instinctively grabbed you to keep you from falling on your ass.

(Or his expression was unreadable. Until his eyes trained on something about your face that he didn’t like and his dark eyebrows furrowed with something akin to concern. Then you remembered you’d been crying all morning and surely looked like some sort of dried-out blowfish, eyelids puffy and swollen, so you averted your eyes and jumped out of his grip like he’d stung you.)

“Busy,” you told them quickly, “Sorry. Not today.”

Renjun pouted. Chenle squinted at you, obviously doubtful. And when Jeno finally moved out of the way, you didn’t even thank him for keeping you upright. You just kept your attention on the ground and beelined into the apartment.

Little did you know, that one word would become your mantra. Busy, busy, busy. But it wasn’t like you were completely lying, because you were busy. The Aegon showcase was in a week which meant you had practice every free hour with Somi and the others, and the last thing you needed was to get distracted by circling Jeno like some kind of sad, miserable shark. The good thing about being out of the house so often was that most of the week passed with no more Jeno-related incidents.

Thursday night ended up being the first time you’d seen him with your own eyes since you face-planted into him the previous Saturday.

You’d returned home at 10PM, sweaty and exhausted from a last minute choreo change that had, apparently, also wiped clean the memory of what Thursday nights meant in the Mark Lee household. Movie night. The tiredness you felt was so all-encompassing that upon the discovery of all seven of them sitting around the couch staring at you as you entered, there wasn’t even enough energy to feel awkward. Even then, you must not have looked as ghastly as you felt because Jaemin smiled at you like nothing was amiss, gesturing towards the dining table and the mountain of brown bags atop it.

“You’re late, Rockstar. Take-out’s gone cold.”

Jeno was sitting right next to him. Your muscles were like jelly. All of your bones hurt. Your brain felt like it was operating on nothing but fumes. (And this is what you blamed for your cowardice— the fact that you couldn’t even hold your head up to look in his direction in fear of catching his eye.)

After everyone had gone home and you had free reign of the kitchen once again, Mark hit you with a few more questions about the Aegon Comp; seemingly insignificant inquiries like how the parking situation was (which you didn’t understand the importance of, since he said he’d probably ride his bike there), and if he could sit wherever he wanted (which again, confused you, because the ticke you’d gotten him was one of the best in house). But in your state of fatigue you didn’t think to question it. All you wanted to do was eat something and go to bed, and that’s exactly what you did.

(If you’d had your wits about you maybe you’d have put two and two together. Maybe Somi’s words wouldn’t have caught you with the surprise they did. But as it stands…)

As it stands it’s Friday afternoon, the day of the Aegon Showcase, and half a chocolate muffin is stuffed into your face (technically now stuffed into your airway) as you come to the realization that your friend might secretly be trying to ruin your life.

“You really need to stop eating your food so fast,” Jiara murmurs, clapping you on the back with a little more force than necessary. “No one is going to take it from you. Smaller bites will go a long way.”

You gasp a breath when the chunk finally unsticks. Then, “You saw who in the audience lounge?”

Somi is nonplussed by your horror.

“I saw your brother out there trying to throw a skittle over a lighting fixture and still catch it in his mouth. When I was leaving with our food I think I heard a bunch of people cheer so I’d bet he managed to do it, which, when you think about how high these ceilings are, is actually pretty impressive—”

You fight the urge to grab her by her shoulders and shake her. “I’m not asking about the goddamn skittles!” you hiss. “Somi, you said you saw ‘them’ when you went out there. Them as in plural. Who is them?”

She makes a face like you should already know who. “Who else? Mark and the rest of his crew. And Donghyuck asked to bring a few more, so I guess those are who the other guys out there are. Why are you acting like you didn’t already know this? You were sitting right next to me when Donghyuck was practically begging to come!”

Your life flashes before your eyes.

Jeno’s car. The rain, pounding against the windows. Catching him looking at you in the mirror after Somi told them about the showcase, how it felt like the world outside faded away a little as some little message passed between you— when you felt like he was telling you something without saying a single word.

Then you remember it. In your distant, distant periphery, even though she’d been sitting not even a millimeter to your left when these alleged plans were discussed.

‘Yeah! I mean, I reserved like, a bajillion seats in advance because I knew I’d want to invite everyone who would even consider coming— I’ll definitely get the best row for you guys!’

“However,” she says after a beat, voice finally starting to show the tiniest bit of caution. You realize that your face has begun to contort on its own. “I am starting… to get vibes. That I maybe should have run that by you first? Would now be a bad time to let you know that I told them about the afterparty, too?”

Utter disbelief. The only reason you don’t leap on her once you fully comprehend what she’s said is because Gawon, who’d been watching this entire exchange with quiet brown eyes, puts a hand on your shoulder. She must be able to tell that you’re about to start freaking out, because her therapist-voice is fully activated when she clears her throat.

“Can I ask what's so surprising about this?” she asks carefully. “When we were telling Aegon about how many tickets we each wanted, you said you only needed one. For your brother, right?”

You thought of the ticket, the little envelope you’d held under your pillow for weeks as you fought with the idea of actually giving it to Mark. In the end, a few days ago, when you handed it to him and told him he could come watch you perform if he wanted to, he smiled so big that you felt bad for waiting so long in the first place. But you’d then quickly explained the caveat: that he was not to tell any of the others about it, because there was only one ticket and you didn’t want them hassling you about getting more. And Mark agreed.

Which is why you’d dared to assume that tonight would be safe.

“Yes,” you mutter. “The ticket was for him.”

“Which means you’re not surprised he’s here. So are his friends the problem?”

“The problem?”

You pause. That word makes it seem like their appearance here is actually detrimental to you in some way, like they’re just here to hassle or bully you or something, but that’s not really it at all. Your annoyance at them being here is rooted in the exact opposite. They’re not going to joke around and take it easy, or pat you on the back and tell you that you did well, like how they would if they’d come to watch one of their friends dance. They’re going to swarm you and coo and treat you like a five year old that just stumbled through their first ballet recital.

And as if that isn't bad enough, you realize with a start that you've actually got more to worry about than just being embarrassed by their innate need to baby you.

They, you remember yet again. Plural.

You quickly fix your doomsday-esque expression. "Uh. No, no problem, just... I'm over-exaggerating, forget it, Somi, when you said they, how many are we talking exactly?"

"Seven," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and you fight to keep your shoulders from sagging. "The three from the car, your brother, and three others I don't really know as well, but who're all just as cute."

Seven. Which means Lee Jeno will be in the audience as well. You should've already known that, fully aware that wherever Mark goes Jeno will follow, but you'd been so startled by the change in attendance that you'd momentarily forgotten that you were pointedly avoiding one of that seven.

Great.

A click echoes over the announcement system. You recognize the voice that follows as the organizer of the showcase, the cheerful woman from the promotional video, happily informing all the performers to head to their greenrooms for final warm-ups before the show.

Well. Even if you wanted to mope for longer about your predicament, your mind switches lanes to the task at hand. Somi and Gawon both titter excitedly at the update, but make sure to quickly give their final reassurances about not worrying too much about the people in the audience and using that energy to give your all on stage. They’re right of course, and you probably would have come to this conclusion on your own once you swallowed your knee-jerk reaction to gripe about everything involving your brother and his friends, but you can’t say that their enthusiasm doesn't do the heavy lifting of bringing you back to earth.

You've got a competition to rock, after all. You could worry about everything else after.

Adrenaline made the hour-long showcase go by in what seemed like fifteen seconds.

Just like that, a short chapter of your life closed with a bang; seven minutes on the stage, deafening cheers, Jiara and Guyeon pulling everyone into one big sweaty hug as soon as you were all out of the spotlight— then you blink and you’re in Gawon’s car with the windows down blasting down Gangnam on the way to Somi’s house, the girls in the seats around you singing along to the radio at the top of their lungs. The sun is setting, you’re heading to your celebratory afterparty, and what should be a picture-perfect moment is completely ruined by the fact that your mind has been in shambles for the last hour and a half. Why?

Because as you inch closer and closer to Somi’s penthouse, all you can think about is the fact that Lee Jeno is sitting up there biding his time before he can stomp your heart into a million more microscopic pieces.

What you didn’t mention about the moments after the performance was that, after rushing through changing out of your performance outfit to find your friends and get the hell out of there, you stumbled out of the greenroom to find a person. A person who was frowning out in the corridor like some sort of mopey ghost, Jeno in all his annoyingly perfect glory, caught mid-pace.

Upon seeing him your body rebooted, a hundred different emotions flashing through your system from the shock of him appearing in front of you at that moment. The only thing you had time to notice before his words ruined the rest of your afternoon was how… fidgety he was; Running his hand through his hair, rocking from foot to foot, crossing and uncrossing his arms over his chest. You’d always taken note of how still Jeno could be sometimes, not moving an inch for seemingly hours at a time, which was the main reason his current inability to stay still even caught your eye— but it was quickly overtaken by the utter despair you felt not soon after he caught sight of you and opened his mouth.

“Can we talk?” he’d asked. And he’d sounded so unsure of himself that you almost instantly crumbled to the puppy-dog eyes, before reality grabbed you by the neck and you remembered that talking to him was actually the last thing you wanted to be doing right now.

“Busy,” you’d forced out. “My friends are waiting for me outside.”

But he must’ve seen this coming because he looked nonplussed as you took a step back, his own feet matching yours stride for stride, hands coming out almost as if to calm you like one might a spooked horse.

“It won’t take longer than a few minutes,” he tried, “Five minutes, just five. I just— I really, really want to clarify a few things from Saturday. What I said on the balcony.”

He said it like there was a chance you might’ve forgotten what happened, which almost made you laugh in disbelief. Like it was possible to forget that shitshow, your first love telling you that he was kind of interested in you once upon a time, but did nothing about it because your brother came first. Though, once you fully realized that he meant he wanted to talk about that right now, the moment lost its humor.

Now? Here? You glanced up and down the hallway. Your friends weren’t around, nor were his, but you were hardly alone.

“I wasn’t being entirely—”

“You're going to the party, aren’t you?” You cut Jeno off. Very unlike you when it came to him, and with the way he blinked you had a feeling he knew that too.

“The party?”

“Somi said she invited you guys.”

“I— I wasn't sure you wanted me to come.”

“Somi invited you, Lee. Is that any way to treat your hostess? We can—” You swallowed. “Come by, and we can find a minute to talk then, but for now I really—”

“Have to go,” he finished with a small wince. “Got it.”

And once he’d metaphorically let you go, taking a step back to slip his hands in his pockets, you’d all but run away; finding Guyeon and Gawon waiting for you like they said they’d be, ready to leave and head to Alice’s house to pretty-up for the party in her gigantic flat. You were trying your best to keep up the energy when you got into the car with them, laughing along to their jokes and dancing along to the music, but you couldn’t stop thinking of what type of curbstomp Jeno was about to release on the suffering remains of your sixteen year-old feelings.

Even up until the final touches of your make-up, you were commiserating. What the hell could he possibly want to clarify?

Was he going to tell you to stop being weird around him and the others, because your mood was fucking up their vibe? To stop avoiding him so obviously, that it was as noticeable for everyone as it felt for you, that it was making it awkward for him?

Or could he mean that he was going to tell you he’d… misspoken? That he’d never really liked you the way you liked him, and didn’t want you to misunderstand— by interested in you he meant in the way all guys were interested in all girls, some lowly, surface level thing that he quickly got over when he realized his friendship with your brother could be jeopardized by it?

The last thought had stung a little more than the others, and you’d accidentally frowned so hard about it that it creased your still-setting concealer and had to wipe it all off.

After angrily redoing your base you’d forced it from your mind and got dressed, stealing a simple henley dress from Gawon’s closet upon realizing that you were not in the mood for sexy-cute like Somi had said the dress code was. Instead you opted for ‘hey, you can see my legs and that's good enough,’ and huffed your old leather jacket on top of it; the latter was sure to piss her off but she still owed you from the Mosquito Boy Incident, so she could kick rocks about it for all you cared.

You had a feeling that no matter what you wore, tonight wasn’t going to be very sexy-cute at all.

The party is just getting into the swing of things when you make it upstairs. It’s like the explosion of a birthday surprise when you and the girls walk through the door. This party is technically a celebration, and you guess a lot of these people must’ve been in the Aegon audience without you knowing it, because you’re getting congratulations and kudos and pats on the back like you’ve just won an olympic medal.

But your pride is short lived, tainted by a bolt of nerves when you think you spot someone that looks like Donghyuck in your periphery. Where Hyuck is, Jeno will be.

It turns out to only be a very tall girl with a pixie cut who winks at you when you whirl your head to her, but the stress of it doesn't ebb away. God. Is the whole night going to be like this? Walking on pins and needles until he finds you?

“You know, new girl,” A voice starts at your side, startling you further, “Your ice breaker back at that my party could’ve been that you’re a kick-ass dancer, instead of that bullshit with the mosquitos.”

Wooyoung. Your friends are suddenly nowhere to be seen when your turn to him, clearly having fucked off into the mass the second alcohol became available, so it’s just the both of you hovering over by this snack table. Though this is only the second or third time you’ve interacted with him past a greeting (you see him sometimes on campus, and he always waves at you like you’re best friends when you pass each other), you’re actually rather soothed by his presence.

“You wanted to know juicy secrets, not secret hobbies. If you asked me for an ice breaker and I told you I could dance, you would’ve kicked me out of that house.”

He laughs, a snickering sound, before eyeing two jello-shots a girl walks by with in her hands.

“Do a shot with me?” he pouts. “My friends are running late and I’m still painfully sober.”

A shot?

...Hm. A shot. Inebriation. You’re not one to like straight liquor because the burn in your throat is often more than you think the gag is worth. But if you’re looking to relax sooner rather than later… the pain might not be without its merit.

Liquid courage. Something you could definitely use right now, as skittish as you’re being. Maybe he’s onto something.

“Just one?” you pique, turning to survey the options. “Thought you were more hardcore than that, VP.”

One jello-shot quickly turns into four with Wooyoung involved, and your mouth is sweet with the taste of artificial dye by the time you actually spot Donghyuck, over by Somi’s balcony doors chatting up some pretty girl you recognize from your physical education class. The volleyball player. Xiaoting or something close, and you almost snort at the sight because she seems way out of his league. But he has a way with words that you guess you could be attractive when he wields it with flirtation in mind, instead of the intent to piss off like he always does with you.

The Smirnoff burning in your stomach must already be settling in because you only mildly bristle when you see him. Like you thought earlier: Hyuck is here, which means Jeno is here. And… and the Smirnoff must’ve already hit your brain, actually, because all of a sudden you’re feeling agitated and confrontational.

You don’t want to spend all night worrying about when he’s going to find you and drop the bomb. So what if he doesn’t like you! So what if he probably wants to forget the moment that happened out on that balcony never occurred at all? You lived your life without yearning over Jeno for years before you moved back here, so it won’t even be that hard to go cold-turkey when he says what he needs to and inevitably squashes the remainder of your heart in his fist. It’s fine. You’ll live.

You just need to rip it off like a bandaid first. And to do that?

“Hey, Woo, I think I need to go and look for somebody. You’re still down for that dance battle later?”

“I don’t play around with my challenges,” he says, grinning much too wide, “I’ll find you later, and then it’s on. Knock em’ dead, new girl.”

As bold as you suddenly are, you actually don’t want to go and interrupt whatever Donghyuck has going on just to ask him where Jeno is. So you’re on your own for a little, scanning the walls for him and the stupid clavicles poking out of his button-up, hair all windswept and eyes so dark. It’s nearly a minute of searching before you see something familiar— but it’s not exactly what you’re looking for.

Close enough, though.

It seems like Na Jaemin has actually spotted you first, since he’s already heading towards you when you spot his head of pink darting through the crowd. You don’t fuss when he musses your hair and gasps over the competition, applauding you in that sickeningly earnest way he always has, since you’re used to his preening and compliments. Not to say you’re not appreciative. It always makes your face hot when he coos over you like this. But you’ve got a mission in mind, and fretting at him over the pouting and cheek-squeezing will get you nowhere.

“Yes, thank you, I did hear you cheering over everyone else at the end, no I wasn’t hiding my swag from you on purpose, thank you, you can stop pretending to cry now. Where is Jeno?”

The idea of you looking for Lee Jeno on purpose must startle him, because there’s a second after his clear offense at you brushing him off where he registers what you’re asking for and actually looks a little concerned. “Jeno? No-Jam? Why? Did he say something to you?”

“What? No, I just need to talk to him about something. Thought he’d be hanging around you.”

Imperceptibly, Jaemin lightens.

“Oh. He’s downstairs hefting handles out of Somi’s car, because blondie forgot half the drinks in her trunk. He got volunteered by Chenle as Mr. Muscles and left with her like five minutes ago, so he should be back any minute.”

Damn it. Forlornly, you glance at the door, but there's nothing. No movement. Nada. There goes all your building bravado.

“But before he returns, young lady, should we talk about how that red tinge to your lips better be from the non-alcoholic jello-shots?”

Ah. Whoops. Not only no movement, but now you’ve gotten yourself trapped in the sights of Na Jaemin, who likes to pretend to be staunch on things like laws and teenage innocence and waiting to do things until the government says you’re allowed to. You constantly forget that you’re not yet the drinking age, because no college student handing out drinks at a party ever gives a fuck about the fact that you’re legally not quite legal yet. No other college student besides the one standing in front of you.

“You’ll stunt your growth if you drink before you’re supposed to!”

To this you glance at the cup he’s holding, clearly half full of something, and nearly go to laugh and ask him what his excuse is since he’s barely 21 himself, but then you think of something funnier. Without really thinking about it you snatch the cup from his hand and hork it down. Your eyes are locked with his the entire time so you get to see his surprise grow into shock, then expand into disbelief as you chug, and chug, and chug.

There’s a lot of… some peach flavored crap in here, burning like murder all the way down, to the point that you’re more bewildered than smug when the cup is finally drained because, “Fuck, Na, what is that shit? Are you trying to black out?”

“Language!” he hisses, genuinely startled for the first time you’ve seen in a long time, which makes you laugh, “And of course not because that wasn’t mine, you little brat! I was holding that for Somi!"

“Oh,” you reply, only mildly shifted by this news. Sorry, Som. Now you know it must be peach Schnapps. She loves Schnapps. “What, so you’re not drinking tonight at all? Are you DD?”

“No! I’m not drinking, and I’m offended that you don’t already know I hate the taste of alcohol. Mark, who may I remind you is in this room and would’ve just shit himself if he’d seen what you just did, is playing designated driver tonight! He’s…”

And as he glances towards the kitchen you follow his gaze. You’re expecting to see your brother, most likely laughing over something his friends are saying, maybe even trying to dance-battle someone if he's having a particularly good time. Instead you see your brother chatting up Jeon Soyeon.

Jeon… Soyeon. Nabi Bar, Jeon Soyeon. Who you haven’t spoken to or even seen since that awful night in Gangnam.

And you nearly gasp in terror at the sight.

Jaemin doesn't finish his sentence, and you dart your eyes to him when you realize this. He doesn’t look very pleased by what he’s seeing either, though you’re guessing for an entirely different reason than the one that’s just made you go cold.

“What?” you ask a little too quickly. The front door opens, which should be your cue to look for who’s just come in, but you can’t tear your eyes from the sight of Soyeon and Mark. What the fuck? What the fuck? “Do they know each other?”

“Know each other?” Jaemin scoffs. “Hard to quantify.”

It would be very, very bad for you if they knew each other. Very bad. If not already clear, Mark still had no clue you weren’t where you said you were on the night of Nabi Bar. If she happened to mention your involvement in that shity, shitty idea, you had no doubt that Mark would go all holier-than-thou on you in front of all these people, and that you’d probably have to dive off of the balcony to escape the reaming.

He doesn’t look particularly comfortable, near pressed up against kitchen island because Soyeon is so close to him, hand rubbing at the back of his neck in that way you’re well aware means he’s getting flustered; but you see him laugh at something she says in the next second, and it doesn’t seem like his fake laugh. Mark’s fake laugh is terrible, and even from a distance you can spot it like the flashing lights on an ambulance, a beacon of distress just the same. So he’s laughing for real, at something… Soyeon is saying?

But you hardly recall her being very funny.

“What does that mean, hard to quantify? Do they have history?”

“Something like that,” he murmurs. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. Anyway, I think Jeno is—”

“You never look at anyone with any kind of attitude, and just now you rolled your eyes at her.”

“I didn’t roll my eyes. I blinked. For a long time. Something in my eye. Dusty in here.”

“Somi has this place deep cleaned twice a week.”

He stares at you like he’s begging you to drop it. You stare back, unwilling. “You know, Na, the longer you stall, the more time that all this illegal alcohol in my blood has to make me more bold and reckless and unruly. If I don’t get an answer from you I might just go over there and ask her myself. How do they know each other?”

You’re bluffing, of course— there’s no way you’re about to go over there just to see what they’re talking about when you could safely squeeze that information out of Jaemin instead. In reality, you were only pressing because you wanted to know if they were close enough for Soyeon to know you and Mark were related. If not? Then perfect! You’d forget it all and be on your merry way, reverting back to your original plan of finding Jeno, because there’d be no chance Soyeon could spill the beans.

But if Soyeon does know? You might have to leave this party a little earlier than scheduled.

“You want the whole, grown-up truth?” Jaemin finally relents.

“Might I remind you for the hundredth time that I’m only a year younger than you?”

“A year and a half,” he acquiesces with a sigh, “And Jeon Soyeon may or may not have slept with your brother to get him to do their midterm project last year.”

It comes out like he’s reading the headline from a newspaper and you made the mistake of swallowing right before he opens his mouth, choking violently on your own spit. He pats you on the back as you hack and cough before continuing.

“None of us are really sure about exactly what really happened because Mark kind of shut down after, wouldn’t tell us anything. But it was pretty clear he liked her before. She’s kinda his type, you know?”

Edgy, pretty, and fucking evil, yeah, after having to chase a few of them away in high school you’re well aware of his type! This was not what you wanted to know about when you asked if they were close! What the hell?

“He told us they’d gone all the way right before she asked him to do their entire music production project because she was too busy caring for her sick little sister. He, being the bleeding heart he is, pretty much refused to listen to us about how convenient the timing was; he even got mad when Chenle did some sleuthing and found out that Soyeon’s parents facebook, which was filled to the brim of photos of their family, didn’t have any trace of another kid in their midst besides her. Wouldn’t believe us until after the project was turned in, when he tried to meet up with her for weeks and she ghosted him every time.”

He frowns. “At the end of it, he wasn’t… It wasn’t good. He was pretty crushed.”

Now you regret chugging his drink for fun. Even before it you’d been feeling further than chill, pleasant and buzzing from your shots, well prepared for whatever hell was to arise with Jeno. Now you felt loose; too loose, fingertips tingling at your sides because of this news, heart pounding in your chest, body so warm from the alcohol that you felt like Jaemin would hiss if he’d laid a finger on your skin.

To play games with you, that’s one thing. But Soyeon has laid her hands on your brother?

“And, knowing all of that,” you say slowly, clearly, “You’re still letting him sit there and talk to her?”

“I want to kick her away,” Jaemin says flatly. “I’d be lying if I said I trust that girl as far as I can throw her. But it’s not really up to us to get involved.”

“Who is us?”

“His friends? I mean he was pretty clear when it happened that he did not want to talk about it—”

You bark a laugh, but there’s no humor to it at all. “So he can pout and gripe about the sanctity of discussing your problems with people, the embarrassing, the horrifying, but when it comes to him he gets to keep secrets? Forget how hypocritical that is, you guys are listening?”

Jaemin, finally, seems to catch the heat in your words. “Uh. He told… I mean, before you get all up in arms, she may be over there apologizing for all we know. Maybe she’s repenting.”

You both stare at her as she tips her head back in laughter, the salacious flirty kind where you’re more focused on being attractive than actually enjoying the joke, before she puts her hand on his chest in a, ‘Wow, you’re so funny, take me now,’ kind of way, leaning in to say something to him that she clearly doesn’t want anyone else to hear. Every hair on your body stands up when Mark doesn’t push her away.

He’s not seriously buying her shit again, is he?

“Jaemin, are you willing to bet your life on that?”

“What?”

“Everything you just said about Soyeon. You know that for fact?”

“Well, no, Mark didn’t actually tell us about it so I can never be sure, but… but with what we could gather, it was pretty cut and dry. Chenle actually also found out she had a boyfriend at the same time she did all that stuff with Mark. We just couldn’t bear to tell him that after the fact, so we never… Hey, where—”

You’re sober enough to make it through the throng of people without stumbling, but not sober enough to fully anticipate what you’re really about to do. The goal is just to separate them, somehow, to get that harlot away from your brother, and then you’ll go and deal with Jeno. If people greet you as you pass you don’t hear or see it; all you can grasp is her, touching him, laughing with him, cheating, lying, people-using—

“Mark,” you nearly hiss, “I need to talk to you. Now.”

Mark jumps a foot in the air when you grab him but Soyeon, for some reason, doesn’t look surprised to see you in the slightest. She does, however, raise a sharp blonde eyebrow at your tone.

“What,” Mark splutters, “Right now?”

“Yeah,” Soyeon sighs, continuing to trail her eyes up and down Mark’s face instead of looking at you, “The grown-ups are talking, sweetheart. Can’t you give us a second?”

Mark turns back to the sensual softness of her voice like a moth to a flame, and you want to smack him. “No. Not a second now, not a second later, not a second tomorrow or forever. Now, Mark.”

And that was where you made the mistake that turned this whole night sour. Only when Soyeon realizes it’s her you have a problem with, catching on from the agitation in your tone that you’re not just here to bother Mark for fun, does she slide her unreadable gaze to you.

“You know I haven’t seen you in a while, Little Lee.”

“For the better,” you mutter. “Seriously—”

“I was so surprised when Yuqi told me you two were related.”

She’s talking to Mark but looking at you, eyes squinted a little, like someone analyzing a germ under a microscope. So she does know. Great. “I couldn’t believe that this girl was the same little star you used to tell me about when I met her. She’s grown up a lot, you know? Doesn’t take after you at all, Markie.”

“Soyeon,” you say again, “Let him go.”

“Why? So you can keep throwing your tantrum? Every time you open your mouth it gets harder and harder to see the resemblance. When you’re so…”

She doesn’t need to say it, and it’s honestly probably better that she didn’t, because you would’ve leapt at her if she’d gone as far as she’d been intending to dig with that comment. You’re aware you don’t resemble Mark, physically or otherwise— in accomplishment, in talent, in patience, in perfect unmarred reputation. You’re well fucking aware.

“Soyeon,” Mark finally says, thankfully lurching a little in your direction like her evil witch's spell is finally wearing off, “I don’t think there’s any need for that, what the hell is going on? Do you two know each other?”

Soyeon opens her eyes comically wide. “You don’t know?”

And you feel Mark stop. What the hell are you doing, you want to scream. Why are you even pausing for this bullshit? Come on! But he doesn’t. He stands there and he stares at her, as if searching her face for any sign of truth, and Soyeon takes this as her cue.

“Little star is a big girl now! Her own fake ID, clinging along with her baby bottle to any club the adults want to go to, even catching her own ride home with any wasted guy that smiles in her direction! Don’t you live together? What a handful she must be if she can sneak out under your nose, Markie.”

The blood rushing in your ears makes it hard to tell if it’s only you that’s losing your hearing or if the rest of the people hanging around in the kitchen really have quieted to watch the rising altercation, but you don’t dare move your eyes from the girl to check. The baby bottle comment, outing your fake ID, all of that is rage inducing on its own— but it’s a cold, stomach twisting madness that grabs you when you latch on to the last part of what she’s just said. Catching your own ride home?

Was she referring to Yoobin?

Your fingers unfurl from Mark’s jacket.

“What do you mean, catch my own ride?”

Soyeon laughs. Under normal circumstances, it would be a pretty sound. “Did you think we didn’t see you leave? Blowing up our phones like there was some big emergency— We sent that guy out there to keep you the company you wanted so much, God, we got tired of babysitting you. You stopped calling and neither of you came back inside. What, cause your brother is here you’re going to try and soften it up now, huh? Tell us all you didn’t go home with that drunkard, when you love to tell people you’re no stranger to a bar?”

Yoobin, who grabbed you, touched you, tried to drive you home in his wasted state with clear intentions on what he wanted in return.

Yoobin, who Soyeon and Yuqi and their friends had sent, knowing you were panicked, knowing he made you uncomfortable, knowing you were looking for them.

Soyeon who stopped hearing from you and laughed it off. Soyeon who stopped hearing from you for days and didn’t bat an eye, knowing what she’d left you alone with.

Soyeon, who’s straight, pretty nose cracks under your fist in the same way Yoobin’s did, except this time you don’t run away when she screams and collapses and you realize what you’ve done. Except this time you hit her again— or you try to at least, lunging for her with your eyes ablaze, unsure what you’ll do when you get there but 100% sure it’ll hurt worse than a bloody fucking nose— but don’t quite get there, because someone has lifted you off the ground, two iron-bar arms wrapped like vices around your ribs, the worlds tightest back hug.

In your right mind you might’ve placed the sandalwood and the bergamot, or recognized the rolled up sleeves of his oversized button up, ivory and forest green, but as it stood—

As it stood, as you shouted and thrashed and fought, you only made out one thing.

Mark Lee, your own brother, helping Jeon Soyeon to her feet, two hands firm on her arms to hold her up; his surprised voice the last thing you hear before Lee Jeno hauls you out of that house.

“Wow, Soyeon. Is that true?”

(”Rockstar is going to wallop that girl,” Donghyuck mutters, staring at you like they all are from behind the pillar separating the kitchen from the living room, alerted to the worsening confrontation by a sheepish Jaemin.

“No she won’t," Jaemin tries, clearly feeling guilty, "She knows better than that.”

“She’s gone still. And I’ve never, ever seen her eyes that wide before.”

“That’s control. It’s restraint. She’s not going to hit her.”

Renjun, then, “If you really believe that then why do you look so nervous?”

“Her fist is balled up,” Jisung comments quietly.

“It’s restraint!”

“You weren’t there the day that she knocked the socks off of Park Gyubin, right? When he tried lifting her friend’s skirt up in the cafeteria?”

“She…” Jaemin glances at Donghyuck, “She’s tried to fight men before?”

“Tried to? I thought she was going to kill him. Y/N hit him so hard he had to get his retainer refitted. She’s got a right hook like her brothers. I bruise when she hits me, you know.”

Renjun again, “Why do you sound so proud of that?”

“She… Well, no, look, look! She let go of Mark. They have to be deescalating, she—”

“Does deescalating usually involve getting closer to the object of your anger?” Jisung asks.

“She—”

“Here it comes,” Chenle announces excitedly.

And then Jeno is across the room.)

Jeno realizes before you do that you’re not going back home tonight.

His apartment looks the same. Obviously. It’s only been three weeks since you were last here. Like before, Jeno doesn’t bother with the lights, kicking his shoes off in the entryway the same way, except this time you have two shoes of your own to place next to them instead of the sad and lonely single. Three weeks ago, but it feels like it’s only been a day or two since you did this whole song and dance; following him to the bathroom, sitting on the counter as he stoops under to rummage through his first-aid bin, gritting your teeth when he rubs your knuckles with the antiseptic, smiling weakly when he apologizes for the sting.

You’d cried in his car.

When Jeno carried you out of Somi’s apartment you thought the stinging in your eyes was just discombobulated rage. But when he set you down on your feet in the elevator and you began to come down from the adrenaline high, the burning just intensified as you understood what just happened. You’d only been able to keep the tears at bay until he told you to put your seatbelt on in his passenger seat and it all became too real.

Though you’re not sober enough right now for it to feel like a problem yet, you know you’ll want to kill yourself tomorrow for allowing yourself to devolve in front of him like that no matter the circumstance. In the moment, you weren’t even entirely sure what you were crying about. Was it the craze of fury wearing off after punching Soyeon, and the jitters it left behind? Or the fact that even when Jeno was tugging you towards the elevator up there, you’d stood and waited for Mark to follow for nearly an entire minute, just for him to never come out?

You’d like to chalk it up to adrenaline and inebriation, but deep down you knew exactly what it was that had your eyes brimming with those tears.

He’d chosen Soyeon. The girl who’d lied to him, cheated with him, fucked him over for a grade and left you for dead on the streets of Gangnam, and he’d stayed in that house with her instead of coming out to check on you. And you weren’t really one to catastrophize, but how couldn’t that signal the definitive end of Mark putting up with your shit? The nail in the coffin of his patience with you?

You knew things had been rough lately with you moving in, the thread of butting heads over little things like curfews and the people you hung out with, but you hadn’t thought your relationship had deteriorated to the point that he’d ever… that he’d ever choose someone else. You’re his sister. No matter how mad he is, he’s supposed to choose you.

But he didn't. And in Lee Jeno’s passenger seat, like a giant baby, you cried about it.

In proper Y/N fashion the only thing that had chuffed you into sucking it all up and swallowing it into the depths of your soul never to be seen again, was Jeno’s building appearing on the horizon. The threat of him asking you if you’re alright and actually having to confront those feelings was terrifying enough to jar you out of your self pity.

But he hadn’t asked you about your red eyes. He hadn’t said anything, actually. He just tugged you out of the car and into the elevator. Herded you into his apartment. And tipped his head towards his bathroom just like before, except this time he was smiling. In the soft, polite kind of way that let you know he was well aware of what just transpired in his car, but was simply... letting it be.

(And you always knew Jeno was rather observant. But man, the thought behind that smile could’ve made you burst into tears all over again.)

On the counter, holding out your hand for the steps that would never come, you blinked back to the present when Jeno stopped at the healing salve. You’d been waiting for him to bust out the gauze again, already lamenting the next week of your life with the itchy fabric tight around your wrist, but all Jeno does is raise an eyebrow at you when you don’t hop off of the sink after he puts the kit away.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks.

You blink down at your hand, shiny with the balm, and then back up at him. “The rest of it.”

“The wrap? I didn’t think you needed it.”

“But that’s what you did last time I was here.”

“Because the last time you were here you didn’t know how to punch someone properly. It looked like you got her the right way this time. When I was tugging at that wrist in the elevator just now you hardly seemed to notice, when you could barely close your fist a few weeks ago.”

…Oh. Only as he mentions it do you roll your hand around in its socket, flexing your fingers under the bathroom light. Your knuckles look like shit, the newly forming bruises and angry skin, but it doesn’t actually ache like it did that night with Yoobin.

Well you’ll be damned. So straightening your wrist really does work.

“Oh,” you mumble. “I guess I don’t. Wasn’t really thinking about it.”

“Of course you weren’t. Probably thinking about what you wanted to eat, right?”

“What I— What?”

What you wanted to eat? When did you discuss that you were hungry?

“Heard your stomach grumbling in the car, so I’m assuming you haven’t eaten since before the competition. There’s a pizza place down the street that I think you’d like, a jajangmyeon shop too, but their delivery takes ages. It’s up to you.”

You stare at him, clearly not following. Jeno is relaying this to you like tonight was planned, as if it was always in the cards for you to be hanging out at his place tonight like a couple of pals, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, the perfect picture of normalcy. He thinks you’re going to be here long enough to eat? He’s not planning to have you shipped out of here in the next half hour?

But then you realize that there isn’t really another place for you to be shipped to. Mark’s apartment is… not really an option. The idea of going back there tonight almost makes your stomach roll, actually.

But if you don’t go back, that doesn’t leave much in the realm of locations to hide out at. Somi’s brother is coming home tonight, she’d squealed as much this morning, and considering how rare it is that he’s not busy in other countries you abhor the idea of intruding on their reunification. You don’t have many other friends here that you’re close enough with to just show up at their place at 10PM unannounced, not that you’d want to given that your little spat with Soyeon is probably all over everyones instagram stories right now, and is surely the only thing they’ll want to talk about.

You don’t have very many options right now. And Jeno probably knew that from the moment he decided to bring you here.

“Thinking pretty hard over there,” Jeno hums, “for what is supposed to be a two choice question. Unless you don’t want either?”

“Pizza is… fine.”

“Just fine, or actually good? I can check to see if there’s any—”

“It’s good, Lee.”

He smiles like he’s got you in the bag, and then stands up straight. “I’ll order it then.”

You nod emptily and make moves to follow him out of the bathroom, right on his tail, which is why you nearly crash into him when he whirls back around to stop you. “Oh. Almost forgot.”

“What? Forgot what?"

But you only grow more confused when Jeno speeds off towards his room without replying. There’s a creak and a shuffle, doors opening and closing before Jeno returns with a bundle of fabric bunched up in his arms.

“Can’t imagine it’ll be very comfortable to hang out in that dress all night.”

He holds out the mass; what appears to be a heather gray hoodie and black sweatpants that, even bunched up like this, still look miles too long for you. He sees you eyeing it and you fear he’s going to do something awful, like politely offer to go and get you something else as if he hasn’t already done a hundred other things for you tonight, so you quickly oblige. Once you relieve him of the pile he laughs, tells you he’s going to put the order in for the pizza, and closes the door on the way out.

You stand there unmoving for much too long, the heap of fabric clutched to your chest.

There’s so much to unpack. Being here again. The fact that he was supposed to break your heart today instead of doing all of... this. How casual he’s being about it all. The brother-slash-bestfriend shaped elephant in the room. The clothes.

But, for the sake of not collapsing under the weight of all of that turmoil, you decide to just focus on the latter; the most immediate and least heart wrenching of the bunch. His clothes. You’re going to wear his clothes.

Yet another of your old dreams coming to fruition in this apartment. Lucky you.

Jeno is laying across the long part of the couch when you exit the bathroom, footsteps making no noise because you’re padding along on top of the ankle hems. He’s dressed differently too; gone is the jeans and the ivory button up, in its place a black long sleeve and navy blue sweatpants just like yours, except his actually fit. He’s texting furiously on his phone when you round the corner, eyebrows furrowed with something like irritation before he sees your looming figure in the corner of his eye and looks up.

"I put an X-Men movie into the DVD player," he announces, squinting back down to his screen, "Couldn't think of a better time than now to finally get into it, since you'll be here to explain all the things I don't understand..."

But he trails off as he stares at his phone, eyebrows furrowing at something before he frowns and stands up. The look is gone when you shuffle towards the couch and he looks up again, smiling at you like you like nothing is wrong, before he says, "I need to make a call though. Start the movie, yeah? I'll be back before things get interesting."

You stare at him. Probably shouldn't miss the opening scene if you really want to 'get into it', you nearly say. But you've been on this earth for long enough to recognize when someone wants a little privacy.

You want to ask if it's Mark. If he's the one Jeno had been messaging back so agitatedly just now. But the fear of it not being him, Jeno instead just trying to sort something out with like, a truant project partner or something, makes you stuff it down again. It'll just make you look even more pitiful.

"Sure. Most of the intro is fan service anyway."

He opens his mouth like he's about to say something else but then his phone starts to ring and he only smiles tightly at you instead. Then he's gone down the corridor, into his bedroom, and when the ringtone finally stops you can barely hear his voice much less make out what he's saying. Hm.

A different day and you might've snuck off after him to eavesdrop just to see for yourself. But after tonight?

You simply watch him go, and then tumble onto his couch with the exhaustion of someone who's just run up and down the building a dozen times.

You don't even have the strength to reach over for the TV remote; you just lay there and revel in the softness of the cushions, and at how tired you suddenly feel. Rehearsal all morning, giving it your all on stage, the energy-leeching atmosphere of a house party, the alcohol sagging through your veins. Not to mention the emotional confusion. Crying always takes it out of you.

So it's no wonder that you forgo turning the movie on to just take a moment to breathe in the pleasantly dark living room, closing your eyes for what you intended to be a brief second, just to gather the last bits of your patience and sanity for the night ahead... only to fall victim to what happens to most people when they say they're just resting their eyes.

You fall asleep.

At least for a little while, you do. A brief, dreamless, blissful unconsciousness.

It’s so blissful in fact, that when you’re startled back to life by a knock at the front door a few minutes later— blinking the haze out of your eyes and seeing Jeno’s ceiling instead of your own, understanding with a sinking hopelessness that you’re not waking from a nightmare, that all of tonight has really happened— the dread is almost crushing when it all comes back.

But there isn't even any time to mourn. Because you realize that if someone's just knocked on the door, like the good homeowner he is, Jeno will be out here any second now to open it. He'll come out here and he'll see you and you'll be sucked right back into that nightmare, pretending like everything is fine when you both know that tonight was supposed to go so, so differently. Sitting next to each other and eating next to each other and attempting small talk for the sake of keeping things civil until you can escape this place in ten hours.

The idea almost gives you hives. You can't do it. You can't. There has to be another way. What if you make something up? A sore throat? A sudden headache?

But there's no time to think of anything fancy because in the next second Jeno's bedroom door clicks open down the hall, and panic flies up in your throat.

So you do the only think you can fathom. Before he can come around the corner and see you freaking out, you fling yourself back over and pretend to still be dead asleep.

As foolish as you immediately feel, it must work at least a little bit; you hear him come into the living room, hesitate, and then continue on past the couch on lighter steps as if worried about making too much noise. You even steady your breathing when he’s opening the door for the pizza guy— smooth inhale, smooth exhale, spaced just far enough to replicate what someone sounds like when they’ve been out for a while.

Shit. Will this actually work?

When he closes the door and the room falls to silence your heart picks up a little bit. What is he doing? Is he staring at you, trying to see if you’re faking?

Is he wondering if he should wake you up to eat? Oh, God! What if—

“Are you up?” he whispers. And you almost choke trying to swallow down the instinctual response that rises in your throat.

With surprisingly great effort, you do nothing. Say nothing. You don’t even stir. You just pray to whatever God is out there that Jeno will take the hint, eat his pizza at the kitchen island, leave you out here and go to bed. You get excited when you hear his steps again and think he’s going to pass the couch straight, but of course a second later you feel the couch dip somewhere off behind your back and you nearly curse.

“Guess not,” Jeno mumbles. "I forgot that you knock out so easily."

A few more seconds of what feels like an endless quiet, only his shuffling making sound; through your squeezed-shut eyes you see the light of the TV flicker like he’s just changed the channel, and with it you hear what must be the intro to a gameshow or something— excited chatter, ringing bells, audience cheers. But the volume is turned down so low that it feels like the show is playing in another room. Is he keeping the volume low because of you?

Is he… going to stay out here?

“So you won’t mind if I think out loud,” he says suddenly, and your eyes nearly fly open in surprise. What?

But he sounds serious. “Like a test run, almost. For what I wanted to talk about earlier at Aegon. Since I still don’t really know what the hell I’m going to say even after losing sleep over it all week, and I know you’ll try to stop me if you’re awake. I should just try it now, right?”

Try it... now?

Your fake deep-breathing almost hitches in panic when you realize what he’s getting at. Sweet God, please, no. What he wanted to talk about earlier? He wants to get into that now?

“Jaemin scolded me for springing it on you like that after your showcase, by the way. I didn’t realize that I might’ve cornered you until later and I’m sorry about that. I just really, really wanted to talk. Because I didn’t before, and everything got all…” he sighs, heavily. “I’m thankful that you told me to get lost earlier, because I think I can explain it better, like this. I can start from the beginning. I know how thorough you are about things like this.”

You hear the beep of a digital watch somewhere in his house as your face scrunches up in confusion. It's officially midnight, if the watch is making noise to denote the hour, but the realization of the time only comes second to the slow bewilderment slipping through your gloom.

From the beginning? The beginning of what? What the hell does any of that have to do with firmly rejecting you?

“Before we met, because of the way Mark talked about you, I had this idea in my head that you’d be some sort of perfect, flawless angel. That you’d be a little version of him; neat and proper and just a little bit naive, too nice for your own good. A rule follower.”

He laughs at this, a genuine laugh at the memory, and your frown deepens in embarrassment. “Then I actually laid my own eyes on you for the first time, and I realized I couldn’t have been more off.”

You remember it clearly, the first time you’d made a fool out of yourself in front of him and the rest of Mark’s friends. Fourteen years old, running inside the house after walking home from class with your own crew; you’d completely forgotten that you were supposed to bring your skateboard and a change of clothes to school because you all planned to ride around the park that day, the first warm afternoon after a mushy spring, and they said if you didn’t come back out in sixty seconds or less they’d leave you in the dust. So you stormed into the house, past the living room with all of them in it without even a glance or greeting since you hadn’t realized it wasn’t just your brother in there, hurled off your uniform in favor of your outfit staples at the time— an oversized tee that you stole from Mark, hand-me-down cargo shorts that also came from your brother’s closet, and your most cherished possessions: a Yankees baseball cap and your beat-up blue Nikes.

But you couldn’t find your skateboard and the clock was running out, so you howled down the staircase, “If you moved my skateboard again from where I put it I’m going to kill you in your sleep!” only for Mark to shout back up, “It’s a tripping hazard! It’s in the hallway closet! And aren’t you grounded right now? Where are you even going? Does mom know?”

You hadn’t replied. Just snatched the board from where he said he’d stashed it, barreled back down the stairs, and was fully preparing to toss your brother some half-assed explanation, but then you’d seen him. Seen them. Mark’s new school friends, all lounging on your living room couch, staring at you as if you’d come into the room with a bomb. Lee Jeno (who’s name you’d only later find out) appeared the most stunned by your tornado-like appearance.

You could only imagine what they were seeing. Some rowdy tomboy, technically on house arrest but running out to wreak havoc on the town regardless, threatening to kill people in their sleep for tidying up. Exaggerated, obviously, but you remember being mortified halfway to Sunday by how cute they all were and that this was their first introduction to you— and in that mortification, sprinting out of the house without telling your brother anything at all.

You’d gotten a good scolding for that later.

“And it’s going to sound kind of stupid,” Jeno continues, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think you heard the smile in his voice, “But because of that, I got this idea in my head that Mark must’ve only been seeing you through those rose-tinted glasses. The type every older brother has for every younger sister, the ones that make everything they do look cute and miraculous and perfect even if they’re clearly evil to everyone else. Not saying I thought you were secretly some sort of demon or anything either, ‘cause I know you’d roll your eyes at me right now if you could. Just that the girl I saw that day was nowhere near the delicate little thing he’d described. And I got... curious. I started wondering what you were actually like.”

Your face is getting hot again. You’ve never, ever heard him speak this much in one sitting, and the idea of him ever paying this much attention to you is mind boggling. But you don’t let yourself lean into whatever feeling of hope is whistling through your head.

So what if he made a game out of trying to separate your real traits from the things Mark got wrong about you six years ago? Sometimes you liked to make up season-long dramas about strangers you saw on campus. It doesn’t mean anything now.

You want to scrunch into a ball. You aren’t sure how much more of this monologue you can handle, even despite the consequences of rolling over and breaking the facade just to get him to stop. The heat in your face is spreading to your neck, your stomach, every inch of your skin, it’s making your stomach churn with discomfort.

“But then the next year you came to our school,” Jeno says with finality, like this is supposed to be some important distinction. “And it stopped being as casual of an interest. The months went by and at some point I stopped looking for you just to see if you were doing something Mark didn’t know about, and started looking for you just because I wanted to know what you were doing. We’d come over for movie night and while Hyuck and Jae argued for hours about what they did and didn’t want to watch, I’d be wondering if I’d get to see you. You probably won’t remember this, but one of those nights I even ordered an extra curry bowl just so I’d have an excuse to knock on your door to tell you about it. And I thought that was a normal thing to do.”

Jesus Christ. Do you remember? Of course you remember! You’d been reading at your desk with your headphones in, which meant Jeno had to come all the way into your room to get your attention— tapping the side of your earbud with two gentle fingers, laughing all crescent-eyed at you when you yelped in surprise. The sight of him in your room for the first time was like a grenade going off in your tweenaged mind; you’d had to calm down for nearly an entire minute before going downstairs to get your food.

“I thought it was just Mark rubbing off on me. He cared so much about you that I thought my sudden interest was simply overprotection by relation— that he was the reason why I couldn’t stop looking for you. ‘Cause in my mind it couldn't be anything else but brotherly. Mark was pretty clear about what he thought of the people that liked you so I knew it couldn’t be that; I wasn’t stupid enough to let myself be interested in you like that. Right?”

He laughs again, but it doesn’t sound nearly as sweet this time. “I’m rambling, huh?”

Yes, you are. You are.

“I’ll cut to the ending then,” he replies like he’s read your mind. “I realized I did in fact ‘like you like that’, at our graduation.”

And your eyes pop open. It’s completely involuntary, and if you’d been facing him you would have been screwed. But you’re still looking deep into the cushions of the black couch; wide eyes staring into a deep, dark, nothing.

“I hid behind that brotherly excuse for three years. My eyes followed you in the hallway because I wanted to make sure you were okay like Mark would’ve wanted me to. I offered to drive you home from school when he was busy because that’s what Mark would’ve asked me to do anyway. Everything I wanted to do I told myself I was doing because I was just a good friend. You know?” A beat passes before he hums to himself. “But I guess you don’t, actually. Because you liked me authentically, like you do with everything. The night of our graduation, the backyard barbecue your parents threw for us. You remember that, right?”

Duh. You’d bawled your eyes out on the front porch halfway through because only then did it fully sink in that they’d all be leaving you behind, these losers you swore you didn’t even like, before wiping your face and moodily rejoining the celebration.

“Jaemin and Donghyuck were having fun like it was their last day on earth. Even Mark didn’t seem too worried about the fact that we’d be leaving our whole lives behind in a few weeks when we drove off to SNU. I asked him if he was going to miss anything and he listed a dozen things, the friends of ours that were going to different colleges, his parents cooking, his backyard, his bedroom, his electric keyboard. And I remember feeling frozen when he didn’t mention you. In hindsight I know that it was probably because he’d still be coming back home every break, and you had a whole year of high school to finish so it wasn’t like you were going anywhere, but at the moment I felt like someone just yanked the blanket off of me. Three years of pretending and it only took one conversation for it to smash through all of that and hit me like a truck. If Mark isn’t worried about it, why the hell has the idea of leaving you here been haunting me for the last week and a half?”

Oh.

“It was then, I think. That I went, ‘Ah. So this hasn’t all been because of Mark, then,’ and everything I’d ever done under the guise of brotherly obligation popped into context all at once. And as if it wasn’t enough being in my own head, I was still in the middle of talking to Mark as I realized that not only did I like you more than I’d ever liked anyone— I was looking directly at the person who would surely strangle me to death if he ever found out that I liked you more than I’d ever liked anyone. So I pretended it never happened. I said ‘yeah, me too,’ the party ended, I went home, the summer went on, and before I knew it I was on campus and had a million other things to worry about. I saw how well you seemed to be doing when Mark would show me your Instagram posts, how much fun you were having, and I let that make me feel better about being such a coward. Over time, without you around, I convinced myself that things were better like this. That it never would have worked out anyway.”

There’s a moment of silence so utterly long that for a moment you genuinely think that this is going to be it. That he’s going to have said all of that and just… sighed, gotten up, and gone to sleep, leaving you alone to be in misery over what you’ve just heard until morning.

But that’s not it. He’s got a few more words for you. The worst of them all. A string of syllables at first, ones that instantly shatter every bit of emotional resistance you’ve built for yourself these last few days— and then a sentence that has your blood turning to ice in your veins when you realize what it means.

“But then you came back to Seoul,” Jeno started simply, “And a lot of things I thought I knew for sure don’t feel quite as concrete anymore.”

You inhaled.

You exhaled.

And tried to understand what the fuck that last part was supposed to mean.

But then before you could he continued on, his voice soft, casual, innocent. Too innocent. “Like how I used to be sure that you snored when you were sleeping,” he murmured. “Has it been so long that I've forgotten? Or are you not actually asleep, Rockstar?”

[♥︎]: and there it is, folks! please leave a like if you enjoyed! it REALLY gives me the motivation to work on this faster!

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tmrwsuns · 3 months ago

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(𐙚⋆.˚) what dating the xikers members feels like

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ [ot10 x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 1.4k w. curse words fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

ᯓ dating minjae feels like a hug to the soul. it is being taken care of unconditionally, being pampered and always lifted up. it is encouraging words and boosts of confidence. unlimited support and positive energy towards whatever it is that you want to do. its having someone who is mature enough to be there in the hard times and silly enough to make those better. its being part of a family, coming home to someone who will receive you with open arms.

ᯓ dating junmin feels like a warm drink on a cold day. its having someone that will be unconditionally on your side. its being understood and cared for like never before. its walking around hand in hand while you talk about silly things. its always knowing youre a priority. its loud laughs and silly tantrums. its dance lessons where you fail miserably. its random little things that reminded him of you from his travels. its being comfortable and taken care of.

ᯓ dating sumin feels like being seen. sumin is the impersonation of the phrase “being loved is being known”. it is having paintings of you all around his studio. its late night drives with blasting music and loud screaming along with the lyrics. its having someone that will pay attention to every little detail of you and keep those seared in his mind forever. its never having to worry about being bored because you always have someone to be crazy with.

ᯓ dating jinsik feels like laying on a field of flowers on a hot day. its refreshing and beautiful. its being appreciated like you’ve never been before. its never doubting your worth. its constantly being showered in praise. its cradling each others faces. its silly gestures made at each other from across the room. its being each others support system. its feeling lucky every time you're around each other. its knowing you're always the person he looks for in a room.

ᯓ dating hyunwoo feels like finding your best friend. its long yapping sessions about anything and everything. its “dont cry because ill cry”s. its endless fun and peace at the same time. its having someone who will always be there to humble you but also always there to lift you up. its late nights sitting on a rooftop talking about your wildest dreams. its being seen even when not understood. its having the most loyal partner you could desire.

ᯓ dating junhoon feels like unmatchable peace. its laying on the couch reading in comfortable silence. its not having to be loud to have fun. its never doubting his love because his actions talk more than a million words. its feeling unique and fortunate to be the one he lets himself shine to. its laughing at his stoic expressions. its ranting to someone who really listens. its seeing his small smiles whenever you walk into a room. its knowing that every moment is special.

ᯓ dating seeun feels like laughs hid behind eyerolls. its having someone that completely matches your freak. its humbling his ego even when you know hes right. its his clothes covering you whole. its being able to completely let yourself go. its laughs that lead to tears and tears that lead to the warmest hugs. its being teased and watching the love in his eyes whenever he speaks. its being always defended through absolutely anything. its “hey, only i can say that”s. its never having a dull moment.

ᯓ dating yujun feels like hugging the sun. its warmth on your chest. its loud laughs and the brightest smiles. its drawing with chalk on your sidewalk. its running up a hill to have a picnic in the sunlight. its being pampered and taken care of. its sharing snacks and bragging about the fact that he only shares with you. its getting to see him be truly himself when with you. its fawning over his smile and making him shy. its having someone who will always be by your side. its feeling the warmth of the sun just enough to not burn. its watching movies while cuddled up. its having a yapping partner and someone who will always listen to you. its getting to be the one who receives the prettiest smiles. its being supported and loved unconditionally.

ᯓ dating hunter feels like a door being opened for you. its being the most important person in his life. its late night convenience store runs. its piggy back rides whenever your feet hurt. its feeling his body completely engulf you when he hugs you. its giggles after hand size comparisons. its kisses on the back of your hand. its being treated like a princess at every given moment. its knowing you have someone who will always support you. its late night talks. its hearing the story about when he fell in love with you every sleepless night.

ᯓ dating yechan is knowing you have found your forever. its staying up all night playing video games. its laughing while being chased around the house. its doing the thing where you're on opposite sides of the table waiting to see who runs first. its shy touches and experimentation. its being each others first choice in everything. its having someone youre always comfortable with. its teaming up against other people. its being shown off everywhere. its being felt proud of.

★ blue's corner ;; first post kinda terrified.... anyways !! this is my input to the criminally low amount of xikers content out there ★ taglist ;; @tiramisumin ★ back to the masterlist. ★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!! ★ divider by @anitalenia

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kiatheinsomniac · 2 years ago

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Hiii!! can i request a scenario where in a cold night, alucard pulls reader down on his lap just to cuddle into her/their warmthness, and acts all clingy and handsy towards her/them??? sorry if it sounds vague, is just a short scenario i have in mind, feel free to fill with anything else <3

──── 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘! ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: I've mostly been prioritising my commissions which is why my lineup from my 2k followers event but I've hit a bit of writer's block so I've decided to do a little request to try and feel more refreshed and get writing. But in the meantime, my 2k followers lineup is still paused for my midsummer sale 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Adrian 'Alucard' Tepes x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 0.7k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none

You enter the drawing room, hair wet from the bath you've left not ten minutes ago. After a day of helping to repair the damaged castle, you found yourself covered with dirt and in need of a wash before settling down for the evening.

Trevor and Sypha are gone so it's just you and Alucard now and - as much as you miss the other two members of your little quartet - you're almost glad that they're gone because you finally have time alone with Alucard. Since you first started working together after you and Trevor defeated the cyclops, freeing Sypha and later awakening Alucard, you've felt something. Some spark between you that just didn't have the conditions to catch fire just yet. But you've got it now and you couldn't be more grateful for what's blossomed between the two of you in the meantime.

You giggle as Adrian pulls you down into his lap the moment you're in arms reach, limbs tangling as he lets himself topple over on the sofa with your added weight. He's careful though, attentive as he always is. The back of his hand cradles your head and his arm curls around your waist to pull you close to his strong body as you fall together, assuring that you won't get so much as the slightest bruise as you fall down in an embrace together.

Immediately, he's letting out a pleased hum and holding you as close to him as possible. He tucks your head beneath his chin and then tilts his head down, burying his face in your hair. He inhales deeply as he squeezes you a little tighter and his entire body then slackens in relaxation when you wrap your arms around him in return.

Since the two of you have finally had time alone together, he's been very clingy and you don't blame him at all. He's been so alone since his mother died, he's faced monsters and has been made to kill his own father. He hasn't really spoken about any of it yet but you're sure he will soon enough, once he's had ample time to gather his thoughts and begin to process his feelings. You can't imagine what it might have been like for him if you weren't here to keep him company. Then again, you're sure that Trevor and Sypha wouldn't have left him at all after knowing he's had to kill his father to save Wallachia.

You bury your face in his chest, finding it surprisingly pillowy for how toned he is. Shortly after, you can feel Adrian tangling your legs together and you openly embrace it as the two of you lay there together. His hands roam over your body and you let out a content little hum as they squeeze your hips and roam the plains of your sides. He takes to rubbing your back and you shift a little so that you can tuck your face into where his neck meets his shoulder. His hair tickles your face a little but it's soft and silky against your skin and the feeling of his hand rubbing your back while his other arm stays protectively and affectionately curled around you lulls you into a sleepy state.

Intimate touch like this has grown so common in the days since your quartet has split in half. The two of you finally have time alone for your relationship to grow and for you to be able to be so openly affectionate with one another like this.

You're not sure how long the two of you lay there, just chatting about your plans for repairing the castle and hold, the next day, but you find yourself veering off topic with one question:

"Adrian... can I sleep in your bed tonight?" You squeeze him gently, "You're so warm..." His hand stops rubbing your back in favour of reaching up to brush your hair away from your face.

"Of course." He says gently and there's a practised sincerity in his voice. He's trying to hide his excitement. He'd love nothing more than to hold you in his arms all night; to have you be the last thing he sees before sleeping and the first thing he sees upon waking up.

Tenderly, he tilts his head down just a little so that he can press a lingering kiss upon your forehead. You close your eyes and smile, filled with a warmth that will only grow as this night goes on.

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not : ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ commission me? ∘ join my taglist ∘ consider following/reblogging

🏷️ @involuntaryspasms @writing-noah @signyvenetia @brideofalucard @noldorinpainter @asianbutnotjapanese @danielle-marie @yourfamilyfriendsatan @firagirl @darlingdoctor @lyn07 @tired-lime @ghostofpolaris @batsyforyou @jofie-does-things

#✎ kia’s 2k event ༉‧ ♡*.✧#adrian tepes #adrian fahrenheit tepes #alucard #castlevania alucard #alucard castlevania #adrian tepes x reader #alucard x reader #castlevania x reader #netflix castlevania #castlevania

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months ago

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The Farmer's Daughter 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You finally manage to quell your sobs. A slight trickle stains your cheeks and falls onto Walter’s shirt. You sniffle and reach to wipe your nose with the back of your hand. As you do, your fingers brush against his chest.

You hear his heartbeat, steady as you’re anything but. He’s warm and soft and sturdy. You feel a sudden rush of guilt for spilling all this out on him. You slowly sit up, pulling away as Walter gently, almost reluctantly, slackens his embrace.

“I’m sorry, I–” you raise your head but find your words smothered.

You don’t realise what’s going on at first. Walter’s hand cradles your face as his lips press to yours, tilting your chin up as his thumb slides under it. You hum in surprise, eyes round as the scent of his sweat invades your nose.

You put your hand flat to his chest and push. You bring your other up and shove until he lets you go. His arm falls away and you turn, shifting and sliding off the step. You stand, dizzy and confused, clutching your splitting head.

“I… I’m sorry,” he stammers as he rises too.

You run past him up the steps, legs wobbling, skull pulsing from the hangover of your grief. You push the door inwards and clamour inside. You don’t stop. You barrel upstairs and down to your door, swinging inside with a careless snap of wood on wood.

You lean on the door and slowly slide down, knees bent to your chest as you hang your head forward and shield it with your arms. You hear shuffling and a set of hinges groan. Footsteps pad quietly outside your door.

“Honey, are you okay?” Your mom calls through.

“Yes,” you force out evenly, the effort further thumping in your temples.

“Oh, uh, I’ll be downstairs,” she says, her voice silty with sleep, “you in the mood for coffee?”

“No thank you,” you eke out.

You wait until she’s gone before you can breathe again. It can’t be real. That can’t have happened. You really didn’t believe it when your mother said it. Walter? Why would he ever think of you like that? And now? Of all times?

Your father is sick, your mother is in shambles, and life is already so complicated. It isn’t that he’s a bad guy, he’s nice and helpful and all of that. It’s just that you’re already scared and lost. It would only make things so much more complicated.

🌾

You stay in your room for the rest of the night. When your mother comes to check on you, you tell her you have cramps. Your period isn’t due anytime soon but PMS can be a bitch. Just as much as life can.

She leaves a plate on your nightstand regardless and you thank her. You’re not very hungry and only pick at it before giving up on the meal. You wallow in your restless discomfort. Your head pounds until you’re nearly delirious.

You fall into a sleep less than refreshing. Your headache follows you into the void and its shadow greets you with the daylight. You wake and roll over, unready for the day but knowing you must face it. You wash and dress and head down to pretend everything is okay. Again.

You start on breakfast as your mom has yet to appear. You don’t mind, it keeps you busy. You count out the eggs and strips of bacon, a few sausages too. You stack a plate with bread ready to toast and yawn over the percolator as you put it on to boil.

You hear tires and an engine. You go rigid, frozen as you stand at the counter. What do you do? Go get your mother? Help her with dad? Or Timothy? He can keep Walter distracted.

Too late. There’s footsteps on the porch then a tap on the frame of the screen door. You panic and clear your throat. Nothing happened. Nothing’s changed.

“Come on in,” you call and pull out a skillet to heat up.

The front door opens and your ears tweak as you listen to his movement. Deliberate and drawn out, as if he’s also avoiding you. You keep your back to the door as you work at the stove, adding a touch of oil to the pan.

He enters, his shadow flickering over the wall, and you sense him. Is he watching you? You refuse to look back and check in fear of being caught. You grab the sausage and the bacon and lay them out on an oven sheet.

“Good morning,” Walter says.

“Good morning,” you return in a small squeak.

He’s silent. Neither of you know what to say. Each time you try to think of something, the friction of your lips remind you of the feel of his. You hadn’t been thinking in the moment but you remember how soft but determined he was.

Why would he do that? After you were just bawling on his shoulder? Seeing you like that, a mess, vulnerable, half-broken? Your stomach knots as you keep your hands moving and eyes averted.

“How are you?” He asks in a strained timbre.

“Fine,” you answer sharply, taking a breath to ease your tone, “you?”

“Tired,” he says, “you need any help?”

He steps forward and you shy away. You stop yourself from going any further and shake your head, “I got it.”

“Right, I…” he begins.

“Alright, Patty,” your mom’s voice wafts from upstairs, “that’s it. You’re doing so well.”

“Oh, I gotta–”

You turn with the spatula and nearly run into Walter as he also moves towards the door. You stop as you face each other, wavering as you stare. His jaw squares and his cheek twitches, his eyes sparkling.

“You’re cooking. I’ll help.”

“Really, you do too much–”

“I know,” he agrees staunchly and turns away, “too damn much.”

He strides out and you stand there. What does he mean? Too much of what? Well, you can’t ask from him. He has helped more than he should, but is that what he means? Or does he mean… that?

He wouldn’t just walk away because of that, would he?

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshal x reader #drabble #au #backwoods au #series #the farmer's daughter #night hunter

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lissrissye · 11 months ago

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“𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰…” | bungo stray dogs (bsd)

osamu dazai, nakahara chuuya, ryunsouke akutagawa, gogol nikolai, dostoevsky fyodor

🪻𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ; you are weeping because you feel insecure… they, of course, wouldn’t leave you alone just like that. they come into the room to comfort you, attempting to reassure you and tell you just how perfect you are… because you are ! <3

🪻 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰 ; i lowkey got this idea since i was feeling so damn insecure earlier today <3 but just remember your self worth, pooks! you’re literally worth the world, so love yourself and be confident, mi amor ! try to stay positive, and compliment yourself because you fucking deserve it !

🪻 𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 ; fluff, sweet romance, safe for work, comfort, angst

𝒪𝓈𝒶𝓂𝓊 𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾 — 太宰治

The keys inserted in the keyhole as Dazai twists it, unlocking the door after a day of investigating tiring cases. A huff escapes his lips softly as he pushes the door open, the fresh scent of home meeting his nostrils. He slips off his tan trench coat, letting it drop off his shoulders as he hangs it on the coat rack at the enterance with the first instinct to look for you. You were his first priority.

A soft noise of a sobbing seeps from the bedroom. You were the only one in the house, so Dazai rushes to the bedroom to see your silhouette in the dim room, the gentle moonlight illuminating a soft pearly white light. He walks to your side with an empathetic frown, bending down. —“Are you okay, belladonna? Please don’t be afraid to express your worries to me, my dear.”

You slowly turn your head to your brunette lover, a quiet cry coming from you as you reach over to embrace him for comfort. Osamu obliges happily, wrapping his arms around you and nodding as you vent to him. He sees his past self in you, and he wishes to protect you… he doesn’t want you to go through the things he had to learn from. He doesn’t want you to get hurt. No, no never. —“I get it, belladonna. Keep going, let it all out and do my hold back. It will only pain you more to bottle everything up. Trust me, I know from personal experience, and I don’t want you to go through the same things I had too.”

𝒩𝒶𝓀𝒶𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶 𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶 — 中原中也

With a glass of wine in hand, Chuuya returns from the bar after a mission complete for the Port Mafia. All he wishes is a refreshing, undisturbed 7 hours of sleep at the very least. He reaches for his keys as the keyhole accepts it with ease, the door making a soft click as it’s unlocked. He twists the handle, too lazy to even push it open, so he just uses his weight for it to swing open. He kicks off his glossy black shoes while heading inside to look for you.

—“Hmmph— pretty? Where are ‘ya…?” The executive calls out your name several times to receive no response. With a groan, he sets down his glass of liquor on the coffee table and heads up the stairs… he checks the kitchen, the living room, the restroom, the guest room… then eventually, after walking around the house, the only option was you were in your guy’s shared bedroom. Chuuya grabs into the handle and opens the door, as you didn’t put much thought into locking it.

With wide eyes, the first thing he sees is you, sitting on the cold floor while holding your knees, softly rocking back and forth. His first assumption is that someone had hurt you, though his blue orbs couldn’t discover any injuries on you. He sighs while approaching you, immediately cradling you in his arms and putting you up on the bed. —“Shhh, don’t cry… You boyfriend is here. Tell me everything, okay? Let me relive your stress and release the weight off your shoulders. You don’t have to hold it in anymore.” As you explain to ginger darling that you’re feeling insecure, he listens intensely… —“Don’t be insecure, you’re fucking gorgeous, Ma chėrie…”

𝑅𝓎𝓊𝓃𝑜𝓈𝓊𝓀𝑒 𝒜𝓀𝓊𝓉𝒶𝑔𝒶𝓌𝒶 — 芥川龍之介

After a day with Atsushi, Akutagawa was irritated and tired. He despised working with the jinko more than anything. Slowly stepping up the stairs leading up to the door, he searched his pockets for his keys. He then had to took the time to find the right key for the front door, making him grumble softly. Finally, he positioned the key with the keyhole, letting it slip in as he turned the key.

With a sigh, the Diablo placed his keys on the coffee table and bent down to remove his shoes, frequently putting it his hand over his mouth to cough. You haven’t answered his text messages, which made him quite concerned. He heard soft whimpering, as if someone tried to be silent. It came from the living room. He quickly made his way there only to find you curled up in a blanket, a pillow buried in your face. You sounded so vulnerable, dread and sorrow washing over you… Akutagawa hated seeing you like this, it pained his heart.

—“Hey— hey, hey… why are you crying? Are you hurt, are you okay? Please, please tell me…” Your black haired lover gently extracted the pillow from your grasp, cupping your face with his hands. He was silently panicking because he didn’t know how to comfort someone as he himself never experienced it except from you, so he tried to intimidate his actions. Despite being terrible at it, you appreciate it because he was attempting, and doing his absolute best to make you feel better. —“Do you want to… cuddle? Maybe eat snacks?… Erm…”

𝒢𝑜𝑔𝑜𝓁 𝒩𝒾𝓀𝑜𝓁𝒶𝒾 —ゴーゴリニコライ

After a day of annoying Fyodor and terrorizing innocent citizens for fun, Nikolai skipped to the front door and immediately started to unlock the door as quickly as he could. He created this sort of challenge for himself, how quick could he open the door everyday. Well, let’s just say Nikolai wasn’t too normal. Okay, far from the ordinary human being. With a hum, he managed to head inside in approximately 15 seconds or so. It took him a bit to decipher which key was for the door.

—“Oh, oh my little angel!~ Where are you?~ I need you to help me clean blood stains of my clothes, pretty please~ I’ll find you if I need too!~” The jester cooed your name softly, his voice reaching your ears because of the echos in the hallway. His voice was accompanied with a maniacal giggle. He didn’t bother to remove his shoes and skipped away to the restroom to one, see if you were there, and two, to wash the blood stains on his white clothes. With a soft hum, he switched the light on to see you on the ground, covering your stomach.

—“Hm?~ My beautiful dove?~” Nikolai couldn’t help but feel empathy for you, as he couldn’t lie that he felt something wash over him as he watched you in this state, all vulnerable. He bend down, first spraying some cologne to attempt to cover up the horrible stench on the blood on his clothes. —“Shhh, shhh~” He whispered softly on your ear, a bit stiff when it came to comforting you but he did his best and started to make jokes to try to make you laugh.

𝒟𝑜𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑒𝓋𝓈𝓀𝓎 𝐹𝓎𝑜𝒹𝑜𝓇 — ドストエフスキー・

A long, long day that felt like eternity with Nikolai annoying him, Fyodor was finally home. A soft grunt of exhaustion emerged from him as he checks his pockets for his keys, patting it down until he feels a bulge. He shoves his hand in that pocket and profess to find which key unlocks the front door. He makes sure not to loose it as he pushes it in the keyhole and twists it.

—“Myshka, I’m home.” The terrorist spoke softly, removing his shoes accompanied by his fluffy ushanka hat. When he noticed you aren’t running towards him as per usual, he tilts his head slightly in confusion. He walks around the house to look for you because you were acting very strange. He didn’t even have to see you to even know. As he approached the living room, he turns his head to the sofa to see two blankets covering you. You eeemed to attempt on hiding from him at first.

Fyodor did not hesitate to rush by your side. Cruel, heartless, brutal. Those were the words he received from the public as a unregretful terrorist. Though, you could argue with that just now as he scooped you up immediately and sat beside you, treating you like a princess. Fyodor could already tell what was happening as well, you didn’t have to tell him you were insecure. It made you feel better because you wouldn’t have to speak. He whispered sweet praises in your ear to show you how much of a precious treasure you are to him… —“You’re absolutely stunning and perfect the way you are, my dear… don’t change that.”

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phantomdreamgirl · 6 months ago

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Whispers of Desire

(Soft) smut with OldMoney!Steve Harrington x reader

18+

A chill creeps up your spine as your boyfriend leads you down a never-ending hallway. The blistering heat of the day is all but forgotten within the hallowed halls of the Harrington estate. The coolness of the stale air doesn't feel refreshing. It feels ominous.

You try not to think about it, as the only thing you want on your mind is the impossibly handsome man who's guiding you through a labyrinth of wood paneling and eerie family portraits.

Finally, he reaches a door and grips its ornate handle with his free hand. You barely have time to breathe a sigh of relief before he pulls you into the room and presses your back against the swiftly closed door.

He kisses you urgently, hungrily, making your head spin. Your hands grasp at his chest, with your fingers curling along the collar of his shirt. Your knees are already trembling from the intensity of his affections. You sigh his name into his mouth as his right hand cradles your face while his left has a tight hold on your hip.

"I couldn't go another minute without kissing you," he whispers. "I missed those pretty lips too much."

You smile dreamily as he pulls away just enough to admire you.

"So fuckin' beautiful," he then laments.

He leans in for another kiss that has you gripping his shirt even tighter. A whiny moan escapes your lips as he pulls away.

"We have to be quiet, angel. We can't disturb the ghosts," he then playfully scolds.

"You know I don't believe in all that," you challenge, breathless.

"You say that now, but I can assure you they're real," he counters, nuzzling his nose against yours. "They lurk in the shadows, always keeping a watchful eye on the inhabitants of their house."

"Do you really believe all those ghost stories you were told as a child?" You ask, pulling away slightly.

"There's some truth to them, y'know. This house is over a hundred years old, so there's bound to be some lingering spirits still roaming around..."

He leans in to kiss you again, but you gently push past him and walk further into the room. It's then you realize that he's brought you to his room. You turn around, but before you can speak, he pulls you into an embrace. He gently grips your chin between his thumb and index finger, silently guiding you to look at him.

"The past has a way of revealing itself to all who reside here," he quietly begins, leaning in close. "You'll find that out soon enough, but at the moment, all that matters is the here..."

He pauses to press a soft kiss to your waiting lips.

"...and now."

You whimper into his second kiss as he presses more of your body into his. You're soon laying on his bed with him on top of you, kissing you slowly, as he's savoring the taste of your lips. Your hands move from his hair to the buttons of his shirt.

You manage to unbutton what you can, considering he had already left the top few undone, just enough to tease you with a glimpse of chest hair. You longed to glide your fingers through it, but also along his broad shoulders and toned biceps. He groans into a kiss when he feels your fingernails lightly graze the tops of his shoulders as you try to push his shirt out of the way.

You smile as he sits up only to fling his shirt to the floor before he's almost crushing you under his weight again.

"Touch me, angel, please..." he practically whines, against your lips.

He already sounds so wrecked and it has you reeling.

You quickly oblige, pressing your palms to his back before gliding your fingernails across his skin, trying to connect all his freckles from memory. He shudders and you feel how painfully hard he is through his dress pants.

His kisses are desperate as he grinds himself against you. You're not sure how much more you can take, as you shift your hips, moving them upward to match his movements.

"Steve, please..." you whine, reaching up and slightly pulling his hair.

A small whimper leaves his lips before he settles his hazy eyes on yours.

"What's wrong, angel?" He asks, still managing to be infuriatingly smug.

You gaze back at him, eyes nearly watering from frustration.

"I need you," you softly answer, trying to keep the desperation out of your voice.

"But I'm right here," he smiles.

"You know what I mean."

"Do you think you can be quiet for me?"

You nod. "If you're really that concerned with not disturbing your 'ghosts...'"

"Not so much that, as I want to see if you can do it," he clarifies, while his lips move to your neck. He lowly hums into your skin as he collects remnants of sweat on his tongue with every wet kiss.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, not wanting to give him the added satisfaction of hearing how weak you are for him.

"Why challenge me when you're usually the loud one?" You counter, now with a wry smile of your own.

He glances up at you while a look of faux hurt flashes across his face before he smirks.

"That's technically true, but I'm a man of many talents, some of which you already know..."

"I think you should remind me," you reply, watching as his eyes darken.

"Take off your dress, then," he quietly instructs, before sitting back on his knees.

He watches as you slowly sit up then kneel in front of him.

"Will you take something off, in return?" You sultrily ask, as you wrap your fingers around his belt.

"As if you have to ask..." he replies, while his large hands cradle your face.

He leans in for another kiss before you each climb off the bed. You undress simultaneously while he unashamedly stares at your bare chest, once your dress falls to the floor. He palms himself through his briefs, continuing to watch as you peel off your sticky panties.

"You alright over there?" You inquire, with a smile, while laying on the bed.

"Never better," he answers, before quickly taking off the last article of clothing keeping him from you.

He crawls onto the bed, eager to feel your hot skin against his. He presses his body to yours, noting to himself how perfectly you fit together. He'll always want you like this- with your eyes shining up at him with lust and infatuation. It's enough to ruin his stamina, if he gazes at you for too long.

Your hands find his shoulders again and you trace little patterns with your nails as he brushes his lips against your cheek.

He leaves a few wet kisses, before quietly asking, "Ready?"

"Yes," you reply, guiding him into a kiss.

With your arousal coating him and the sheets below, he's able to push himself inside you with relative ease.

Gasping, your body arches into his when his hips meet yours.

"That good already, huh?" He teases, while you glare at him.

You dramatically throw your head back, against the pillow and try to conceal a whimper from how you can feel him throbbing.

"You're so pretty like this, angel," he breathes, brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

He pulls out almost halfway before harshly thrusting back in. It seemingly knocks the air out of you until you gasp his name.

"Don't stop, please..." you softly beg, earning another pleased smile from him.

"You need to stay quiet, remember?" He reminds, in a whisper.

You nod, reiterating, "I need you."

"I need you, too..." he replies, moving his hips. "...more than I've ever needed anyone, fuck..."

He settles into a steady rhythm once you wrap your legs around his waist. His lips cover yours, wanting to swallow all the sounds you make just for him. He likes having this power over you during something so intimate and primal.

"Tell me you're mine," he breathily commands, between kisses.

"I'm yours," you whisper, in return.

He groans, as he pushes himself even deeper. Your nails claw at his biceps while gasping his name.

"Tell me...tell me again..." he pants, pressing his sweaty forehead to yours.

"I'm yours, Steve... I always will be," you reassure, reaching up to caress his cheek.

His hips slow as he gazes into your eyes.

"You must really like me then," he smiles.

"I think we're past 'like,' at this point," you reply, voice laced with exasperation.

"I guess you're right..." he sighs as he starts moving his hips again. "I guess you could say... it's more like love."

"It is," you agree, with a smile.

"I love you," he breathes, against your lips, before kissing you deeply.

You struggle to reciprocate his kiss at first, momentarily stunned by the realization that you were both madly, hopelessly in love with each other. He notices and pulls away, worrying he's somehow said the wrong thing.

"I- you don't have to say it -"

You immediately pull him into another kiss. He softly moans into your mouth and you can feel him now pulsing inside you. You squeeze your legs even tighter around him.

"I love you, too," you breathlessly reply against his plush lips.

"I'm gonna buy you the prettiest ring, angel," he begins, thrusting a little faster. "Want everyone to know that you're mine."

You sigh his name as he sloppily trails kisses down your neck. You feel as though he's melting into you, as your body is covered in a mix of yours and his sweat. It's a deliciously intoxicating feeling that you never want to come down from.

"Oh angel, you're so good for me..." he praises, with his face still buried in your neck. "So fuckin' good and so fuckin' wet..."

Your hands cling to his slippery shoulders, barely able to hold on as he claims you as his. He attaches his lips to your skin, alternating between kissing and biting.

"Mine, all mine," he breathes right before his orgasm hits.

He quickly raises his head, pressing his lips to yours messily. Your release washes over you soon after, leaving you both panting into each other's mouths.

You dreamily gaze at each other, while he smiles.

"So, you really love me...?" He quietly asks, almost bashful.

"Yes, I love you, Steve Harrington," you also smile.

"Mmm, okay, future Mrs. Harrington," he replies, nuzzling his nose along your jawline.

You feel yourself actually blushing at him, referring to you like that. His warm eyes meet yours again, and it's then you know, with absolute certainty, that you'll gladly spend the rest of your life with him, ghosts and all.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #oldmoney!steve x reader #soft smut

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fancyfeathers · 11 months ago

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Rain and Dirt (Yandere Rex Lapis/Zhongli x Goddesses!Reader)

Chapter Five, Not All That Glitters is Gold

Sequel to The Moon Will Sing and Time Alone

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Summary: Stories are told of Rex Lapis the God of Contracts and his darling the Goddess of the Moonlight, but what people do not know is the truth of what their relationship really is. People think at Rex Lapis’s death that his wife would be the first to weep, but what if she is the first to smile.

When you were young, still a child in the standard of a god, you remember the feeling of the water going up to your ankles as your younger self reached into the waters to pick up shells, sand dollars, and sea glass. You help your skirt out to make a makeshift basket of the bits and bobs you found, but the sand that came with them would be a pain to clean up later. Your sister sat on the sand flying a kite and watching it soar up into the air, one of your older brothers at her side helping her guide it and keep it from flying off if she let go. The sun bore down on the island today, to mortals you suppose it would be far too hot but to you it was a perfect summer’s day.

You could hear the sound of your other older siblings chatting behind you, laughing and enjoying the day. It was rare the days you could see each other like this, most of your siblings had their own duties to tend to and even a few of them made their homes in other nations. You and your sister were still so young and you still had yet to figure out your places in the world, you were not like your siblings, not yet anyway.

“(Name), come here.” You heard the voice of your eldest brother call out to you from where he sat on the sand. You walked over and stood in front of your brother who was sitting by your other siblings. You felt him reach his hand up to brush some sand that you had gotten on your cheek. “Don’t want to get sand in your eyes, now do you?”

“No.” You shook your head and you felt his hand guide you to sit down in the sand, among your family. As you sat down your hand slipped from your skirt and all the hidden gems you found were laid out before you for all your siblings to see. You heard one of your older sisters laugh and grab you and picked you up and sat you on her lap, her hands coming to brush through your sandy hair with her delicate hands.

“Oh dear, it seems like sand has ruined your hair as well and I spent so much time on it before we came out here.” You heard your older sister give a heavy sigh before it faded into a light laugh. “Well I suppose it can’t be helped.”

You heard your eldest brother hum in thought before he stood up, collecting all your treasures you collected from the sea in his arms. “Well, I think I know just the place to keep these safe and get that sand out of your hair so our dearest sister will stop throwing such a fit.”

“Osial!” She spoke with a gasp while the rest of your sibling laughed at his words and her reaction. Your brother held a hand down to you, his other arm cradling your treasures. You took his hand and he pulled you to your feet and he walked forward, guiding you to the ocean.

You dove down into the salty water of the sea, the refreshing wave of coolness hit your skin. It has been so long since you have roamed freely in Liyue Harbor, let alone the sea. Your husband always hated you stepping into open waters in “fear” that something would attack you or that you would drown, both were physically impossible for you but your husband somehow had the constant belief that you must have been made of glass. Or what you thought was really the case is that you would have attempted to run away.

You swam to the depths of the sea, the wish coming to rub against your skin, almost like a cat seeking affection. You pushed away the seaweed and the algae that had grown here in your brother’s absence. You remember when your brother used to take you here, a temple hidden under the ocean’s surface. You and your sister used to use this place as your playground before you moved along to find your home, like baby birds leaving the nest, except you didn’t fly forever, your wings were clipped.

You pushed down that thought, he was dead now, he could not hold you down any longer. You swam into the ruins that were once a beautiful spectacle of art, now partially destroyed in your brother’s battle with your husband. You swam past rooms full of gems and gold of all sorts, your siblings’ treasures. Your childhood treasures took a different form, your little cove that your brother made for you was full of your seashells, sand dollars, and other precious little things you adored as a child. You dug through the piles of your treasures, looking for something, something you had left of your family that you had hidden away here as a child so as to not lose it, it was the last thing your father had given you before you and your sister came of age, and your parents disappeared.

You felt your hand wrap around the hilt of a dagger, you pulled it out from the pile. In your hand was a beautiful dagger made of coral. It seems a silly thing to have, but if you knew what it could do, it was made by a god to kill other gods but you could remember your father’s voice telling you...

“Be careful with this my dear, while this dagger is powerful it should only be a last resort for it can be used once. You must learn how to lean on your own power and learn how to hone it to protect yourself and others around you.”

It was something you wish you did not hide away because if you had it you might have avoided your fate. Having what you came for, you tucked the dagger away and began to swim back to the surface, trying to avoid looking at anything else, this was a graveyard of memories now, abandoned, forgotten. Some of them you heard stories about, being painted as villains in the history of Teyvat, but they were no such things. You knew who they really were, they were brother and sisters to you, husbands and wives to their spouses, sons and daughters to your parents, wherever they might be. They were your family, and because they did not win, they were painted as villains. That made you thin, you did not win, but Liyue adored you…

Wait…

You forgot…

History is written by the victors.

You returned to the harbor after changing out of your sopping wet dress, into a set of spare clothing you brought with. You heard Lumine and Paimon had returned from the abodes of the Adepti early yesterday but you have not seen them yet. After your encounter with Childe you discussed the terms of your deal with him, this dagger was the first of his requests but you had to remind him of the warning your father gave you, which he only nodded off. Under normal circumstances you would not have given such a thing to him but given recent events and Childe’s end of the deals, the risk was worth the rewards.

You climbed the stairs of the builds of Liyue Harbor, heading towards the Northland Bank where Childe told you to meet you, but it was later than expected, the swim took far longer than you remembered but perhaps your memory has slipped you in these last few thousand years or perhaps the waters have changed with the appearance of Liyue Harbor and the ships that came with it, far different from your days when much of Teyvat was the wilds.

As you approached the Northland Bank the attendant outside nodded and opened the door for you. The building of the interior of the back felt off putting as always, but this was something you could shrug off for the most part. You walked up to their counter and the woman behind it. “Excuse me, but is Childe here. I have an item he requested of me.”

“No, I’m afraid not but he did tell me to expect you, so I can give that to him upon his return.” The woman spoke to you politely, and based on her words it seems the Harbinger figured you may be late. “Unless you would like to give it to him personally in which case you may find him at Liuli Pavilion.”

“Oh no, that will not be necessary, just see to it that this gets delivered to him upon his return, and do be careful with it. Whatever you do, do not touch the blade.” You took out the dagger, the blade wrapped up in cloth and you handed it off to her which she seems to place in one of the compartments behind her with the most delicate movements. “Oh and do let Childe know when he wishes to speak with me again he may most likely find me at the docks, down by the water.”

“I will and do take care.” As you were about to give your farewell to her, you heard the door to the bank open and close. You glanced over your shoulder, just to catch a glimpse of who it was and you smiled when you saw who.

“Hello Lumine, Paimon.” You spoke to them so kindly but the moment they saw you, their smiles dropped. It took you a moment to piece together why but when you realized your smile faded as well. “I take it that you went to the place I spoke to you about?”

“…yes.” Lumine pressed her lips together, deep in thought of what to say to you next, and you could understand why. “…what was that place? Those chains?”

“Well…” you glanced over at the Fatui agent behind the counter and then back at Lumine. “Meet me at the docks when you are done with your business, I’ll explain everything to you there.”

“Alright.” Lumine gave you a nod and you turned to make your way outside, ready to spend the day to just relax. “Miss (Name)…”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

After what Lumine saw, it was the least she could say after seeing that…

—————————

Lumine and Paimon had just met with the two Adepti on Mount Hulao and Mount Aozang and were ready to head out to the Wangshu Inn to meet the last she was told about. She hiked through the tall grass of the karst. The grass tickled her legs as she traversed the landscape of Liyue.

“The place Miss (Name) told us about should be around here somewhere.” Lumine’s floating companion spoke in her high pitched voice. Lumine ran her hand along the stone that formed the base of the mountain, feeling past the vines that hid the stone from their eyes. “It has to be- ahh! Lumine!”

Lumine’s hand that was tracing the stone found what they were looking for, her hand met no stone and she fell back, past the vines, finding the entrance of the cave. Lumine fell flat on her ass upon her surprise entry into the cave, her floating friend flying down to join her in the dark place. The cavern was completely deprived of natural sunlight, the only thing lighting the carver were the large crystals of cor lapis that lit up the place. Lumine led them deeper and deeper into the cave, looking around as she did so, being cautious of her surroundings.

“Paimon wonders why Miss (Name) would have us come here, seems creepy.” Paimon was holding onto Lumine’s scarf, almost scared to let go.

“I don’t know, but she wouldn’t send us here if it wasn’t important to see.” Lumine replied as they made their way down the tunnel. Soon they came to the main area of the cave, a massive empty chamber but unlike the rest of the cave there was no cor lapis to light the way, only the light in the distance from the tunnel. It also felt painfully dry in the cave, like all the moisture was being sucked away. The dryness and the dustiness of the cave nearly sent Lumine into a coughing fit, Paimon was a different story with the dust who could not stop coughing after breathing it in. “It’s so dry in here, are you alright Pai- huh what’s that?”

In the center of the cave Lumine spotted something glowing that was thrown on the ground in the center of the chamber. She got closer to it and soon began to make out what it was, chains…

“What is this?” Lumine spoke, looking down at them in confusion. She kneeled down to get a closer look, they were chains of cor lapis, made with shackles that were clearly intended for something or someone. She also noticed how the ends of the chains seemed to meld into the stone so that if someone was locked up in here escape would be impossible. When she reached down to touch them a large pulse of energy spread throughout her body, sending shockwaves that immediately knocked her back onto the ground, flat on her back. Lumine sat up, looking down at the chains with even more confusion, but then it clicked for her. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

You were kept here.

“Are you alright Miss Lumine?” Childe had set up this meeting at Liuili Pavilion with Lumine and “the one who could break this stalemate,” as Childe referred to him as. It was over food since that was apparently common for business meetings in Liyue. “You look quite pale, are you ill?”

“Hm?” Lumine was snapped out of her thoughts by the man’s question, she was thinking about what she saw in that cave. Was that truly for you? If so, what did you do to deserve it? You seemed so kind, so generous to her and Paimon. Was this what you were referring to when you said this place holds too many painful memories for you? Lumine picked up her tea cup, looking down at the hot liquid that reflected her face. “I’m alright, just lightheaded from my travels.”

“That is good, I am glad you have nothing serious.” The man took a sip of his drink, his golden eyes closing slightly as he blew over the sip he was about to take.

“Yes I’m fine.” Lumine looked up at him and smiled before taking a sip of her own and setting the tea cup down on the table. “But thank you for asking, Mr. Zhongli.”

—————————

You sat at the docks once more, your feet dangling over the edge, your toes dipping into the water below. You hummed, folded your hands on your lap, and closed your eyes, enjoying the setting sunlight that hit your skin. You heard footsteps approaching you, but you recognized these. You opened your eyes and glanced over your shoulder at Lumine, she wore a smile but still looked frazzled probably after what she saw there. You patted the spot next to you, gesturing for her to sit. She sat down next to you but kept her legs pulled up so as to not get her shoes wet.

“I am guessing you want to know the story of that place?” You asked, watching her expression and you saw her eyes narrow a bit on the waters before the two of you. She nodded but did not say a word, probably not knowing what to say. “Very well, our story begins in ancient Liyue. I had many siblings, but one twin sister and the two of us took to a village, becoming its protectors. We lived there for many years, taking care of it, and avoiding the other gods of Liyue by pure chance. We became forgotten gods but we were content with that. One night when I was looking over the village, I met a man and we talked and he told me that one day Liyue will know who I am even if I was a forgotten goddess. Then one day, my sister left to explore Teyvat and I did not go with her.”

“You told me about that before, so your sister was a goddess?” Lumine asked, politely cutting in.

“Yes, she was or rather is I hope, if she is still alive. I did not wish to leave but without my sister there was no way I could protect the village alone, so without thinking I prayed and asked the god of Liyue to help protect my people, without thinking on the consequences. Many days passed before that came into being, my home was attacked and when I was almost killed he appeared.”

“Rex Lapis?”

“Yes, he defended this village, making good on his side of the contract, then there was mine. He asked…” You paused on your words, asked was not the right word for what happened. “… he said it was my duty on my end of the contract, since I said I would do anything that night when I prayed, to enter a life long contract with him, marriage. I refused, but Rex Lapis once said ones who break their contracts shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock, and that is what happened to me.”

“So that cave…”

“I was there for hundreds of years, five hundred years alone, that was my punishment. I remember the pain of those chains everytime I moved, the pangs of hunger, I may be immortal but one of the downsides of taking a human form is that you can feel the pain you just cannot die from it, and then there was the dryness of the cave making a fitting prison for the goddess of rain and moonlight.” You looked at Lumine’s face to see it one of pure horror, she actually looked like she was going to be sick. “You asked me why I did not mourn him, and to that I say why would I? I will not play the grieving wife and lie saying that I miss him. People praise my marriage to him, saying how devoted w e are to one another, my devotion was out of fear. I did not sit at his side as his equal, I sat at his feet, the equivalent of a pet. The only difference is that I was called wife.”

#yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere zhongli #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere rex lapis #yandere rex lapis x reader

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