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dellieghtful · 3 months ago

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LADS: Period Pain Simulator

🍓A/N: Yeah, I'm on my period too~ hope this can bring in a good laugh or two. This will be my bare minimum effort for the week since I have work tomorrow lol this is the fastest thing I was able to finish 2nite

SYNPOSIS: Period pain and men. That's it.

📍characters: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb (Separate) Looking to get notfied? Tag yourself here!

XAVIER

Actually volunteers to try it out to better understand how it goes for you during your monthly visit.

"This is actually fine". He says, before you crank up the pain at the highest level, there you could see Xavier succumbing to the pain, going all out on all fours on the floor. Gripping the area near his stomach, gasping out in pain. "Holy fucking shit!" He groans out, attempting to stand up by grabbing the edge of the chair before he stumbles over a non-existent bump on the floor and falls face-first on the floor.

Prefers to either crawl on all fours or drag his body from point A to point B because of the pain. You asked multiple times if he was okay but Xavier only responded: "Crank it up, I can take it".

He in fact, could not take it and ended up passing out on the floor and waking up to find himself on your couch with a pillow under his head and a blanket over his body.

"You know, you didn't have to go through it". You said, his head now resting against your lap as you comb through his very soft and messy hair.

"I did it so I could understand your pain. I don't want you to suffer all that and not get the comfort you deserve." He says, looking up at you as he holds your hand firmly against his chest. "I'll work hard to do more for you." He promises, placing a kiss against your hand.

"That's so sweet, you definitely deserve a good treat for all your trouble," you commented as you reached out to grab your phone. "I hope Charlie's bakery is open, we can have him deliver those cookies you like".

Xavier's smile twitches and slowly forms into a frown. He hated to admit it but Charlie's cookies are good and he definitely needed the comfort food after the hell he just went through. Xavier made sure to make a mental note to sneak into Charlie's bakery and nab his cookie recipes to make some for you during your period week.

ZAYNE

Being a doctor grants him the knowledge of understanding your monthly cycle and struggles so, being given the opportunity to actually try out the simulator was a chance for him to actually better understand how it affect the human body.

At first, everything was fine. The first two settings were tolerable and then he decided to crank it up a bit, that's where Zayne started to feel the actual roller coaster ride of hell.

Just to make matters worse, Greyson entered his office to discuss a new case they were expected to dive into in a few days.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Greyson asks, lifting his gaze from the documents and eyeing Zayne with much concern.

Zayne who was clearly uncomfortable with the hell he inflicted upon himself, stands at a very awkward position, with his hand on his couch holding for support and another attached to his hip in hopes adding pressure would somehow ease the pain.

"Never better". He responds with a tight smile. That same day, he came home to you with flowers of your favorite type and bags of your favorite meal. When you asked what it was all about, Zayne could only respond by pulling you in a tight hug and peppering you with the sweetest and softest kisses all over.

RAFAYEL

He passes out and doesn't make it pass through the first setting.

Cuddles you non-stop after waking up from his pain-induced experience.

Rafayel was basically attached to you like a newborn Koala, refusing to let go. "Come on Rafayel. I have work in a few minutes". You whine as you try to untangle yourself from Rafayel.

He whines and continues to grip your waist tighter as he sprawled himself on your couch like an octopus, trying to weigh you down.

"No! That was like hell for me, how much more would it be for you? Stay at home and let me take care of you, just this time". And when I tell you, Rafayel gives out the sweetest and cutest pout you'd ever seen, it's hard to say no to such sweet face.

With your leave for the day granted, Rafayel wasted no time in ordering you all your favourite meals and giving you all the kisses and cuddles he could offer before it was his turn to get all the cuddling and babying treatment from you.

SYLUS

A lot stronger than you think, he actually could handle the pain even if it was nearing the highest. But you could definitely tell he was about curl up any moment.

Sighing, you get up from your seat and walk towards him, wrapping your arms from behind and bring him closer to your body with your head resting upon his.

Sylus, suprised by your sudden gesture could only put out a small smile on his lips as he gently flips through the files he was so intrigued on reading.

"You know, you could call it quits and we can go out for some good seafood". You commented, hugging him a little tighter.

"And let you gloat about how I can't handle pain? Please. There are many things that I face on a daily, this is just a little bump on a road of trials". He comments, pulling you a little closer to him because whether he would admit it or not, your warmth and all that you are were enough to drive the pain away.

That same night, he burns the pain simulator to ashes, out of sight, out of mind

CALEB

Crumbles to the floor as you hit the highest setting on the simulator, groaning and panting on the floor as he tries to rub his stomach to ease the pain.

"Between getting shot and this, I'd choose getting shot any day". Caleb says, as he curls into a fetal position before changing forms and rolling himself on the floor like a log.

Doesn't pass out but chooses to drag his body from point A to B across the apartment, you could actually see him crawling towards the couch before collapsing on the floor with a loud thud.

Not long after, Caleb rips off the simulator from his body and pulls your body onto the couch for a long cuddle. "That shit was nasty, I can't believe that happens to you monthly!".

Afterwards, Caleb decided to make your day as special as he could. He pampered with all the things you could ever want and need because he cares for you that much. "I'll make sure to make it easier for you each day." He promises to you and he always kept his promises, making sure to fulfill your every request without complaint.

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b1eedthefreak · 2 months ago

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Boyfriend Bootcamp

daryl x girly!dramatic!reader

warnings: none! just fluff :3

⸻

It was laundry day in Alexandria, and while the rest of the community used it as an excuse to wear the same pair of cargo pants for the third day in a row, you treated it like a runway show.

You’d carefully picked out the cutest pair of jeans you owned—the ones that hugged just right—and a light pink tank top you’d found months ago but saved for a special day. Your hair was brushed, tied up in a pink ribbon you stole from Judith’s toy chest, and your lip gloss shimmered like you were about to star in a Y2K music video. You even dabbed on a little perfume you’d been rationing, because the apocalypse might’ve ended the world, but it wasn’t gonna kill your sense of fashion.

You stepped out of the house like it was the Met Gala of Alexandria, hips swaying, confidence radiating. And there he was. Daryl, standing with his arms crossed outside the mess hall, chewing on beef jerky like it had personally offended him, looking like a dusty Southern model in his sleeveless flannel and cargo pants.

You strutted right up to him, stopping in front him with a proud twirl.

“Well?” you asked, flashing him a dazzling smile.

He blinked. “Well what?”

You gasped, dramatically clutching your chest. “Daryl! Are you seriously not gonna say anything about the vision of beauty standing in front of you right now?”

He blinked again. “…You get a new belt or somethin’?”

You smacked his arm. “Oh my God. No! Daryl! I’m literally glowing right now. This outfit is a ten! I need you to act like I just stepped off a red carpet.”

He furrowed his brow, his gaze trailing down to your outfit like he was just now realizing it was different. “You look like you always do.”

You stared at him. “…Excuse me?”

“I mean—like, cute. You always look cute. S’why I didn’t say nothin’. Didn’t realize you were fishin’ for compliments.”

“I am not fishing!” you cried, throwing your hands up. “I’m requesting the bare minimum of boyfriend behavior!”

Daryl mumbled something under his breath and looked away.

You squinted. “What was that!?”

“I said… you look good. Real good. Pink suits ya. Makes ya look… y’know.”

You tilted your head. “Makes me look what?”

“Like my girl,” he muttered.

Your heart melted. Just a little. But still, you were a drama queen. And he deserved to suffer.

“I should make you do a boyfriend bootcamp,” you muttered, folding your arms. “Lesson one: when your girlfriend is clearly being the most beautiful gif you’ve ever seen, you tell her. Immediately. No hesitation.”

He huffed. “Ya spun around like a ballerina. Didn’t know what the hell was goin’ on.”

“I twirled…” you corrected. “That’s fashion drama, Daryl. You’re supposed to gasp and say something like, ‘Damn baby, is that outfit for me?’ Or be like, ‘I’d kill a man for you right now.’ Something hot and delusional!”

Daryl gave you a look. “I already would kill a man for you.”

You paused. “…Okay, true. But I want you to say it sometimes, too. For the vibes.”

Later that night…

You were brushing your hair out on the porch when Daryl came out with a blanket in one hand and a weirdly thoughtful expression on his face. He tossed the blanket over your shoulders and sat beside you, pulling you into his side.

“What’s on your mind Dixon?” you asked, resting your cheek on his shoulder.

He shifted a little. “I was thinkin’… maybe I could practice. Y’know. Bein’… more boyfriend-y. The way you like.”

You grinned immediately. “You mean dramatic?”

“Yeah. That,” he muttered. “So I, uh, wrote somethin’.”

Your jaw dropped. “You wrote a speech?”

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, and started reading with the flattest expression you’d ever seen.

“Damn, baby,” he read, monotone. “That outfit is so cute I forgot what day it is. I’d kill a man for you right now. I’d fight a bear. A real one. With teeth.”

You burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh…” he huffed, crumpling the paper. “I worked on that with Carol.”

You choked. “CAROL HELPED?!”

“She said if I didn’t say somethin’ soon, you were gonna start gettin’ your compliments from Aaron instead.”

You were crying laughing now, burying your face in his chest.

“I love you so much,” you gasped between giggles. “This is the best thing I’ve ever heard!”

He grumbled something under his breath but wrapped both arms around you and kissed your hair.

You looked up at him. “Wanna hear my dramatic line now?”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Do I?”

You leaned in close, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “You’re the hottest man in the apocalypse. Even when you forget to compliment me….”

He huffed. But the corner of his mouth twitched.

“…Still think pink’s your color,” he murmured.

You beamed. “See? That’s all I wanted.”

⸻

a/n: i hope you guys love girly reader x daryl as much as i do!!

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon smut #twd daryl #daryl dixon imagines #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #norman reedus #daryl dixon twd #twd fanfiction

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inosukijiro · 2 months ago

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✮⋆˙ cuddles with dean

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ dean learns to be a little selfish.

𖤐 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ deans my cutie little lovebug and i just want him to sleep peacefully this is my dream and i definitely got carried away writing this (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) okay bye

𖤐 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ fluffy fluff with angst(?). cuddles. mentions of deans time in hell, and his low self-esteem. dean-centric. gender-neutral reader. modern reader in spn. isn’t really season specific, but set anytime after season 4. probably ooc (again). i may have rushed at the end, sorry. 2.68k words.

─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

It takes Dean a long time before he ever allows himself to be put in this position — vulnerable, open, seen. It’s not something he does. It’s not something he can do, or at least, not that easily. His life has never really been about him. Every good thing he’d ever done, every ounce of effort or care, it’s always been for someone else: Sam, Dad, the job. He’d never done anything for himself that didn’t somehow bleed into someone else. And even then, it never felt like enough.

Sam is his little brother, his responsibility. He raised him, he bled for him, he died for him. Dean had went to Hell with Sam’s name carved into every broken piece of him. Most people wouldn’t do that. But Dean Winchester isn’t most people. He’s his father's little soldier, the good son, the obedient one. There was never room for anything else. Never any space to figure out who he was outside of someone else's shadow. He didn’t belong to himself. Not when he was Sam’s guard dog. Not when he was John’s perfectly crafted weapon.

Dean hates himself — that much is obvious. He doesn’t need to say it out loud because he’s pretty sure that everyone already has that figured out, even if he wants to pretend that it isn’t true. It shows in the way he moves, the way he talks, the way he tears himself down before anyone else can get the chance to. He calls himself selfish, even though everything he’s ever done has been for the sake of everyone else. But he doesn’t see it that way. Dean never has. To him, sacrificing everything he is was just the bare minimum. That’s what he should do. Because what is he, if not useful? What is he, if not needed?

He’s so used to standing alone, to being the last line between the people he loves and the things that want to tear them apart. He'd rather it be him than anyone else — because somewhere along the way, he decided that his life just doesn't hold the same worth. Not like Sam's. Not like yours. And he hates that it hurts, but he also hates that he even thinks about wanting anything at all. Because wanting is selfish. Needing is selfish. And comfort? That’s not something Dean thinks he’d ever be allowed.

He’s touch-starved. He’s touch-starved in a way that's ingrained deep within his bones, but he’s convinced himself that this is just how it’s supposed to be. That he doesn’t get softness. Doesn’t get warmth. Doesn’t get to be held, or healed, or cared for. And if he ever lets himself want it — if he ever lets someone close enough to see how tired he is — then what does that make him? Weak? Needy?

Yeah, it takes Dean a long while to let himself be put in this position — in your arms, safe, and loved, and for him to think that maybe he does deserve it. Even if he hasn’t earned it the way he thinks he’s supposed to. When it's so clear that all you want is to give it to him, no strings attached. It’s like coaxing a wild animal – careful, patient, and slow. You never corner Dean with affection, never overwhelm him with your gentle nature he doesn’t think he’s allowed to want. You just exist in his space, solid and steady, a quiet kind of constant that doesn’t ask for anything in return. And maybe that’s what gets to him most, that you don’t expect him to earn your kindness. You’re just there. And over time, that simple act starts to chip away at something inside him, something he didn’t even realize was still breakable.

It started with the smallest things. Your fingers brushing against his whenever you pass him something. The way you rest your hand on his arm when patching him up. They’re nothing, really — just harmless touches that you probably don’t even think about twice. But Dean does. He thinks about them more than he should. At first, he tells himself it's because he's not used to it. But the truth is, he misses it when it's gone. And that terrifies him. Because wanting something for himself? That’s not in the job description. That’s not who he’s supposed to be.

So when you get together and the cuddling starts, it’s always him as the big spoon. Of course it is. That’s who Dean is — the protector, the shield. He doesn’t let himself be held, not yet. He keeps watch even in the deepest of sleeps and in the darkest of nights, as if danger might strike at any moment. But your warmth seeps into him, like sunlight soaking into skin long starved of it. Dean’s drawn to you in a way that he hasn’t been drawn to anyone or anything before. His hand drifts to your chest, his breath soft and calm against your shoulder. It’s never deliberate, not at first, but over time it happens more often — these small, tender trespasses into comfort. And soon one day, without thinking, he simply lets himself fold right into you.

Dean revels in it more than he’ll ever admit. The way he fits so nice and easily in your arms — like he was always meant to be there. His head rests just above your heart, breathing synced with yours in the kind of rhythm that makes the world feel quiet for once. He's tucked into you so firm, your arms wrapping around him to secure him to you. As if in that moment, if something were to come through those motel doors, they would have to pry Dean from your cold dead hands. Because right now, he’s hidden from the world by the comforter that lays gingerly over him. It comes right up to his head, only his hair is visible to anyone that dare to even check. The only person that can truly see him is you.

And Dean loves the little things that you do. Like how your fingers will trace shapes into the back of his neck, absent-minded and soft, like you’re painting calmness directly into his skin. Sometimes he wonders if you're drawing sigils or love notes, or just letting your touch wander. He doesn’t care what it is, though, just to be clear. He doesn’t care what you do. It leaves him feeling weightless, like his body is finally remembering what it feels like to be safe. That sensation, those tingles running down his spine, are enough to anchor him in the moment. And when everything else in his life has been chaos and guilt, and war — your touch is the one thing that doesn’t ask anything of him.

Which reminds him why he loves your hands. The way they move with such care, so soft it nearly breaks him into pieces. They’re nothing like his own — scarred, calloused, blood-soaked and burned by the weight of a world he never had a choice in. Your hands don’t carry the same kind of grief. They don’t know what it’s like to be dragged through Hell, to scream for years that don’t exist in time, to become the thing he swore he’d never be. He still remembers every second of it, every moment he was the one on the rack — the one being tortured, and worse, becoming the torturer. And somehow, your hands still touch him like he’s someone worth such devotion.

That’s what gets to him the most. Your hands are from a place far far away, untouched by the things that plague his. There are no hunts or horrors quite like this life. And it’s that contrast that makes his mind wander. Because how could someone like you, with your soft hands and open heart, want someone like him? Someone who hates himself, who always puts others before himself and still believes he’s selfish for wanting anything in return. But even with all of that, even with everything screaming that he shouldn’t take it, he does.

And you don’t mind. It surprises Dean the most how you completely and effortlessly don’t mind. He keeps waiting for the catch sometimes, for the moment when you pull away or start to expect something in return. But it never comes. Not with you. You let him hold on as tightly as he needs to, let him drape his weight across you like he’s something heavy and fragile all at once. His strong arms lock around your waist, pressing you close like he’s afraid of being pulled away. And even when his body sinks into yours like a living blanket — too warm, too much — you never pull away. If anything, you melt right into him, and he basks in that. In you.

You’d never complain. Dean doesn’t know if anything he does actually bothers you — nothing ever seems to — but that doesn’t stop him from overthinking. He worries about taking too much, about letting himself get too comfortable in a role he was never allowed to want. He questions if he’s too heavy, if he’s clinging too tightly, if maybe it’s selfish to crave softness when his whole life has been about giving it away. Sometimes, all it takes is a subtle shift from you, a stretch or a sigh, and his brain darkens with guilt. He’ll apologize under his breath, pulling back just slightly, ready to undo the comfort he let himself believe he could have. But you notice — of course you notice — and you meet it with tenderness, never rejection.

You resettle without hesitation, like you want him there, and he almost can’t handle how gently you handle him. You stroke the back of his neck with featherlight fingers, your arms curling around his broad frame as if you’re telling him to stay — that he’s safe. You press soft kisses to the crown of his head, murmuring reassurances in a voice that wraps around his heart like a warm blanket. It undoes him. Every single time.

You might shift again, though this time it's much more gentle and slow, but Dean will barely register it. He’s just barely treading the line of that quiet space between sleep and wakefulness, just conscious enough to feel the warmth of you wrapped around him. And suddenly, a low, involuntary sound escapes him — so low that Sam who’s been long asleep couldn’t hear. It’s soft, almost like a whine, and you’re pretty sure if he were awake enough to notice, he’d probably deny it ever happened. But you do hear it, and it pulls a quiet laugh from your throat; a breathy sound laced with fondness and it tickles at Dean's brain. Though a sleepy pout tugs at your lips, even as you smile, and you lean in close to whisper a little teasing, “What’s wrong, hm?” but you already know. You know exactly what he wants, what he needs, because you’ve come to understand him in ways no one else ever has.

Your hand finds its way into his hair, still a little damp from the shower — the strands soft like clouds and a few curl slightly at the ends. Your fingers scratch lightly at his scalp, in slow and soothing consistent movements, while your other hand rests along his back; drawing slow, tender circles that feel like medicine to his aching and tension-filled body. You coo something nice, something sweet that melts into the space between you. It makes his mind go fuzzy and causes him to drift deeper. You don’t care that he’s heavy, or clingy, or quiet — you just want him to feel good. To be cared for, completely and unconditionally. And in this moment, that’s exactly what he lets you do. He doesn’t fight it. He can’t.

Your kisses are the softest sound he’s ever heard. Little clicks as your lips part from his skin, quiet and sweet and endlessly patient. Every single one makes him burrow closer, hiding his face like he could melt straight into you. He’s not embarrassed, not really — that wouldn’t be the correct word anyway — but his cheeks are warm, and he knows you’re amused by the way your chest rumbles with a quiet laugh. It makes him press in deeper, his face tucked away and eyelashes fluttering against your skin like a shy confession. And you take that as permission, because of course you do; pressing slow kisses across his cheeks, along his brow, the curve of his nose — anywhere your mouth can reach really and Dean just lets you. He can’t quite reach your lips from the angle he’s trapped himself into, he knows that, but he still tries to return the affection anyway. He’ll drowsily nudge kisses against your collarbone, or your shoulder, or anything he can manage.

And you call him such sweet things while you do it. They’re soft pet names that make him ache. Honey. Sweetheart. Words that never felt like they belonged to him before, but somehow, coming from you, feel like they do. He doesn’t know why you calling him sweetie makes his chest tight in a way that isn’t derived from panic or just something bad — but it does. But it’s also the way you say his name that gets him the most. The way it rolls off your tongue, syrupy and lovely, like something precious. You make his name sound beautiful. And Dean doesn’t know how you do it, how you take a name he’s only ever heard barked in anger or strained with urgency and turn it into something tender.

Your hand leaves his back for a moment and he misses the weight of it instantly — until he feels the soft brush of your fingers along his jaw. He sucks in a breath as you trace the edge of it with the back of your knuckle before cupping his cheek, stroking it with the pad of your thumb like he’s something delicate. He leans into it without meaning to, something quiet and needy pulling him into the warmth of your palm. You’re having fun with it, doting on him like he’s your favorite thing — and yeah, he is. He feels it in the way you touch him, in the way you look at him like he’s soft and worth loving. Dean’s never been cherished like this, not even close — and it makes him feel dizzy, overwhelmed in the best way possible. Dizzy and safe. Always safe, always with you.

It melts his heart and terrifies him at the same time. The way you treat him with so much care, so much softness, like he’s something worth keeping. And as much as he craves it, as deeply as his wretched soul aches for it, he still doesn’t believe he’ll ever actually deserve it. He tells himself he should pull away in the last conscious moments he has — but he doesn’t. He won’t. Because he let this happen. He let you in. Let the warmth of your love root itself in him until it was too deep to tear out without causing pain. Until not leaning into it hurt way worse than anything else.

Dean doesn’t know how he ended up here, wrapped up in arms that want nothing from him except for him to exist, but he gave up trying to make sense of it a long time ago. He can’t seem to make himself care about the why, though, not when you don’t seem to either. And maybe that does make him selfish because he’s finally allowing himself to be. Sure, maybe there’s a whisper of guilt that still creeps into the corners of his mind, but you always chase it out with a kiss, or a soft word, or a tender look. And in these quiet, sacred moments, where his mind is just full of thoughts of you — he can’t think of Hell. He can’t think of all the horrors and pain and suffering. Just you. Sweet and gentle, and wonderful you. And somewhere in the deep dark of the night, Dean wonders why he was so against being selfish sooner.

𖤐 .ᐟ dean winchester hit me up, im always available just lmk (๑>؂•̀๑)

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #spn x reader #spn x you #spn x y/n #spn #no use of y/n #no y/n #reader insert #modern!reader #supernatural x y/n #dean winchester fic

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numinousher · 6 months ago

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TOUCH ── sylus.

summary: touches with whispered promises

note: thank you again for helping me @an-ever-angry-bi

“I’m mad at you.”

Words have never scared Sylus more than those words uttered by the love of his life that has his heart in her hand.

His face maintained stoic, not wanting her to hear the way his heart skipped at the words and the way his head immediately recounted his whole entire day to try to determine what he did or said wrong.

“For what, sweetie?” He softly asked, leaning back on the chair of his office. His eyes ran over your figure, admiring your pretty pouty face and the way your brows were furrowed so cutely while you wore a necklace he bought you for your anniversary. He patted his lap. “Come here and tell me.”

You walked to him with a small huff and plopped on his lap.

“I'm a very independent woman,” you said in a very serious tone.

“I know, sweetheart, and I love that for you.”

“I can fight.”

“Nothing turns me on more than you defending yourself,” Sylus continues to comment in a low tone, his fingers softly running up and down your arm while he doesn't stray away from your side profile.

“I can shoot someone.”

“I told you I can get a gun engraved with our names on them, sweetie,” he says, his lips softly brushing your neck, placing small kisses.

“And I can be by myself.”

“Sadly.”

“So, why the hell do I yearn for your single presence and touch when I haven’t seen you in hours?” You groaned out, subconsciously craning your neck as he grabs your waist. “Not even that, I get upset when you don’t respond for two hours. Two!”

He darkly chuckles. “It seems this kitty who loves baring her fangs loves being coddled, hmm?” His nose brushes against the pulse of your neck, softly inhaling your scent. “You want me to text you more often?”

“Please?”

“Whatever you want,” he muttered on your neck. “I hope you know, though, the way you’re so… independent, so badass that you can handle yourself, so headstrong…” his lips moved close to the shell of your ear as his words turned whispered. “The things you do to me.”

“You really like that about me?”

“If you were to stab me, I would stab myself deeper into the blade to meet your fingertips holding the handle,” he whispered as if he was sharing a secret, his glistening ruby colored eyes meeting yours. “My body yearns for your touch that I wouldn’t care about dying at your hands. I’ll die happy just getting to brush against your skin.”

You let out a shuddered breath as his lips hovered over yours. He nudged his nose against your own, glancing at your lips.

“You’re crazy…” you commented with no malice at all.

He smiled a little. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“How so?” He continued to speak in a low tone. “Because I would let you kill me? Because I would get on my knees to worship you like you deserve to? Call me crazy all you want, sweetie, I just want you in ways you don’t know.”

He presses his lips against yours, savoring your taste with a soft moan, relishing in the way your body felt underneath his fingertips.

He backed away and looked into your eyes again with dilated pupils.

“Anything happens to you,” he started, his hand placing itself on your cheek so the pad of his thumb could rub itself over your bottom lip, “I will set this stupid world on fire, you hear me?” You slowly nod. “Ask me for whatever, ask me for anything you want, I will gladly do anything because if I can set this world on fire for you, I will do anything you want before you could breathe. You want me to text you more? Done. Want to go on more dates? I will personally buy every restaurant with your favorite food so you could enjoy it without disturbance. That’s fine with you?”

“Yes… thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Ask me for the moon, stars, anything, it’s yours,” he tilted his head to the side with a small smile you couldn’t help but smile, too. “It’s called the bare minimum, sweetie.”

“Sy, that is not—” he cuts you off with a chuckle, his fingers moving from your bottom lip to your neck.

“Bare minimum. Never thank me for being the boyfriend you deserve,” he softly spoke, pressing soft kisses on your lips. He savored each one. “Now come on. Let’s go on a trip.”

“It’s 10 at night?” You questioned, almost perplexed

“You should be getting used to unexpected trips, sweetie,” he chuckled, helping you get up. He got up next, hovering over your figure. He rubbed your cheekbone softly. “Can’t have people thinking I can’t treat my girl right, hmm?”

“God, I’m in love with you.”

“And I’m in love with you,” he kisses you once again. “Come on. The jet should be ready. Don’t worry about clothes. I’ll buy you anything you want once we get there.”

“Ugh, you’re so hot.”

“Mmm, compliment me more, sweetie, we might do some things in the jet.”

#sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus qin #l&ds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus x you #sylus imagine

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babyleostuff · 5 months ago

Text

�� first date with performance unit

[ 🍵 ] how they would spoil their partner, what they would be like taking them out for the first time & what they would plan to make them feel special

jun

place: cat/dog cafe

what they would do to make you feel special: he’d have your coffee/tea order + favourite baked goods memorised (to the point where if they didn’t have what you’d usually order, jun would know what you’d take instead)

what they would be like taking you out: jun would be the epitome of sweet and precious, because mans wouldn't be able to stop smiling. seriously, the grin he'd have on his face would be low-key concerning because how can someone smile for that long, but at the same time, he'd make you feel so at peace and comfy with his gentle persona

“they are so us,” jun giggled and pointed at two cats trying to claw each other's eyes out.

you shook your head and took a sip from your cup. if it was anyone else you’d start wondering if they even liked you, because comparing you to a rather aggressive cat was not on your top 10 compliments list, nor was it something you’d like to hear on a first date.

but the boy in front of you was far from “anyone else”.

“you’re feisty,” jun pointed at the black cat, “just like her.”

before you could think through what you were about to say next, you blurted out, “well, at least now we know who’ll wear the pants in our relationship.”

it was safe to say that jun looked like an angry tomato for the rest of the date.

hoshi

place: laser tag

what they would do to make you feel special: if you’d end up on opposite teams, soonyoung would do anything to let your team win (he’d be so proud in thinking he was being sooo sneaky about it) because seeing you happy is so much better than winning (you’re the only exception though, anyone else - the fight is on)

what they would be like taking you out: this man is too unpredictable to know for sure how he’d act, but generally speaking it could go either two ways: 1 - soonyoung would be filled with so much energy, beaming with happiness and just so much affection for you that you’d have a hard time knowing what he’d even be on about (lovingly), 2 - he’d turn into a stressed little guy that just wouldn’t be able to believe that he’s on a date with you??? you gorgeous creature said yes to go out with him??? no one pinch him, because if it’s still a dream he doesn’t want to wake up. this version of him would be quite quiet, but in a soonyoung way quiet

“stop!” you laughed, quickly looking back to see if hoshi was still running after you.

and running he was. more like charging at you at full speed, to be honest, with a fake gun in his hand and devilish grin on his face.

“you’re not going to get away this time!” he yelled back, getting closer to you with each step. and there was no way you’d outrun him, na-ah.

“it’s not how you play this game,” you said and bursted out in a fit of laughter, as soonyoung wrapped his strong arms around your frame, engulfing you in a sweaty hug.

“i don’t care,” he giggled, pulling you closer. “the game is over for me anyway, now that i’ve got you”.

mingaho

place: painting class

what they would do to make you feel special: he’d be the best listener. i know that is the bare minimum, but at the same time the bare minimum is in hell so… yeah. you’ll never meet a better listener than hao, who could sit on the uncomfortable wooden chair, covered in paint and listen to you for ages

what they would be like taking you out: such a gentleman, to the point where you start wondering if it’s not a dream. gentle, funny, kind, understanding, charming - you could go on for forever trying to describe minghao. all of that said, though, hao would honestly be so so nervous, because come one… so many things could go wrong… and he seriously liked you. like really really liked you.

“how the hell did you manage to get your paints to look like that?” you pointed at hao’s palette that was full of pretty colours, unlike yours. unfortunately.

“hm?” he mumbled and looked over at your station. you could see the smile forming on his gorgeous face, but since he was the textbook definition of a green flag, whatever you want to call it, he quickly composed himself and pointed at the paints in front of him. “just mix this and this.”

“uh, yeah,” you huffed, “i did the same and mine looks like shit. literally.”

this time he couldn’t help but laugh. “let me help, yeah?”

dino

place: a board game cafe

what they would do to make you feel special: he’d try his best to play all of your favorite board games, because one thing about chan - he sucks at understanding game rules (seriously, all of his brain cells would be sweating to understand the game). so it’d truly be heartwarming how this precious boy would try so hard to understand what would be going in front of him.

what they would be like taking you out: stressed. and. nervous. as. fuck. he just doesn’t want to mess it up, okay? chan knows he’s handsome and pretty and funny and charming, BUT IT DOESN’T MATTER!!! all of his rational thinking flies out of the window whenever he’s around you, and “what were you saying, i was too busy staring at your beautiful eyes”. shakes like a leaf the whole time.

you could clearly see a question mark forming above chan’s head, as you tried explaining the rules for the third time. usually, you’d be quite annoyed at the person for still not getting what you were saying, but he looked so adorable, with his big puppy eyes and all, that you had to stop yourself from cooing out loud.

“i’m sorry,” chan said, looking down. “i’m just not the best at understanding games.”

you leaned over the table and put your hand over his. his head whipped up so quickly you wondered whether he didn’t pull a muscle doing that.

“it’s okay, channie,” you smiled at him. “we can play something else, y’know?”

he shook his head, and scooted his chair to sit closer to you. “no, no. let’s try again. i promise i’ll get it this time”.

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rheitais · 6 months ago

Text

DP X DC One shooting star later. Pt 2.

This might be my new brain rot. Thanks to @scho17 for the after math I was giggling reading about the joker being stunned, Dick growing gray and B having a mild conundrum.

I feel like Joker was getting ready to stream this to gotham but was stunned before he could start. The reason the bats are there is because they were already tracking the Nightingales for a completely different reason. For example, Maddie, Jazz and Ellie are having a girl's night with Selina, Harley and Ivy. (See 1.5 for interactions) Dante and Danny somehow end up in the middle of one or another rouges plan one way or another, always together. Jazz literally wants to be a therapist in Gotham. Jack and Maddie are terribly good at their engineering jobs.

Bruce firmly believes Jack is a meta or non-human of some kind and asks Clark to come to a gala to prove a point. After Clark interacts with Jack and sees Bruce cause for concern but after x-raying the man, Clark tells Bruce he looks completely human inside. Bruce tasks Damian to befriend Ellie since they were both in the same grade and some of the same classes. Little did Bruce know that would contribute to the greatest youngest sibling alliance.

Of course not being from this universe, Tim and Babs figure that the Nightingales essentially never existed and even the city they are from doesn't exist. Well not in the state they claim to be from. So Tim prioritizes getting close with the twins since they are close in age to get some answers or at least get them to slip up.

Though anytime they as bats approach them, the Nightingales scatter. Avoid contact and avoid talking to them completely. If they catch Ellie alone in a park or on the sidewalk she will start running, running until she is either back in safe haven called home or near one of her older siblings. If they catch the twins, the older one will either yank the other behind him before telling him to "book it" and cover his twin escape or the younger one will throw a weird stick and hit the bat square on the head before retrieving it and running off. If they catch up to Jazz, she would walk up with a smile before pulling out a gun and vaguely stating "Yeah you have the suit but I can see your face and at the bare minimum I know I don't need to worry about you being human or cryptic, I've had a very long midterm from hell so if you would excuse me I have better things to be doing" before walking away. As for the parents, Jack rarely goes out enough to be caught. As for Maddie, gave both Nightwing and Red Robin good kicks to the ribs.

[ Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Masterpost ]

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dp x dc prompt #dc x dp prompt #dan phantom #batfam #bruce wayne #damian wayne #tim drake #barbara gordon

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itsrlymine · 1 month ago

Note

Hey it's me again ♡

Remember when I said I'm manifesting a husband/wife that will spoil me rotten? I got one!

Kinda, lemme explain. Long story tho.

I'm like super introverted and a homebody despite being a shopaholic lol, so if I wanted someone, they'd have to literally appear from the sky because all my socials are private, I have like 2 friends, I don't like going out often and the area I live in now is bougie so people don't really walk around.

I even downloaded dating apps thinking I could help speed up my manifestion (how silly of me 😔🙄), and yeah I got a ton of matches and likes but no one fit my list to the T, so I just deleted the apps and waited.

One day I received flowers. The security that delivered them had told me someone had sent it to me but didn't say who they were. Obviously now I'm confused because the only people I know who would send me flowers are my glucose guardians and they told me it wasn't them so...

A few days later I'm sent expensive ass chocolate and a number on a card. I call the number and I kid you not when I say the voice that answered back had me 😳🫠

He asked me out on a date, and obviously I said yes, at this point I already knew he was who I was manifesting, I mean look at the circumstances.

I met him officially and he was a dream. Every single thing I wanted physically and personality wise was all there, which is crazy because I scripted very specific details down and he checks all my boxes. Wealthy, sweet, gorgeous, tall, a nerd, british, respectful, long hair, loves legos, etc. The only thing that I never specified was gender.

Here's the crazy part.

He told me he saw me while I was grocery shopping and couldn't get me out of his head ever since. He followed me home and asked the security at my place to give me the flowers he bought.

Is that creepy? Absolutely.

Do I care? No.

When I say I like mine obsessed, I mean it. I don't recommend, because to each their own, but to me this is the bare minimum. I want my partner to be straight out of wattpad. Yeah it could've gone horribly, but I know how to manifest, so how the hell could it go wrong?

We've been on some dates and he is the one. He spoils me rotten, treats me like a queen, speaks to me like an equal, gives me tons of affection, asks me to tell him what I'm wearing out so he can match with me and sends me pics of the lego sets he's built because he wants compliments. He's so cute istg.

He also wants me to call it off with my glucose guardians because he wants to be the only one providing for me (as he should) 🤭

It took me a while to manifest this one because I've wanted to marry someone but wasn't sure if that's what I really wanted, or what my family expects of me. But after everything else I manifested, I thought why not try it out? If I don't want to anymore, I'll just manifest them away or whatever.

We're not married nor engaged yet, but trust that I'll send you an invite to the wedding if you want to come. It's gonna be glamours so you gots to be there babes. Like seriously, I don't mind dming all the deets if you wanna be there.

um babes you know I will def show up omg. I love this omg yesssss ugh it's so easy and fun omg. all you have to "do" is decide it's already done and it is. heavy on if you don't want them anymore, they can just go back to wherever they came from fr. no need to put pressure on yourself. LMAOOO Is that creepy? Absolutely. Do I care? No. I'M CRYING OMG PLSS. Just be safe my love but period!

#I'm crying omg plsss #y'all are too funny #♡ anon #itsrlymine #anon ask #law of assumption #imagination is reality #loa tumblr #lawofassumption #loa success #manifesting success #success story #loassumption #manifesting

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evilminji · 14 days ago

Text

I just REALIZED SOMETHING and it's making me smile?

You know that trope of "well shit, I've been reborn, but like? I need to make a living (so I can survive). So I deeply apologize Actual Authors, it's time to plagiarize the shit out of some stuff!"

In SVSSS? (Or other Xanxia novels of your choosing) Demons?? Would LOVE the absolute SHIT out of some good ol fashioned Klingon and/or Mandalorian Poetry.

Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong.

Violence? Honor? Proving yourself worthy, even as you admire the raw strength of the subject of the poem? Go ahead! Compare that sunset to the fine edge of a blade! That great beauty to the thrill of battle! Tell me! Would she fell a thousand souls? Would your love bring EMPIRES TO ASH AT YOUR FEET?! Crown him in glory! Speak of the STARS you would seize for this child!

The "Translations From Far Away Lands" would be THE hottest book. Hands down.

You'd have to be ILLITERATE not to own it. Some sort of unromatic, uncultured, back water SWINE. What self respecting demon CAN'T quote a few pages? Doesn't have at LEAST one favorite phrase? Do you even HAVE a heart that beats?!

Imagine the Chaos.

You get reborn. Not far from the Divide between worlds. Well shit... that's not ideal. But hey, you can't still turn this around! It's not like your years of Nerd Contemplations are for nothing! Much like a certain Cucumber, you ALSO sorta had a low-key plan. Never thought you'd USE it... but like? Guess life decided to have a laugh. Jokes on you, I GUESS.

You have a system. It's not a railroad-y Plot Supervisor System. It's a Spin-Off/Prequel/Regressor Story System. Yeah, their depart has a LOT of overlap. Things can change super fast, one way or another. You gotta adapt. Spin the New Plot in whatever way makes for the best Story.

Obviously? You don't trust it. This seems surprisingly chill. (Oh, it is, my beautiful lil butterfly. For YOU. Everyone else is gonna be in Hell. Please continue to cause problems! Thank you for all your hard work~☆) But, you guess you'll go with it? (Oh please do~☆)

First problem? You need to eat. Everything sucks and all these fuckers are bastards. Social safety nets? Whoms't?? Forget cultivation, first you need to Not Starve. Thank god for basic education. It really DOES open a lot of doors. You can crunch numbers, write notes, sit at a desk for people. It pays.

And? You notice? All these "I'm DEFINITELY a human. Don't ask questions you can't afford and won't survive" Distinguished Quests? Complain about insipid Human Culture and Poetry.

Huh.

You take a look.

......not gonna lie. It's? Pretty basic. Milk toast. "Your lips are like flowers" and "you are a butterfly" Sort of thing. Where is the imagery? The romance? The ANGUISH or PASSION? The humble, lasting adoration? For fucks sake. At least compare me to something that doesn't suggest my weakness and an obsession with youth alone!

So you brush off your nerd cred. Turn towards you System. Hey. You got ANYTHING in your Market... Right? (Yeeeeees? Why?) *purchases both Klingon and Mandalorian Poetry Classics, Volume 1* (OH~?) Because GUESS WHO CAN READ THESE? And, more importantly, TRANSLATE these.

Do you take credit? No. It feels wrong. But will you sell your TRANSLATIONS? Oh absolutely. Gimme my money. You'll absolutely credit the real authors, but a b*tch gotta live, damn it. And rice does not buy itself.

It? Goes? Gang busters.

Talk of the town. It's horrible! Violent! A perversion of literature! Say the humans. No one should EVER buy it! Or READ it! (So obviously everyone does.) The Demons? Have found THE single book from humans they can all agree they, bare minimum, at least kinda like. The majority LOVE it.

A certain Heavenly Demon LOVES it. It is, no joke, the move emotionally evocative poetry he's ever read. Granted, he's more of a smut guy. But STILL! Those other books? Are for fun. THIS? Is for EMOTION. For ROMANCE.

Sects try to ban it. Nobles try to ban it. Predictably, that only makes the problem worse.

You get your fuckin rice. A better winter jacket. Can finally quit your shit job. Take for a... slightly suspect (who's blood is this?) (Don't ask questions you don't actually want the answers too~ ^-^) Cultivation guide.

Send Volume 2 out for print.

The fall out is unhinged.

People think you're a Demon. Some demons want in their court. Others want to marry you. Still others want you dead. The humans? Oh how DARE the demons suggest they have a culture of their own! That they may be more then just animals, to be blamed for all wickedness, and slaughtered in mass. Demons? Capable of EMOTION? Kill it! Kill it before it gives people IDEAS!!!

You just wanted to eat, man. Publish more, out of spite.

Just? A one person LIBRARY of pop culture. A repository of nerdom. And all the stories that come with it. Wandering around, dropping Cultural bombs on the unsuspecting Martial World. Not confronting. Not arguing. Just... *slides a book across the table. Waits* Knowing that natual human curiosity will do the rest.

That the younger generations WILL read what they are specifically told not too. Because it's not like there's and dangerous techniques in there! It's just "degenerate". And? Much like the scare mongering around weed?

Once you find out that it's NOT going to instantly kill you, as warned? That's "not THAT bad"? Or at worst "meh", in your personal opinion? Well... what ELSE are they wrong about?

You can't hide forever~

All while the System is quietly cackling. Leading its lil Butterfly on a merry little wing flapping adventure. Fucking with the timeline, so the Regressors (orders finally came down from on high! This is a Regressor Story! But.... not for you!) get to have a HELL of a time, trying to manage "the timeline" they once knew. Makes for an interesting Plot, you know!

(200B points! If you include that poem about rumor mongering being a blade in the back!)

*various Cultivators take highly pointed psychic damage*

(Nyehehehehe~ >:3c )

#minji's writing #svsss #star wars #star trek #klingon #Mandalorian #xanxia #their is SO MUCH OVERLAP #Tell me they wouldn't LOVE each other #and also throw down #tfw your nerd cred saves your life #mxtx svsss #svsss oc

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sstrwbrryccke · 1 year ago

Text

— bullying him pt.3 | sub soobin

part 1 | part 2 | part 4

tags: loser!nerd!soobin x bully!mean!reader, gn reader, possessive reader, mentions of possessive acts, pet play slightly, dubcon, tons of public humiliation, public sex, bullying, mutual pinning with heavy denial, both are obsessed for each other, unhealthy relationships, reader is pretty sadistic, foot on crotch, exhibitionism, handjob, multiple orgasms, public fondling, fluff at end

tag: @zuzuhasablog

you tapped an impatient foot on the ground, periodically checking your phone for the time. he was late by 2 minutes now, and you feel your irritation rise as you type snarky texts to him. how was it that you were the one who came early to the pity date? it was seriously ridiculous. shouldn’t he be on time to the date he looked forward to?

yn: where tf are you? loser: im sorry im sorry im so sorry im coming right now yn: im going to pull your hair out when i see you mutt. loser: im sorry please forgive me

if it turned out that he had stood you up, you were seriously going to rain hell on him. he’s going to get shoved into the locker, have his hair roughly grabbed and face thoroughly punched until he’s bloodied and bruised. though perhaps it wouldn't be that much of a punishment compared to your usual bedroom activities with him. he would probably enjoy the process too; as it meant all your attention was on him. you realised after a bit that he really was a desperate. masochistic. mutt. (or maybe he just craves your validation that badly)

just as you were cursing him out in your mind, you see a tall figure in the distance, stumbling and running towards you like the loser he is. you can tell he spots you as well because he quickly turns to the nearest reflective surface to fix his appearance and hair; even popping a mint in his mouth before running up to you. his face was pink, probably from the exercise— his plump lips pressing into an apologetic smile.

“sorry, i’m sorry i’m late.” he was slightly out of breath from running.

“sorry? fucking mutt. do you not respect my time? if you were any later i would’ve stood your ass up.” you shove him by the shoulder and he looks at you like a kicked dog.

he shakes his head profusely at your accusation, desperately trying to get back into your good favours.

“no— no! i’m, i, i’m so sorry. i respect your time, i’m so dumb i know.”

soobin degrades himself as he chews at his bottom lip, hoping he didn’t upset you enough for you to leave him. he had been thinking about this date all night, he could barely even get any sleep. if he messes up now he’ll never forgive himself!

“—you, you look amazing by the way.” he stammers, fingers fiddling with the hem of his sweater.

“i always look like this.” you deadpan, you didn’t bother to dress up more than you usually do in your school uniform. the most you did was pick out a simple, trendy outfit and brush your hair. bare minimum really.

“yeah you always look- i mean no, not that you don’t look amazing, always, because you do! but you look extra. amazing. compared to, usual…” he awkwardly stammers, making it worse for himself. he decides to just shut up before he embarrasses himself more and you ghost him.

“shut up and start walking, you loser.”

he follows behind you eagerly, glad you still want to hang out with him even after the most embarrassing stumble of his life. though to be honest, he stumbles like this quite a lot, and for some reason, you tolerate it (with only a few snide comments here and there). it was a few quiet seconds of walking, him being too afraid to speak up and you taking sly glances at him.

“why were you late?” you break the air, his head was lowered the entire walk, but he raises his head with your question. he was clearly nervous and sheepish as he averted his gaze.

“i… was picking an outfit.”

you give him a doubtful look and he continues, stuttering. “i— i didn’t know what style you liked. and… and i was trying to comply to your requests.”

ohhh... right, the request. you snicker to yourself. you forgot about that. it was just a small throwaway statement you texted him with no real thought behind it. you wanted to see if he would really follow through or not.

“so? show me.”

he’s nervous again, arms bracing himself as he glances around to check for people. soobin mentally hypes himself up before he pulls down his white turtleneck, showing you the silver collar around his neck. you cover your mouth with an audible pfft, laughing at him and he quickly rolls his turtleneck back up. god he was so foolish, but so obedient and cute.

“and? what about my other request?”

he looks at you wide eyed, stammering. “i, i can’t show you that!”

“did you do it?”

he blushes, hands clutching the edge of your hoodie, looking at you through his bangs. “please not here…”

he begs and you feel your heart soar. fuck, who taught him to act so cute? since when did the nerd know how to play sly? you clutch his crotch to feel for his cock and he silently whimpers.

“you didn’t wear any underwear, good boy.”

he trembles, moving away from your touch to look around, hoping no one caught you two. but his heart was in his throat and he was so excited about the praise you gave. so you liked what he did? he was over the moon. ‘good boy’, he repeated in his head. ‘good boy’.

it was unbearably adorable watching the cogs in his head malfunction, and you had to control yourself from ravaging him right here and there. you take the moment to appreciate his appearance, it was pretty obvious without him having to say so that he put a lot of effort into his outfit. he was wearing stylishly rimmed glasses, a jean jacket with a soft-lined collar, a white turtleneck and black pants. he also managed to get his hair under control, bangs carefully styled and curled.

you always thought he had looks, but this just proved how stunning he could look if he cleaned himself up. everyone else seems to agree too, and you notice the unsubtle glances thrown towards soobin. he stands out, tall and lean with a bunny-like charm. a few girls whispered and giggled, clearly blushing about him. but the attention twisted something dark in your chest, it grasped and dug its filthy nails into your heart. you wanted to lock him in your room and never let him see the light of day ever again. it was an insane thought process, deranged and unhinged. he wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a victim. you needed to get a grip.

you clutch his wrist tightly, pulling him along so he walks faster. he winces at the hold but lets you roughly handle him because it’s almost like you two are holding hands. he stares longingly at your hand and his, wishing you would interlock them again like you did yesterday. when you reach the mall, you watch with silent satisfaction as his eyes rake over the stores. there was a subtle pride you felt seeing him enjoy the choice you made.

“we have some time to kill before the restaurant reservation.”

he looks at you, eyes wide and plump lips smiling, you could almost see his irises sparkling. stupidly hopeful eyes. “you made a reservation for me?”

“don’t look at me like that. i just dont want to wait in line.”

he turns his gaze back to the front as you demand, but you can tell he is still giddy, ecstatic that you put even a sliver of effort into the date. it really didn't take much to satisfy him. even the slightest attention had him trembling. the two of you explore the mall, and naturally, soobin’s nerdy ass is drawn to the anime and manga stores. you tail behind him, mindlessly noting each thing he stares or geeks at.

while he was shuffling through the array of mangas, you pick out a shirt with a few familiar characters on it; you faintly remember soobin mentioning this show when you asked about his phone background. you tap him on the shoulder to get his attention, pointing to the shirt. “isn’t this your favourite anime?”

“oh! it’s limited edition!” he gasps out, excitement in his tone. taking the shirt from your grasp. his eyes widen in glee as he examines the details. the joy didn't last however, and soon he was putting the shirt back on the racks with a meek smile.

you raise an eyebrow “thought you liked it, nerd?”

he shyly looks at you, “yeah, but it’s too expensive.” he admits, clearly embarrassed. he feels like he was parading around his misfortune, look at this loser! no friends, no lover and now he doesn’t even have money. choi soobin, born on this earth and destined to be a loser.

“i’ll buy it for you.” your words cut through his thoughts. his cute hopeful eyes look up at you, and you interrupt him before he could utter out another word.

“but, you need to try it on for me first.” you continue, a pointed look on your face.

he pause for a second, the request was innocent enough, right?

☆★☆

he should’ve known, nothing was innocent with you. that's why he’s standing in the middle of the changing room with you sitting in the corner. a smirk on your lips.

“strip.”

he hesitates, but slowly shrugs off his jean jacket, he’s done this many times in front of you, and you’ve explored every nook and cranny his body can offer. but he never ceases to feel shy in his own skin, especially when you observe him like a collector would with a jewel. maybe its the setting that’s making him bashful, it feels borderline illegal to do such an act in the mall. even though many people have stripped down naked in the changing room, the way you make him feel is so sinful.

he takes off his turtleneck, exposing his bare chest, the silver collar complimenting his pale skin beautifully. it wasn’t much of a striptease and more of an activity he had to get over and done with, but it was still extremely arousing for you. watching him debase himself in his casual clothing. normally you only saw him in his school uniform (bruised, injured, crying, fucked out of his mind and all other similar variants), but watching him in his own clothing made you feel so much more powerful. like you had control and dominance over him even outside of school.

he awkwardly stands in the middle, half-naked. waiting for your next command. it didn't even take that much to train him! naturally so obedient.

“take off your pants too.”

he whimpers at this, clutching at his pants but not making a move. he begs you with his eyes, take pity on him please! not here!

“i’m… not wearing anything underneath”

“i know, take it off.”

“i, i, no, it’s.” he stammers, sweaty hands staining his pants.

“no? are you saying no to me?”

he shivers at your tone, nervously gulping. this didn't seem good at all. “i—!”his ears ring, reverberating in his chest. his right cheek was stinging red. “wh—“

you slap him again.

“mutts don’t talk.”

he shuts up at this, tears threatening to spill onto his glasses. you pull him forward by the silver collar and he helplessly stumbles as you tug him around. you observe the red slap marks on his cheeks, intertwined with his blush.

“you’ve been disrespectful since the beginning of the date. first you show up late and now you refuse to do something so simple? are you trying to make me mad choi soobin?”

he shakes his head desperately, a tear slipping down. he must be the lowest scum of the earth, because the rougher you treat him, the tighter his pants get. he isn’t a masochist he swears, but your attention (no matter good or bad) on him feels so good. he was so touch and attention starved, desperate for any kind of recognition from you.

“i’ll only repeat myself once, strip.”

he stumbles up, shaky hands quickly peeling his pants off his legs. his already hard cock embarrassingly erect and dripping the moment it’s exposed.

“look at that.” you coo, slapping his dick, making precum drip to the floor as he cries. “pretending to be so shy and innocent while you’re sporting a rock hard boner.”

he snivels pathetically, shaking his head and making his hair tousle around. the silver collar glints like a gem in the light. you chuckle cruelly. “okay, put your limited edition shirt on now.”

he bites back a whimper, he wanted you to touch him so bad. but he obediently slips on the shirt, it feels so dull against his skin, barely covering his cock. soobin rubs his thighs together, now more interested in you rather than the shirt. he wanted you to adore and spoil him, hell, spank him and hurt him too— just anything!

as if you read his mind, your hand reaches out, before you could even touch him, he starts trembling. you pull back with an amused smile and he immediately begins to cry and beg.

“no— no please touch me please touch me i’m sorry, i, i wanna, i wanna be good for you please!”

“bunny can’t even keep quiet?” you tease, putting your hands behind your back and he whines. the nickname thumping in his heart.

he starts again, though this time he tries to control his voice, suddenly aware that you two were still in public— only hidden away by a thin curtain. his bottom lip quivers as he moves closer to you, fingers meekly reaching out to grasp your hoodie. he leans his head on your chest and a small weak whisper escapes his pink lips.

“you already own me… so please just touch me…”

a shiver runs down your spine, holy shit this was dangerous. playing sly at first and now coy? he had an effect on you that you weren’t sure you liked. “i get it already so shut up and come here.” you lowly groan, pulling his body flush against yours. he tremors out a whine as you roughly grab his cock. he couldn’t complain though, because your warm hands were embracing him and touching him exactly where he wants. he melts in your hold, face comfortably nestled in the crook of your neck as you played with his cock. his groans and whines die down in your shoulder, and the way you thumbed his slit was almost domestic.

fuck what was this pathetic man doing to you? here you are in the changing rooms, letting this loser hug and sniffle into your shoulder as you jerk him off. the whole situation was bizarre and you were starting to feel lightheaded. weren't he supposed to be the one servicing you?

you press down on his cockhead particularly hard and he cries into your neck, biting the collar of your hoodie as you slide his cock underneath the limited edition shirt, rubbing him with the friction of the fabric. this sets him off, the motion just felt way too good, he keens into your fist, panting into your shoulder as he holds your hoodie tightly.

it was taking a little more than usual to make him orgasm, normally you would describe his orgasm speed as 'embarrassingly fast', but he seemed to be holding out for some reason. you give his cock an experimental squeeze and he just digs his face into your neck more. then it hits you, you haven’t given him permission yet. could he have been waiting for your verbal confirmation? maybe that's why he was squinting his eyes so tightly and biting down on your collar. just the thought itself sparked heat in your lower regions. it satisfied you more than you would like to admit.

so you lean down to where he was tucked, breath touching his ear.

“come for me”

it was a simple test on a guinea pig, cause and effect.

you eye him down as his body quivers, face flushing a thousand shades of red with an embarrassing amount of saliva wetting your hoodie collar. right after the command he releases, cock jittery and shaky as it spurts out come into the limited edition shirt. he finally lets go of your hoodie, taking a second to gain back his strength. when he comes to clarity, you can see the panic set in his throat. staring at the ruined limited edition shirt.

"what do we do? it's dirty now!"

"we buy it, what else?"

he hesitates and you raise a brow. "but, the, cashier she might, see this."

he vaguely gestures to the come stain on the shirt, right above his now flaccid cock.

"so? hurry up and change."

soobin seems troubled at your nonchalant response, but changes back to his outfit as you asked, timidly holding the ruined limited edition shirt. you shove the dollar bills in his hand.

"go up to the cashier, and pay."

somehow he summons up the courage to walk up to the counter, trying to ignore the feeling of his dick making contact with the rough jean fabric each time he took a step. it was all smooth at first, he let the cashier scan the item (making sure the stained patch was hidden), paid with the cash and felt the relief of freedom just as the cashier took the shirt to bag.

only for her to pause, soobin feels his palms clamber with sweat. she was staring at the shirt, an unreadable expression on her face before her eyes meet back with his.

"sir, it seems this shirt is stained."

god please just strike him down already.

"oh." he feels so dumb, only able to let out a sound in response. his tongue wasn't cooperating, how was he going to explain? what could he say? what should he say?

"ugh," the sound of exasperation makes him jolt. she's disgusted. she's definitely disgusted and he can never show his face in this store again.

"—it seems like the only one in stock. i'm so sorry for that sir."

she still doesn't know a thing. his heart was threatening to jump out of his throat. "it's, it's alright." his words came out weaker than he would've liked.

"are you sure si—"

"yes! yes! please give me that!" he couldn't help his sudden outburst, snatching the item from the poor lady's hands and running off in the opposite direction. he was dying from humiliation and his feet carried him like the wind over to you. he bit back tears as he faced you, bashfully showing you the receipt. it was times like this when he wishes he wasn't so tall, it would be so much easier to hide away in shame.

"what happened?" your introspective voice came through, he could hear your smirk.

"she saw the stain" he had to use all his willpower not to cry, hands clutching onto the shirt tightly. it was humiliating to admit, but a small part of him felt relief in his confession— as if the natural progression was for you to give him comfort and ease his anxieties.

"look at you soobin, so embarrassed and ashamed of your come stained shirt." you coo in your familiarly condescending yet comforting tone and he folds, nodding in agreement, tears brimming in his eyes. you rub his cheek, which was still red from the slap. it was such a surprisingly caring act that surprised both you and him, but he melted into your touch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"you were so obedient bunny, let's go to the restaurant." he dumbly bobbed his head at the nickname. all he could think was how the humiliation was so worth the reward.

☆★☆

the cafe was packed, but it wasn't a big problem in the private booth. you tap your finger on the counter as you watch soobin go through the menu for the fifth time now. indecisive was his middle name.

"hurry up."

"what do you want?"

he's asked this for a millionth time now, could he really not decide without your input? the waiter has been standing there for a good minute. "dude, just choose what you want already. i'm getting impatient."

he purses his lips in clear panic, pointing to a random food item on the menu. "i'll, i'll have this!"

"an extra spicy jjamppong coming up." the waiter escapes quickly, leaving soobin with an exasperated and intimidated expression after having his order read out for him.

"what? loser can't handle spice?" you tease. he looks at you with a frown.

"i can eat spice!"

"right." the conversation ends there, but you weren't just going to just let him off like that. the table was so nicely set up after all, such a thick tablecloth.

"soobin, pull down your pants."

he immediately widens his eyes, looking around rapidly to see if anyone heard. "i, i don't know i,"

"calm down, no one can see under the tablecloth. pull it down." you rest your foot on his inner thigh, signalling to him. he lets out a shaky breath. your grin broadens as his hands travel down, shuffling his pants down to his knees. still paranoid, he takes another glance at the other customers.

you focus on something else entirely, your trailing foot to his exposed crotch to be exact. when the leather of your soles makes impact with his naked cock he wails before slapping a hand over his mouth. his thighs instinctively clamp around your foot, shivering and shaking his head. "mean, you're mean."

his bottom lip was quivering, thighs still clamped tightly as you pressed your foot down harder. "please." he whispers.

"hm?"

"please please ple—"

"here's your orders." the waiter interrupts with both of your orders, soobin glances at the man with terrified eyes, looking over at you in a silent prayer.

you smile graciously (you press harder on his cock) as you take the plates (his thighs shake and you rub your foot ever so slightly), what a nice waiter, of course, you had to start a conversation! (he tried to control his panting but his face was a scarlet red), turns out the waiter was born in japan, how very interesting (you start going in a circular motion and soobin nearly keens), his father met his mother during a road trip! (you knew from his expression that he was already leaking onto your shoes), wow and he's fluent in three languages (soobin's thighs are spasming and you were rubbing him hard, you can tell he couldn't hold it in anytime soon).

"it all started when i encountered a multilingual tourist as a child."

the conversation was a little redundant now, wasn't it? you were talking to the waiter, yet staring intensely at soobin in the eyes, a snicker on your lips. "come again?" you press down, and his body shudders, thighs so tightly squeezed around your foot it could almost cut circulation, he was curled in ever so slightly. shivering in the aftereffects of his second orgasm today.

"huh?" the confused tone of the waiter piques.

"nevermind, thank you for your time."

the waiter leaves, slightly befuddled by the conversation. while you turn your attention back to soobin who is breathing heavily with red-tinted cheeks. "wow, orgasming in a public space again, what a perv."

the words hit him hard in his chest and tears drop from his eyes, he could only let out a small 'sorry' in shame before dropping his head down. his sleeves come up to desperately wipe at his eyes and save some face, at least it was all over now and he could enjoy his meal in peace, hopefully!

"can... can i pull my pants back up now?"

"hmm can you?" you tease, and he pauses, unsure of how to approach the situation.

"can i please?" some begging would do the trick, right?

"you can if you jerk yourself off."

he pouts, and more tears drop on the table as he squeezes his thighs around your foot. but he obediently slides his hands down to try and make himself hard again. his cock was so so so sensitive to the sensation, but limp in his hands. it hurts to stroke, it hurts to touch. the longer it took for him to get it up the more he frowned and panicked.

finally, you had enough, you were just playing with him anyway, so you slide your foot off with a chuckle. he looks at you in confusion. "i was joking dumbass, put your pants back on."

you dig into your food, and soobin follows suit right after he shuffles his pants back on, looking up at you hesitantly. though the moment the food touched his tongue, all he could think was—spicy! now he was crying for an entirely different reason, he was never the strongest spice contender, and this was another league of spice.

you notice his discomfort, laughing when he ducks his head down. "too spicy?" "no..." he responds, surprisingly stubborn on this matter. he pettily eats another spoonful of noodles (swiftly to regret it). you just roll your eyes, watching him eat in amusement.

☆★☆

the date ended smoothly after, nothing else notable happened (other than some pervy touches and teasing from your side), back at your room again (it was a common occurrence for the two of you to stay in your room, he told you once he didn't enjoy staying in his home).

you flopped onto your bed while soobin shuffled in, putting his things neatly to the side and closing the door behind him. he stared at you as you typed messages to your friends (they had been filling up your notifications all day because you were ignoring them), he awkwardly stood near the foot of the bed.

"uhm, i, thank you, for today. i had fun." he starts bashfully.

"so you don't have fun with me every other day?" you deadpan and he stutters, being caught off guard.

"n—no that's, not what i—"

"i wasn't serious, idiot."

he shuts his mouth quickly, silent again and unsure of how to start up another conversation.

"god you're such a loser. look in that bag over there." you break the air, pointing to a grey bag you had been carrying for the whole day. he was curious about it but wasn't brave enough to ask. so when you gave him the go-ahead he didn't hesitate to dig his hand in. when he pulled out a box containing a figurine from his favourite anime, clear confusion was evident in his face.

"i didn't know you liked—"

"no shithead it's for you."

his mouth drops open, bunny-like eyes widening as your words start to register in his head. instantly he lights up visibly, smiling uncontrollably as he admires the figurine in his hands. it wasn't anything crazy, was rather affordable compared to the prices of other figurines, but soobin's heart soared at the gift and he felt like he was on cloud nine. you didn't pay attention to his reaction, or that's how it seemed, because you were secretly staring at every differing expression on his face.

"thank you... i, thank you so much..."

"it's not even a big deal, you're so dramatic."

but it was a big deal for soobin, he tenderly held the gift in his hands. this was the first time he's gotten anything from anyone other than his parents and occasionally aunt and uncle. it really did feel like the two of you were dating, even if nothing is official and the most accurate label on the relationship was 'bully and victim'.

"can i unwrap it?"

"i don't care."

he slowly unwraps the gift, taking the figurine out of the box carefully as he begins to admire all the details of the sculpture. you, on the other hand, admire him, no matter how much you deny it, there was something so addicting about both his happiness and pain. it hooked you on like a drug.

"sleep over."

he knew what you meant, in a seemingly harmless phrase. it often happened like this, an insignificant and passing statement. strange in retrospect, you were his bully and the door was right there, if soobin wanted to, he could make a run for it.

but the both of you knew he wouldn't. your attention was almost an obsession to him, no matter how good or bad.

"okay."

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spellbound-rosehearts · 2 months ago

Text

FEVER DREAMS : CHAPTER 7

yuu gets sick, leona stays.

pairings: leona kingscholar x yuu

warnings: sickness and food mentions, mild language

notes: this is the longest chapter yet, but also one of my favorites i’ve ever written! i wanted to get this chapter out asap so if there’s any mistakes i apologize in advance!

part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

it’s a typical afternoon for leona, doing the bare minimum required of him as dorm leader, telling ruggie to handle the rest in exchange for a few thaumarks, and slipping away the second he could. he wandered across campus to ramshackle, a lion returning to his second den.

the breeze was mild as he approached, sunlight warming his back. he pushed open the front door like he lived there, which, at this point, he practically did. most days, he’d find yuu studying or cleaning, and grim demanding attention like a yowling kitten. but today, something was… off.

as he stepped into the creaky old house and slipped his shoes off at the door, he was immediately hit by the unmistakable smell of something burning.

his nose twitched.

“oi,” he called lazily. “you tryna burn the place down?”

from the kitchen came a frantic yelp, followed by the clatter of something metal hitting the floor.

grim’s head popped out from behind the counter, soot on his whiskers, ears down and eyes wide. “leona! thank the sevens, you’re here!”

leona raised a brow. “didn’t expect that kind of welcome.”

grim ignored him and scampered back into the kitchen, leona following curiously. “i don’t know what i’m doing! she drinks this tea stuff when she’s sick but i can’t remember which kind! and i definitely can’t remember how i’m supposed to make it!” grim shouts up at him.

leona blinked, processing everything that was just said to him. “back up. ‘when she’s sick’?”

grim nodded frantically. “yeah! she’s got the flu or something. woke up all pale and sweaty and told me to stay back ‘cause it might be contagious. but i’m not heartless!”

leona’s easy posture tensed, just slightly. “she’s got a fever?”

“yeah, and she’s talking all quiet, which is creepy for her, she hasn’t even yelled at me all day!” grim shoved the tea kettle into leona’s hands. “you gotta help! i don’t know how to take care of a sick human! i can’t just leave her here to die!”

leona stared at him flatly, placing the kettle back on the counter. “she’s not gonna die from the flu, furball.”

grim sniffled dramatically. “you don’t know that.”

leona sighed, already walking toward the stairs. “she in her room?”

grim nodded, and then trotted after him. “i tried to make her soup too but it turned into this… jelly blob and started smoking.”

“i don’t even wanna know.” he reached the landing and glanced toward her bedroom door, slightly ajar. he stepped forward, pushing it open with a quiet knock of his knuckles.

she was lying in bed, blankets tangled around her like she’d kicked them off during a fever dream. her face was pale, lips dry and cracked, and her skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat. her breaths were short and uneven, and the bucket by the bed was enough to tell him how bad she was feeling. his chest tightened.

yuu stirred at the sound of the door creaking. “grim…?”

“not quite,” leona said, leaning against the doorframe.

she cracked her eyes open, glassy and disoriented. “leona…?” she whispered.

“yeah, it’s me.” he said, stepping a little awkwardly into the room. “what the hell’s goin’ on with you?”

“just caught a little bug,” she rasped. “but i’ll be fine…”

grim peeked in from behind leona. “she says that but she’s burning up! and she keeps saying she’s cold, but she’s sweaty—is that normal?! should i get a fan? a blanket? a healer?!”

leona pinched the bridge of his nose. “go downstairs. i’ll handle it.”

grim hesitated, looking between yuu and leona. “whaaa? you sure?”

“unless you suddenly have a degree in human medicine, you’re not much help here. go chase your tail or something. leave the real work to someone with opposable thumbs,” he replied in a snarky tone.

grim’s cheeks puffed out as if he was getting ready to rebuttal but leona shot him a glare that told him to save it. “…right. i’ll, uh, stay out of the way.”

as the little monster retreated, leona approached yuu slowly. she watched him with dazed curiosity, half-drunk on fever.

“you look awful,” he muttered, crouching down a little next to her bed. he hesitantly brushed her hair back from her face, his hand stilling when he felt the heat emitting from her forehead. “…damn it, herbivore. you been like this all day?”

she gave a tiny nod and squeezed her eyes shut. “didn’t want to bother anyone. didn’t wanna be seen like… this,” she replied as she pulled the blankets over her face, embarrassed.

leona watched her. he didn’t have the words for the feeling curling in his gut—anger, maybe. not at her. at the idea that she’d suffer in silence just to avoid ‘inconveniencing’ others.

“…idiot,” he murmured.

she peeked over the covers and her eyes fluttered, blinking up at him. “you don’t… have to stay.”

he clenched his jaw and straightened up. “yeah, well, i ain’t leavin’ you like this.”

—

leona found a rag in the bathroom and soaked it with cool water. the sink squeaked when he turned the faucet off. every sound felt loud in the quiet house.

he came back to the bedroom and gently pressed the cloth to her forehead. her breath hitched at the touch. she blinked up at him. “you don’t have to—”

“shut up,” he said, no real bite to his words. “let me take care of it.”

leona admittedly wasn’t good at this. he wasn’t exactly the caretaker type. but his body moved before his brain had even caught up, grabbing a second pillow and easing her head into it, shifting the blanket to lie better across her body, gently brushing hair out of her eyes. it surprised him how natural it all came.

yuu looked up at him when he sat down on the chair next to her bed, eyes bleary and soft. “you’re really sweet when you want to be…” she mumbled.

he narrowed his eyes. “keep sayin’ that and i’ll leave.” but he didn’t move. he watched as the hint of a smile tugged at her pale lips. however, it turned into a wince and she reached up to touch her forehead like she was in pain.

“my head’s killing me,” she slurred, rubbing her temple.

“you been drinkin’ anything today?” he asked, voice low.

she shook her head and cringed at the motion of it. “didn’t wanna throw up again,” she murmured, sounding pitiful.

“right,” he said, rising to his feet. “‘cause dehydration’s clearly the smarter option.”

leona returned a few minutes later with a cup of water. as she tried to sit up, he slipped his hand under her elbow and helped her ease into a better position. then, he handed her the glass. “drink, slowly.”

she tried, but her hands trembled too much. the water sloshed slightly over the rim. leona huffed and helped steady the glass just enough. “you’re hopeless,” he muttered, as he held the cup up to her lips patiently until she swallowed a few small sips.

she smiled faintly. “thank you leona. you’re… really a nice guy.”

“don’t push it,” he said, but it came out gentle. when she lay back down, he placed the rag over her forehead again and sat beside her bed, arms crossed, eyes watchful as she dozed off.

—

yuu tossed and turned, drifting in and out of restless sleep, sometimes mumbling words that made no sense.

leona didn’t leave her side once. he told himself it was just until the fever broke. just until she stabilized.

but every time her breath hitched or her face twisted in discomfort, he found himself leaning forward, brushing her hair back again, adjusting the cold rag when it got too warm, murmuring quiet things like, “easy. you’re fine.” things he never imagined himself saying.

the hours crawled. grim had left long ago to stay at heartslabyul and the ghosts of ramshackle kept far away tonight, either out of respect or because even they could feel the quiet intensity coming off leona as he stayed close by her bed. he drifted off a few times sitting up in the chair next to her, but he was there when she needed him to be. when her fever spiked in the middle of the night, she curled into herself and gave a weak whimper. leona was there tucking another blanket over her. when she woke up nauseous, leona was there with the bucket just in time. he held it for her, steady and wordless, even when she shook with the effort and tears started to sting the corners of her eyes. he didn’t say anything. just rubbed slow, calming circles into her back, jaw clenched with concern.

“sorry,” she whispered, voice hoarse after another round of vomiting passed. “i’m gross. i’m so sorry.”

“don’t be stupid,” leona muttered, almost under his breath. “you’re sick. that’s all. no one’s mad. least of all me.”

yuu turned her head slightly toward him, her eyes bleary and red from fever and exhaustion.

“you should go… you don’t need to-“ she started, but he cut her off.

“i said i’m not leaving,” he growled softly, but there was no heat in his voice. “how many times you want me to say it?”

there was silence. then, shakily, “can you just stay until i fall asleep?” she whispered. he paused, then nodded once.

“i’ll be here.”

—

by morning, she was a little less feverish. still pale, still tired, but her skin had stopped burning under his touch, and she blinked up at him with a little more clarity.

“you’re still here,” she rasped.

“tch. don’t sound so surprised.”

yuu smiled a little. “thought you weren’t the babysitting type.”

leona clicked his tongue and leaned forward, grabbing the cup of water and holding it up for her again as she sipped slowly. “yeah, well. i make exceptions.”

she sank back into the pillows, cheeks slightly pink from his comment despite her pale completion.

“you should eat something,” he said, leaning back into the chair.

she made a face. “not hungry…”

“doesn’t matter. you need something in your system. i’ll make toast.”

yuu looked up at him, a little shocked. “you can make toast?”

he shot her a deadpan look. “i’m not that helpless.” he stood and turned to leave, then paused at the doorway.

“i’ll be right back. don’t move unless you want me to haul your ass back into bed myself.”

yuu gave the faintest of laughs. “yes, sir…”

he smirked.

“brat.”

—

leona stood in the tiny kitchen with a furrowed brow, glaring at the toaster as if it were his greatest adversary. it wasn’t supposed to be that difficult, but for some reason, the thing refused to cooperate. the lever jammed, the dial wouldn’t settle where he wanted it, and it clicked ominously every time he touched it.

“stupid piece of junk…” he muttered, slamming the lever down again with more force than necessary.

upstairs, yuu stirred faintly at the noise. even half-asleep, she could hear the clatter and leona’s grumbling echoing through the old walls. she smiled a little to herself.

he returned a few minutes later with a plate in hand. “you sounded mad at the toaster,” she teased, voice still weak.

leona paused mid-step and gave her a flat look. “i wasn’t mad. i was just… showin’ it who’s boss.”

she snorted softly. “mhm. i’m sure it learned its lesson.”

he rolled his eyes, setting the plate down on the bedside table. “keep talkin’ and you’ll be eatin’ burnt crumbs.”

leona watched with careful eyes as yuu propped herself up on one elbow, and took a small bite of the toast. her fever had dropped further, but she still looked a little too pale, and the exhaustion clung to her like a heavy fog. even so, her eyes had more life in them this morning than they had last night.

“you did good,” she said after a moment of chewing. “toast’s perfect. best thing i’ve eaten all week.”

“yeah well, don’t get used to it, herbivore. this is a one time thing,” he grumbled, glancing away from her. still, the compliment tugged at that something in his chest.

she spoke again, quiet and sincere. “thank you… for staying. i know this probably isn’t your thing.”

leona gave a half-shrug like it was nothing. “don’t go makin’ a big deal of it. i got a reputation to uphold y’know.”

“of course, i wouldn’t dream of ruining your image.” she smiled faintly before taking another bite of toast.

as sunlight crept through the windows and warmed the small bedroom, leona sank back in the chair with a quiet exhale, already resigning himself to the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere—not today, not as long as she needed him. and surprisingly, he was perfectly content with that.

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

Text

in a new light

for @steddie-week prompt 'body swap'

rated t | 2653 words | cw: mild language | tags: body swap, friends to lovers, eddie has a crush on steve, steve fast burns through a sexuality crisis, steve has chronic pain

🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺

Steve woke up in Eddie’s bed.

He woke up wearing Eddie’s clothes.

He brushed Eddie’s hair off his shoulder as he yawned.

Or was it his hair?

He opened his eyes and looked down at his shoulder.

Eddie’s hair.

He brushed it off again, but it just fell to his back.

He sat up in bed, looking around the room. No Eddie.

Steve looked around the room before his eyes settled on his own hands.

Eddie’s rings were on his fingers.

He looked down at his arms, jumping at the sight of Eddie’s tattoos.

Eddie’s pale skin.

He rushed to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, ignoring a deep sense of dread taking over him.

“What the fuck?” He asked out loud, only remembering that Wayne would be home at the last minute.

“Everything okay in there, Ed?” Wayne’s voice asked from the other side of the door.

“Yep!” He squeaked out, Eddie’s voice falling from his lips.

He had to call Robin or Nancy or Eddie-

Oh god. Was Eddie in his body?

He had to get to his house immediately.

He opened the door slowly, hoping Wayne had already gone back to another room. He hadn’t. Wayne was standing right outside the door still, brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest.

“You hurt?” Wayne asked.

“No,” he replied, trying to keep their interactions at a bare minimum.

How would Eddie talk to his uncle? He knew they were pretty close, especially since everything that happened in March, so he probably shouldn’t be so standoffish or awkward. Wayne didn’t know everything about what happened, but he knew enough to be suspicious of anyone acting differently than they normally would.

“You need to talk about anything?” Wayne pushed.

Steve didn’t know how to handle an adult actually caring. Was this how it was for Eddie all the time?

“Um…no?” He cleared his throat. “Just a weird dream. I’ll be fine.”

Wayne squinted his eyes, but nodded and walked towards the kitchen. “Makin’ some eggs for breakfast if you want some.”

“Sounds good!”

Steve booked it back to Eddie’s room, closing the door quietly behind him. Eddie had a phone in his room ever since they moved, a requirement that Dustin insisted on so they could easily reach him. Wayne didn’t mind, especially because it meant he didn’t have to listen to Eddie on the phone in the living room while the game was on.

He dialed his house number, hoping that Eddie would answer.

“Harrington residence,” Robin answered.

“Robin! What’re you doing there?” This was good, actually. She could probably confirm if Eddie was stuck inside Steve’s body.

“Uh…I slept over last night? I always sleep over on Thursday nights, Munson. You know that.”

Shit. She didn’t know yet.

“Right. Sorry. Forgot what day it was.” Steve had to think. He could drive over there and check himself. Or he could just have Robin check right now. “So here’s the thing-”

“Oh, there’s the sleepyhead now!” Robin said away from the phone. “Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve said through the phone before he realized Robin wasn’t talking to him.

“What the hell is going on?” Robin asked, sounding more panicked now.

“Is that Steve?” he could hear his own voice asking. Jesus, is that what he actually sounded like?

“What do you mean? You’re Steve!” Robin’s voice was getting louder, higher pitched than it had been when she first answered.

“Robs, hand the phone over,” Steve said as calmly as possible. “I’ll explain in a minute.”

“This is so fucked.” He heard her say as she handed the phone to Eddie.

“Steve?” Eddie asked, quiet and unsure.

“So you’re stuck in my body,” Steve confirmed. “This isn’t good.”

“Tell me about it. Are you always in this much pain?”

Steve swallowed around a lump in his throat. “It’s…not always that bad. It’s been worse the last few weeks.”

“Why the hell haven’t you said anything?” Eddie sounded angry, but Steve was having trouble getting past being reprimanded in his own voice. “My head is pounding, my side aches, my knee creaks. Your body is fucked, man.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? That’s it?” Eddie sounded angry. “Get over here so we can figure this out.”

He hung up the phone and Steve stood awkwardly by Eddie’s bed.

“Shit.”

****

Steve managed to avoid questions from Wayne, but did get forced into eating some eggs before he left.

“I swear, you better tell that boy soon,” Wayne said as he made his way to the front porch to have a cigarette. “Can’t handle all this dancin’ around feelings.”

Steve tabled that for now, in too much of a rush to get to his house to figure out what was going on and how they could fix it.

By the time he managed to get Eddie’s beat up temporary truck into his own driveway, Robin was gone and he was watching his own body pace up and down the walkway to the front door.

“Robin?” Steve asked as he walked up to Eddie.

“Her mom needed the car. She’s gonna be back later with the kids apparently so we can ‘figure this out’,” he did air quotes around it. “She said this can’t be that bad of a migraine because I can still stand. What the hell does that even mean?”

“Let’s get inside,” Steve sighed as he pushed Eddie in the house and locked the door behind them. “You already knew I get migraines.”

“I thought they were rare! I didn’t know you just woke up like this.”

“Oh, this isn’t a bad one.” Steve looked at the way his eyes weren’t drooping and his shoulders were still surprisingly relaxed. Most of his bad migraines were too intense for him to even be standing, let alone look this calm. “If you’re upright, it’s manageable.”

Eddie’s face dropped from anger to disbelief. “Do you feel like this all the time?”

“I mean, some days are worse than this. Some days are better. But I guess…yeah. Most of the time is like this.” Steve shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

“Steve…” Eddie’s hand raised, then he seemed to think twice and let it drop to his side. “Does Owens know? I’m sure he could find something to help.”

“He had more important things to deal with and I didn’t wanna bother him.” Steve walked to the kitchen so he could grab them both drinks as they figured out what to do. “But let’s focus on what’s most important right now.”

“How is your health not what’s most important?” Eddie asked as he followed close behind.

“We can figure it out when it’s my health again!” Steve exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “You’re stuck in my body feeling the way I’m supposed to feel instead of in your own body, which seems surprisingly normal despite the itch on my side. You should get that checked out by the way. It shouldn’t be itchy anymore.”

“Are you seriously telling me to get an itch looked at when you’re in constant pain? You’re kidding.” Eddie stood in front of Steve, hands on his hips. It was weird seeing his own body doing something so familiar from Eddie’s body. Now that he was seeing it like this, it was a little funny. “I can barely see straight and you’re worried about my scars itching a little?”

“Well, I don’t want it to be infected,” Steve started playing with the ends of his hair, no, Eddie’s hair. “If it ever burns, you should get some antibiotics.”

“Steve. For one single second I need you to focus on the fact that you are in pain all the time. You don’t even take anything for it!” Eddie gently took his fingers from where they were wrapping his own hair around them. “Robin said you never even told her about the scars still hurting.”

“It wasn’t important. I barely even feel it anymore most days,” Steve couldn’t help noticing the way Eddie’s hands were still on his. “Other people had it worse.”

“I think the people who allegedly had it worse would have wanted you to say something. The kids wouldn’t want you to hurt like this all the time,” Eddie turned away and groaned, holding his own head. “Fuck, this is awful. How do you accomplish anything?”

Steve didn’t answer, but reached into the freezer to grab his ice pack designated just for headaches and held it up to where he knew his head was hurting. Eddie seemed to deflate, leaning back against Steve.

And that’s when Steve had the realization that they fit together pretty damn well.

Despite the fact that there was only about an inch of height difference between them, Steve’s body fit perfectly against Eddie’s front.

It felt nice. Even being stuck in Eddie’s body, it felt good to be close like this.

He kept holding the ice pack against his temple and left eye, where the pain always seemed to be the worst. Eddie leaned more weight against him.

“Feel good there?” Steve asked, barely more than a whisper.

“Yeah. Perfect.”

“You wanna go back to bed? I can wait for Robin and the kids,” Steve offered.

“Nah, I can wait with you.”

“Don’t overdo it.”

Eddie turned and glared at him, and Steve couldn’t help but laugh at his own face.

“Bold words coming from Mr. Overdo It himself,” Eddie mumbled as he took the ice pack from Steve’s hand and made his way to the couch. “Come sit with me. We might as well try to talk through what could’ve caused this.”

“I honestly don’t even know where to begin. I don’t think it’s Upside Down related.”

“Pretty sure if it were, one of us would be dead by now.”

Eddie’s eyes closed as he rested his head against Steve’s shoulder.

“It happened in our sleep so maybe it was a dream thing?” Steve asked as he wrapped his arm around Eddie, pulling him into his side more. “Was I in your dream?”

“Mhm. Always,” Eddie slurred, already half asleep.

Steve was too busy trying to think through what could have caused this to realize what he said until he was already asleep.

He looked down at his own sleeping body, the ice pack starting to fall as Eddie’s hand relaxed more. Steve grabbed it and held it in place while he got distracted by new thoughts.

Wayne had said something about feelings earlier and Eddie had sounded genuinely upset about the pain Steve was in, not just because he was currently living it. He’d admitted that he was dreaming about him always.

Sometimes, Eddie would find excuses to be alone with Steve during movie nights: helping him grab drinks for everyone or offering to help get the guest room ready for the kids. He showed up randomly with Steve’s favorite milkshake from the diner, always remembered to order his favorite beer when they went to the bar, and bought him earplugs so he could go to a Corroded Coffin show without getting a migraine.

“Oh.” Steve breathed out, his heart fluttering in his chest.

So Eddie probably liked him.

But did he like Eddie?

As Eddie turned his face into Steve’s neck, breath sending chills down Steve’s neck, he realized that he did. Probably for a while, actually.

Because when Eddie showed up with his favorite milkshake, the butterflies in his stomach would start fluttering. When he watched Eddie on stage at his concert, he’d felt so proud of him, all he wanted to do was kiss him. When they spent endless hours together while the kids argued or splashed around in Steve’s pool, he fell for him.

“Shit.”

Steve closed his eyes and hoped that they could figure everything out soon. He wanted to kiss Eddie when he was Eddie, not while he was stuck in Steve’s body.

****

When Steve woke up, he felt a dull ache in his head and a sharp pain in his neck.

He opened his eyes and frowned.

Hadn’t he fallen asleep holding Eddie?

Now Eddie was-

Steve sat up quickly, nearly falling off the couch. “Eds! Wake up!”

Eddie’s eyes blinked open. “The fuck?”

“We’re ourselves!” Steve shouted before jumping into Eddie’s lap, legs straddling Eddie’s thighs.

Eddie’s hands instinctively grabbed his hips to keep him from falling backwards in his enthusiasm and Steve’s arms wrapped around his neck to hold on.

“Head still hurt?” Eddie asked him. “And don’t lie to me.”

“A little, but not that bad,” Steve gave a comforting smile. “I promise. The ice pack must’ve helped.”

“Wayne used to get migraines when he kept switching between night shift and day shift. Used to swear by peppermint tea before he went to sleep. I could make you some?” Eddie offered, thumbs rubbing just under Steve’s t-shirt. “We’d have to go back to mine for it, but I’ll drive so you don’t have to.”

“Eds, I’m okay. But I think I’ll grab some at the store tomorrow and you can make me some next time,” Steve wrapped a strand of Eddie’s hair around his finger, much like he did earlier when it was his hair. “Did you really dream about me?”

Eddie’s eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away.

“I’m hoping the answer is yes,” Steve continued. “So if you have been, I think we could do something about making your dreams a reality.”

Eddie blinked back at him for a long minute.

“That was horrible. Is that the charm the girls always bragged about? Jesus, Stevie.”

They both laughed, Steve’s head falling forward so it rested against Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie’s hands started rubbing his back, slow and cautious, testing the waters a bit.

“I just meant that if you want me like that, I’d like to take you out.” Steve leaned back, but kept his face close enough to lean in for a kiss if Eddie let him.

“Out? On a date?”

“Out on a date,” Steve nodded. “Would you wanna?”

“Steve. I’m seriously asking this question so don’t laugh.”

“Okay…”

“Is it because you saw the size of my dick when you were in my body?”

Steve laughed so hard, he choked on his own breath. “No!” Steve shook his head. “I didn’t even see it. What the hell, Eddie.”

He shook his head, smiling fondly at Eddie, who was smirking back at him.

“You wanna see it, though, don’t you?” Eddie teased.

“I’m not a fuck on the first date kinda guy,” Steve smacked his shoulder. “But maybe for you I could be persuaded.”

“This might be the best day of my life.”

“It could be better if you kiss me.”

The moment their lips touched, Steve’s front door burst open and Robin, Nancy, and the kids rushed into his house.

“El thinks she knows what happened!” Dustin yelled.

“Okay, this is definitely not something Robin mentioned,” Mike said as he turned away from Steve and Eddie on the couch.

“What’s going on?” Robin asked, probably so done with the events of the day.

“Nothing anymore.” Steve slowly slid from Eddie’s lap, but grabbed onto his hand to hold it on his leg. “Back to normal.”

“Just like that?” Will asked.

“Yep. Just like that.”

“What if it happens again?” Nancy asked them both.

“Dunno. But if you don’t mind, we’ve got somewhere to be,” Steve said as he stood up and pulled Eddie to his feet. “We’ll let you know if it happens again!”

They both walked out of Steve’s house and got in Steve’s car.

“You think they’re gonna be here when we get back?” Eddie asked him as they pulled out of his driveway.

“Probably. But I think if we kiss in front of them, they’ll scatter pretty quick.”

“Devious.” Eddie lifted their hands and kissed the back of Steve’s hand. “Where’re you taking me?”

“Milkshakes. I think I owe you one after all the times you brought me one.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieweek24 #steddie week #body swap #friends to lovers #chronic pain steve harrington

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