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crumbledcastle28 · 1 year

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Sebastian Sallow: Metallic Blood, Lacewing Flies, and Frostbitten Air

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x fem!ravenclaw!reader (she/her; afab) (house is only mentioned twice)

Summary: Sebastian has pushed it too far and can think of no other remedy than you.

Excerpt: "Do you honestly think I would not be able to answer Ravenclaw's precious riddle?" he questioned. You scoffed, reaching to your left to turn on your yellow-toned lamp resting on your bedside table, and Sebastian's body stiffened. You faced him, eyes widening, and hands coming over your once again wide open mouth. A gash - so deep, red, and bloody that the skin was separated in two- stretching from the top of his left eyebrow to the bone of his jawline was the first thing you noticed. The second was the smile he still adorned. "I lied," he laughed humorlessly, still smiling as blood trickled into his mouth. "I got Amit to tell me the answer months ago."

Warnings: small mention of death, swearing, blood, detailed descriptions of stitching, crying, kissing, so much flirting, AGED UP CHARACTERS.

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N; Here we are again. Thank you to @peterwandaparker @ithinkweallsing @intheshadowofthegame @pasukiyo and @slythering-snake-boys for the love on my previous fic. I hope you all enjoy :)

My Writing

If you'd like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

(pic from pinterest)

There was no solace like sleep.

Drifting away in a sea of covers and quilts, the pillow wrapped in your arms your only anchor to the conscious world. Hours go by in fractions of seconds; zeal coats your body and mind at the feeling of its promise. Your frigid hands and tired eyes cured by the touch of a blanket and the warping of a mattress against the curve of your spine. A stage to dream, not to think. Not to feel. Not to worry. Only to coast.

You were ripped from its precipice by a hand as cold as death.

You pulled away from it, your mind too sunken into your slumber to even conceptualize that it was real, until it pulled at you again. As light as a feather, and equally as apprehensive.

You hummed softly, blinking yourself awake, eyes watered with so much fatigue that everything was a blur. You shut your eyes harshly and opened them once more, vision now clear enough to make out the silhouette in front of you.

Or rather, the man in front of you.

Fortunately, you could recognize him by the depth of his breaths alone.

"Sebastian!" you shouted, sitting up completely in the darkness, still wrapped in the sheets of your bed.

"Shhh," he replied, pressing the palm of his right hand against your mouth, and the palm of his left against your cheek. His touch was firm, not rough.

You mumbled something against his skin as he scanned the vacant room, ensuring no being had managed to hear him. You attempted to speak again, and he finally let go of his hold.

"What are you doing here?" you said, managing to somehow whisper and yell at the same time.

"I -" he began, his breath coming through his mouth becoming slower and slower, " - I needed you."

You were grateful for the darkness overwhelming the room. Your mouth opened like a hog. You quickly shut it.

"How in Merlin's name did you even get in here?"

You could see the smirk on his face, even through the night.

"Do you honestly think I would not be able to answer Ravenclaw's precious riddle?" he questioned.

You scoffed, reaching to your left to turn on your yellow-toned lamp resting on your bedside table, and Sebastian's body stiffened.

You faced him, eyes widening, and hands coming over your once again wide open mouth.

A gash - so deep, red, and bloody that the skin was separated in two- stretching from the top of his left eyebrow to the bone of his jawline was the first thing you noticed. The second was the smile he still adorned.

"I lied," he laughed humorlessly, still smiling as blood trickled into his mouth. "I got Amit to tell me the answer months ago."

Your hands still cupped your mouth at the sight of his gaping wound, so fresh blood was still pouring down his neck, as you took a shaky breath in. Your hands dropped from your mouth as his smile slowly dissipated into a wince.

"Seb," you whispered.

"I told you," he replied, bloodshot eyes piercing into yours. "I needed you - need you."

You quickly snapped out of your shock and forced yourself to focus, all remnants of drowsiness replaced with its viger, and stood up. You made your way around your bed and opened the second drawer of your bedside table, pulling out a dusty first-aid. Sebastian allowed his full weight to be seated onto your bed, the frame of it squeaking.

"You're lucky every other Ravenclaw went home for the holidays," you said, dusting off the kit and opening it. You took out what you needed - multiple towels, a needle, a vile of previously boiled water, and string.

Sebastian hummed in agreement. "And I'm lucky you didn't."

You smiled, bringing your supplies over to your bed. You propped him up against the bed frame, and you sat before him, legs crossed. "I suppose you are."

You took his chin into your hands and moved his face around in the light, taking a good look at his injury. The skin was completely sliced, and a bruise was already beginning to form around his eye. His eyes fluttered, obviously trying to mask the pain.

"Magic won't work on this," you said, opening the vial of water and dousing a towel with it. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he responded, and you pressed the towel against the wound. He hissed, balling your sheets up into his fist. The towel quickly became stained with red.

"What happened?" you asked, attempting to distract him in any way you could.

"What do you think?" he responded quickly. "He didn't want me there."

"He" meaning his Uncle Solomon. You hummed, your way of coaxing him to continue.

"I arrived in Feldcroft this morning and went to our house immediately, and Anne was ecstatic," he said, and you removed the towel, satisfied with the wound's cleanliness. You began to thread your needle. "I haven't seen her that happy in months."

You smiled, the image of her smiling filling you with a crackling joy.

Sebastian smiled at your smile.

"She brought me inside, hugging me so hard I could hardly breathe," he continued, and you lined up your needle. He saw it from the corner of his eye, and his body paralyzed with fear. His breath halted, and so did yours.

"I'll be as quick as I can," you whispered, looking him in the eye.

"I know," he replied, but his eyes shut and his face winced, preparing himself for the pain. For some reason, it was that image that finally sunk the situation into your brain. How hurt Sebastian was, both physically and emotionally, and how desperate he was to just get this over with. You felt helpless, tears beginning to culminate into your eyes. You didn't want to be the cause of that look on his face, but you had to be, and you hated yourself for it.

You were all he had.

And it was with that realization that you couldn't help yourself. You kissed his cheek, just to the right of his wound, breathing in his usual musk of fresh pears, butterscotch, and clean linen. This scent was now clouded, however, with the pungent aromas of metallic blood, lacewing flies, and frost-bitten air. His skin was soft against your lips, despite it all, but you did not allow yourself the time to memorize it. Instead, you pulled away, hoping he could understand everything you meant with the kiss. I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you. I've got you now. You're safe.

You lined up your needle once again, not allowing yourself to see whatever reaction he had to the gesture, and stuck it through the skin, beginning to stitch.

The whimper he released cracked your heart in two.

"Keep talking," you said to him, focusing as best you could. "Just keep talking."

He caught his breath, swallowed harshly, and continued, his voice strained and husked. "She brought me into the kitchen, showing me the meal she prepared. I told her how - how proud of her I was. She thanked me for coming and then brought me to the ta - table, mumbling something about how ha - happy she was to celebrate the holidays as a family."

You had made it to just below his cheek bone, your body sweating and his shaking. Tears still ran from your eyes.

He swallowed again, exhaling deeply. "She set it all up, made sure I was comfortable, and we waited for Solomon. She asked me about - about school. How I was doing. Ho - how you were doing."

You would be lying if you said your focus did not waver.

"I told her everything was great," he continued, hissing once again as you tightened an especially separated piece of skin.

"Over halfway done," you mumbled, and he nodded.

"Finally he showed up, not hi - hiding his shock at my presence at all," Sebastian said. "And we started eating. Everything was perfect. The snow was falling through the window, Anne was happy, I was happy, it was like something out of a novel."

You waited for the catch.

"Until I fucked it up. Like always."

You almost grabbed his hand. Almost.

"I mentioned some of the research I've been doing to - to help Anne," he said, "and Solomon lost it. Yelled that I had to go and ruin the holidays with my obsession with Anne's condition. He ye - yelled so loud that he..."

Sebastian paused, and you paused with him.

"...he made Anne flinch," he said through gritted teeth, "and so I lost it too. I don't even remember what I said."

You looked at him for a moment, this broken boy in your bed, and scoured your brain for any string of words that could make him feel better. Everything you came up with felt immeasurable to his anguish.

So, you finished the final section of stitching quicker than you thought you ever could, not ignoring how Sebastian did not even flinch, and cut the thread. You then placed a fresh, cold-water soaked towel into his wound, attempting to calm it down.

Your eyes never left his, which were now staring off into the distance, haunted.

"Seb," you whispered, trying your best to cradle him with your voice, "then what?"

He sighed. "It's blurry. I know I stormed out, I don't remember what direction I took. Next thing I knew, Ranrok's loyalists were surrounding me, and I..."

He breathed deeply.

"...I killed them all."

You nodded, gently wiping at his wound before removing the towel completely. He turned to look at you, his gaze a mix of fire and pain.

"And I got this during the fight. A moment I wasn't looking," he said.

You nodded again and placed the dirty towels and needle onto a third clean one, and placed that onto the wooden floor of the common room. You looked at your hands in the glowing light - coated in blood, some even dripping down your wrists, a few droplets finding their way onto your sleep shirt.

You looked back up at him, his eyes on your hands as well.

"How's it feel?" you asked him, and his eyes snapped back up into yours.

"Better," he mumbled, wiping at his nose. The wound was yellow, ugly, and swollen, but it was closed. Soon enough, Wiggenweld would work on it, and it would be healed completely. You didn't need to tell him that. "Thank you, Y/N. Really."

You nodded, resting your sticky hands in your lap. "Thank you for being honest with me."

He nodded back, and the two of you sat like that for some time. Neither knowing what to say, but neither wanting the other to leave.

You broke the silence, sliding off the bed and standing up. "Get some rest, Sebastian. You need it."

He looked up at you, eyes caramelized from the yellow lamps and tears, and stood up in front of you. The look upon on his face was a mix of seemingly every emotion, and he licked his lips. You looked up at him and smiled faintly before leaning down to move the blood-soaked towels out of the way.

He stopped you, sliding his palms over your cheekbones, and kissed your lips.

You wished you could say you hesitated, pulled away in shock, or stopped him, asking if this was something he truly wanted or if it was a way to separate from his own brain, but no.

You all but fucking melted.

His lips were like velvet, caressing against your own like a moth to a flame, unable to get enough, not caring if it burned. And yet, he was delicate with the rest of his body - his hands on your face slowly making their way down to your waist. He was a magnet for you, pulling you in like a song. It did not take you long to place your own hands onto his robes and pull the material between your fingers, pulling him closer, closer, closer. He tasted of roast and cinnamon, likely from the dinner he had mentioned.

You whined as he tipped your head back suddenly, allowing him more access to cartograph your mouth. Merlin, he kissed and kissed and kissed you - breathing into your mouth, nibbling on your bottom lip, never letting go.

You didn't want him to.

His hands were in your hair now, massaging your scalp with his nails, sending chills down your spine. Your hands moved to his tie, making it nearly impossible for him to pull away.

He found a way.

You chased after his lips with your own, but he held you back, breathing a laugh against your mouth. You opened your eyes.

His freckles were a piece of fucking art up close.

"Y/N," he whispered against your mouth, centimeters away. "Y/N."

"What?"

"We've got to work on your aim."

You smiled, knowing he was referring to your quick taste of his skin from earlier. "Oh, 'we' do?"

He smiled wide enough to show his dimples, stretching the stitches, eyes darting from your left eye, to your right, to your mouth. "Yes."

"So that's why you kissed me?" you questioned, mouths still nearly touching. "So we could 'work on my aim?'"

His face suddenly turned sincere. "No," he said. "No it wasn't."

You smiled, eyes glowing in victory.

He pulled you back to his mouth, but as you closed your eyes, you caught a glimpse of your hands on his chest, and pulled away with a gasp.

"What?" he said, suddenly panic-stricken, removing his hands from your body instantly. "I'm sorry, what did I -"

"Your robes," you said, pointing at his chest, and he looked down.

His white shirt, tie, and collar of his robe were stained pink, fingerprints visible even in the grim lighting you were standing in. His mouth opened, but before long, he met your gaze with a smile.

"Sebastian I - you're smiling?"

He laughed, genuinely laughed. "Yes, I'm smiling," he said, still laughing.

"But I've just stained your things!" you said, unable to not laugh with him. "I am so sorry, Seb. I'll wash them, I swear -"

"Trust me, Y/N, this is not the first time I have gotten blood on my clothing," he said as he walked closer to you once more and pecked your lips. "But it is by far my favorite time."

You rolled your eyes and kissed him again, and again, and again, the both of you smiling into the kisses so big you could barely even bring your lips together. You hummed contentedly, as did he.

"Sebastian," you whispered against his mouth, and he kissed you again, practically groaning.

"Merlin do that again," he asked, and you smirked.

"Sebastian," you said, and he kissed you harder than he had all night.

"Yes?" he responded.

"You need to sleep. You need to heal."

"I need you," he said, and you kissed him one final time.

"Go to your common room, take a shower, get some sleep," you said to him, eyes dancing across his gash, despite the mind-numbing image of Sebastian Sallow with swollen lips and flushed cheeks you had before you.

You didn't want him to go, but he had to.

He nodded, knowing you were right, but still not removing his hands from you.

"And after you do all that," you continued, "you come and find me. To make sure you are healing properly, of course."

Merlin, if only you could have captured the look on his face that he met you with and kept it in your pocket for the rest of your days. He nodded and pressed one final kiss to your own cheek. You smiled.

"Of course," he said sarcastically against your skin. "Thank you, Y/N. For everything."

You nodded, and with one final smile, he walked past you to exit the common room. You rubbed your lips together, wondering if you were somehow in a dream the entire time.

"Oh, and by the way," he said, and you turned around to face him. He had made it to the door to the bedroom, one hand on the handle as he spoke.

"I kissed you because I have been in love with you since the day you bested me in our duel."

He left you with only the echo of the door closing behind him, and the realization that no, this was not a dream. Not at all.

Tag list: (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@leahkenobi

#sebastian sallow oneshot #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy #harry potter fanfiction

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lowkeychenle · 7 months

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this is me trying [ZCL] (M)

Description: Meeting Chenle was a fluke--a good one, at that, but you never expected things to escalate the way they did. But despite the whirlwind romance, you'd go back to December if you had the chance...

A/N: this is inspired by both 'this is me trying' and 'Back to December' by Taylor Swift. This is a dual timeline-esque story so please make sure to pay attention to the dates and places named...

Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut triple threat (more fluff and smut than angst I'd say)

Content Warnings: some sadness in regards to being emotionally unavailable, but nothing like....really bad. I don't think. Smut warnings: unprotected sex, dirty talk, some nipple play ig (if u squint), Chenle being down bad, some pet names like baby and pretty girl (or maybe it's just pretty i can't quite remember), and I think that's it! Lmk if I missed any :) oh and oral (m receiving i don't think f receiving is explicitly written m ybad)

Word Count: 10,179

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (feat. all dreamies)

Juliet's Masterlist | Requests

10:56pm, December 1st, 2022 | Your bedroom

You were scared at first—of the prospect of having a man in your bed for the first time in months. Maybe even an entire year at this point. You never thought going to a bar with a group of your friends would end up with you taking someone home, yet here you are, your body wedged between your mattress and a man.

He’s beautiful, with dark eyes, full lips, and midnight hair parted down the middle. Even as he looks down at you, his gaze is soft, like he knows this is a big deal for you despite only knowing you for an hour or two.

His mouth finds yours, a delicate melody spelled out with each second that passes. Oddly enough, you feel safe with him, a complete stranger. All you know is his name is Chenle, and that he’s got the gentlest hands you’ve ever felt on you.

He’s even more beautiful once your bodies are entangled. His face blissed out, fists clenching the sheets next to your head, length stretching you almost more than you can take. You spread your legs further, wanting him as deep as possible.

The moment is strangely intimate for two people who didn’t know of each other’s existence before this but, to you, it’s not weird. You’re enjoying it more than you should. You weave your fingers into his hair, rocking up to meet his hips with every thrust. Quiet, broken moans slip from both of you.

Three hours ago, he didn’t exist to you.

Now, you’re starting to think he’s the beginning. He’s the door opening to the next stage of your life, and you desperately want to grab hold and never let go.

That first night had your toes curling. He shifted, pulling your legs over his shoulders to bottom out deep inside you. Never before had you called out a man’s name you weren’t familiar with, but there��s a first for everything.

With his tip kissing your cervix over and over again, you start to shake. He leans forward until his chest brushes yours, the stretch in your legs uncomfortable but aiding in your pleasure, and he kisses you. You expect desperation, but instead you’re met with passion. Determination to make you feel good before him.

You call out his name against his lips, a short whine accompanying it. His hair clings to his forehead from sweat, his eyes glazed as he nods.

“Let go, (Y/N),” he whispers, grinding to put pressure on your clit.

You’ve had plenty of loud orgasms in your life—unable to hold back your moans as the other person roughly chases their own end. Even this is different with him. The pleasure is so intense, you’re incapable of those noises. Instead, you're gasping for air, holding onto him for dear life, and shuddering over and over as you clench and unclench around him. Your back arches, and he swallows all of your desperate, quiet sounds with another kiss. He thrusts two more times before his euphoria takes him.

The room around you is silent, but the two of you are panting, still holding onto each other like your life depends on it. He presses a kiss to your lips, on your jawline, down your neck until he places one last one in the center of your throat.

You don’t know him. Not really, but you want to.

God, you want to.

5:43pm, December 1st, 2023 | Something Brew Coffee Shop

“(Y/N), are you listening to me?” Chenle frowns at you from across the table. “Jaemin’s gonna kill everyone if we don’t have this planned by tomorrow.

“Yeah, I hear you.” You sigh and run your hands down your face before picking up your coffee. “Isn’t there someone else who could’ve done this? I’m busy.”

“You’re always busy,” he muses, arms folded on the wooden top as he leans forward slightly.

Busy. Yeah, you are. You work way too many days a week, sleep not enough hours a night, and still somehow have managed to keep your group of friends despite barely ever being able to see them.

“Sorry.” You run your fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry, Le.”

His eyebrows furrow, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s remembering how you were at this point last year. You’d never tell him that you remembered the time he approached you in the bar, but you knew.

You think about it, too. You think about it more than you should, but there’s no harm in doing something no one else knows about.

The memories of that night are practically engraved into your brain. In your entire life, no one had ever treated you so delicately. It made you want more, but ultimately, that was something you couldn’t have.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He shrugs. “Maybe it wasn’t fair of Jaemin to ask this of you.”

“All Jaemin wants from me is the bare minimum,” you chime in.

“Sometimes it’s impossible to give even that.”

Your heart sinks in your chest, and you chuckle softly. “Yeah, tell him that when I get the wrong color tinsel.”

8:21am, December 2nd, 2022 | Your bedroom

Honestly, you weren’t sure what to expect when you woke up. The first half of you wanted him to be there so you could see if the connection was more than just a night, but the second half wanted him gone. You didn’t have the capacity for something real, not yet and not for a long time.

But you felt it with him. The realness and the lines of fate that bent to push you two together.

Yet, even then, you wake up alone.

The other side of the bed is mussed, and you sigh toward your ceiling at the recognition of it. You clutch the blanket to your chest, sitting up in an attempt to see if you could grab something to wear without standing up.

You frown at the sight of his T-shirt on the floor still. Everything else is gone except for that—he probably forgot it in his haste since he had a sweatshirt on last night as well. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you reach down and grab it, only briefly hesitating before pulling it over your head.

Disappointment weighs heavily on your chest, but as the hem of the fabric comes to a stop right below your butt, you forget about it. At least, with this thing, you have proof he’s real. An angel was in your bed last night, and even though you shouldn’t, infatuation tugs at your heartstrings.

With a short groan, you get out of bed and head into your kitchen to get some water. Your legs ache from the night before, but the feeling is so sweet, you enjoy the odd cadence to your walk because of it.

You grab a glass from the cabinet, fill it with water, and tilt it to your lips as you lean your back on the counter. A slip of paper on the island catches your eye, and with a subtle frown, you approach it.

Messy handwriting is scrawled on it, but you can read it all the same.

Sorry I left so quickly, I had to get to work

I really enjoyed last night. Call me when you get the chance?

-Chenle

His phone number is written below that, and despite the disappointment you’d felt about his disappearance, a warmth spreads through your body.

2:09pm, December 2nd, 2023 | Jaemin’s House

You always arrive at Jaemin’s early. He greets you with his usual hug, and the two of you sit on his couch while still attempting to devise a plan for how you’re organizing your friend group’s Christmas party. For years, there’s been games, Secret Santa, and just about every Christmas-themed movie ever created. You love it and your friends, and it’s the one time of year you’re actually able to enjoy time off.

“Well, Chenle made the number odd last year,” Jaemin mentions, pursing his lips at the thought. “But I think Mark wants to bring his girlfriend, so we should be back at an even number.”

“Oh, I’m glad they’re doing well.” You grin. “Mark deserves to have a good person in his life.”

“Yeah, he won’t shut up about her.” Jaemin snorts.

“Love is good,” you interject. “Be nice to him.”

“Honestly, I’m a little surprised.” He pauses, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“About what?”

“That nothing ever happened with you and Chenle.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “You guys had like…one month last year and then things were just…normal. Like he’d always been a part of our group and like neither of you had ever…you know.”

“He’s a good guy, Jaem.”

“I never said he wasn’t.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I just wish you’d tell me what happened. We’re supposed to be friends.”

“I would tell you what happened if anything did happen.” You ignore the tugs you feel at your heart. Usually, you don’t lie to Jaemin. You wouldn’t tell him this side of the story if it wasn’t what you and Chenle had agreed to.

But, holy hell, do you remember all of it like it was yesterday. You thought you’d gotten over it, honestly, but ‘tis the damn season.

“Well, if anything, I’m glad you guys are friends. He’s cool. Nice addition to the group.” Jaemin nods approvingly, like it hasn’t been over a year since Chenle began participating in all your activities.

When you open your mouth to speak, you’re interrupted by the shrill tone of your phone. You and Jaemin look at the same time, and your face heats up as Chenle’s name flashes across the screen. Speak of the devil.

“I’m…gonna take that.” You launch up from your seat, grab your phone, and head into the kitchen to answer. Putting the device up to your ear, you say, “Hello?”

“Hey, are you home right now?” he asks.

“No, I’m actually at Jaemin’s.” You lean on the counter. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. I just…Honestly, I drove by your place on my way home from work and…” he trails off, a short laugh escaping his lips. “I got a little nostalgic, I guess. Sorry, (Y/N), forget I called, okay?”

“Wait, Le.” You put your hand on your forehead. “It’s okay to feel that way. I…I have been, too. A little bit. I’m here to talk about it, if you want to.”

“I…”

“It’s okay. I’m the last person who can judge you.” You try to keep your voice down to avoid Jaemin listening in, if he’s not pressed up to the wall already.

“I’m glad you’re in my life in any capacity, you know? But it feels a little ridiculous to be nostalgic over one month of my life a year later.” He sighs. “And now that I’ve known you for that entire year, it makes me wonder what my life would be like without you and everyone you’ve brought into it. So…thank you.”

Tears prick your eyes, and you wish he’d say more. You wish he’d tell you all the things you know are true, but have never been verbalized. How your mind, heart, and body crave to be with him like you were last year, and how you know he feels the same way.

But you don’t blame him. How can you?

3:34pm, December 3rd, 2022 | Yeouido Park, Yeongdeungpo-gu, Seoul, South Korea

Chenle’s fingers intertwine with yours. Thankfully, the gloves you’re wearing hide the fact your palms are sweaty. You called him yesterday, and let him know he left his T-shirt. He laughed it off and let you know it’s okay because he planned on seeing you again—as long as that’s what you wanted.

You weren’t in the right mindset to entertain a relationship. Not in the slightest. But bundled up in winter gear with him and walking around a park has you more at ease than you ever thought it could.

Truth be told, he came back to get his shirt last night. That ended with him back in your bed, proving to you that your first night was, indeed, not a fluke.

“Do you want hot chocolate?” he asks.

Your face lights up as you nod. “Yes, please.”

You wait off to the side while he approaches the vendor, and soon enough, he returns with two steam hot cups. Grasping yours desperately, you smile as the two of you keep walking. In the spring, this park is beautiful. The trees blossom and the water glistens, but now everything is covered in snow and ice.

When he looks at you, fondness takes over every inch of his features. You loop your arm through his, stealing glances every now and then. The tip of his nose and his cheeks turn red in the frigid temperature, and you admire everything about him. The definition of his jaw, his strong cheekbones, and the sharpness to the brown in his eyes that shows off his wit before his mouth can.

“I gotta be honest,” you say, tapping the top of your cup. “I’ve never been here before.”

“What?” He stops completely, jaw dropping. “You’re joking.”

“‘Fraid not.” You scrunch your face up.

“I’ll have to bring you back here in the springtime. It’s absolutely beautiful.” He doesn’t realize what his words imply, but you do.

You clear your throat, hoping the cold hides the heat rising to your cheeks. “Chenle.”

He wets his lips, distracting himself by sipping his hot chocolate. “Fuck, that’s hot.” He grimaces and recoils.

“Chenle,” you say to him again, softer this time.

He gulps before he looks at you. “Yeah.”

“I…I’m getting cold. Should we head back?” You don’t want to bring down the mood you’re in, especially since you saw the shift in him when his name fell from your lips.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

By the time he parks outside of your house, his car is warm enough that you’re starting to sweat beneath all your winter gear. He doesn’t say anything, he just stares at you. He blinks once, twice, three times.

“I need to be honest with you,” you tell him, blowing out a breath. “I’m…a mess, okay? I don’t want to hurt you or lead you on or anything because you are just…genuinely so amazing. But December is the only time of year that I have the time to think of myself, let alone everyone else, and I can’t…promise you anything when I know I can’t be good for you after this month.”

He stares forward at your building, pursing his lips. “(Y/N), I’ve only known you for three days.”

“I know. But I’m not an idiot, and I know where sex and walks in the park lead.” You fidget with your hands in your lap. “I want to continue, to keep doing whatever it is we’re doing, but I can’t do that if you’re not okay with us…leaving it in December.”

His gaze sweeps over you, slightly narrowing as he comprehends your words. “So, what you’re asking me is if I’ll develop enough feelings in a month for you to hurt me?”

“Under normal circumstances, I know I would. That’s the only reason I’m even saying this. I already know you’re a good guy, Chenle, and I don’t want to make you hate me because I can’t give you something.”

These aren’t normal circumstances, but you already have that feeling deep down in your chest, the one that swirls and lights up your world when you think of him—hope.

“How about this,” he says, reaching over to stop you from picking at your nails. “We have this month, in any way you want, and then after, we’ll just be…normal. Friends. I think we get along really well, so it’d be a waste to not at least try to be friends after this, right?”

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“I’d probably end up getting hurt if we didn’t have this conversation, but I do like you. I hope that’s not weird to say, but we have slept together twice, so…”

“It’s not weird. I like you, too. That’s why I wanted to be completely honest with you.”

“But just to be clear, we don’t have to just be friends this month?” Chenle’s thumb traces shapes onto the back of your hand.

Timidly, you shake your head. “I’m all yours for December.”

8:43pm, March 10th, 2023 | Yeouido Park, Yeongdeungpo-gu, Seoul, South Korea

He was right. The tree blossoms are beautiful, and you’re in awe.

But it’s not the same without him.

4:32pm, December 5th, 2023 | Outside of Seoul Tower, Yongsan-gu, Seoul, South Korea

“Jaemin, put him down!” you shout, forcing yourself not to laugh as you smack Jaemin’s arm.

Jaemin shakes his head, shifting to make sure Jeno is comfortable on his back. The latter looks slightly terrified, but as Jaemin charges forward, he laughs with glee. You chuckle, scratching your forehead as you stay back with Mark, Jisung, and Chenle. Renjun and Donghyuck are off looking for some sort of hot drink, and you’re stuck here trying to stop Jaemin before he slips and hurts both himself and Jeno.

“They’re like toddlers,” Mark points out, sighing.

“Pretty muscular for toddlers, don’t you think?” Chenle pipes in, leaning back on the railing.

You stand next to him with Jisung on the other side, and you take in the view around you. Seoul Tower is in the distance, where the sun has already begun its descent below the horizon. It’ll be dark soon, and that means another day has gone by where you’re still unsure of what this hollow feeling in your chest is.

Maybe you’ll never find out, but that’s okay. You’re happy with your band of friends, and you’d never want anything else.

You think that until you glance at Chenle when he’s not paying any attention to you. He watches Jaemin and Jeno in the distance, and as soon as you hear a shout of alarm from Jaemin, Chenle’s eyebrows jump up before his lips part into a smile, and then eventually a loud laugh bursts past. He doubles over, Jisung and Mark following his lead as they watch your friends tumble over each other down the sidewalk.

Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart pounds.

The genuine expression of joy and happiness on his face, while somewhat concerning considering what brought it up, makes your brain malfunction.

“Are you okay?” Mark cups his hands over his mouth to amplify his voice, but the tears in his eyes give away his actual lack of concern.

“Fuck you!” Jeno yells back, making Chenle and Jisung giggle more.

“You losers need girlfriends,” you say. “I’m tired of being the only girl here.”

“For the record, I have a girlfriend.” Mark glares at you.

“Right, sorry. We’ve just never met her so she may as well be invisible,” you deadpan.

Renjun and Donghyuck approach, and the former hands you a warm cup of coffee. You thank him, and then Mark opens his mouth.

“Yeah, well, what about you? Why don’t you get a boyfriend?”

You flounder for a moment. Honestly, you’ve no idea what to say, and the only man you’ve ever considered dating in the last couple years is standing right next to you, stiff as a board at the idea of you having a boyfriend that’s not him.

“Wait.” Donghyuck holds up a hand to stop everyone. “Dude, are you dumb? She’s dating Chenle.”

Both you and Chenle recoil, and at the same time, you say, “What are you talking about?”

“Are…are you not? I mean, you’ve been hanging out for a year and you brought him into our group, so I just figured…wow. Maybe I’m the dumb one.” Donghyuck blinks vacantly past the group before shrugging and sipping his drink.

You look at Chenle and immediately recognize the frustration on his face. Touching his arm, you wait until you have his attention. “I’m sorry.”

The words are so quiet, nobody hears them but Chenle, especially when Jaemin screeches in the distance. In response, Chenle presses his lips into a thin line, nods, and walks off with the rest of the group toward the two hooligans.

7:31am, December 10th, 2022 | Your kitchen

“Fuck,” Chenle groans as he bottoms out inside you, his fingernails digging into your thighs as yours claw at his shoulders. He spent the night last night, and apparently seeing you in his shirt in the morning made him want more of what he got last night.

The counter is cold against your bare ass, but you’re barely on it once he tugs you to the edge. Originally, your plan was to make breakfast, but he clearly had other ideas. He fits so snugly within your walls, you’re almost certain he’s made for you.

You squirm in his grasp, crying out with every miniscule movement he makes with his hips.

“Hear that, baby?” he whispers as he slowly pulls out of you, sounds of your arousal following. “You get so fucking wet for me.”

“Chenle, I—”

He slams his hips against yours before your sentence is complete, making you cut yourself off with a loud moan.

“Lay back.” He tells you. “Let me see all of you.”

You waste no time doing as he asks, lying down flat on the island as his hands explore your body. The granite sends chills up your spine and hardens your nipples even further. Your sweat makes your back stick to the countertop, but neither of you care.

The lights are on, illuminating all of you for Chenle to observe. His hands drag up your body before he reaches your breasts, groaning as he squeezes them. He rubs his thumbs over your nipples, and you cry out and your walls clench down on his cock.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, as if you’re not meant to hear those words. “So perfect.”

“Please,” you whine, lifting your hips the best you can. “Need you.”

“Aw, baby. All you gotta do is ask.” He tsks, and before you know it, he’s pulling back to slam himself forward.

Ten days. You’ve known him for ten days, but you’re comfortable enough to be sprawled out in your most vulnerable state, begging him to complete you in the ways only he can.

And you’re metaphorically and physically fucked.

10:51pm, April 12th, 2023 | Yeouido Park, Yeongdeungpo-gu, Seoul, South Korea

All you can think about is him. Chenle should be walking by your side right now.

You reach up, gently caressing the petals the same way he’d touch your face.

You miss him.

You miss him and he’s been so close to you this whole time.

9:21pm, December 14th, 2022 | Chenle’s bedroom

Tonight is one of those slow nights. Considering your timeline, you and Chenle haven’t really wasted any time, either spending the night at his house or yours. More often than not, the two of you would end the night sweaty and naked.

But not this time, apparently. His lips work lazily against yours, but there’s no hint of it heating up. The two of you are simply enjoying each other. His left hand rests casually on your ass, while the right cups your cheek. You love the way this feels. Like there’s no rush.

“I could kiss you for hours,” Chenle murmurs against your lips, inhaling shakily. “Just wanna sit here and kiss you.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Wanna look at you, too.” He brushes your hair behind your ear. “Want something to remember that’s not just sex, you know?”

Despite the pang in your heart, you nod. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Whatever happens,” he says, a small smile gracing his swollen lips. “This has been the best time of my life.”

“Bar’s really low, huh?” You giggle, and he rolls his eyes.

“Not at all. You exceed expectations, as per usual.” He kisses the tip of your nose.

You gently push his chest before sliding your touch over his shoulder and onto the nape of his neck. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything,” he replies.

“You are…the prettiest man I’ve ever met. Not pretty in a bad way. Like…beautiful. You’re beautiful, Chenle.” You trace a finger along his cheekbones, down to his jawline, until you make it to his lips, running your thumb across the bottom one.

“You know, I…I like this a lot. You.” He pauses. “But no matter what I tell you, or how I feel, I hope you know I’d never disrespect the boundaries you’ve set. So if this hurts me, it’s my own fault. Not yours.”

“I—”

“I’m serious. I don’t want to be dishonest with you. We both know I like you a lot. And it’s okay to be scared of that, or to wish things could be simple and meaningless, but…” he trails off, playing with the hem of your shirt. “That’s not reality. I’m falling for you, and I’m okay with it. Even knowing we only have a couple weeks left.”

“Me too,” you whisper. “I’m falling for you, too.”

7:56pm, December 15th, 2023 | Chenle’s house

“Happy one year of your inauguration into the group, Chenle.” Mark claps his shoulder with a bittersweet smile on his face. “I feel like it’s so crazy that you kinda popped out of nowhere, but we like you. We’ll keep you.”

Chenle quirks an eyebrow. “That’s…an oddly endearing speech.”

Exactly a year ago, you introduced Chenle to your group of friends. None of them knew the extended truth of what was going on between you and him, but apparently, people had always assumed from day one. It didn’t help that neither of you had dated anyone since your month together.

Jaemin gathered everyone on the couch and insisted everyone goes through their favorite Chenle memory. One instantly pops in your head, but you’re not sure if you should mention it. Although, you doubt anyone would actually catch on to the meaning behind it.

“Oh, I’ll go first.” Jisung sits forward a bit. “Over the summer, when he helped me burn all of my ex’s old stuff. Was like therapy for us both.”

“Classy,” you cut in.

“Well, my favorite Chenle memory is when we all went to dinner after (Y/N)’s promotion and he got drunk as hell. (Y/N) had to basically wheel him out of there, and the whole time he was mumbling about how happy he was. Comedy gold.” Jeno gives Chenle a thumbs up, who snorts in response.

“Yes, let’s bring up all the times I got drunk.” Chenle leans back, but a grin spreads across his face anyway. His arm brushes against yours, and soon enough, everyone looks at you expectantly. It must be your turn.

You purse your lips to hide your amusement, tapping your nails against your wine glass. “My favorite Chenle moment.”

“Can’t believe it’s this hard for you,” Chenle teases you, nudging your arm. “You have plenty of choices.”

“That’s why it’s hard.” You run your fingers through your hair and sip your wine. “Okay, okay. My favorite Chenle moment is from exactly a year ago tomorrow.”

You don’t elaborate further, but Chenle hides his smile with his drink. Everyone around you waits for you to elaborate, but you and Chenle are caught up in the memory now that you’ve mentioned it.

“Wait, what?” Jaemin frowns. “That’s not fair! We have no idea what happened.”

“It shall forever be a mystery.” You hold up your glass in a fake toast.

“We’re going to assume the worst if you don’t tell us,” Jisung mentions.

“Assume whatever you want.” Chenle shrugs. “Some things are meant to stay private.”

A chorus of oooh’s flood from the boys, and all you can do is roll your eyes. Had it been any other day, they’d probably be right, but December 16th, 2022 was far from a sexual encounter.

5:00pm, December 16th, 2022 | Han River, Seoul, South Korea

Chenle stands against the railing, overlooking the river as he waits for you. You approach him as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb him while he looks so ethereal. Despite your efforts, it’s almost like he senses your presence.

A wide smile overtakes his features when he sees you. He straightens up, and from this angle, you see the bouquet of flowers in his hand. You make it to him, and the next thing you know, your back is pressed to the rail and his lips are on yours. And you don’t mean to giggle, but you can’t help it when you’re in his embrace. Everything about him makes you feel complete.

“You look beautiful,” he mutters against you before nuzzling his head into your neck. “And you smell so good.”

“Are you only saying that because you’re hungry?” You laugh and gently push at him. “You need real food or you might eat me alive.”

“Trust me, I’ll do that anyway.” That comment earns him another push, but his laugh echoes in the air in the most pleasant of ways.

The two of you start walking, your arm looped in his as he hands you the flowers. You accept them gratefully, sniffing them and sighing at the scent. Resting your head on his shoulder, you allow him to lead the way—something you’d struggle with if you were with anyone else.

“I’m glad we’re able to do this stuff,” Chenle says, smiling at you. “That you’re okay with me taking you out places and all that.”

“We’re not hiding what we’re doing,” you say, stopping and waiting until he turns to you. “No part of this is wrong. Maybe it’ll be a little hard, but we’ll still be friends.”

His chest deflates. “Yeah, we will.”

“Chenle…”

“I know.” He holds his hand up. “I know, (Y/N), I promise. It’ll suck for a while, after having you like this to get demoted to friend, but if it keeps you in my life, I’ll do it. I want you to be happy.”

“You’re supposed to be trying not to fall for me.”

“This is me trying.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I’m trying, but nothing’s working. And I don’t really want to talk about it. I want to take you on this date and pretend like…like you’re really mine. If I’m going to get hurt, I may as well make it worth it.”

You’re not sure how it happens, but you must step on some ice. Your feet slip, and you let out a squeal. Chenle darts forward, wrapping his arms around you to steady you on your feet, but he also hits the ice patch. Without another thought, he cradles your head to his chest while both of you fall, taking the brunt of it as his back hits the snow. Luckily, it’s soft enough to give way for him, but it still knocks the air out of him.

“Fuck,” he groans, his grip still tight on you. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” You gasp and roll off him, sitting up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am.” He pulls you back down to the snow, turning so he’s looking at you.

As the cold seeps in, you both start laughing. The gleam of the stars catches in his eyes, and you know that either of you fighting your feelings will be futile. You’re not just falling for him, you’re diving headfirst, and when he lays in the snow with you, tugging you closer to kiss you instead of hurrying you to stand, you know you’ll never reach the bottom.

11:08pm, December 19th, 2023 | Your bedroom

How do you still miss him a year later? How does he occupy every single one of your thoughts?

You curl your comforter to your chest and turn to your side, almost certain you can imagine what it felt like to have his sleeping form next to you. Tears prick at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

This is all your fault. He’d be yours if only you had the nerve to ask for his forgiveness.

11:08pm, December 19th, 2022 | Your bedroom

Chenle’s always a peaceful sleeper when he’s with you. He’s lying on his chest, arms under the pillow and the blanket hanging off his bare lower back. You want to trace shapes into his back, any sort of physical touch, but you fear waking him when you’re in a state like the one you’re in right now.

You want him. All of him. Every day.

You’ve only known him for a short amount of time, but you fell hard and fast. The only explanation for the tears in your eyes and the pang in your heart is love.

You’ve fallen in love with Chenle, with his laugh and his smile.

And you’re not sure what you can do to fix it.

6:23pm, December 20th, 2023 | Your house

“It’s almost Christmas,” Mark notifies you through the phone. It’s on speaker, sitting on your counter while you do your dishes.

“There’s five days left, trust me, I know.” You snort. “Jaemin’s present is still in the mail, let’s hope it’s not late. He’ll cry.”

“I think the last one I have to pick up is Chenle’s,” Mark says absentmindedly.

“He’s the first person I bought for,” you admit, shrugging despite Mark not being able to see you. “He’s easy for me.”

“Please, give me some of those vibes.” Mark chuckles. “But actually, is it okay if I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

“Well, another one, you dick.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Mark clears his throat and shuffles around. “So…anything happen this year? With Chenle?”

“What?” You frown. “No. Why would it?”

“(Y/N).”

“I’m serious,” you defend yourself. “Things are still the same as they were.”

“Except that’s not true, because you were in love with him last December, dude. Love doesn’t fade if you’re still around the guy every day.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” You turn off the water and rinse your hands. “Whatever happened between me and Chenle is in the past. It’s gotta stay there.”

“But what if it doesn’t? He clearly wants you.”

“How could you possibly know that?” You grab your phone and head into your living room.

“You may have introduced him to the group, but he is our friend now, too, you know. And since I’m, unfortunately, the only one who knows the shit that went down between you two, I know very well how both of you are feeling.” Mark opens some sort of bag, and when you hear the crunch, you surmise he must be snacking.

“I’m busy.”

“Yeah, so are the rest of us,” he deadpans.

“That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is you telling Chenle you’re too busy to love him and then loving him anyway. We still go out throughout the year, we all hang out. He’s seen you just as much over the last eleven months as he does now.”

“Then why hasn’t he said anything?”

“Are you serious? Maybe because you came up with your dumb rules and he’s too good of a guy to break them.” Mark snorts, and you imagine it’s accompanied by an eye roll.

You open your mouth to say something, but a knock sounding interrupts you.

“Oh, let me call you back.” You hang up on Mark before he responds, quickly bounding over to your door to see who it is.

The smile drops from your face when you see Chenle.

“Hey,” you say, quickly moving aside to let him in.

He hasn’t been alone in your house with you in months, and you begin feeling the tingle of awkwardness and anxiety at the base of your spine.

“What…what’s up?” you ask, clasping your hands together behind your back.

“What are we doing?” he shoots back.

You recoil.

“Nevermind.” His eyes close and he shakes his head, running his hands down his face. “I’m…tired.”

“What can I do to help you?” You step toward him, and he watches you closely, almost as if he’s scared of you.

“I thought I could do this.” He scoffs. “I thought I’d be okay with having you in my life even if I couldn’t—”

Tears already brim your eyes, as if you know what’s about to happen.

He’s leaving you. For real this time.

“Chenle, I…”

“Don’t,” he says. “I was doing good, you know? And then December came and I kept thinking about you and everything we had last year. It won’t leave me alone. And I’m sitting here waiting for you, when I don’t even know if you’ll ever want me in the same way.”

You stay silent, acknowledging that this is something that’s built up inside of him over the course of a year. He said he wouldn’t get mad at you, but you can’t help but understand why he is either way. You’re mad at you, too.

“Hanging around you and our friends and not being able to touch you or kiss you or just tell everyone that I love you fucking sucks. Hearing Mark tell you that you should get a boyfriend sucks. Donghyuck assuming we’re together sucks. I’m tired of this.”

“Chenle…”

“At least I’m trying!” He lets out a bitter laugh and tugs his hands through his hair. “We could make this work if you were willing to put in the effort, but somehow I’m not enough for you.”

“No,” you cut in quickly. “That’s not true at all. Chenle, you deserve so much more than me. That’s why I can’t let you love me, because I’m not worthy of your love. You need someone who can let go around you, who can have fun and love freely, and that’s not me.”

“That is you.” He wets his lips. “That’s always been you.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I can’t!” Your body shakes as you raise your voice, daggers in your tone as they sink into his skin and cut him down. Tears pour down your cheeks, but there’s no sign of any emotion on his face.

“This is…” He scoffs. “Fine. I’ll see you when I see you. Have a good Christmas, (Y/N).” He turns his back on you, and before you even attempt to comprehend what just happened, he’s gone and your door is slamming behind him.

12:30pm, December 25th, 2022 | Your bedroom

You and Chenle had a late night. You’re just beginning to stir from your slumber, groaning as you turn toward him. Since you’re not sure what time it is, all you do is cuddle close to him, hoping he’ll bring his naked body as close to yours.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he mumbles sleepily, cradling you into his chest and kissing your forehead.

“Merry Christmas.” You grin, squeezing your arms around him.

You’re not sure exactly how it happened, but suddenly, your bedroom door flies open. You squeal and pull the blanket up to cover yourself, and Chenle pulls you to him.

“What in the hell—” Mark blinks, as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “Chenle?”

“Observant,” you deadpan, flipping him off. “Nice job knocking.”

“Well, you two get dressed. The others will be here in like, four minutes.” Mark slams the door behind him again, and you sit up.

Chenle joins you, lips finding your neck. “We could just let them find us like this.”

“That’ll be really easy to explain come January 1st.” You allow the blanket to fall and stand up to grab more clothes. As you sift through your drawers, Chenle’s gaze is glued to you.

“I thought we weren’t hiding this?”

“We…we’re not.” You frown. “I just don’t exactly want all of our friends to see me naked. Or you, for that matter.” You put on a new bra and change your panties before grabbing a T-shirt and some jeans.

“(Y/N), be serious. You don’t want them to know about us.”

“It’s not that easy, Chenle—”

“Then make it easier.” He frowns.

“I don’t want them to know because I don’t want things to be awkward after this. It’s already going to be hard enough, okay? I just want things to go as smoothly as possible.”

“Do you have feelings for me?” He crosses his arms over his chest as you button your jeans.

“Are you serious?” You scoff. “I’ve told you a thousand times that I do—”

“Do you love me?”

His words freeze you in your tracks, and as you open your mouth to speak again, you find no words come out. How do you tell him you love him so desperately that you can’t be with him? Does that even make sense?

“Jaemin’s here!” A loud voice carries from the living room and you cringe.

“We’ll talk about this later.” You pull your shirt on and point a finger at him. “Don’t do anything you’re going to regret. Get dressed and act like I asked you to carry the presents down from my closet.”

Without another thought, you tie your hair up messily and head into the bathroom to brush your teeth.

10:14pm, June 10th, 2023 | Yeouido Park, Yeongdeungpo-gu, Seoul, South Korea

Nothing is right without him.

Nothing.

11:20am, December 25th, 2023 | Your bedroom

Dialtone.

Voicemail.

“This is Chenle. Don’t leave a message because I don’t listen to them.”

Beep.

That’s the sixth time you’ve tried him this morning. He hasn’t responded or texted you once. Your heart is racing and breaking at the same time, and you wonder if this time, you’ve gone too far.

2:37pm, December 25th, 2022 | Your house

Everyone has opened up their gifts, and now you’re all hanging out around the house. You know you’ve set yourself up for a difficult conversation later, so you avoid Chenle as much as possible that day. Mark glances between the two of you knowingly, clearly realizing that something isn’t as obvious as it seems.

You don’t want to hurt Chenle. That’s the last thing you want to do.

Either way, you’ll break his heart. You just have to pick the decision that’s better for you both.

12:30pm, December 25th, 2023 | Your house

Everyone’s here.

Everyone except Chenle.

4:13pm, December 25th, 2022 | Your house

You look at all your friends seated at your kitchen table, casually conversing and eating the dishes each person brought in. It’s a casual Christmas—one that you have every year. This time, even though he’s mad at you, Chenle makes it feel a little fuller. A little more perfect.

You want to keep him around forever, and you’re sure the only way you can do that is by being his friend. If you love him, it’ll be destined to fail.

2:37pm, December 25th, 2023 | Your house

You’re off. You know everyone can tell you’re in your head right now. They notice Chenle’s absence, but they don’t say a word. How could they? They don’t know the truth. No one does except for Mark, and the grim look on his face tells you that he’s heard from Chenle.

You pull him into the kitchen and cross your arms over your chest. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” Mark shakes his head and shrugs. “He told me he wouldn’t be here, but he wouldn’t even tell me why. I’m assuming something happened between you two?”

“He…he said he’s still in love with me. You were right, okay? But I couldn’t do it.”

“Why not?” Mark asks, giving you an incredulous look.

“I’m scared.”

“Yeah, get in fucking line.” He glances over his shoulder to make sure no one else has entered the room. “Look, (Y/N), I get it. Life sucks and things don’t work out all the time, but you and Chenle…I’ve known it since you first introduced him to us. He means something to you, and you’re an idiot if you let him go. And instead of spending Christmas with us, he’s alone in his room and hating his life—”

“I thought you didn’t know where he was.”

“Shut up. That’s besides the point.”

“He’s alone?” you whisper the words, clenching your eyes shut and trying to think of anything but him sad and alone on Christmas.

“We’re all he has. You know that.”

“What do I do?” You wipe at your eyes, jaw quivering. “It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”

“Figure out if you want him or not.” Mark sighs. “He’s not going to hurt you, but you have to give him the opportunity to prove that.”

9:43pm, December 25th, 2022 | Your house

Jaemin is the last person to leave, meaning you and Chenle are alone all over again. You clean up some of the stray cups and snack dishes, ignoring his presence while he helps you. Every second that passes builds the pressure on your chest, and you want to scream and cry and ask him why he’s making this difficult when he swore he wouldn’t.

“Can we talk?” he asks as you set your handful down in the sink.

“About what?” You turn the water on, anything to avoid looking at him.

“Stop doing that, damn it.” He grabs your wrist and turns you around.

His face is contorted in an emotion you haven’t seen from him before. He’s desperate, upset, and irritated all wrapped up into one.

“I don’t want to lie to you anymore,” he says. “But I can’t keep doing this. I’m in love with you, (Y/N). I want to have you every day. Everything you have to offer, I want it. Being busy is a shit excuse not to love someone, and I promise I’ll prove to you we can do it if you let me.” Despite the confidence in his posture, his voice shakes as he speaks. He holds onto you, gaze begging you to see reason.

“You said you wouldn’t get mad at me,” you reply.

“I’m not mad at you,” he insists. “I love you. I love you so much that it fucking hurts to think that all I get after this is friendship. I told you I would respect your choice, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to ask you one last time to pick me.”

You glance up at the ceiling to stop your tears, sniffling. “Please.”

“Do you love me?” He puts his hands on the counter on either side of your, his face inches from yours. “Be honest with me, please.”

“Do I love you?” You scoff, voice thick. “Of course, I do.”

“Say it.”

“I did.”

“No, tell me you love me. Say it properly and to my face.”

Tears blur your vision, and you cup his cheeks. “I love you, Chenle.”

“Then why isn’t it enough?” He leans forward, resting his forehead on yours. “Why isn’t what we have enough?”

“I’m sorry.” You shake your head. “We had a deal. You said you’d respect my decision. That we could be friends.”

“And we will be. But I…we can’t spend the rest of December together. It’ll be too hard for me, and that’s not fair.” He gulps, blinking back his own tears.

“Please don’t go.” You grab hold of his shirt sleeve. “Just a few more days, Chenle. I’m not ready to let you go.”

As a tear falls down his cheek, he leans forward and kisses you. It steals all the air right from your lungs as if you’ve been punched in the gut. You feel every ounce of desperation in that kiss, but in the end, it still wasn’t enough.

Chenle pulls away, wipes his face, and lets out a shaky sigh. “I love you.”

As soon as the door shuts behind him, you slide down until you’re sitting on the floor. You watched him leave, and with him, your heart trailed not too far behind.

8:59pm, December 25th, 2023 | Your house

You can’t take it anymore.

You never stopped loving him either, and Mark was right. Hurt is inevitable, and the only thing you’re doing by protecting yourself is hurting both you and Chenle. You don’t plan on stopping to tell anyone where you’re going despite it being your house, but Jaemin and Jeno stop you as you grab your purse by the door.

“Where are you going?” Jaemin asks.

Everyone stops—Mark, Renjun, Donghyuck, Jaemin, Jeno, and Jisung—and waits for your response. You send a panicked look at Mark, but he only gives you a nod. How do you admit this to your friends? You lied to all of them, but you want them to support you in getting Chenle back?

“I…I’m gonna go buy more alcohol.”

“Boo!” Mark yells, crossing his arms over his chest.

You roll your eyes and shift on your feet, suddenly uncomfortable by the confused looks your friends are giving you. “I…Okay, Chenle’s not here because of me, and I’m really scared I’ve ruined everything, so I’d like to go check on him if you guys could hold down the fort.”

“And…” Mark makes circles with his hands, urging you to continue.

“And what? I really have to get into that right now?” You frown at him.

“Yes.” He glares at you.

“Fine. I’m…in love with him, I guess.” You cringe at yourself. “And we were…something last December, but I was an idiot and I let him go. I don’t want to do that again.”

Mark looks smug when you glance at him for approval. You’re not expecting it, but all the boys sigh in relief.

“Finally,” Jaemin groans. “I thought we were gonna have to perform a lobotomy on you to get you to admit that.”

“Huh?” Your jaw drops.

“Well, yeah, you look at him like he gave you the best dick of your life,” Donghyuck interjects.

Mark slaps him upside the head. “Dude. PG. Love and feelings, not dicks and sex.”

“Well, he looks at her the same way.” Donghyuck throws his hands up in mock surrender. “You know, except that it’s like…magic pu—”

“Donghyuck.” Renjun cuts him off, facepalming. “Yes, (Y/N), please go save Chenle from himself and tell him the truth. We all know you love him.”

“I…Right. Thanks guys. I’ll be back soon.” You grin at them.

“We hope not.” Jisung purses his lips, and Donghyuck high fives him.

“You guys are children.” You’re still smiling as you exit your home, rushing over to your car.

You were going to make things right.

9:43pm, December 25th, 2023 | Chenle’s house

You give yourself a mental pep talk before walking up to Chenle’s door. It’s much more daunting than you remember. Behind it is your love, the man who’s put up with your denial and bullshit for over a year. He deserves an explanation.

You knock a few times, careful not to be too loud. Rocking on the balls of your feet, you wait for him to answer. When he doesn’t come at first, you almost go back to your car. You almost give up.

He doesn’t want to see you, and he has every right to feel that way.

But you refuse. You knock harder, hearing the sound echo inside his house.

Within a minute, he’s opening the door, eyebrows furrowed. He opens his mouth to speak, but it’s clear he’s used up all the words he’s wanted to say to you. You hoist the bag over your shoulder to his feet, chest heaving from the strain of carrying it from your car.

“These are your Christmas presents.” You nudge it closer to him. “Not just from me. From the guys, too.”

“(Y/N)...” He sighs.

“You have every right to hate me and be mad at me and have a dart board with my face on it. I get it. But our friends are concerned and worried.”

“I’m pretty sure they’d understand where I’m coming from if they knew.” He shakes his head and goes to close the door. You panic, unsure of how to get him to listen to you.

“I told them everything,” you blurt out. “About us. And how we had our stupid deal and it was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my life. How I sent you away when I knew I’d never be able to or want to love someone else the same way I love you.”

He stops—moving, breathing, blinking, everything.

“And how you not being there for Christmas hurts so bad. Because I lost you in a different way last year, so I can’t lose you any further this year. I won’t allow it, Chenle. I fucking love you, but I’m scared. Terrified that we’ll burst into flames the second anything good happens to us because that’s…that’s fucking life, you know?

“And if we don’t work, I’d lose you for real. Never see you again, never hear your laugh, never watch you bully the boys affectionately. I wasn’t ready for that. Not that I am now, but I’m not scared of that anymore. I…I love you. And I know I said that like seven times already, but it’s true. I’m not scared of losing you anymore because I know how real these feelings are.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I broke your heart last year and that you’re so upset that you had to spend Christmas by yourself. I think about our time together…all the time. How you used to pull me a little closer in the mornings when you woke up, how you kissed the tip of my nose when you thought what I was doing was cute. I miss that. I want that back. If you’ll trust me one more time.”

You pant, fear pulling at your veins as his expression doesn’t change. He’s still frozen, looking at you with a blank face. After a few moments, you take that as his answer, and your heart starts beating in your throat.

“Um, yeah. I get it. There’s such a thing as too late, and I’ve been a fucking idiot, so why would you wait for—”

“Oh, for the love of God, stop fucking talking.” He grabs your wrist and yanks you to him, a gasp leaving your throat as you almost stumble over the bag of presents.

Next thing you know, your back is against the wall and his body is firmly against yours. You stare up at him in shock.

“But those are kind of temperature sensitive, so you should bring them inside—”

“You’re such a fucking nerd.” He laughs, dropping his head on your shoulder. “I love you so much.”

Your heart floods with relief, and you forget all about the temperature-sensitive presents, kissing him as hard as you can. He stumbles back one step before pulling you as close as he can. Returning your kiss with equal fervor, he runs his fingers through your hair.

“You called me a nerd, you dick.” You wrap your arms around him and bury your head in his chest. His heartbeat is rapid, thundering in his chest so hard you know he’s equally as shocked as you.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers. “I’ve missed you since last December.”

“Me too,” you admit to him. “It’s not the same when I don’t get to wake up to you.”

“I thought you didn’t care about me.” He grabs the bag to pull it inside and closes the door.

“I cared too much,” you say. “That’s why I couldn’t do it.”

He kisses you again, fingers weaving into your hair and his other hand trailing down to the small of your back. You know what he really wants, so you guide his touch down to your ass. He grins against your lips before giving you a firm squeeze.

“It’s been so long,” he breathes out. “So, so fucking long.”

“What are you saying?” You roll your hips forward, already knowing what he means.

“I’m saying I want you so bad, I can’t keep my hands off you.” His mouth traces along your neck. “But our friends are waiting at your house, and they’ll know if we take too long—”

You turn the two of you around so his back is on the wall. “Good.”

Sinking to your knees, your hands quickly reach for the button on his jeans. His eyes widen at the sight.

“What are you doing?”

“Think it’s pretty obvious,” you say, giving him a pointed look. “Do you want me to?”

“I’m gonna bust in my pants just thinking about it, so…yeah, I want it.” He takes a deep breath and strokes the top of your head while you pull his pants down to his knees.

You palm him over his boxers, listening to the way he inhales sharply. To your pleasant surprise, he’s rock hard already, proving he wants you just as badly as you want him.

“This is going to be very embarrassingly short,” he says as your fingers tug at the last piece of fabric keeping him covered.

“Good thing you have all the time in the world to make it up to me.” You glance up at him and see a grin on his face as his head leans back on the wall.

“For the record,” he groans as you pull his length out of his underwear. “You don’t have to do this. No pressure.”

“I know.” You lean forward and kiss the tip. “I want to.”

You lick up his length, and his hands clench at his sides. Grabbing his wrist, you lead his grip to your hair, instructing him silently to guide your mouth onto his cock. He does as you ask, pushing into your mouth with a drawn out moan. You immediately relax yourself to fit him down your throat, not wasting any time in moving your head.

Drool already falls from your lips, and the feeling of him bottoming out has your eyes brimming with tears. He rocks his hips, cursing under his breath every time your warmth engulfs him in his entirety.

“You’re so fucking good, baby,” he mutters, teeth biting down on his bottom lip.

Your tongue traces along the prominent vein on him, and he tightens his grip. He jerks forward with a hiss, and you gag hard around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His head thuds back on the wall. “Gonna cum soon.”

You squeeze your thighs together, rubbing them in an attempt to get any sort of friction. Your hands move to his balls, and as soon as you make contact, he yanks on your head as he thrusts forward, gagging you on his length while he pumps strings of white into your throat.

“Take it,” he coos, stroking your face. “Swallow it, baby. Don’t waste it.”

You pull away from him as he comes down from his high, and you do exactly what he says.

“Let me see.” His thumb caresses your cheek.

You open your mouth, and he moans again at the sight.

“So fucking pretty.”

As he settles himself back in his boxers and buttons up his pants, he watches you closely. “If we weren’t expected somewhere else and you hadn’t sucked the life out of me, you wouldn’t be able to walk right now.”

“Later.”

He kisses you quickly. “And you look so sexy with your lips swollen from sucking my cock.”

You blush, looking away from him.

“You confuse me sometimes.” He laughs, kissing your forehead once. “You’re mine later, baby. I’ll make the wait worth it.”

You know he will.

For now, time to tell your friends you’ve succeeded.

11:33pm, December 25th, 2023 | Your house

You quietly unlock your door, curious if any of the boys are still there at this time.When you walk into your living room, you’re surprised to find all of them staring back at you, eyes honing in on the way you’re gripping Chenle’s hand.

“It’s about time,” Jaemin grumbles. “I thought I was gonna have to sleep on your couch.”

“Yes, congratulations, you two. But I’m exhausted, and you should’ve waited til you got here to fuck so we could go home earlier.” Donghyuck pats his thighs as he stands. “Goodnight.”

Jaemin and Donghyuck leave, and you and Chenle share a glance.

“Ah, I knew you two could do it.” Mark throws his arms over both of you, squeezing you. “But they’re right. It’s way past all of our bedtimes. Let’s go, guys. They probably have a lot of…catching up to do anyway.”

Mark guides everyone out of the house, and before he leaves, gives you two one last encouraging thumbs up.

“What just happened?” You frown.

“I think our friends were more excited about going to bed than us finally getting together.” Chenle raises his eyebrows. “Huh.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll hear about it tomorrow.” You scoff, turning to him to kiss him gently.

“Yeah…that’s if I let them interrupt our time together tomorrow.” Chenle grins at you, walking you backward until your back presses against the couch. “I have big, big plans for you.”

You’re in the longest, best night of your life.

#nct dream #chenle #nct imagines #nct #nct dream smut #nct scenarios #lowkeyjaemle #chenle smut #chenle angst #chenle fluff #nct smut #nct angst #nct imagine #nct fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff

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shares-a-vest · 1 year

Text

"Steve!"

Eddie stages-whispers his boyfriend's name before he has even reached the bedroom. He furiously rubs his bare arms, shaking from the cold.

He'd dried off as best he could downstairs, first kicking off his muddied boots at the front door. He discarded his soaked shirt and (likely ruined) jacket in the laundry, settling for drying his hair with a dishcloth he had nabbed on the way.

He has probably left wet footprints all through the house, but the mark they will leave on Mrs Harrington's hardwood floors is a problem for Tomorrow Eddie.

"Steve! Psst! Steve! Steve... Steeeeeve," he says, focusing on Right-Fucking-Now Eddie as he toes his wet socks off in the doorway.

He hobbles along, shivering as he reaches the foot of the bed. Of course, being left to fall asleep alone during a rainstorm, Steve has completely starfished across the bed.

And he is snoring. Loud.

"Steve!" he not-so-much whispers this time, he taps the exposed foot sticking out from under the covers and begins peeling off his soaked jeans.

They stick to his legs and he stumbles sideways, catching himself on the edge of the bed just before he hits the floor. The move practically jolts the mattress a solid inch. But Steve doesn't move. He merely snorts, all wet and throaty (it's gross). He then groans and retracts his foot back under the blanket.

"Dude!" Eddie yelps, slapping a hand to his forehead.

This is what he gets for insisting Corroded Coffin still play their scheduled Tuesday night gig at The Hideout when Hawkins was supposed to receive the worst rainfall in three years overnight. And of course, the pretty weather lady in her green dress and gigantic side ponytail on the local news was more than correct.

"Mrmphf."

Finally, something.

He ducks down onto the floor, feeling around in the darkness for a t-shirt, a sweater, those silly boyish pyjama pants Steve wears... Anything that is dry and preferably warm. His hand touches something and he kneads it.

Okay, so maybe not Steve's Family Video vest.

He shakes his fist in the air and growls as he tosses it. Now on his hands and knees, he scrambles around. Carpet... Carpet... Steve's jeans... A sock... Carpet... The jacket he decided not to wear tonight... Another sock...

Bingo! A sweater.

A sweater that smells like Steve's cologne and fruity shampoo. Eddie shudders. Or maybe it's more that he doubles over in a rain-induced shiver.

He shucks it on and moves to his designated side of the bed, teeth chattering all the way.

"Huh?" Steve says, clearly on a sleepy delay (and completely oblivious to Eddie scuttling around on the floor looking for some damn clothes) as he palms around nowhere near the bedside lamp.

"Move over! I'm freezing!"

He doesn't wait for an answer. Or movement. He just starts shoving Steve's barely-conscious deadweight without a great deal of success.

"Okay!" Steve grumbles, heaving himself back over to his side with a dramatic huff, taking most of the blankets with him.

Eddie slips under the scrap of covers he is left with, burrowing in close to the warm space Steve just vacated. He squirms his way close enough that he can slip his hands up under Steve's sleep shirt, a paper-thin piece of material that is wholly inappropriate for such a freezing night.

"You're cold," Steve says with a slow motion-like gasp, eyes snapping open as he arches his back away from almost-frostbitten fingers.

"Yeah, no shit!" he retorts, immediately regretting it because Natural Space Heater Steve Harrington has all the power here.

But to his surprise, Steve kisses him on the cheek as he flaps the blankets around enough to cover them both fully. He pulls Eddie closer with one arm, still strong despite being half asleep.

"Why aren't you wearing pants!" Eddie exclaims far too loudly for the silence of Steve's plaid-soaked bedroom.

"But it's warm in here," he grumbles back, eyes fluttering shut too quickly to see Eddie rolling his. Steve wiggles closer still, tangling their legs together as he mumbles, "C'here... I need to... go back to sleep... now..."

He hardly gets the words out as they morph into a low snore directly in Eddie's ear.

#it's non-stop raining where i live and i think we've officially hit winter weather #i don't like iiiiit #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #lilys ficlets

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rookthorne · 1 year

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝

It was a punishable act to not follow the Captain’s orders, just as much as it was to cross him when his fuse was already so short. Luckily for you, you had the one thing that would calm the brusque fury into a simmering wave.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✗ Pirate!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✗ 1.7k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✗ Fluff ჻჻჻ SMUT: Unprotected, angry piv, Dom!Bucky, no prep ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, degradation, dirty talk, sir

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✗ So... I think it would be a bit foolish for me to say that I am innocent at this stage — but, I will say it anyway.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✗ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer ჻჻჻ Week 6 — "How do you want me?" — Masterlist

𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The tension on The Soldat’s deck was thicker than the fog in the early hours of a cold morning.

All day, your Captain had been snappish in his orders – quick to berate and growl out a reprimand if a crew member dawdled too long or made a mistake.

It was unnerving.

Bucky had always remained composed – very little could rattle the seasoned sailor, but the first sighting of an encroaching armada seemed to have set his last nerve ablaze. A couple days’ worth of sailing had taken your ship out of their sights and back into corsair territory, and as a result, Bucky had given the command to port at the closest settlement – a pirate port, one infamous for shady men and even worse devils.

“First mate,” Bucky snapped from the helm as night began to fall. You strode over from your station, brow raised in question, watching as the black leather coat Bucky wore flapped in the cold evening air. He flicked his head in a gesture for you to step closer, and you did so with no hesitation, right up to his side so his lips could brush against your ear. “Cabin, now. Get on my bed and wait for me. Ass up.”

The shock made you freeze for a split second, and Bucky’s lips curled into an arrogant smirk. “Move it, lass; follow your Captain’s orders, now.”

“Aye, sir,” you said, staring at him through doe eyes.

If you put a little sway in your hips as you made your way down the stairs for his benefit, it was no one’s business.

The Captain's cabin remained as warm and inviting as ever, with dark timbers and even deeper accents. A very recent haul had allowed some art to decorate the wooden walls, and they added a flair of colour to the otherwise brooding room. Your shared bed took up a fair amount of space on the far wall, and the sheets and covers tousled from the previous night’s coupling and fitful hours of sleep.

“Such a slob,” you muttered, moving over to the mess and tidying it up.

Once tidied, you fiddled with your buckles and belts, pulling off your cutlass and pistol to place them on the armoury table. The garments you donned were easy to remove, cotton and leather peeling away and allowing your flesh to breathe, yet you left your billowing shirt on, unsure how long Bucky would take to make his way and retire to his cabin.

Waves made the ship pitch and roll as you waited, and the setting sun casted an orange glow through the glass windows.

As darkness bloomed, you struck a few matches and lit a few candles that were dotted around the cabin – the light flickered and glowed, a beautiful dance of flame that you admired for just a moment.

Muffled voices could be heard through the door, and then heavy bootfalls above your head, trailing down the stairs and coming to a complete stop at the cabin door. The figure behind the glass was tall, broad, and angry. “Oh, fuck,” you muttered, and you scarpered to the mattress, quickly laying down on the soft cottons, and canting your ass up into the air – just as he had ordered.

“If any fool knocks on this damned door,” Bucky yelled at large, his voice muffled by the doors, but no less fierce. “I will give them a third eye.”

The very same door swung open with a crash, and you startled with a muffled squeak. Your head came to rest in the crook of your elbow, and as if on instinct, you held your breath – awaiting Bucky’s next move.

“Well, well, well,” Bucky said, the sound of his leather coat and thick armour hitting the floor louder than cannon fire in the nervous energy of the cabin. “Just how I wanted my Minx–presenting that sweet cunt for me, aren’t you a good girl…”

“What’s wrong, sir?” You asked, voice muffled by your arm, and Bucky hummed. “You have been tense all day–you want to be in control of me? That why I’m prone on your bed waiting for you to fuck me?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bucky breathed, and you peeked from your arm to behind you. His predatory grin was warped by the candlelight and shadows, though his gaze was entirely focused on your bare ass and weeping entrance. “Don’t tell me you don’t like pleasing your sir, fuckin’ look at you–filthy and already dripping wet for me.”

A low moan started in your throat before you could stop it. Bucky’s attention focused on your face – softening his manic glint only slightly. “Hands behind your back, lass,” he ordered, stepping closer to the bed and kneeling on the edge. “Go on now.”

“Sir,” you whined, shuffling your knees and arching your back further. “Please.”

“Do as you’re told, Minx, be a good girl. Hands behind your back.” The bed dipped behind you from Bucky’s weight, and you hastened to obey – his proximity and authoritative tone making your brain grow fuzzy. “That’s it, good girl.”

The bed creaked as Bucky removed the last of his clothing, and you looked back to see him stark naked, hard and swollen cock bobbing between his legs as he shuffled closer. “We don’t need this,” he said, and the sound of fabric ripping filled the air and a chill settled over your bare back, shirt long gone. “Much better.”

“Please,” you whispered, and Bucky cooed, his scarred, rough hands rubbing over your ass and hips before one grabbed your crisscrossed wrists. “Please, sir.”

“Is my Minx achin’, hmm? Here?” The sudden brush of a finger against the weeping entrance of your cunt made you gasp, and you jolted forward. “Such a sensitive lass,” he whispered, rubbing his fingers up and down slowly, teasing your entrance. Biting your lip, you nodded. “Can’t have that, can we?”

“No,” you replied. The anticipation of finally being filled made your breath come in heavy pants, and you wiggled your hips to entice him to move, to finally get on with it. “Use me, sir–fuck me, and you’ll feel better, promise-”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” Bucky chuckled darkly, and he draped himself over your back and kissed your shoulder. “You just need to be a good girl and take it.”

A shout of surprise tore from your throat when Bucky finally thrust forward, his cock forcing its way in to sit to the hilt in one swift movement. The burn and pull of muscle as your body gave way to him made you hiss through your teeth, “Fuck!”

“God,” Bucky groaned, draping his chest over your back. “You feel so good, sweetheart, fuckin’ hell.”

A nonsensical moan fell from your lips as Bucky shallowly thrusted, his hips rocking back and forth so the head of his cock brushed against your walls in all the right places. “Oh my god,” you moaned, blinking rapidly to clear the tears that had gathered on your waterline.

“Just stay like that, little Minx,” Bucky growled. His body heat left your back as he sat up, and you whimpered. “Easy, ‘m here,” he cooed. You felt the rough calluses of his hands brush over your hands just as he gripped your crisscrossed wrists. His other hand forced your face into the bed – effectively immobilising you. “You’re gonna let your sir fuck his anger out, aren’t you? You’re gonna sit there and take it?”

“Yes, yes–use me! I can take it,” you rushed, grinning against the soft cotton on the mattress, and you were rewarded with a sharp, quick thrust. “Sir!”

“Knew you could, lass.” The grip on your wrists tightened to be bruising, and you huffed, wriggling slightly in his grip to get closer, only to feel the sting of his palm and hear the resounding crack from his palm spanking your ass. “Sit fuckin’ still. How am I meant to fuck you if you keep squirmin’, sweetheart?”

“Sorry! ‘M sorry, sir, I’ll be still,” you gasped, rocking slightly.

“Good girl,” Bucky praised.

The first thrust punched the air from your lungs in a keening moan, and Bucky hummed approvingly, bending over your back while still rocking his hips. His hot breath fanned over your ear, and you whimpered, chasing the feeling of skin on skin. “Sound so pretty, Treasure, huh?” he purred. “But I think you can be louder than that. Let it out; let your sir hear you.”

The drag of Bucky’s cock over your walls made you moan loudly, and the sudden change in speed caused a domino effect you were powerless to control. “Feels s’good, sir! Fuck!”

Bucky’s hips slammed into yours, his growls and grunts of efforts adding to the litany of sounds that echoed off the walls of his cabin. His hand gripped your wrists tightly, the pain of his grip only adding to the pleasure that crested in the coil between your legs.

The hand that held your face to the mattress still pinned you, and with the force of Bucky’s thrusts, your knees started to spread even further apart, forcing your back to arch – the angle sent him far deeper in your cunt than ever before.

You called out wordlessly the faster he thrust, the pace turning brutal as the bed frame below you creaked and groaned, the rocking matching the ferocity of the waves that gently swayed the ship.

“Fuck, you feel s’good–never gonna leave your tight cunt,” Bucky moaned, his voice raspy with feral need. His words made your walls flutter, and you could just feel the arrogant smirk that quirked his bitten-red lips. “You like that idea, huh, little Minx? Jus’ being a hole for your sir to fuck and fill whenever he wants–’specially when he’s angry?”

“Oh my god,” you cried, “please!”

“Tell me, Treasure. Tell me you want it,” Bucky ordered, each word followed by a harsh thrust. “Go on.”

“I want it! I want it, please,” you begged. It was getting hard to think through the onslaught of pleasure, and If Bucky kept hitting that spot, you wouldn’t last much longer – not to mention if he kept up the train of filth falling from his lips in that tone, the tone of a Captain and sir.

“Fuckin’ take it then, whore,” Bucky spat, and his hips pistoned into yours, each thrust became a sharp stab of pleasure adding to the inferno burning through every last one of your nerves. “Cum for me, cum on your sir’s cock–lemme feel it.”

Your thighs began to shake, the wave becoming too hard to keep your head above. “Oh, fuck, please! I’m close!”

Bucky angled his hips down and fucked you onto the bed, a snarl on his lips and his panting breaths fanned over your ear and cheek. “Give it to me, sweetheart–fuckin’ cum, now.”

The command made your eyes roll and your body seized as the waves consumed you. A scream tore from your throat as you fell off the cliff into the waves, and Bucky moaned loudly, grinding his hips and digging his cock further into your heat. “That’s it, lass, fuckin’ good girl–such a good girl, milkin’ my fuckin’ cock, shit.”

Bucky’s breath hitched on a moan while you pulsed around him – his hips faltering before a whimper fell from his lips as warmth spread in your cunt, his spend leaking from your entrance and onto the cotton sheets covering the bed.

“Fuck,” he breathed, lowering himself over your back, still thrusting shallowly. “Good god, my love–y’know just how to snap me out of it.”

“Sure do,” you giggled, sighing contentedly. “Love having my sir fuck me.”

A soft kiss landed on your shoulder, and Bucky exhaled heavily. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No–no, you didn’t, love,” you replied quietly, smiling. “I hurt just as I should, just as I wanted.”

Bucky chuckled and shifted to sit up, his softening cock leaving your cunt and making you feel empty. “We made a mess,” he observed, his hand running up and down the back of your thigh. “Should fuck you like that more often.”

Just to fuck with him a little more, you tensed once, twice, and a groan echoed behind you. “Good god, you fuckin’ whore–teasin’ me like that. You have no idea what that does to me, Minx.”

“Oh, but I do,” you replied, winking.

Bucky stared at you, his lips in a firm line and eyes flashing dangerously. “I’m not done with you. Stay there while I get something to clean you up with.”

Following orders, while second nature, had never been so rewarding.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #hotbuckysummer2023 #rookthorne's works

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eddieintheocean · 3 months

Text

cuils

ok so if anyone's heard of cuil theory i wrote a marine biology themed set of cuils. (linked for an explanation of what they are)

trigger warning for: horror, existential dread and such, mentions of blood, and ALOT of corpses and dead bodies, and death in general

if you can guess the marine biology metaphor/theme you can have a metaphorical brownie.

0 cuils

You return home from a long journey. You’re tired and lay down to rest on your soft bed. You sleep better than you have in years.

it gets weird from here on :)

1 cuil

Your bed has moved to the living room. How did it get there? The room has a thick layer of dust covering it. You’ve tracked mud into the carpet, although it was already thick with ageless grime. The position of the bed doesn’t bother you. You’re still home, after all. Sinking into the bed, you fall asleep.

2 cuils

Something about your bed feels … off. It’s nothing you can place exactly. Maybe the mattress is harder than it used it be, maybe the bodies are rotting faster than they should be. They’re entangled in the sheets. If they weren’t decomposing, you’d think they were dreaming. When you get into the covers, a body slides limply onto the grimy carpet. An arm detaches from the hinge easily. It disturbs the dust on the carpet, rising up into the air in small vortexes. Food crumbs and plastic bags rise up with it. You ignore it all, too tired to really pay attention. Your journey has come to an end, as it always must, and always will.

3 cuils

Water lapping at your body jerks you awake. You weren’t meant to wake up. Why can you see the beams of sunlight streaming up into the sky? This wasn’t meant to happen. The water is cold against your skin. The bed won’t stay afloat for long, the red fleshy mattress oozes blood where you touch it. Blood pools into the water, attracting things to nibble at the bed and your fingers as you sink deeper into the flowing currents. This is the way it is meant to be, isn’t it? Are you not happy to fulfil your purpose? The bed frame reaches the floor smoothly. Grime rises from the sediment in small vortexes. A corpse floats up to the surface. The water smothers you suffocatingly, but it isn’t painful. The water feels like home. You feel your nose and mouth fill with water, and your body floats. You sleep well.

4 Cuils

You’re back in the river and you’re dying. There is no bed to support you anymore, just hundreds of other bodies like yours, dying or already dead long ago. They’re swimming around hopelessly, over and under each other. The river does not have the space to support you all. Many are trying to complete their mission before they die permanently. Some have given up or have been trapped on the banks of the river.

A body turns to you. It’s a bloated corpse, like all the others.

A BODY: It feels good, doesn’t it? To have a function.

You want to reply. You want to agree. Your mouth moves, opening and closing. Don’t bother trying to make a sound. It’s too late for you now. You’ve done your job and now it’s over. You flop around uselessly. Your limbs are not cooperating anymore. You should feel fear if you were capable of it. More bodies speak. You cannot distinguish the voices from each other. You wish they would shut up and let you rest.

A BODY: Swim fast, swim fast.

A BODY: Greet the water willingly.

A BODY: Join us.

A BODY: I’m glad we met again. It was nice coming home.

You move your lifeless head as well as you can. A pathetic nod. It’s all you can manage at this stage. You joined the corpses long ago, it’s a miracle that you’re even thinking. The first body looks at you. You look at the body. Like a mirror image, you both close your eyes and sleep.

5 cuils

You’re… home. What is a home anyway? You were born here, and you’ll die here. That’s what a home is. You open the door and fall through the opening. A gaping pit greets you with comforting arms. You’re tired and welcome the fall. You wanted to sleep, but the bed was in the garden. The house was never there. It vanished as you opened the door. I think the gust of wind made you fall. Why would you choose to fall down the hole? Who would even do that?

The pit ends in a dank pool of water. You sink to the ground. Fish tear at your skin and you welcome it. Join the grime and the dirt. Join it, and sleep.

6 cuils

The trolley will roll down the hill. You will be tied to the front. The legs and arms of something else will be tied to you. You won’t know how you got these new limbs. The trolley will roll uncontrolled down the hill. You won’t see the end until it’s too late. Maybe there will be a river to greet you. Wouldn’t that be nice? Wind will batter your face like an uncaring friend.

Why are you having these thoughts? You have never seen a trolley. What even is a trolley and what is a hill? What are legs and what are arms? What is a friend and what is the wind? Will you ever learn what these things are? All you know is your journey. You left your home, and you returned home. You’re so tired. This journey will be so tiring. You want to sleep. Will you ever sleep?

7 cuils

Your bed is where it belongs, but someone else is using it. It’s you. You’re using it. But you’re here, standing, so how can you be using it? The journey has been long and you’re fucking exhausted. It seems you already fell asleep in your bed. It doesn’t feel like your bed. You push your body out of bed and take its place. It falls to the ground into the disgusting carpet. It falls face flat into the tar rising, seeping out of the floorboards. The tar consumes your body as you watch from the bed. The tar brings more bodies through the floor. You don’t recognise any of them. Faceless corpses rotting and rotting and rotting. That will be you soon. It’s already you, can’t you see? Just accept it’s going to be you no matter what you do. The bed grows tar, enveloping you. You close your eyes. You don’t want to see your body on the floor as the tar eats away at it. Sleep seems nice, doesn’t it. The bodies are sleeping. You’re a body, aren’t you?

#cuil theory #cuils #eddie in the ocean #creative writing #eddie writes the ocean #marine biology #horror tw

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vynnytypesstuff · 1 year

Note

Hello! Im here for a request if you dont mind, i loved the platonic stuff you wrote for lmk and wanted to request a platonic drabble with Sun Wukong and Macaque. If you don’t do that then can i get some headcanons? Enjoy your vacation!!

꒰୨୧﹒Lego Monkie Kid - Platonic Drabbles for Sun Wukong and Macaque

Ngl I had fun writing this request. I think I favor writing platonic stuff lmao

Thanks for your patience and here you go <33

Warnings: None

Sun Wukong

(Word Count: 430)

[Name] yawned, stretching their arms outwards as they laid on their back against the firm mattress of Wukong's couch. With the long week they've had to deal with, a lazy Sunday was the exact crowning jewel they needed to kick back and unwind, and what better way to spend them than with one of your closest friends?

Resisting the urge to let their exhaustion coax them into slumber, [Name] turned over onto their side, curious to see what Wukong had been up to during the time they had been staring at the ceiling. The Monkey King had been seated on the floor, surprisingly too focused on whatever task he was trying to complete to respond to [Name]'s movements. Upon closer inspection, in front of him was a piece of paper with art supplies scattered around him.

[Name] blinked, "since when do you draw?"

That seemed to be enough to grab Wukong's attention. "Uh, since always? Didn't I tell you this before?"

"Yeah, but… I kind of figured you were bluffing."

Wukong looked at them with false offense, sputtering in exaggeration, as if he were actually upset by that comment. "Wha- I'm shocked! Offended, even! I have my hidden talents you know. See for yourself!"

Reluctantly, [Name] rolled off the couch to get a look at Wukong's supposed masterpiece. A lingering part of them still expected to see a humorous assortment of scribbles, yet they were completely blown away once they witnessed his scarily realistic and accurate depiction of Flower Fruit Mountain, fully sketched down to it's finest details. It even had Wukong's little monkeys companions, who's sketched counterparts were scurrying around the mountain.

"How is your work not on display in a museum?!" [Name] exclaimed questioningly. They felt a little guilty about underestimating Wukong's artistic talents. They just weren't expecting him to be insanely good.

"Stage fright, or something," Wukong nonchalantly shrugged.

"Or maybe being the Monkey King is just a cover for your true identity as an artist," They mused. "I can't believe you've had a secret identity all this time and you didn't tell me."

He laughed, deciding to play along with the joke. "Caught me red-handed! And if I told you, it wouldn't be a secret."

Their exchange of friendly banter went on for quite some time before [Name] finally decided to abandon their original Sunday plans of having an intense ceiling-staring session, choosing to watch Wukong color his work before grabbing a piece of paper for themself and joining him in his makeshift "art studio." Overall, it was the perfect close to a weekend of relaxation.

Macaque

(Word Count: 446)

"'Come hiking with me' you said. 'It'll be worth it' you said," a muttered complaint spilled into the air, courtesy of [Name]. Macaque and [Name] had been hiking the same mountain for a little over an hour. The rugged terrain combined with the narrow twists and turns of the trail wasn't helping with [Name]'s growing exhaustion. "It feels like we've been at this for ages! How much further until we're there?"

Macaque's voice rumbled in a soft, fond chuckle, clearly finding amusement in his friend's whining. "Relax, we're almost there. Besides, I meant what I said. You'll be thanking me once we've reached the top. Would I lie to you?"

[Name] opened their mouth to respond, but Macaque beat them to the punch with a quick "don't answer that."

Thankfully, Macaque had been truthful. A mere ten minutes after that small exchange, they had finally reached their final destination. It was the height of the Spring season, so despite the gentle chill of the flowing breeze hitting their skin, the weather was warm and comfortable. The view itself was breathtaking. The natural assortment of flora below them shone vibrantly against the sunlight, resembling the picturesque nature of a meticulously painted landscape.

The awed look on [Name]'s face didn't escape Macaque's gaze. "Told you it would be worth it." He grinned, finding a spot near the mountain's edge to sit down. "Honestly, even I forgot how beautiful the view was from up here."

"You haven't been here recently?"

Macaque shook his head in answer. "I used to come up here all the time with an old friend, so it just brings up a lot of memories, you know?" Perhaps [Name] was imagining it, but it almost sounded like there was a hint of sadness in his voice. They chose not to question it, instead letting him continue. "I wasn't sure how I'd feel about coming up here again."

'It's part of the reason I invited you,' a sudden thought that went unspoken. That was a little too vulnerable for his tastes.

[Name] walked over to where he was sat and settled next to him. They didn't speak after that, instead choosing to take in the view in comfortable silence. There was nothing awkward about it. Believe it or not, Macaque wasn't always the most talkative, so having someone he could sit with in silence was a pleasant change of pace.

Time passed, with [Name] being the one to break the silence. "Thanks for inviting me, this was actually pretty nice."

"Glad you like it. Does that mean you'll stop bugging me by asking 'are we there yet' every time we climb up here?"

"Don't count on it."

#lego monkie kid #lmk #platonic x reader #sun wukong x reader #macaque x reader #platonic drabble #askblog #askbox is open #vynnytypesstuff

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charmercharm3r · 2 years

Text

Masterlist

warning: smutty thoughts

thinking about chan on vlive in his hotel room for the night, all the members going back to their respective rooms after a concert...

but the adrenaline rush that lingers is no joke. the members all have their ways of dealing with it, some work out, some play video games or take late night walks. hyunjin gets it the worst, staying in his system for hours and keeping him up all night because performing is such a high.

it was just chan’s luck that his room was next door to hyunjin, as well. oh, but how unlucky for him that you surprised them after the show, and now hyunjin has you all alone in his room while his band mate is doing his weekly live.

the hotel is a nice one— the air conditioning isn’t too loud, wi-fi’s decent, no kids running around the hallways and making noise, so chan’s live can go uninterrupted and without a hitch. mostly.

next door, there’s you. hands tangled in the bedsheets looking for something to hold on to, hyunjin running his mouth because you neglected telling him you were watching the show. he had you face down, ass up on the mattress for the time being, immediately stripping and commanding you to sit in that position as soon as you’d gotten through the door.

all the dancing, singing, cheers from fans, it made him so excited that as soon as he’d gotten off stage his first thought was to beat one out, half chub already straining against the tight underwear. you’d been teasing and whispering in his ear every chance you had, fueling his urge to fuck. he’d practically manhandled you up to the room, tossing you towards the bed and all but ripping your clothes from your body. that’s how you ended up with your sopping cunt completely exposed to him, clenching around nothing and ready to be ruined.

“god, you’re so filthy. your pussy’s almost begging me to fuck you,” he’d settle on his knees behind you, hands kneading the flesh of your ass.

he presses one gentle kiss to your spine, running his tongue down your back and licking a fat stripe up the center of your cunt. you cry out, much louder than either of you anticipated. “don’t hold back, baby. let everyone hear how good i’m going to treat you.”

you hear a few muffled coughs from behind the wall, where chan is still doing his livestream and unbeknownst to either of you. but you couldn’t care to ask about it. not when hyunjin is lining himself up at your entrance, pushing into you slowly. the stretch is oh so heavenly, moment sweet as he rubs calming circles into your hips.

but he’s frustrated and horny.

the only downside of this nice hotel was the beds having a wooden headboard. because now, as the primal urges running through hyunjin’s veins takes over and he’s using your body to its full extent, said headboard is banging against the shared wall between his and chan’s room. every few hard, rough thrusts, it slams especially loud, frame creaking. you’re whining out while he’s moaning in bliss, not slowing down for even a second. with how much rush there is still left in him, hyunjin knows he’d be able to keep going after he blows this first load into your begging hole.

chan, on the other side, starts speaking louder, suddenly knocking his knees against the underside of the table or sneezing so hard it echoes through his room. all to cover up the absolute railing you’re getting from your high-on-adrenaline boyfriend next door.

A/N: hard hours are all hours. send me some hard thoughts or requests!

-momo < 3

#stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hyunjin angst #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fic #hyunjin fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz smut

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firewalkzwit · 8 months

Text

runt // jonathan crane x reader. (28)

Chapter 28

cross-posted on AO3

masterlist.

As much as she wanted to fight against it, the monotone of days began to pour over Y/N, and the impending passing of time assaulted her with the knowledge that she couldn't continue to let days pass her by knowing the uncertainty of an end was yet to come. Even if she was sleeping more, no matter how much she tried to fight it she could not stop. She had even stopped attending Arkham as a result of her unwillingness to get out of bed, even if Crane never gave up trying his luck at her door every afternoon. Never had she been the type to struggle to get out of bed, but then again never had she been so afraid before. Terror possessed her, and it was only a matter of time before Crane began to notice and drink of it like a vampire. She would not read —instead smoking like never before, the stench of tobacco soaking her furniture. The excess of sleep and stress was probably causing her to hallucinate, as she would begin to see the yellow stain of an addicted chainsmoker between her fingers. With days worth of sleep, and the sight of light being a distant memory, her mind was an artisan to all sorts of hallucinations and deformations of her body. Elongated limbs, fat stomach that some days would even allow ribs to protrude from under her skin; quite literally anything was possible, and she never looked the same two days in a row.

It was needless to say that when Crane noticed she had not been washing her hair, and the puffiness of her face combined with the hollow void that took the shape of eye bags under her eyes, he was repulsed. Despite the fact that the reason for his aghast was not the one of the average male — not being motivated by a dislike of humanity in the women they engage with but rather seeing her as a mirror to his failure, he still didn't refrain from making painfully masculine comments. As if trying to reassure himself of what was in his pants, but also making a desperate attempt to still disclose that his disgust was not that of the average man, for he could never let himself be so basic.

"You haven't been showering." Rather than a question, it was clear he intended a statement. As if she needed anyone to inform her of what was the only obvious thing to her in a flood of uncertainty. She didn't want to fall victim to his irony again, but his blasé behaviour to anything presented before him prompted itself especially irritatingly after days lacking human contact made her forget a pinch of social subtlety, not that Crane had any to begin with anyway.

"Why, aren't you bright?" The voice that came out of her was not the one she was used to. She sounded like a decrepit old woman, a late-stage lung cancer patient, someone so ill their throat shuts and the bleak air passage culminates in a raspy and grating. She used to sound subtle and hardly confrontational, even when she intended to be imposing.

Crane sat by her bed, her elongated and almost abstract figure rested over the mattress like liquid, smeared like dirt, and bent like a flexible matter. In a way, in the uncertainty of darkness she was all those things at once. Whatever she wanted, she could be. At least until Crane decided to storm in her chamber and force her to be perceived, spoiling the beauty that being alone in a room granted her. As long as she was the only one to know she existed in the living realm, she could revel in the knowledge that the tiny vibrating strings that composed her entire body were completely modifiable. They could bend, shift, stretch; but never disappear. As long as she was alone she could be whatever she wanted, and Jonathan Crane once again took from her the privilege of possessing her own consciousness.

Still, she knew she was real and physical when the heat of his hand rested on her cold shoulder. She also knew she was real, because as soon as her eyes ogled at him, she could tell his body didn't felt like a distended mass of organs vaguely put together, meaning that they were both together in a room.

"Come on, get up." His voice was authoritarian and commanding, but the grip he held on her wrist was gentle and soft. The contradiction of his language ignited her curiosity, allowing herself and her dignity to be dragged out of bed and guided in the darkness of her apartment by him.

As he opened the creaking bathroom door, a subtle light coming from the window was shot straight into her eyes. The placement of the small opening towards the outside world was placed right next to a light post, unpleasant rays of yellow light dimly illuminating the yellow-ish tiles of her toilet. By that point she knew where everything was pointing, but it was as she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, that she witnessed him motion his hands towards her underarms, pushing them upwards to help her remove the ragged sweater over her body. While feeling immensely humiliated, she couldn't find in her the will to resist, and once he had removed her sweater, there was nothing but her underwear stopping her from being completely naked before him.

The water was running, his hand under the faucet waiting for it to warm so he could begin to fill the tub. Even if he hadn't bothered to wipe the accumulating dust inside of it, and had ignored the stains of humidity on its corners and the adjacent walls, he still seemed to be aware that some warm water would greet her shut-off system more nicely than a shock of icy cold water, especially if she hadn't been eating which was very likely. Obviously despite the romantic scenery, she felt like it was the farthest thing from it. For once, there's no intent to deny that there was tenderness in his mannerisms and a paternal care to her fragility, but she still saw his conduct as a cold care for a project he cannot allow to fail, in fear of his ego shattering if it does.

As her body shily entered the water, she began to feel a shock of physicality again. She felt as real as ever, and as the water he cupped in his hands poured on her head, the sensation of her hair slowly getting wet and sticking to her neck made her feel strongly alive. His male touch not once violated her; a shocking display of humanity for Jonathan Crane, whom in usual conditions would pound to abuse his power in the immense situation of vulnerability she was in. She wasn't at ease, but the feeling of her fight or flight activating in the slightest made her feel blood pumping through her veins, and her breathing felt fresh.

"Mr. Wayne has called a few times, says you haven't been returning his calls."

"He called?" The squeaking voice of a parrot spoke instead of her own, her throat ached.

"Yes, although he eventually gave up and delegated his nuisance to me." It was strange for her to even hear him inform her of such calls, even knowing she was unaware of them. The complete unnatural behaviour was completely a stranger to the Jonathan Crane she knew; manipulative and possessive. She decided to test him, abusing her vulnerability as he let his guard down.

"I suppose I should give him a call after this then."

"He seems to think you're a representative of the asylum, or at least he wants to believe that on the grounds that I presented myself a little too unavailable to what Mr. Aristocrat generally accustoms." A small gesture of a grin began to form on her face before she could catch herself and stop it.

"Or maybe we've just become good friends."

"If you think there's any bond between you beyond business, it's not because you're misled, he probably just wants to fuck you." And just like that, Crane had returned to himself in all his nature, rapidly regaining his posture as he unfolded the cuffs of his shirt back into place. The once carefully folded towel was placed by his careful hands over the edge of the sink, bending down and hanging as it momentarily swung back and forth for milliseconds before stopping still and remaining in its place. She stared at it for longer than she recalled, in a way representing in the most visible way what she felt her body looked like. Looking back at her legs, her hand gently motioned sideways as the water deformed the shape of her limbs underneath it, zig-zagging into curve shapes of dubious structure, like liquid matter.

#jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy #jonathan crane #the batman #batman #nolanverse batman #batman begins #scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #bruce wayne

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inkkayyy · 2 years

Text

[ ꜱᴋᴢ ɴɪɴᴛʜ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ]

Kang Sunhee [ 강 선희 ], born July 29th 1999, is a South Korean idol under JYP Entertainment. She made her official debut on March 25, 2018 under the stage name Sunny, in the group Stray Kids as a dancer, singer and only female member.

“Which member is the best boyfriend material? Me, obviously. Jeez Stay, I thought we’d been over this already.”

ꜱᴜɴʜᴇᴇ’ꜱ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ:

[ sunny’s moonlight vlogs ] [ sunny: trailer ] [ <3 Kid’s Room Ep.9 Sunny ] [ sunhee’s social media hour ]

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ:

[ Survival Show: Ep.1, Ep.2, Ep.3 ]

[ Finding SKZ: god edition, got edition ]

[ SKZ CODE: days in jeju (20-24), amusement park (16-17), simple country life (10-12), scary night (8-9), ]

[ SKZ Talker ]

[ Kingdom, Kingdom Week ]

[ Happy Chuseok ]

[ SKZ Family ]

ᴇʀᴀ ᴛᴀɢꜱ!

( era tags feature all era writings, including promotions, like idol room or debak show, as well as ‘behind’ videos for skz comebacks and other uploads that aren’t put in the masterlist)

[ Mixtape ] [ I am Not ] [ I am Who ] [ I am You ]

[ Cle 1, Miroh ] [ Cle 2, Yellow Wood ] [ Cle, Levanter ]

[ Go Live ] [ Noeasy ] [ Oddinary ] [ Maxident ]

[ fan made content! [ sunny’s social-media hour ]

ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟꜱ:

[ Homebound ] -series,

Two weeks in Australia, fourteen days home, breathing the clean air and gazing at empty skies. And as the announcment sounded over the planes’ loudspeaker, it still didn’t feel real. Sunhee’s knee bounced up and down in a hyperactive rhythm, her excitement palpable, charging up to release all that energy the second she stepped on her native soil.

“Holy shit.” Felix muttered out. “What the fuck. We’re landing. We’re in Australia.”

( heading home for their first ever Australian concerts chan, sunhee and felix are tasked making bucket-lists in their hometowns for the members to complete, with only one condition, it has to be filmed. )

[ prying eyes ]

Famed Stray Kids swarmed at Seoul Airport after returning home from their US Tour, female member Kang Sunhee was captured with tears on her face as the members were escorted out. Reports claim a long-term sasaeng was seen attempting to push past security to reach the group.

( with the whole world watching, someone is bound to get too close. when faced with prying eyes and the shutter shocks of cameras, how do the members protect each other? )

[ Sunhee’s Song Book ]

“Who wrote the lyrics?” Bang Chan laughs, adjusting the cap on his head and sheepishly looking off camera. “Come one, you guys know Sunhee does all the lyrics!”

( a look into the poetry, and writings of kang sunhee )

[ From An Outside Perspective ] - shorts

It’s a shock, one that makes Changbin freeze briefly before wrapping his in a tight hug. They’re a similar height (she’s actually slightly taller than him- which she never lets him forget) but with how Sunhee had curled herself up next to him, on the tiny single mattress, she felt so small.

The pair had been though hard times, but he had never seen her cry. Not once.

(a series of shorts that show how the people in Sunhee’s life view her, from an outside perspective.)

#kang sunhee skz #stray kids female addition #kpop female addition #skz female addition #stray kids female oc #skz female member #stray kids female member #kpop oc #kpop addition #stray kids oc #stray kids 9th member #skz addition #skz female oc #skz 9th member #9th member of stray kids

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tiffanytoms · 2 years

Text

Honestly, the World Cup has me so horny, I decided to write something different while watching it. If this isn’t your jam, my bad.

But I’m not sorry 😇

NSFW - Smut

He did it.

You don’t know how, and yet, you never doubted him for a second.

Of course James Potter scored the game clinching goal to advance England to the semi-finals. As if there would ever be a doubt in your mind that his level of skill and cockiness wouldn’t push his team past the finish line.

You’d watched. You’d cheered. And now you were so unbelievably wet.

It had been nearly unbearable to wait as his team celebrated — like nails on a chalkboard as they all did their perfunctory post-game interviews, but he was here now. In his small little player hotel lodging room. With you.

“Baby, did you see—?” he asked eagerly, somehow still wanting to prove himself to you, somehow still caring about your opinion even as his whole country was probably chanting his name.

“On the bed. Now,” you demanded, living the dream of at least 28 million women and queer men. You pushed his warmup jersey up, over his abdomen, needing his help before it got tangled with his broad shoulders. It was the first test to see if he was just as horny as you were. By the grace of the gods, he allowed it.

“Really?” he asked smugly, standing before the mattress shirtless. Every muscle in his body seemed primed and ready to go, not yet having lived down the adrenaline of having just performed on a global stage. You tried not to ogle, but— fuck that, you were ogling. You were ogling fucking hard. His ribcage expanded and retracted with every breath he took, highlighting his upper and lower abs in turn. You knew how he’d earned them. You saw him sprint up and down the pitch, saw him tumble when he’d been on the receiving end of a bad tackle — being knocked to the ground by a desperate opponent, trying to take him out once and for all. But he’d jumped right back to his feet (much to your poor heart’s relief). You loved that he didn’t have to act and roll on the ground in false pain. He was good. He knew it, his opponents knew it, and ultimately, the ref did too. She could tell when he was fouled without him having to act it up — and you loved that.

“Yes. Really.” You pushed him backwards making his fit, perfect body fall onto the bed behind him, bouncing up and down lightly. He was so sexy, and so yours. You couldn’t believe your luck at having him all to yourself, but you supposed that was something to ponder at a later date. Now was the time to soak it in. Physically.

James bit his lower lip, looking up at you as you stood at the mattress’ edge. “So you enjoyed the match?”

Oh James. He’d always loved compliments, always loved hearing you sing his praises. Normally you relished withholding them from him until he’d done something on your body worthy of all the adoration, making him really work for it — but tonight was different. Tonight he was a champion, and you wanted him to claim his prize for all his hard-earned accomplishments.

Tonight you wanted him to claim you.

His eyes grew infinitesimally wider as he gleaned your realization off of your expression. Or perhaps he gathered as much when you reached for the hem of his joggers, pulling them down easily before you climbed up on your knees on the mattress and reached for your vibrator on his nightstand.

“Let me warm up first, then you can do whatever you want to me,” you declared.

He wanted to speak, you know he did, but how easily you slid down onto him, his cock finding zero resistance against your slick body, rendered him nearly speechless… save for a small ‘fuck’ he whispered into the stale hotel air.

This man had just made history. This man had just changed the course of a nation’s pride… but right now he was beneath you, completely at your mercy.

You smiled as you bounced yourself up and down over his body, making sure he was as hard as could be before you switched over to the deep grinding you preferred, activating your toy and bringing it down onto your clit. “Fuck, James,” you moaned, throwing your head back, as you settled into your familiar rhythm.

His hands claimed your hips, his eyes scanning down, realizing you were still nearly fully dressed. “Baby, I love that you’re wearing my jersey—” you were, as a cute little dress, “—but now…”

A circular swivel of your hips cut him off, forcing his head back into the pillow as he bit his own tongue. You’d seen this man dribble past four defenders before easily sinking the ball into the net, and yet here he was, uselessly overpowered by your small thrust. “You want it off, baby?” you taunted, your fingers leaving their perch on his pecs to toy with the hem of the jersey, blocking his view of your body.

It pained him to force his eyes open in response. “Yes. Please.”

Well, you couldn’t deny him such an ardent plea. Never breaking your steady grind on top of his body, you peeled his shirt off of you, reveling in the way his face broke as he realized you hadn’t been wearing a bra.

“So… fucking beautiful…” he panted as you rode him harder still.

He was exhausted, you knew he was. He’d played the whole game and all the overtime being their star player, so of course he could barely lift a finger now, having given it his all.

Then again, that was hardly your problem. You smirked as you leaned back, placing a hand on one of his muscular thighs to manipulate your weight, driving your cunt forward over him, forcing as much friction onto your clit as possible. James hissed, his nails digging into your hips that he was desperately holding onto.

“Are you close, baby?” he whined. You could tell he so badly wished you were. One of his hands flew up to your tits, smooshing them together as you writhed on top of him. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes,” you hissed, but you still knew it wasn’t enough. This was always the position that got you off, but tonight, it wouldn’t do. Tonight, you wanted to come by James Potter ramming into you from behind, 'penetrating your defense,' or whatever kinky shit that one particular commentator always seemed to say. You had no idea how they still had a job with all the explicit shit they teased, but… you also realized that the whole world maybe wasn’t as horny as you. (But only because they had never seen the game’s star player naked before. Because you knew that if they had… every word out of everyone’s mouth would also be an uttered plea to fuck them silly too.)

“I want you behind me,” you ordered, hopping off of James’ cock as you moved onto your knees on the mattress.

“Wha—?” he asked, still lying on his back, dazed and confused.

You refused to take pity on him. Not tonight. He was a god, and he would fuck you as such. “Get to work, Potter,” you demanded, your face half smooshed into the bed, looking back at him eagerly. You’d almost forgotten about the vibrator, but you put it to work now, moving it into place against your clit. James and you both knew what you using it meant — it helped you get wetter, take him in deeper and harder than usual. The fact that you were using it now let him know you weren’t playing around.

He’d never been able to deny you, and tonight would be no different. Obliging you, James got on his knees behind you, and slowly fed his cock back into you, making you moan as he made you whole. “Nothing feels as good as this…” he breathed, seemingly lost in the sensation. “Nothing.”

You groaned as he bottomed out, his hands finding purchase on your hips once more. He started establishing a rhythm, pumping in and out of your greedy cunt as you pushed back at him wanting more and more. “Harder,” you begged, rubbing yourself against your vibrator’s soft nub. The combination of its relentless motion with James’ harsh, punishing strikes was guaranteed to make you see stars any second now. “Just like that—“

“Shit—“ James moaned, biting the back of your shoulder as he did the exact opposite of your desperate request. “You feel too—”

“James, I said harder, not stop—”

“I’m sorry,” he panted, cock fully in you but motionless, lips grazing the back of your neck. “You feel too good, I’m edging, baby, give me—”

“No,” you deadpanned, fingers clenching in the sheets beneath you. You were too close for this shit. He was not allowed to let you down now. If he could do it for England, he sure as hell could do it for you. “Keep, going.”

A primal grunt ripped from his throat as James brought his hips back up to speed, his fingers interlocking with your left hand as his right held onto your neck, pushing your face deeper into the mattress. “Is this hard enough, baby?” he cooed, his cock completely destroying your soul. “Is this what you want?”

“Yesss,” you hissed, finding yourself climbing right back to that peak that he’d so selfishly nearly left you hanging at. “Right there— just like— James—” you mumbled pathetically before your orgasm washed over you, forcing you to succumb to the devastatingly beautiful way his body nearly brought you to tears.

Turned out he wasn’t done with you yet. Rolling you over like you were a rag doll, James quickly scooped you up in his arms, your knees settling in the crux of his elbows as he lifted you off the mattress, ready to go to town on you. As his cock sunk in and out of your pussy at lightning speed, he whispered in your ear, “That goal was just for you, baby.” Your head lolled exhaustedly to the side, but it only made him pull your body closer to his, driving himself harder up into you. “And the next one will be too.”

*****

Enjoy the match guys! ⚽️🔥

#James potter #athlete james #james potter smut #marauders smut #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #World Cup smut #my smut #smut smut smut #footballer james potter #smut x reader #happy World Cup

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canmom · 1 year

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Animation Night 161: Barry JC Purves

Good evening everyone!! I have completed my pilgrimage to Animation City. The last Annecy posts should be dropping tomorrow, all being well.

But! Tonight can be something of a preview!

The very last thing I did at Annecy was to drop into a collection for stop motion animator Barry JC Purves, who received a lifetime achievement award this festival. He totally wasn't on my radar which is a huge oversight because he's been making gay old short films for longer than I've been alive! l became a fan immediately lmao

As it happened, Barry Purves was there at the screening and afterwards took the time to chat with a small group of us, to give advice on animation, talk about his work, and generally be very encouraging. Here I am next to him holding the puppet Toddie from his film No Ordinary Joe (apologies for the shit picture quality, I didn't realise how dirty my lens was)

And here's the puppet up close:

So who is this guy, what's his story? Well, the way he told it, he started out in acting, but felt there were a lot of talented actors around. Around that time he saw stop motion films, and started to think he could bring a lot more performance and emotion than people were doing at the time. This must have been around 1989, when he made his first film Next, a speedrun of the works of Shakespeare performed by a puppet of the Bard...

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Theatre would be a recurring theme throughout just about all his personal works. Screen Play (1992) depicts a kabuki play...

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while Rigoletto (1993) does opera.

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I joined the screening just in time for the end of Rigoletto; the first one I got to see in full was Achilles (1995), which depicts the story of Achilles and Patroclus from the Iliad in the style of ancient Greek theatre.

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I loved this one. The characters move in a fascinatingly theatrical way, holding extended poses, is a trademark of Purves, who disagrees with the doctrine of realism in animation and emphasises readability above all; the staging is excellent; there is a lot of gay sex. I have no idea how the puppets were made - they're startlingly flexible for all the muscle detail. Barry said when I mentioned about it that he hadn't set out to tell a 'gay story' as such, rather was mainly trying to be faithful to the original story. I admire a lot his confidence in getting this on TV when I was like 2, but he said people never gave him a lot of trouble for content, just funding...

Gilbert and Sullivan (1998) and Hamilton Mattress (2001) were not included in the session at Annecy. The first continues the biographical theme, the second is about showbiz. I hope I can track them down at some point!

Plume was the next one we saw, and this one was great, a wordless film in which a winged man falls to earth and finds himself confronted by weird little monster guys hungry for feathers. This one was really cool, but I can't find it online.

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Tchaikovsky – an Elegy presents a puppet of Tchaikovsky moving on a small set to a voiceover of various quotes from his letters over the course of his life and a medley of his music. Apparently they only had the budget for two minutes of orchestral music, the rest solo piano, but this limitation becomes a strength as those two minutes are deployed very effectively. I'll admit, I don't know a ton about Tchaikovsky, but the chosen quotes were affecting and intriguing, and there is incredible attention to detail in the animation - when Tchaikovsky plays piano in the air, the finger movements are apparently noticeably accurate to the music if you're a piano player.

Speaking of pianos, someone asked about the puppet and apparently the puppet of Tchaikovsky now sits on his piano in the house where he composed... memory fails, one of his famous pieces, maybe Swan Lake.

The last film is about a historical figure who I knew nothing about, but completely intrigued. Joe Carstairs was... in modern terms somewhere in the zone between butch lesbian and trans guy, an aristocrat's child who became a record setting motorboat racer in the 20s and also ruled a small island for a while (bc ig you could just do a colonialism back then if you were rich enough lmao). He (I'm gonna go with 'he' pronouns) had a very specific eccentricity, going around everywhere with a doll called Lord Tod Wadley or Toddie, a gift from his girlfriend Ruth Baldwin. Apparently Carstairs regarded as his closest confidante and only person he could trust. So the film is presented as a dialogue between Carstairs (played by real human being Lindsay Duncan) and Toddy (stop motion animated and composited in), as they reminisce about their life together. It was a very cool way to learn about a fascinating historical figure - apparently the inspiration was the biography The Queen of Whale Cay by Kate Summerscale, which he encouraged me to read after the screening - I'll write about it if I do!

And he's not done. Apparently he's been looking for funding for a feature length animated film that would be a murder mystery styled after the bird masks of the commedia del'arte. It sounds sick as hell and I would really love for it to get made.

Barry was incredibly fun to talk to, really encouraging to all of us and gave fascinating answers to every question. I really hope I can meet him again at the next Annecy and chat for longer. It honestly makes me really happy to know there was such a talented independent animator in the UK making such personally expressive, mature, and also gay as hell animated films before I was around. Hope I can follow in his footsteps one day.

Apologies for the late start today - I was trying to fly to join family in Portugal but my flight got cancelled at the last minute and I'm only just back from the airport, gonna have to do it all again tomorrow ><

but in the meantime, let me share a little taste of Annecy!!! Animation Night 161 will be beginning in about 15 minutes, 23:45 UK time, at twitch.tv/canmom, and I'll start the films at midnight. Would love to see you there!!

#Youtube #animation night #barry jc purves #animation #film #stop motion

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onthevirgeofdestruction · 11 months

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Plea for my New Self

Chapter 37: Still with Me

Words: 7,519 Rating: Mature (16+) Warnings: Vampires, Non-graphic blood drinking, entering and breaking (in that order), Dirty Humour.

Virgil glanced at the blow-up bed on the floor with a deep longing. Roman and Patton’s light snoring together was adorable, and she wanted more than anything to be down there with them. But she had shit to do. She was dealing with three classes that had deadlines around the same time at the moment. The Spanish was getting easier the more she got to drink from Roman, but everything required time, even if it was easy. She took English and math what felt like hundreds of times, but that didn’t change the fact that they all had hours of homework.

The IT project was the dullest task she had in living memory, and she did some boring shit as Samuel. It left her feeling drained and craving some sweet contact from her clan, but she still had her art project and an extra long essay for English. It was better to get this stuff done while her friends were asleep… but also the deadlines had been creeping up on her because she’d been spending so much time with her friends. She didn't have these problems before, damnit.

To be fair to her past self, she didn’t make many friends as Samuel in college. She largely stayed in her slightly off-campus apartment and worked. There were rock shows she talked to people at, but other than vaguely chatting to classmates that talked to her, she did little socializing during the week. Keeping up with classes was easy, then. Though, she also didn’t have two delicious-smelling Brood passed out to cartoons on an air mattress tempting her into restful bliss her last time around.

Virgil didn’t take up extra curriculars last time, either. She was taking basically six classes and actually had things to do with her time these days. No sleep or not, she was busy. But if she could just work through tonight, she should have no problem and have nothing but free time and no more anxiety about getting things done on time. Maybe she didn’t have to expend so much effort on this art project that was consuming her time either, but she didn’t like the idea of half-assing projects. Her perfectionist tendencies were tough to fight, even in subjective classes like art. It pushed her to be the best with instruments, but left her second-guessing herself as she drew.

Theatre wasn’t a big deal, though, despite it falling under the arts. It was supposed to get harder to keep up with closer to the public performance, but she had little to do until then. Virgil’s strength, speed, and ability to move silently made her ‘the perfect stagehand’ according to Kai, and she didn’t have to practice moving props much to get used to it, and they weren’t using full sets in practice yet. They mostly just argued over placement and built sets right now, and you don’t need many sets for the stage adaptation of Arcadia. That… fucking storage room, though.

No, she knew she couldn’t think about that. She had a project to work on. She’d rather cuddle Pat and Ro on the floor and listen to some music. It was just even worse when she was there yesterday. The complete lack of organization was absolutely driving her up the wall. That outdoor storage would be a nightmare if she had them. She was picking up fallen nails and tools until they kicked her out last time, and she hissed at Elliot on accident. Thomas literally dragged her away as soon as she finished with the spilled items on the workbench. She could almost see herself wandering through inner storage and not being allowed to just pick up the sets and organize them properly. She could move the backdrops all in one place and…

Fuck. Art. Brood. Finish her art classwork and be with her Brood. She managed to get through this yesterday. It was fine. She could do it. Though her searing hatred for that Mitchell prick was probably why she could focus on not organizing that horrific monstrosity of a backstage after Thomas warned her to stay inside before she hissed at anyone else from her compulsions. Virgil’s eye twitched as she kept working on her class project.

Roman snorted and rolled closer to Patton on the floor, which was very cute and helped her focus again. Roman’s gift made him an extra toasty treat, and Virgil yearned for it. She loved the heat. Warmth was for the living, maybe, but it didn’t change the fact that she craved it. The heat between them on the air mattress only made lying down with Roman and Patton all the more attractive. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, staring at the loft above her for a moment to clear her head.

Virgil sat torn between so much right now that it was frustrating. She felt tempted to steal a hot snack from Roman while he slept, too. She needed to be more level-headed, and a bite would help. But she didn’t want to wake him up to ask for consent, or just steal it from him unaware. She only had grave-dirt tasting blood left in the fridge, making her grimace in disgust at the thought. That would just be even more upsetting, since the problem wasn’t an actual lack of blood, just a slight shortage of sanity.

She tapped her foot and went back to drawing. Art was good. She had a few more days to finish this, technically. But if she got it out of the way, then it’s a different night she can cuddle up with Roman and Patton. Assuming Patton fell asleep to cartoons here again. They assuredly had their own projects that would be due soon. Virgil could get another hotel room next weekend, and she could bury herself tortuously in a king sized bed with tasty-smelling humans. Well, maybe that plan wasn’t smart. Still tempting. Maybe it was like when humans lit candles that smell like cake. It just smelled so soothing and delicious and made her want to bite down on something just to cure the itch in her fangs.

… Okay, maybe that part probably wasn’t like dessert candles. All of those smelled unappetizing to Virgil, anyway. Well, Deceit found a soybean one that was Earl Grey at the gift shop of the escape room she liked. They were still overpowering while lit, so Virgil just took off the lid near her desk last time and that was plenty. Should she open it up to help? Virgil stared at the candle while she debated her options, worrying her lip.

She didn’t want to stop smelling the humans. Covering up the scent felt illegal. They smelled extremely and unfairly good. The smell of their blood was only getting stronger as her instincts kicked more into gear, and it was at risk of making her thirsty for real. Virgil stared at them, resting together quietly under the thin top sheet on the air mattress. Alright, she was losing it. She officially wanted to eat her friends in their sleep. She needed some fresh air. Virgil put down her large drawing pad and charcoal on the desk and got up from the chair. She cleaned off the charcoal and looked at the mattress longingly again before stepping out from under the loft.

Virgil swapped to the ceiling to get past the blow-up bed to access the closet, walking down the wall and opening it up a crack to pull her leather jacket and a pair of boots out. She dressed on the ceiling and dropped silently in front of the door to exit into the hall. The door was old and not perfectly silent, but neither of them even stirred at the tiny creak from the hinge when Virgil opened the door and left.

The noises of the dorm at this time of night were relatively quieter, but Virgil turned up her music, anyway. She enjoyed listening to them breathe in the dorm, but there were some less than ideal noises in a men’s dorm to hear this time of night as she walked past the doors. The last sound she heard before her music drowned them out sounded like someone desperately sobbing. Mood.

The stairwell was completely empty, other than a random abandoned water bottle and a blanket two floors up. Maybe someone was having a tiff with their roommate. Or they just wanted privacy. Since most students didn’t go into the stairwell, it was a good place to find some. She made it to the top a little faster than a human should have, just to be safe from students stepping in. The campus never truly went to sleep. Picking the door to the roof access was trying when frustration filled her thoughts, even though by now she knew exactly how to unlock this door.

As soon as the door opened, Virgil stepped into the night air with a deep, relieving breath. The sky was overcast and the dark night was refreshing. Her fangs still itched to sink into something, but it’s not like a pet store was open in the middle of the night to grab a chew toy. Should she flit out to Deceit’s estate? No, he liked to have more heads-up, normally. She could call, but she did still have projects to get back to. She should stay on campus. Just a little air before she went back into the dorm full of succulent blood bags.

Fucking yikes, okay, okay. What could Virgil do to occupy her brain that wasn’t thinking about draining her boyfriend? If she turned Roman, she’d stop fantasizing about drinking from him. Hecate, she couldn’t put him through that at school. That would be awful for him. She also knew better than to think about that. The compulsion to turn him was going to catch hold eventually anyway, accidentally encouraging that sooner would just be hell for the both of them. Virgil had access to fresh AB-negative. She wanted to revel in it. Though that fact contributed to her many dilemmas tonight.

Was Logan awake? Could she get blood from Logan? No, he probably got to bed before midnight. He preferred to wake up early to do homework than to work late. Something about memory retention occurring during sleep cycles that ended in a rant about how vampires made no sense.

Maybe she should just wake Roman up and ask. She’s not actually thirsty, though. She’s just frustrated about that stupid storage room and school work eating into her cuddle time. Roman needed time and sleep to recover his blood, and Patton was still seeking medical treatment. But Patton also had been slightly more reticent about the idea after Virgil drank from Roman while they watched movies when they weren’t in the same room as Virgil. If Virgil had to guess, it was too embarrassing to share those particular feelings with Roman and Virgil. Not enough that they weren’t willing, but just enough that they hesitated. Still, Patton’s blood would be nice, too…

This is nonsense. There’s a problem that Virgil can fix. So what if it’s not legal? She didn’t care that she hadn’t gotten permission, and that everyone was going to be confused and possibly mad. They’d appreciate it in the end, probably. She couldn’t take it anymore. Virgil jumped off the top of her dorm to flit over to the lower roof of building G.

The older stone building’s rooftop access door had a broken lock, so Virgil didn’t even need to pick it. What a delight. She walked in and flipped up to the ceiling, keeping a lookout for cameras or other people breaking in. There were none in the small stairwell access and the building was completely silent, so she dropped through the center of the stairs to the first floor and walked into the hall that led to the theatre.

Walking in with the intent to rearrange that hellscape of vampire compulsions gave Virgil new life. She jumped over the rows of seats and landed on the stage, walking right to the back room storage door. It was locked, but it was literal easy pickings. There were cameras on the walking path to the outdoor storage, so she couldn’t take things that belonged outside tonight, but she could move them near the back door.

Virgil relished in shoving things out of the way and started organizing out tall props first, the sounds of furniture clacking and dragging just barely registering over her music. She could organize the backdrops as indoor and outdoor designs and even by time of day, if applicable. This was rapture, glory, heaven to the need that had been gnawing at her for what felt like ages. This freaking mess had been hurting her psyche since she walked into this place and her eyes landed on the pile.

As she worked, she counted things to help her relax. Virgil even picked up the abandoned inventory clipboard and started checking things off after shifting everything over and getting all the backdrops in one place. She’d have to assume that anything missing from the list was in outdoor storage for her sanity’s sake. For the same reason, she had to add the list with any new items she found. She didn’t bother updating if things needed repair, she just put them somewhere to fix them or tightened whatever was loose while she was at it.

Most of the furniture-type items were wobbly, but there were plenty of tools about, and Virgil fixed them up quickly. Some of them might have needed another washer or some wood glue, but Virgil’s compulsion was more about the fact that things were out of order, so she didn’t bother with it. If they wanted her to be a carpenter and fix this stuff up, they could ask. Did they know she was a carpenter once? Should she say? They know she has a steady hand and can use power tools, at least.

Oh, one of the missing plants. Just spotting that was a rush of joy. She hopped out of the center of the chaos to drop it off with the rest of the plants they gathered before. The holy grail will be that missing chair, though. She located a matching early 1900s side table that they could put some décor on, though. Virgil didn’t look forward to listening to them argue about framing and where the best place to put it was, but maybe she can just play rock-paper-scissors with Seth again while they fought. His willingness to distract Virgil from her ire yesterday was helpful.

Virgil kept working, hours passing easily as she worked out her compulsion. She’d found most of the inventory, plus some. She had to make a whole new sheet of things she found they’d have to input into whatever spreadsheet they had running that the paper version came from. It made her feel better about the missing items, but the missing objects ate at her. She found the missing chair, though, and danced with it on the ceiling before depositing it with the rest of the set.

A contented sigh escaped her lips as she reveled in her victory, but there was still plenty of work to do, so she didn’t pause long. Virgil jumped back into the fray to make this hell-chamber less soul-haunting. While scooting some fake statues with the other décor elements, she bumped a shelf with a bag of marbles on it, spilling the contents. Virgil hissed angrily and started counting the balls as they rolled away. The bag had a hole in it, and she had to start over twice, tempting her to grind the accursed objects into dust under her boots. She found a decorative bowl to put them in instead, and the plinking sound as the marbles hit the ceramic dish was satisfying enough to calm back down and stop cussing at the glass spheres.

Virgil’s phone rang without her response while the marbles bounced against each other in the dish. She was positive some got away, and she couldn’t stop herself from hunting for the missing marbles to answer it. It was Roman’s ringtone, which she knew she should answer, but couldn’t pull her eyes off the floor just yet. Virgil hunted down three marbles with an elated cackle and gave the floor a final sweep to make sure she wasn’t missing any. One had rolled a few feet away under a chair, but she found it, ending the count on 48 fucking marbles. Who needs 48 marbles? Are they still playing marbles? … Do they even know how to play marbles?

Oh, right. Roman. Virgil pulled her cell out of her pocket. Roman was calling her a second time, and Virgil answered it as soon as the screen lit up with his face.

“Virgil! I was worried when you didn’t answer the first time. Where are you? Did you run off to D’s place for the night?” Roman asked right away, sounding relieved.

“No, I’m still on campus.” Virgil shook her head and made a note on the inventory that there were 48 marbles. “What are you doing awake?” She followed up after she put the pencil down on the clipboard that rested on the shelf.

“Because I have class in an hour. Are you okay? You’re normally freakishly accurate about the time.” Roman felt confused enough that Virgil could feel it a few buildings away with her shield up. Virgil looked up at the small window over the back door. Oh, fuck. The sun was up. Virgil patted at her jacket pockets with her free hand desperately. Shit. She didn’t have her sunglasses, and is currently wearing a midi-skirt. Not exactly solar-safe.

“Uh, no. Do you have time to do me a favour? I need pants and sunglasses brought to building G,” Virgil asked hopefully.

“If I skip breakfast and eat after class, sure,” Roman hummed, still feeling confused. “Do I want to know why you’re pants-less in the theatre building?”

“I’m not fucking naked, I’m just not…” Virgil hissed and trailed off. Snapping at him doesn’t help her any. “The outfit I was wearing in the dorm last night isn’t sun-safe,” she explained quietly, berating herself mentally for getting herself in this situation. “Hey, uh, is there any chance the theatre storage room will have visitors? Because I have zero legal explanation for how I got here,” Virgil asked nervously.

“It might? I don’t go out there outside of club. It has a high ceiling. Just sit up there until I can get dressed and grab you a pair of pants,” Roman suggested, and Virgil bit her lip. But she was almost done. She couldn’t stop now.

“Uh, that’s smart. Okay. I’ll listen for you, thanks,” Virgil nodded, turning down her music and glancing around. Well. Maybe if she worked faster, she could finish on time?

“See you soon, my pantsless criminal.” Roman’s exasperation was completely clear in his farewell. Virgil could almost hear Roman roll his eyes as he spoke. Virgil scoffed as the call hung up. She slipped the phone back in her pocket and shifted some busts before hurrying to hunt through the remaining loose goods. It was almost completely sorted out and recorded at this point. She won’t feel better until she finished, though. Virgil picked up the pace, trying her best to get things unbroken into the right category. She was close to done and couldn’t leave it like this.

When Virgil heard the sound of the outer theatre door opening, she kept moving. She had time, still. Roman had to make it out to the storage room, right? Only another two minutes, she had this.

“Virgil?” Roman called out, echoing in the empty theatre on the other side of the door. If she left this incomplete, she’d still feel just as batty. “Where are you?” Rang through the theatre. “I feel like I’m about to get murdered in a slasher film, Virgil!” Roman called out, sounding annoyed. He was close to the door, though. She was almost done. There were just a few things. The pile near the door of things that should probably be in outside storage or repaired, she could accept for later. The trash she’d bagged could get handled another time, maybe even by someone else. There were literally two bags. Humans were disgusting sometimes. She just had to finish sorting.

“Virgil, goddamnit, did you prank me?” Roman shouted out as he slammed the door open. Virgil hissed at Roman and kept sorting. “Jesus, are you okay?” Roman shut the door and stepped in. There was a long pause while Virgil kept sorting as fast as possible. “Or… is that an unfamiliar creature that hisses like a fucking panther in my theatre storage room?” He added nervously. “This is terrifying, Virgil. Please tell me that’s you,” he pleaded, the fear spiking over the shield in his chest.

“Me!” Virgil shot angrily and jumped over some decorations with a rickety side table to put with the furniture, then bounded immediately back to the tiny unfinished portions.

“Can I turn on the light?” Roman asked, but Virgil was too focused on the last of the small items she’d piled in a chair earlier to reply, gathering them to shelve. The light clicked on and Virgil’s vision whited out for a moment, causing another hiss to break out of her throat before her eyes adjusted. “What the fuck. You’ve been… organizing the storage all night? Did you get permission to do this?” Roman asked incredulously.

“No, and if you tell anyone, I’ll gut you!” Virgil growled out, heading back to the pile for another load. Just another armful to put on the shelf.

“You went a little batty, huh,” Roman hummed, crossing his arms. Virgil scoffed and kept sorting. That didn’t need a response. She gathered them and put them on the proper shelves quickly while Roman tapped his foot. “Come on, come get a drink and run me to that little café for a smoothie, so I don’t pass out in class.” Roman tugged at the hem of his shirt and pulled it off over his head, along with his cross-body bag. Virgil got a whiff right away and paused what she was doing, too taken by the delectable smell. Shit. She was almost done. Just had to put the chair she was using with the furniture. No. It smelled so good. Fuck. Virgil’s head swam, and there was a loud crack as she fumbled the landing. “Virgil!” Roman shouted, and Virgil cackled back in delight.

“I finished!” She cheered, her voice cracking, holding her arms in the air next to a toppled cheap dining chair. She partially broke the leg on the landing, but it didn’t matter. The room is now cleared out and organized. The trash bagged and ready to take out along with the set of building tools were near the door. She could fix it later. What’s important is that it’s organized. There were thirty-two empty cans alone. 121 pieces of paper stacked in a pile on the table. Twelve bags of old fast food garbage that Virgil could probably find by the greasy scent alone. Even three separate sets of tools were in the mess, though it seemed someone possibly stole several pieces from each.

“Virgil, get over here, have some breakfast,” Roman sighed, sounding annoyed.

“No, I was doing this so that I didn’t steal your blood in the middle of the night!” Virgil objected vehemently, getting up off the floor and dusting off. She still sounded like she’d utterly lost it, despite her victory, and the offer made the horrible discomfort in her fangs worse.

“Congratulations, it’s no longer midnight! Just bite me, doofus. Your voice keeps breaking, I assume much like your sanity,” Roman huffed and patted his neck with the hand not holding his shirt and bag. Other than exasperation, he didn’t seem unsettled at all. “Drink and carry me to some food while I’m out of it. I don’t want to be late for class,” he demanded shortly. Virgil focused her eyes on him, jumping over and landing right in front of him. He stared Virgil down the whole time, not shaken by the sudden proximity or Virgil’s eyes locked on his neck. Virgil shook out involuntarily, coming back from the compulsion mindset.

“I, uh, are you sure?” Virgil asked nervously, now that sense was coming back to her. Partially. Roman still smelled like Virgil’s teeth needed to be embedded in him, pronto. She had blown herself out a little with organizing everything anally and could use the drink.

“Put on the pants and bite me on the way out. We’re running out of time. If I didn’t have class in the building with the café, you’d be screwed. Come on,” Roman tugged Virgil’s braid to pull her closer. Huh. He held up the pants out of his bag, and Virgil slipped them on under her skirt. Did Virgil just have a thing for bossy people or what? Roman shoved the sunglasses on Virgil’s face unceremoniously and hopped up. Virgil caught him in her arms and shrugged, sinking her fangs into Roman’s neck as soon as he settled. His breath hitched as Virgil drank some warm, sweet nectar of the gods. Virgil kicked the door open with her foot and licked Roman’s neck to seal the bite, licking her lips.

Virgil could understand not wanting any blood on his shirt, but now Roman was out of it and shirtless in the theatre. Now that Virgil wasn’t thirsty, and the theatre was no longer disorganized and setting off her instincts, this seemed incredibly stupid. It looks like they were fucking in the theatre, honestly. Virgil propped up Roman against the wall next to the door and helped him get his shirt back on before slipping Virgil’s hood up and the mask in her jacket being set securely on her face. She slid Roman’s bag over her torso, too, since she wasn’t sure Roman had the wherewithal to keep track of it right now.

“Hey fireball, on my back,” Virgil urged, squatting down in front of Roman and backing up. Roman giggled and stumbled into place on Virgil’s back, but Virgil had to do most of the work of positioning him. This was the least strange way to carry a guy. Bridal-style would have been kind of sus of defiling someone in building G. Did Roman want Virgil to literally run to the main building? Probably.

Virgil kicked open the door and jogged towards the main building to get Roman’s iron-heavy smoothie. The good thing about college is running across campus with a blissed out human on your back wasn’t that weird. Virgil leaned back onto her heels and rolled across the concrete hastily on the wheels. Roman wasn’t exaggerating about having to get there fast by where the sun sat in the sky.

She was thankful he came to serenade her back to sanity with sweet, sweet blood. Also, literally, since Roman was singing his favourite song quietly over Virgil’s shoulder, and he sounded amazing despite no vocal warm-ups and being half-conscious from blood loss and being fucked up on cozy bond feelings. This entire event was embarrassing, and she was glad Roman could bail her out of painful leg boils.

No one even batted an eye as Virgil purchased the smoothie for the handsome, dazed gentleman on her back. College campuses were just like that sometimes. Virgil held up the cup to Roman’s face, who didn’t notice it until she basically shoved the straw in Roman’s mouth. He took it and started drinking tiredly, gripping at the cross-body strap to stay upright with his other hand.

“What classroom, love?” Virgil asked softly after Roman managed a proper drink.

“220B,” Roman sighed contentedly and took another sip. Ah, not too far, then. Virgil headed towards the stairwell to get Roman up to his classroom on time. “What was with… that?” Roman asked softly after a small gasp from trying to drink that thick smoothie.

“Did you know that a long time ago, people would spill a bag of seeds on their doorstep to prevent vampires from coming inside? The legend says that vampires are compelled to count them all out. Do you think that could apply to groups of items that are larger?” Virgil explained, hoping Roman caught the gist while he was out of it. It wasn’t always about counting, though, but it came down to that in more situations than Virgil would have liked. Roman paused for a moment, seeming to process this. Roman hummed and took another sip of smoothie, hopefully understanding.

“Is that with… all of them?” Roman asked after another long sip of his drink.

“I would think it affects the higher ones the most,” Virgil turned up the landing in the concrete stairwell. This one had windows, and she had to be careful about hugging the inside of the railing. Virgil should have just taken the cuddle break, probably, instead of losing it and blowing through her last meal by reorganizing a theatre storage. Hindsight is 20/20 and all, but she knew that fucking storage room would make her crack eventually. Torturing her with delicious blood literally right under her fingertips might have also been just as ill-advised in the end.

“Nature does seem to have a way of balancing things out,” Roman chuckled, sounding a little more cognizant now. Roman mentioned before that after Virgil drank, the telepathy and the bond are intense for a while afterward, but that might have been a question better asked not in a crowd of people and instead in their heads. Virgil was perfectly capable of dodging those kinds of things if anyone was listening, though. Roman probably was too out of it to realize it was out loud, possibly like the lyrics lazily falling from his lips. “So why don’t we rewrite the stars?” Roman sang, kneeing Virgil in the side. “Come on, sing with me,” Roman hissed playfully.

“No,” Virgil replied flatly.

“Maybe the world could be ours tonight,” Roman continued on, squeezing around Virgil’s neck. Virgil just glared at Roman in response. “I can revoke blood bank rights, you know,” Roman whispered playfully, humming the next part. Roman took another long sip of smoothie and held out his wrist right in front of Virgil’s nose. Sweet Hecate, this wasn’t fair.

“You think it’s easy? You think I don’t want to run to you?” Virgil gave in and sang along. Roman belted this song out enough that Virgil already knew them by heart. Roman hummed happily along until Virgil’s singing made Roman slump and Virgil had to catch his smoothie. “Wake up and be alert for this class, Princey,” Virgil compelled him quietly as she pushed through the doorway to the second-floor hall. Roman jumped slightly and shook his head, looking around the hall. “Try not to make me sing when you’s school bag, feeling a little exasperated.

Virgil deposited Roman on a bench near the classroom door carefully and stepped back to hand off Roman’s school bag, feeling a little exasperated.

“I should get you to sing me to sleep sometime,” Roman accepted the bag and rubbed his eyes before looking up at Virgil with bright eyes.

“It also slowly melts your willpower, Ro. Though maybe that’s the only way to get you to sleep,” Virgil leaned down and whispered into Roman’s ear. Roman chuckled and kissed Virgil on the cheek, which made her stand up in surprise, holding her cheek.

“The best hours to write are after midnight. What can I say?” Roman chuckled, and stood up, adjusting his clothes. He looked around and leaned in to murmur. “Thanks for getting me to class. Is the… uh… store room debacle over?” He asked nervously. “I really didn’t expect to find out you needed pants halfway across campus this morning, and hope it doesn’t happen again.” He pinched at Virgil’s skirt and dropped it. “Though you do have nice legs.”

“… There’s still the outdoor storage, but maybe I can convince them to let me do that without a… debacle,” Virgil huffed her bangs out of her eyes.

“Temporarily Batty from prop disorder, then? I knew being a techie suited you. Just wake me up next time.” Roman rubbed Virgil’s arm.

“Yeah, I think I probably should. At least it’s done, though. Sorry about this.” Virgil rubbed the back of her head through the hoodie awkwardly.

“I knew what I was signing up for,” Roman smiled and tugged Virgil’s leather jacket, pulling her down to kiss her lips over the mask. “See you after class.” Roman waved and walked towards the classroom door, leaving Virgil flushed and a little dumbfounded. Virgil never specifically said she was going to do something like this, but maybe Roman had already accepted Virgil was a little unstable before he asked her out.

Well, Roman would need food after class. She opted to return downstairs to the café and pick up a burger that she could keep warm in the toaster oven, so he could eat as soon as he got back. If he buys something, then the leftovers could easily get passed off to one of the other humans, or Roman could eat it later. If you say ‘free food’ and leave it in the dorm floor kitchen, it won’t survive much longer. Virgil once ordered an extra pizza once to test it out, and they devoured the large pizza within eight minutes. It impressed everyone who watched, including Logan. She was half-convinced college kids were black holes that ran on alcohol and junk food.

Hopefully the rest of the day will be much calmer. She was freshly fed, even if she didn’t drink much, and could probably study with Logan again before IT class as another way to recharge. She just had to finish her art project and write that English and Spanish essay. The Spanish one should go fast, since it was just a paper about hobbies. The hard part was the oral presentation. She had the ‘wrong’ accent for Spanish in the Americas compared to her classmates, but she also just hated oral presentations. Maybe she should just compel her professor to give her an A without presenting. The last time she had to present didn’t go so well. Ugh, she couldn’t do that. Maybe Roman had pointers for her on how to be shamelessly extra.

—💀—

Virgil laid against Logan happily, enjoying his bodily warmth. Logan still had to finish his IT project. The database from hell, Virgil had dubbed it, but Logan enjoyed the repetition. He plugged away at it with no issue with one hand, the other around Virgil’s waist. He sat cross-legged on Virgil’s loft, looking proper and put-together as always, with a small smile on his face while he worked.

Logan asked to not be disturbed as he entered the last set, and Virgil was fine with that. She happily intertwined her fingers with his and stole some tiny whiffs of Logan’s neck while she listened to her music. Watching Roman and Patton cuddle last night made her jealous of the affection, but it was her fault for not joining them. She just had to write an English essay, and she could mess around as much as she liked until the next batch of homework. Though her friends would probably be busy studying for midterms, shortly. Maybe she can convince D to take some time off with her if he was feeling better from the whole stupid hierarchy shit.

“I’m finished,” Logan declared, and Virgil watched the database compile and save on his laptop screen.

“Do you think the professor is actually going to review each database, or just look at ones that have the wrong file size?” Virgil asked curiously. “Hey, what’s your file size?” She added after a moment. She didn’t think she did it wrong, but the ever-present anxiety of living, after all. Logan silently went to the folder he saved in, and Virgil looked at the screen. “Cool, mine’s the same,” Virgil nodded and Logan pushed the power button on his laptop to put it into sleep mode.

“That is likely one of the criteria, but there could still be wrong entries in the right file structure,” Logan mused, putting his laptop to the side and pulling up his hand entwined with Virgil’s, kissing her knuckles. “Thank you for waiting for me,” he added with a small smile.

“Thanks for sitting with me.” Virgil shifted closer into him, so happy to get to spend time with him like this.

“Do you just like to utilize my height to be the little spoon?” Logan asked with a playful smile.

“You’re not that much taller than me,” Virgil scoffed and kissed his knuckles.

“Humans don’t stop growing until around twenty-five. I still have time to get taller,” Logan proposed, moving slightly to pull Virgil in across his chest.

“I’ll probably stay on the taller end out of all of us unless Patton starts taking steroids.” Virgil chuckled playfully.

“Steroids are dangerous with thyroid issues, and they do not affect height,” Logan hummed, looking concerned.

“Ah, then my position as tall stays secure.” Virgil smirked up at him.

“I wonder if you are average height where you were born?” Logan examined Virgil curiously.

“I wouldn’t know. Probably taller if it was one of the many places where malnutrition was a problem.” Virgil looked away to consider it.

“Would malnourished blood not affect your development?” Logan asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Virgil stared at Logan incredulously for a moment, not understanding what Logan was getting at. “Does blood nutrition not matter?” He asked a followup question.

“It’s less filling but…” Virgil trailed off. “Oh! I wasn’t… Alphas are born fully grown. I was never taller or shorter. Vampires don’t age. The number is more of a badge of honour than anything tied to our identity. I’ve always looked exactly the same under the glamour other than when blood was hard to come across, and I had some muscle atrophy,” she explained, squeezing Logan’s hand. Now Logan was the one staring at her like she was speaking an alien tongue. Virgil learned that sometimes it took a second for ideas to process for Logan, but she wasn’t sure yet if he needed it reworded. He thought for a moment longer before responding.

“That makes zero scientific sense,” Logan responded flatly. Virgil was worried she explained it badly, but it seemed alright.

“It’s magic bullshit, L, sometimes there’s nothing we can do.” Virgil shrugged lightly.

“I refuse to accept that. We can explain magic like any other natural phenomena. We just have no way to study it,” Logan protested right away.

“You would have made a great mage in another lifetime. Instead of ruminating over things that are currently not answerable, how about we do something else?” Virgil suggested, putting her other hand over Logan’s holding hers. Sometimes distracting Logan was the best in these situations, or he’d get upset.

“What did you have in mind?” Logan raised an eyebrow, though he still looked kind of distracted by the news.

“Either asking me something I can answer or a kiss sounds good to me,” Virgil replied coquettishly, mildly hoping for the latter. Logan’s third degree could be a struggle, even if she was happy to help him feel more comfortable. She also just was enjoying being close to him and wanted to be closer.

“I indeed have another question,” Logan started, drawing Virgil’s focus. “You said you went ‘extra batty’ this morning. I understand the term is used derogatorily, but I wonder if it might mean something different when you use it,” he hummed, shifting to sit back and hold Virgil in his arms.

“Oh, you’re right that it’s different. It is still a little derogatorily, if I’m being honest. But when a vampire uses it, we specifically mean in the way that references the longer vampires live, they get more mentally unstable. Sometimes it takes a lot of effort to stay controlled in stressful situations. A vampire that’s batty can also be mercurial and difficult, even when nothing stressful is happening.” Virgil looked at Logan’s necklace instead of maintaining eye contact, since Logan’s eyes wandered away while she spoke. She sort of hoped this wouldn’t re-frame anything for Logan. She already told him she could be unstable sometimes, but sometimes presenting information differently could change opinions.

“How did the usage start?” Logan’s eyes danced across the ceiling, and he pursed his lips mildly as he processed. Virgil was glad he took that information as coolly as everything else, and didn’t seem to be judging her for being a batty mess.

“To be honest, I don’t know if it was because humans assumed we could all turn into bats, and we thought that was nonsense or if there was something else that happened,” Virgil shrugged, rubbing her thumb across Logan’s knuckles. There were a million possibilities for that one, with no way to answer. The Vampires she knew didn’t exactly track their history to figure out linguistic questions like that.

“Does anything help the instability?” Logan squeezed Virgil’s hand and looked back down at her. It was good he didn’t get caught up on that, but there was some concern in his face all the same.

“Feeding, mostly, and Remy said that blood from a Brood helps. It’s easier to focus on other things than hunting and other instincts if I’ve just had a drink. I started my tea habit because the hot water used to trick my brain a bit, actually. When I decided to stop feeding live—that means on people—I… uh…” Virgil trailed off. She probably didn’t need to detail that particular event. Logan leaned back and looked up at the ceiling again, seeming to mull it over.

“So, metaphorically, drinking blood bolsters your proverbial humanity?” Logan asked, sounding unsure in his words. Thank Hecate he didn’t ask her to follow up on the story she bailed on telling. She hoped the questions were over soon. They seemed to be skirting some particularly uncomfortable territory. Though maybe it was just that much of her existence was uncomfortable from a human lens. Either way, she’d rather be kissing him than talking about wanting to eat him.

“Ironically, yes,” Virgil laughed a little. She wasn’t sure if she ever thought of it like that.

“One more follow-up question, and then I would like to kiss you if you’re still amenable,” Logan piped up after a pause with a pondering expression plastered on his face. “You mentioned compulsions and instincts before. What happens if you can’t ‘medicate’ them away with blood?” He always kept that even, inquisitive manner when talking about these things. Virgil absolutely adored that about him.

“The instincts take over. Resisting the compulsions when they become too strong results in… well… I would burn through blood, panic, and lash out. Then the resulting thirst overrides all my senses, and I’ll go for the first blood source. Nothing good happens after that.” Virgil chewed her lip nervously. It wasn’t a great thing to have to admit, but when it came to the fact that there were times he needed to stay away from her, it was important to be honest.

“If you are nearing an emergency situation, please let me know before it gets out of hand, then,” Logan stated firmly, with the most emphatic expression Virgil had ever seen on him.

“That’s the plan, other than to get as far away from you and other humans as possible.” Virgil nodded in agreement, moving to wrap her arms around his neck to kiss him easier. Logan didn’t lean to kiss her, though. Did she kill the mood? Well, the subject wasn’t great in the first place. She couldn’t blame him for that.

“I meant that you should alert me so that I may help if I am capable, but I appreciate your consideration of my safety,” Logan corrected Virgil with a small smile. She loved his smile, but she was really more taken aback by the suggestion of wanting to be anywhere near her when she couldn’t think straight.

“Oh,” Virgil breathed, feeling a little confused. “Are you like Patton and have a vampire kink?” She asked incredulously.

Logan paused, staring at Virgil’s mouth. “I’m sorry, but did you say Patton has a vampire kink?” Logan deadpanned, his eyes shooting to the bunk across the way.

“Uh,” Virgil stalled. “I would like to apologize to both you and Patton for just blurting that out,” she whispered, blinking a few times. “Any chance that you’ll let me wipe your memory of that particular factoid?” Virgil asked awkwardly, examining Logan’s face for any discomfort.

“No.” Logan shook his head, but he must have not been that bothered, since he leaned in to kiss Virgil, pulling her in tightly. Virgil sighed in relief as she melted into Logan’s lips.

#tsss #sanders sides #ts sides #tsss fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #tsss fanfic #tss #tss fanfic #SaSi #SaSi fanfic #ts sides fanfic #ayri writes #plea for my new self

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hollywoodxwhore · 2 years

Text

wanted - part 6

Colson x Original Female Character x Pete

Warnings: swearing, alcohol usage

Word Count: 3774

Find parts 1-5 in my masterlist!

Pete's not even really in this part. Just Colson and tension and angst!

Pete and I haven’t talked about it.

It’s been almost two weeks since we spent the night together, and since then, it’s like nothing happened. He’s still the same sweet, friendly Pete, but he hasn’t made a single move on me. I find myself regretting ever having done anything with him. I obviously did something wrong if he hasn’t tried since.

Machine Gun Kelly has another show tonight, this one out of town, and Alicia, Logan, and I are tagging along. We’ll be staying in a hotel, and the plan is for me to sleep on an air mattress in Alicia, Rook, Logan, and Sophie’s room. It is what it is. The fifth wheel. Always the single one.

Pete isn’t going, and I find myself feeling relieved about it. I know we’ll all go out drinking after and I don’t need my drunk self making anything worse.

After dropping our things at the hotel, we rush to the venue. Everyone is thrilled that the band has been asked to play at a larger venue, one that required them to travel. They’ve been asked to open for another local band. It’ll be more money, too.

Since Alicia and Logan are dating band members and I’m a close friend, we’re all allowed backstage. It’s pretty cool because it’s an actual stage and not a basement this time. There are actual places to hang out and get ready. I’m just sitting and soaking up the atmosphere when I spot a very distressed Colson. I frown, watching him for a moment before deciding to go over and see what’s going on.

“Colson, you good?” I ask. He’s tearing his hands through his hair.

“No, the fuckin’ pants I brought have a rip right in the ass,” he grumbles.

I frown, reaching for them, and sure enough, a tear right along the seam. I wince. “Can I run back to the hotel to get you another pair?” I ask.

Colson shakes his head irritably. “No. All I brought other than these is a pair of sweatpants. Too tall to borrow anyone else’s,” he says. “Fuck, I’m screwed.”

“No, you’re not,” I say. I check the tag of the pants for his size. “Where are your keys?”

Colson pats his pockets and hands them over, studying me. “Where are you going?” he asks.

“Shopping,” I say.

Relief floods his face. “Alex, thank you,” he says, putting his palms together. “I…” He pauses. “I have no cash.”

I wave him off. “Not worried about it,” I insist, already walking away. He calls after me with another thank you but I’m already hurrying out to his car and checking my phone for shopping centers.

This man is tall. I’ll need to find a place that makes clothes for tall guys who are also skinny. I drive to a nearby mall and within 20 minutes, I have three different options. I pay and rush back to the venue.

They’ve just finished soundcheck and Colson spots me immediately. “Did you find some?” he asks.

“Yeah, come on, you can try them on,” I say, leading the way to the changing room. I expect him to take the bag and close the door but instead, he gestures for me to go in first.

“You have to tell me if they look good,” he says, taking the bag from me. He pauses upon looking inside, glancing up at me. “You got three?”

I nod. “Wanted you to have options.”

Colson looks at me, something like softness taking over his features. He pulls out the first pair and drops his sweats to the floor. My cheeks feel slightly hot and I do my best to completely avoid looking at him as he shimmies into the tight jeans. He zips and buttons them, then turns to face the mirror.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“They look great,” I say honestly. “They fit you perfectly. Try on the other two just in case.” He nods and does as he’s told, but the first pair is the best. “I’ll return the others before we go home tomorrow,” I offer.

“I can do it,” Colson insists, peeling off his shirt to change into his concert shirt. First, he puts on deodorant, and it’s really hard not to stare at him, but I keep my eyes averted. “I can’t thank you enough, Alex.”

“It’s no problem,” I assure him, crossing my legs and picking at my nail polish, anything to keep my eyes off of him.

“Are you excited for the show?” he asks, much more chatty than usual.

“Yeah, I am,” I say. “You know I think you guys are amazing.”

“It means a lot that you came,” Colson says, and when I look up, he’s looking at me, sincerity in his eyes. “You’re a good friend.” Where is this coming from?

“Of course,” I say with a shrug. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Colson hesitates before looking away from me, turning toward the mirror as he buttons up his shirt. “Is something going on with you and Pete?” he asks.

I blink in surprise. “Wh-what?” I ask.

Colson shrugs. “It just seems like maybe there is,” he says casually, but almost like he’s forcing himself to sound so casual. I flash back momentarily to Sophie’s belief that Colson likes me. I still have a hard time believing her.

I think back to the night Pete and I hooked up, to how distant he’s been since. How he hasn’t brought it up or even really talked much to me. I sit up a little straighter and watch him mess with his hair. “No,” I say finally. “There’s nothing going on with us.”

Colson meets my eyes in the mirror, his gaze almost a challenge. “Do you want there to be?” he asks.

I stare back at him, stunned. I can’t believe he’s actually asking the question. My mouth opens but I don’t say anything. And luckily, I don’t have to because Slim and Baze burst in. They pause momentarily, looking between the two of us, then immediately continue their conversation, going to grab their clothes. I take the opportunity to leave the room, keeping my head down so Colson can’t meet my eyes.

Half an hour later, Logan, Alicia, and I are in the audience, waiting for the show to start. Logan and Alicia are chattering excitedly about the show and their partners, but I stay quiet. I’m still reeling over my conversation with Colson. Why was he asking? Couldn’t he just ask Pete, his own roommate? I wonder if he has asked Pete and if so, what Pete might have said. Yeah, we hooked up and it was bad. I don’t know how to let her down easy. Or, we hooked up and I’m totally not into her. Her body is gross.

Luckily, the show starts, interrupting my negative thoughts, and I pour myself into supporting my friends.

After the show ends and we pack everything up, we find a local bar and get a table. It’s already almost midnight, but this is a fairly busy city, so the bars are open late. Slim disappears to the bar to order a round of shots and he returns beside a waitress carrying a large tray.

“Tequila for everyone!” Slim says. A few of us grimace and some cheer. We all take limes and sprinkle salt on our hands as the shots are doled out around the table. We all hold up our shot glasses.

“To our biggest show yet,” Colson says, grinning widely. He’s at his best onstage and right after he gets off. Energetic, excited, and so smiley. He’s adorable, all pink cheeks and messy hair. “To the best group of friends I could ask for. EST for life.”

“EST for life!” We all repeat the words in unison, clinking our glasses together before downing our shots. Most of us grimace, sucking hard on our limes to soothe the sharp taste of cheap tequila.

“I got next round!” Colson announces, hurrying off to the bar.

“It’s gonna be a loooong night,” Slim says with a laugh.

He’s not wrong.

Within an hour, we’re all drunk. Well past it, actually. We’re wasted. We’ve created our own dance floor and we’re dancing to a bunch of songs we all loved in high school, having taken over the jukebox. Luckily, there aren’t many other people here. I’m spinning slowly, arms in the air, dancing to music that used to play at my proms and formals, and I can’t help but reminisce on all the times I was so alone while all my friends had someone.

Nothing has changed.

Sophie and Logan are kissing. Rook and Alicia are dancing and talking, all smiles and whispers. Maybe some of the others are single, but I’m the only single girl here and it makes my stomach hurt. I stumble off the dance floor, feeling a little nauseous. Fuck, I’m way drunker than I thought.

I stumble down the hall to the bathroom and push the door open, tripping inside. I turn to lock the door, but before I can, it’s being pushed open. I don’t have time to think about anything as Colson pushes inside, concern etched into his features. He’s still wearing his concert outfit, the pants I picked out for him.

“You okay?” he asks, locking the door behind him. I back up, colliding with the wall, and sink down, pulling my knees into my chest. Tomorrow, when I’m sober, I’ll be humiliated at the fact that my chin is wobbling and tears are filling my eyes. But right now, I’m too miserable to care.

Colson’s eyes widen a little and he drops down in front of me, putting his hands on my knees. “Hey,” he says gently, trying to meet my eyes. “Alex. Look at me?” I finally lift my watery eyes to his. His eyes are so blue, and so full of sincerity and care. I’ve never seen him like this before, and if I weren’t so goddamn miserable, I’d be enjoying seeing a new side of Colson.

A little sob chokes out of me and I clap a hand over my mouth, closing my eyes as tears squeeze down my cheeks. “Shit,” Colson mutters, and then he’s next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders to pull me in. I let him pull my head to his shoulder as I cry, too drunk to stop myself. “Are you sick?” he asks.

I consider this for a second, but no, I’m not nauseous. I feel sick to my stomach, yes, but that’s a direct result of my own panic and self-pity. I’m not at risk for vomiting, so I shake my head no. Colson nods and rests his cheek on my head, hand rubbing up and down my arm slowly.

Blessedly, I get my tears under control and I pull my head away, sniffling as I wipe my cheeks. We’re quiet for a moment, but I can feel Colson looking at me. “Sorry,” I say finally, voice small.

Colson shakes his head. “No, don’t be,” he says gently. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid,” I mutter, hanging my head.

“Try me,” Colson says.

I look at him then, and he seems taken aback by my sudden attention, blue eyes blinking startledly. “Why are you being so nice?” I ask bluntly.

Colson frowns, rubbing the back of his neck. He considers this for a moment, throat bobbing. “Am I…usually not nice?” he asks. I give him a look and he falters. “Okay. I know I can be a dick sometimes. A lot of the time,” he corrects himself, shaking his head. “But you’re my friend, and you’re upset. I saw you run off the dance floor and I wanted to make sure you were okay. You don’t have to tell me.” His face has hardened slightly, and his jaw clenches as he looks away. Immediately, I feel guilty.

“I just get sick of feeling so unwanted,” I say, like word vomit, before I can stop myself. I really don’t want to be vulnerable with Colson, but I also don’t want him to leave. He lifts his eyes to mine. “It seems like all of my girlfriends have someone who’s head over heels for them and then there’s me. I just…I just don’t know what’s so wrong with me.” My lip quivers again and I look away.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Colson says, shaking his head.

“Yes there is!” I snap, and Colson looks surprised. I throw up my hands and make a frustrated sound. “There must me because no one fucking wants me! I hook up with-” I stop myself for a second, not really wanting to admit that Pete and I hooked up. “-with a friend who I thought could be more and then he pretends it never happened. Every guy I know goes for a different girl over me. There has to be something wrong with me.”

Colson is quiet for a long time. Such a long time that I think maybe he’s done talking. I wait for him to get up and leave. But, finally, when he speaks, his voice is quiet. “Are you talking about Pete?”

My head jerks over as I meet his eyes. He’s not really asking. He knows. “Did he tell you that?” I ask tightly, jaw clenching.

Colson hesitates, then nods. “Alex, I love Pete,” he says. “I really do. But he’s got some serious mental health issues. He’s not exactly reliable. I wouldn’t take it personally.”

“It’s hard not to,” I shoot back, furiously wiping at the tears that have fallen. “He shouldn’t have done anything with me if he was going to fuck off like that.”

“You’re right,” Colson agrees. “I told him that. I told him that the way he’s acting is shitty.”

I blink at him. “You did?” I ask. Colson nods. “Oh.” My voice is croaky and I clear my throat, wishing that I was less drunk. “It’s fine,” I lie, shaking my head. “It’s not like I had feelings yet, really. It just makes me think I did something wrong.”

“Trust me,” Colson says. “You didn’t.”

I huff softly and shake my head. Colson can say whatever he wants, but he’s never seen me naked, never kissed me or touched me or felt me touch him. I’m sure I’m bad at it, otherwise, Pete would’ve stayed. He wouldn’t have cut me off like this.

“I just want to go back to the hotel,” I mumble, rubbing my face. “I have to share a room with the fucking couples.”

Colson is quiet for a second. “Come stay in my room instead,” he says, and when I look at him, he looks surprised that he offered. He swallows. “It’s just Slim and Baze. I don’t know if you know this, but Justin is seeing someone. They’re staying in a different room.”

I chew my lip. “I don’t want to impose,” I say. “I can sleep on the floor. I brought an air mattress.”

Colson shakes his head. “That would be stupid. You can sleep in the bed. With me,” he adds, studying my face. “Or I can sleep on the floor.”

“No, it’s your bed,” I insist. I take a deep breath and then nod. “Alright. I would really appreciate it. Thanks.”

Colson smiles gently and gets to his feet, offering me his hand. “Let’s get out of here,” he says. I take his hand and as he pulls me up, he wraps me in a hug. I’m surprised, but after a moment, I relax against his chest, letting my arms surround his thin waist. I close my eyes, wishing Colson could always be like this – sweet, generous, kind. I wonder when this will fade. Probably tomorrow morning when he wakes up sober beside me. But I can’t worry about that right now.

Colson rounds everyone up and we catch Ubers back to the hotel. Upstairs, I grab my bags from my original room and meet Colson outside, where he holds the door to his room open. He catches my eye and smiles as I step inside the room.

Two queen size beds greet me, just like in my previous room, and I’m suddenly nervous about sharing a bed with Colson. Queens are pretty small for a guy of his height. I feel guilty about making him share with me. I set my bags on the floor in front of a bed and fidget.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Colson says. “Baze and Slim should be back soon, but they know I offered for you to sleep here.”

“Okay,” I say, staring at the bed as Colson disappears into the bathroom.

I sit on the edge of the bed and sigh, pulling my phone from my purse. No messages. I tuck it away and then search in my bag for my pajamas, laying them out on the bed. I want to shower, too.

Baze and Slim must’ve gotten caught up at the hotel bar or something because by the time the shower turns off, they’re still nowhere to be found. I look up when Colson exits the bathroom and am shocked to find that he’s wearing nothing but a towel, slung low around his hips.

My mouth dries out. I’ll never get tired of seeing this man shirtless.

I try not to watch as he bends over his bag, pulling out some clothes. His hair is wet and shaggy and he looks so cute and sexy at the same time. My heart squeezes and I grab my bathroom bag and pajamas. “I’m gonna go shower, too,” I say. “Are you done in the bathroom?”

“Go for it,” Colson says without looking at me.

I lock myself in the bathroom, shower, and brush my teeth. I feel better as soon as I’m dressed in a giant t-shirt and soft shorts. There are few things a good shower can’t fix.

I leave the bathroom to find Colson sitting up in bed, one arm behind his head as he leans on the headboard, remote in his free hand. He’s still shirtless. He glances at me. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I say, tucking my bathroom bag away again. I hesitate, then climb into bed beside him, sitting against the headboard, matching his posture. “Where are Slim and Baze?”

“No idea,” Colson says. “Probably out partying. They weren’t ready to come back.”

Guilt stabs at my gut. “Were you ready to come back?” I suddenly feel like I forced Colson to end his night of fun.

“Definitely,” Colson sighs. “I’m exhausted. Those guys could go all night.”

I nod, relieved, and snuggle down into the blankets, suddenly exhausted myself. I stifle a yawn. “Thanks again for letting me stay here,” I say.

“Of course.” Colson smiles at me. “You good?” he asks.

I nod. “Better. Thanks.”

Colson nods. He turns off the TV, then snuggles under the covers and turns off his lamp, pitching the room into darkness. We’re both quiet, the only sound being the air conditioner.

“Hey, Alex?” Colson asks after a few moments.

“Hm?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “Do you…do you think the band is actually good?”

I frown and shift under the covers. “Of course I do,” I say. “Why?”

“I just feel like I’ve been trying so hard,” he mutters. “I want more people to hear our music. I want someone to sign us. But either we get rejected or get no response. I just…I guess I was just wondering if you think it’s possible.”

I sigh softly. Without thinking, I reach for him, and my hand brushes his shoulder. Suddenly, his fingers are intertwining with mine, our hands resting on the bed between our heads.

“I’m sorry it’s been so difficult, Colson,” I say. “I can imagine it’s really hard to find a place in the industry.”

“Nearly impossible unless you know someone,” he says.

“You can’t give up,” I say. “Your music is amazing and more people should hear it.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course,” I say. “Why does my opinion even matter?”

“Because,” Colson says, “I think you’re smart and you have good taste. And I knew you would be honest with me.”

I hesitate. “I’m not going to lie, I’ve listened to the album almost nonstop since I met you all,” I confess. “The lyrics, it’s all really…deep.” It almost feels like Colson is holding his breath. “Do you write all the lyrics?”

“Yes,” he says. “Slim helps sometimes, but it’s mostly me.”

“I can really relate to them,” I tell him. All the lyrics about feeling alienated, feeling like you don’t belong. I’ve found so much comfort in their music, knowing I’m not the only one who feels that way.

“I’ve never really felt like I fit anywhere,” Colson admits.

“Me neither,” I say quietly. “I don’t think a lot of people like me.” It’s weird, confessing all this in the dark of this hotel room.

Colson is quiet, but then, he lets go of my hand in favor of wrapping his arm around me. I let him pull me into his chest, trying to swallow down the lump in my throat at his affection. It sucks that I only get it in the darkness and privacy of a hotel room, but I’ll take what I can get with Colson. I close my eyes and subtly breathe in his scent, enjoying the feeling of his warm chest beneath my cheek.

“Our group loves you,” he says quietly, lips close to my forehead. “The first time you came over, no one could stop talking about how funny and fun you were, and how we all needed to invite you over again.”

“That’s nice,” I say, flushing.

“Fuck whoever has made you feel unwanted,” he says. “You’re wanted here. Okay?”

I nod, snuggling a little closer so our legs intertwine. “Thank you,” I say quietly. My eyes fly open when Colson’s warm lips press against my forehead. He leaves several kisses there, and then his hand is gently tipping my face up. His lips trek down my cheek, slow and gentle and sweet. I hold my breath, unsure if this is really even happening.

“Alex,” he whispers, breath against my lips. I barely breathe, waiting for his lips to touch mine. I feel him lean closer, and then the hotel door beeps, signaling that it’s being unlocked. The magic is broken and Colson pulls away quickly, almost pushing me out of his arms. Stung, I roll onto my side and pretend to be asleep.

And just like that, nothing has changed at all.

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