#GOD THIS HAS BEEN BUZZING IN MY VEINS FOR DAYS

[braisedhoney]

[PART ONE] - PART TWO (you are here!)

“Sorry,” Skulker bites out as soon as Plasmius loosens his grip. “I only meant, once I find it, it’s going to take a while before he’s back to normal.” - (Our Pupils Grope for the Shape of What We Know, CH 3.)

second part of the comic, original fic by @ectopal here on tumblr and ao3!

OKAY SO LET’S CHAT!! welcome to cap’n ney’s art context corner!

the layout for each page was something that really gave me a headache, and tbh i would probably have no idea how to assess if they make any sense. but my favorite page, by FAR, is in part one where vlad is yelling at skulker (“i gave you a job…”) etc. the idea was depending on how angry someone was, they’d break through the panelling more and more.

this. took. forever.

well not forever, only like. four days. but that’s because this had such a fucking grip on my brain that i genuinely dedicated almost all my spare time to it. i did a couple other doodles (that you probably saw yesterday) but man. i haven’t drawn this much in one sitting in a while.

this whole thing gave me so much more respect for the new graphic novel that’s coming out btw, because holy shit this was draining. i can’t imagine doing literally almost 200 pages.

thank you so much again to ectopal for sharing your fantastic works with us. and thank you to all of you for indulging my nonsense o7

i’d say i’m sorry for the spam, but really this will probably happen again someday. can’t help it if fics blow my mind :’D

[holybibly]

IT'S YOU |Woosan x reader| Part I Part 2

Genre: smut, from friends to lovers!au, college!au

Word Count: 6,6k

Summary: Sometimes drunken decisions lead to the most unexpected results and the most shocking confessions. Or, after your boyfriend cheats on you, you propose a threesome to your best friends and it might just be what they have always wanted.

WARNING: only!18+ pet names, explicit sexual content, explicit language, unprotected sex, pussy eating, size kink, oral giving and receiving, double penetration, threesomes, dirty talk and more.

A/N: Here they are, our winners. I'm a little overjoyed because I'm about to try out a new style for myself (BTW, which of my styles of my work do you love most? Answer in the comments, it will help me much). One of the things I have to learn is the writing of shorter chapters. This one was so long that I had to split it into two parts. The second part won't take too long either.I'm still trying my best to write smut. So please be gentle with me.

There will be an update in a separate post about the rest of the work. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

One year ago.

It was a feeling of sweet euphoria coursing through your veins. Pure, scalding ecstasy that frothed your blood and clouded your mind. Multicolored neon lights licked greedily at your wet, naked skin, leaving acid green and poisonous pink burns on it. All your senses were overloaded, and every touch felt like a liquid flame. The throbbing bass of the deafening music echoed through your body like the beating of your own heart and completely consumed all of your other senses, except for absolute pleasure.

You lost track of the amount of alcohol you had consumed that day, shot after shot, until a pleasant fog began to form in your head, blocking out all other thoughts. The tequila flowed down your throat like water, and you were sure you'd remember how it tasted in the morning, but you didn't care what you'd done tonight or how you knew you'd feel tomorrow. You didn't care about that. Your aim was to forget yourself, to disappear into the crowd, to merge with the music until any connection to the outside world was nothing more than the beginning of the next day.

Dance, baby, dance!

The atmosphere in the club grew fuzzier and fainter, sweaty, hot bodies pressed closer together merging, the hot touches of forbidden pleasures caressing the skin with the fingertips of strangers, wet lips touching the bare, sticky skin on you shoulders, pressing rough impatient kisses into it. Too many people and too many strangers are here for nothing but fuck.

You weren't a stupid little girl who believed in virginal marriage and pink ponies; to be honest, you were far from that gentle picture. God, Wooyoung, and San had been your best friends since high school, and now you were at university, and if after all that time you couldn't repeat every position in the Kama Sutra by heart, it really surprised you. Innocence and modesty were the last words in your vocabulary, and with Wooyoung's big mouth, you were well aware of the whole of theirs sex life. And when you say everything, you mean every fucking detail, and to Wooyoung's credit, he has a great memory and meticulous storytelling.

How long has it been since you started dancing? 20 minutes—or was it two hours? You could swear that Sang and Ueyoung were at your side a minute ago. Or did they leave you alone on the dance floor hours ago?

You can't remember at all.

Your mind is buzzing, your fingertips are tingling, and your heart is pounding against your ribs from the adrenaline rush of matching the beat of some new-fangled track and creating a world of your own inside your body. This sound will vibrate more and more strongly under your skin until your brain ceases to function, allowing you to let go of all the worries in the world and give yourself over completely to the music. Alcohol really does work wonders.

Man, you felt so good.

In the back of your drunken mind, you can't help but wonder if tonight could have gone differently. Probably, but here you are, drunk as hell, huddled with a stranger on a neon dance floor instead of a soft bed in your favorite man's arms. Where the hell did you take the wrong turn? It would seem that something in the universe hasn't gone quite according to plan. Did you have any idea this morning that your sweet, perfect boyfriend would be cheating on you? Correction: he's been cheating on you for a long time. You probably never would have found out if you hadn't come home from couples earlier than usual and continued to be his "convenient girlfriend." Hell, it wasn't nice, and maybe not as hurtful, if he'd been fucking someone else instead of your best friend. Were you that bad? Weren't you good enough? Either way, you've still got time to destroy yourself—maybe tomorrow, maybe never.

Maybe you'll even think about it when you visit the bastard in the hospital. He should have known better than to even think about cheating, and the clotted blood on San's knuckles proved that. Everyone at the university knew that you were Ateez's golden girl, and to mess with you was to mess with them. And since you, Wooyoung, and San were literally glued to each other, it was tantamount to suicide. 

At the moment, the only thing that was more upsetting than the image of your ex-boyfriend driving his dick all the way up to his balls into your ex-friend's skinny body was the fact that your beautiful vintage sofa would have to be thrown away. Semen doesn't wash off. You checked.

Hongjoong is going to be absolutely devastated. That sofa was the absolute love of his life.

It's all nothing more than a vague memory of the day gone by, mixed into an indecipherable cacophony of shrill screams and blurred images. To be honest, you don't remember much of the chaos, as Wooyoung pressed your face against his chest with such force that you wouldn't be surprised to see your make-up imprinted on the light fabric of his shirt. All you could hear was loud cursing and the sound of a punch in the face. You hoped that San's punch was strong enough to break the asshole's jaw. And after that, there were a few hours of tears and emotional crisis until they'd had enough and pulled you into this club with a gentle and accepting hand: "Come on, baby, you could use a break and a change of scenery" from San, and "Fuck that scumbag, go show him what he's lost, baby" from Wooyoung. It was an absolute mystery how the two of them synchronized perfectly.

You have no idea what you would do without these two.

A few more minutes go by in this way, until you feel hot hands on your hips, pulling you closer to the hard body on your back. You don't have to turn around to see that it's San; the scent of his perfume, mixed with the sweat and the smoke of a freshly smoked cigarette, makes you dizzy, and you rest your head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath of the intoxicating mixture. Suddenly you want to get as close to him as possible, turn around and press your face against his hard, structured chest, breathing in deeply and sinking into him completely. Your arms reach out behind you and wrap around San's neck, tangling your fingers in the scarlet strands of hair at the nape of his neck. You feel it on your back as the action makes him purr like a cat. You wonder what other sounds you might be able to catch him making.

You shake yourself. The thought of it sends shivers down your arms and makes all the muscles in your lower abdomen tingle.

You should stop. These are bad thoughts. Very bad thoughts.

"Damn, baby girl, how much did you drink while we were away?" Wooyoung's voice is rough and husky, but his touch is gentle and careful as his fingers intertwine with yours. He has always touched you in a way that no other man in the world, with the exception of him and San, has ever been able to touch you. There was no comparison with your ex's touch. Wooyoung's touch is a promise. A promise to protect, to care, and perhaps to love? You could swear you saved the planet in your past life because you have such great friends in this one, or maybe a little more than friends, but you're not sure what to call this feeling. 

You had been friends for so long that it wasn't weird not have a crush on Wooyoung or to dream of being married to San. The guy was literally a walking husband; he was second only to Songhwa in that respect, but please, Hwa was the epitome of husband material. You might even have wanted to be in the middle of it, sandwiched between hot bodies while they literally fucked the life out of you. But it was all just thoughts. Fleeting dreams that clung to the edges of your consciousness. You were the type to date, and they were the type to fuck. You were different when it came to loving. In any case, it was all a long time ago. You had a boyfriend, and Wooyoung and San collected girls like Pokémon. Somehow, you were sure that if you slept together, your friendship would end.

You weren't ready for that. With a strength that only Jongho could match, you ignored any romantic feelings for them

"Mmm… Woo, I have no recollection, but I had fun." You licked your lips as if you were trying to taste the lingering taste of the tequila and opened your eyes to stare straight into Wooyoung's face, full of worry. He could have been the biggest bitch if he wanted to be. But for you, that 'maternal' instinct of overprotection has kicked in. You stare at him unblinkingly in that moody light, he looks beautiful, to the point of being stupidly handsome, so damn handsome that you want to pull him to you and kiss him without explanation or reason. And you can do that because you know he's never, ever going to say no to you but kiss you? Wooyoung's tongue will be the first to enter your mouth. He will suck on it like a drunk, and he will hold on to you until there is almost no air left in your lungs.

"We leave you alone, gongjunim, for five minutes, and you're already in trouble. Shall I give you a lesson in obedience?" San is speaking into your ear, loud enough for you to hear him clearly, each word coming through the loud electric bass. His voice is too sultry to be sober enough. Woo probably talked him into a few shots, although he always got drunk pretty easily. The two were threatening each other. And to you as well.

The evil voice inside your head grinned: You know you want it. He's going to punish you for being such a bad, naughty girl. He will teach you to be the best little girl for him and for them and to follow all his rules. He'll make you beg and make you cry…

Fuck, girl, come to your senses. Since when did you start to think with your pussy instead of using your brain? Or do you automatically turn into a horny, over-excited idiot after a break-up? Turn on your brains; they are your best friends.

Completely ignoring San's words, you whimpered:

"I'm thirsty." Your tongue is dry in your mouth, and your lips feel unpleasantly rough as you say the words. It looks like the fun's over for today.

San can't help but laugh at your capricious behavior, and you wriggle restlessly in his arms, trying to free yourself from his firm grip, but he only manages to hold you even tighter. You sigh in annoyance and decide to try your luck with Wooyoung.

"Woo, help me." You whine again, reaching out and pulling Wooyoung closer so that your forehead rests against his collarbone.

He smells good, like sandalwood and vanilla, like home.

Wooyoung lifts your face with his fingertips. The touch is soft and comforting, despite the roar of the music and the crowd of strangers around you. He stares intently into your eyes, almost too serious for your drunken haze. He hopes to find something more than alcohol-induced excitement.

"Come on, baby. It's time to go home." He releases your hand and carefully wipes the sweat from your forehead and cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt, his fingers lingering on your lips for a moment, and you playfully stick out your tongue and lick the pads of his fingers. God, may you not remember this tomorrow.

"But I don't want to…" You purse your lips again. You turn your head towards San, looking for his support. "Sanni, let's stay a bit more." Your big, shining eyes are not making it easy for him, but you were already quite drunk, and judging by the way your body was leaning against him, you could hardly stand properly.

"Wooyoung's right, gongjunim, it's over for you today."

Something wild in you just wants to be a brat and start arguing, but the rational part of your brain wins out. You sigh tiredly and try to wriggle out of his grip, and of course you stumble, grabbing Wooyoung's biceps with your hands in an attempt to stay on your feet and not break your high-heeled leg, which would be a great way to end the night.

A strong arm immediately wraps around your waist. It digs lightly into the exposed skin between your top and your jeans. You can feel the coldness of the thin band of his ring. It actually burns from how sensitive you were now.

"I got you, chagi." San whispers softly and hoarsely into your ear, and you cling even more tightly to Wooyoung's arm as your legs begins to shake, but no longer from the alcohol you've drunk and the tiredness, but from his sultry tone. Damn, was that a saturi, or was it just your imagination?

"We'll be on our way now, for sure." Wooyoung takes your hand once more, pulling it away from his bicep, and quickly leads you through the crowd of sweaty bodies, completely ignoring your feeble protests until you see the flashing exit sign. The red neon sign brings you ominously close to the point where you are left alone with them. And you feel San's heavy presence at your back like never before. 

The sounds of the city swallow you up and make you dizzy as Wooyoung opens the heavy metal door. Couples are kissing all over the place. Noisy groups of people are huddled together waiting for a taxi or sharing a single joint, leaving a faint smell of weed in the air. You can still hear the vibrating bass of the music that is pouring out of the club; it echoes in your head in an unpleasant way, with a slight throbbing pain. All of a sudden, all you want to do is find yourself in a warm bed, snuggled up against San or Wooyoung, or even better, against both of them.

San's hand on your waist tenses as you bend over to hail a taxi. Wooyoung's hands come down on your hips, hot and strong, and just like that, you find yourself sandwiched between them, their bodies shielding you safely from the searing cold and dirty stares. You could swear that you can hear Wooyoung swears to himself while a drunk guy is moving his tongue between two spread fingers and looking in your direction. San's body tenses instinctively. What's with all this protection? We're not in some kind of alpha-character romance; you can take care of yourself.

But in spite of that, your body still relaxes, your head leans back against Wooyoung's shoulder, and you rub your face against his like a cat.

"You're so drunk, baby." Woo chuckles and gives you a light kiss on the top of your head. "That's my girl."

My girl, just the sound of that one sentence makes a little fire start in your belly. What the hell is wrong with you today? A week ago, you were rinsing his mouth after Woo drank too much, and now you're ready to lick his mouth from the inside. 

Fuck.

All these thoughts make you lose track of what's happening until you feel the smooth leather of the car seat beneath you and the soft touch of San's lips on your bare shoulder. You moan, either from annoyance or excitement. San just smiles and presses his lips harder against you. Finally, you are going home.

You faintly hear Wooyoung giving the Uber driver the coordinates of your apartment complex, your hands intertwining again, relaxing further as Wooyoung's head rests on your shoulder. His long hair tickles the back of your neck.

Sobriety slowly begins to clear your head as the ride continues. You're still drunk, but you're much more aware than before.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Your voice is low, barely above a whisper, but in the confined space of the car's backseat, they can hear it well. It sets them in motion again, hands clasped around you with renewed confidence. You play mindlessly with the silver rings that adorn Wooyoung's long fingers, and you don't go unnoticed by San's light strokes on the outside of your thigh.

"All for you, chagiya." San whispers back and gives Wooyoung a meaningful look. There's something special between the two of them—a dialogue that is spoken without words but in which they both know exactly what is meant. If only you knew what was going on inside their heads…

You let your hand drop to Wooyoung's muscular thigh and ran the palm of your hand over it a couple of times, feeling the tight muscles under the skin of his trousers. He covers the palm of your hand with his own and squeezes it in a silent, gentle gesture of affection.

"I love you guys…" You whisper, sticking out your tongue to lick your suddenly dry lips. You hear them giggling together before you feel San press his nose against the soft skin of your collarbone, rubbing against it like a cat. He's the ultimate cinnamon bun; how he can be someone who's had sex with half the university is still a mystery to you.

"I love you too, gongjunim." And he means it, like he really loves you—much more than a friend should.

"Mmm, I love you more. You know that, baby." Wooyoung bites the skin on the back of your neck in a playful way, and you feel his wet tongue pressing against the site of the bite for a few seconds. 

"You're not sleeping in my bed. Woo, stop it; that tactic won't work on me anymore."

He whimpers back with a puff of his swollen lips, turning his face away from you with an irritated roll of his eyes as you and San laugh, his arms naturally wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his body so that you're practically sitting on his lap. A faint melody, from some kind of soft track, pours out of the speakers and lulls you into a state of serenity. You find it harder and harder to keep your eyes open. Your body relaxes even more in San's arms.

The next twenty minutes fly by, and you only begin to wake up when the cab door slams behind you and Wooyoung drags you into her flat. The fobs on your keys jingle loudly in the silence of the corridor as San fiddles with them to unlock the door. You sway in Woo's arms as you wait for the door to your apartment to open. The soothing scent of neroli and orchids greets you as you enter, your body automatically relaxing into the safety of your personal space, and you fall wearily into the armchair opposite sofa.

As the door closes, you hear the sound of the boys hurrying down the corridor, taking off their shoes and jackets. You can imagine San carefully placing his shoes next to yours and Wooyoung's one shoe being kicked further down the corridor. So damn different.

Woo sprints into the kitchen, slams the door of the fridge shut, and there is a bottle of cold water in front of your face.

"Here you go, starlight." He sinks to the floor at your feet and leans back against them, resting his head in your lap as he does so. You run your fingers through his long black hair, brushing it away from his face, and meet his gaze with your own. It's familiar; away from the deafening music and the sweaty crowd, you feel much better now, despite the fact that a few hours ago your ex was fucking your friend on the couch across the hall. This is still your home, and you're sure that in a few days your entire apartment will be taken apart and put back together by the caring hands of Seonghwa and Yeosang, when there won't be a trace of your failed past relationships left.   "Are you okay?" San asks, leaning against the doorjamb.

"I'm… fine, yeah. Probably not as good as I'd like to be, but I'll be fine; it'll just take some time. At the moment, I'm just tired of it all."

"Go take a shower, sweetie; San and I will take care of the rest." Wooyoung says as he gets up from the floor and pulls the leather jacket off of his shoulders. The wide collar of his black t-shirt shows the tattoo on his back. You always found that part of him extremely sexy.

You rise from your chair, grimacing at the pain in your legs after so many hours in high heels. Your top falls to the floor as you take it off, the lace of your black lingerie clinging to your body like a second skin. They've seen you naked more than once or twice, and in any case, you're not one of those cute girls who blushes at every opportunity. You have to struggle to pull your jeans down your legs because they are so tight around your arse. The next thing to come off is your underwear, which you leaves halfway to the toilet somewhere. You let them take care of that too.

The level of intimacy that you have with San and Wooyoung is so high that it virtually erases any barrier to acceptable standards of friendship. Years of shared memories, from when you started high school to when you practically star graduates of Seoul National University. God, the things you've done and the situations you've been in—it's been a hectic time. The three of you literally know each other to your bones—sharing habits, feelings, clothes, and even some sexual practices under the influence of alcohol and chance. You've seen them fuck; they've held your hair when you've puked, helped with periods, you've seen them jerking off in the morning or heard them moaning loudly in the bathroom, you all watched porn together—it's all been part of your friendship. In a way, the three of you have been completely and utterly shameless.

You close the bathroom door and stare wearily at your reflection in the large mirror. Your hair is disheveled from those beautiful waves there's not a trace, your skin is glistening with sweat, your make-up looks messy—a bit of smudged eyeliner, smeared lipstick—and in general, you look like you've been beaten up. The pupils of your eyes are dilated, even though you're still feeling sleepy, and there's a bit of puffiness under your eyes from previous tantrum.

Wow, you look like a real mess. You turn away from the mirror, turn on the tap of water, and sink back into your usual daily routine. The water cleanses not only your body but also your mind, spectacularly washing away all the memories and regrets of the day.

It seems to be at least a minute before you hear the sound of a heavy knock on the door. San's voice is muffled over the sound of water and steam, rough, husky, and incredibly sexy, sending electric shocks through your body and unexpected heat building between your thighs. Your fingers turn the handle, stopping the water from flowing, and you take a few long breaths, trying to get rid of this strange feeling. What's wrong with you today?

"Chagi, are you okay?"

You mooed in response, stepped out of the shower, and wrapped the towel around your body before opening the door to face him. He's standing across the bathtub, slumped against the wall, so soft and fluffy, when you open the door. San has changed into a pair of loose pajamas, which are very cute, according to your taste. He has washed off his make-up and generally looks more like an adorable bun than the voluptuous demon he is supposed to be at the university.

"What the hell took you so long? Wooyoung's already starting to climb the wall from here." He whimpers with a pucker on his lips.

"I needed some time to myself, Sanni."

He bites his bottom lip before nodding. His burning gaze travels over you from head to toe, lingering a little longer than usual on your thighs and breasts, and your body heats up at the sensation. When your eyes meet, there is an emotion that you are unfamiliar with that hovers just above the surface of his gleaming dark irises. Something predatory flashes across his face, just for a second, but it's enough to make your skin tingle with an unknown sense of anticipation.

"Just a few more minutes, and then I'll be on my way, all right? Tell Wooyoung to be a little more patient."

"Alright."

You step back into the tub, close the door behind you, and press your back against the wall. You bite your lips, trying to hold back a groan of disappointment. It's not that after all these years of friendship you've never felt sexually aroused in their presence; after all, Wooyoung and San were so damn attractive and even flirtatious to the point of insanity, they fit the cliché of lusty, popular boys at university so well.

Perhaps you had once or twice wondered what it would be like to be close to one of them, or even better, both of them—what their bodies would feel like and what their tastes would be like. Yet, consciously ignoring any romantic urges in their direction, you buried those thoughts deep in the back of your mind. You didn't want to think about how beautiful San's smile was, with those sweet dimples, or how your skin burned under Woo's playful, incessant kisses. But those were only fragmentary thoughts, a dangerous feeling creeping into your heart.

For a while your hunger for them was satisfied by a succession of boy toys until you found yourself a steady boyfriend, well until you caught him with one of your girlfriends tonight. Either way, the sex was hardly satisfying enough to get too upset about, but still, the ache in your heart and your bottom-punched self-esteem stung like a bitch.

But today there was something different between the three of you; on a day like any other, there was a different feeling. It wasn't anything special; San's tearful face had been tucked between your breasts more than once or twice after another romantic fiasco, and Wooyoung had been a complete fool in love, getting burned so many times because he wore his heart on his sleeve. You have been friends long enough to know how to comfort each other after breaking up. You have never experienced such a tension between the three of you before.

There was a barely perceptible change in the air; there was an electric tension in the chemistry between you; a crackle in the air like a thunderstorm was about to break. The storm was coming at a furious pace, and you weren't sure if you were going to be able to handle it. To end up between them was like voluntarily stepping into a hurricane rated at twelve. Was that what you wanted? You probably did. Did they want it? There was no way of knowing. Would things have changed if you'd fucked, yes, of course, but would you have had a 'happily ever after', you weren't so sure.

You brush your hair with your fingertips, hissing in pain when you can't untangle the tangled locks, and continue this compulsive action as you step out of the suddenly claustrophobic space of the bathroom. The corridor is cold, and the change in temperature causes goose bumps to run down the length of your skin. Cold air climbs under the towel's edges, clinging uncomfortably to your tender inner thighs.

"I left some fresh clothes for you on the dresser next to the bathtub. Didn't you notice?" San asks. His pronunciation is as simple as if he hadn't been the one who just a few minutes ago ate you alive with his eyes. He is sitting on the arm of the chair Wooyoung is comfortably ensconced in, mindlessly scrolling through social media.

The couch, which was once your favorite place to be, is clearly in disuse. You're already anticipating Hongjoong's endless complaints about it. That couch was the love of his life.

Wooyoung has changed his clothes too; there's no trace of the seductive college hottie left; the stretchy top of the oversized shirt slipping off his shoulders to expose his collarbones made him look so tiny and cuddly; and the soft disheveled hair falling over his face gave his features something adorably puppyish. They both looked homely and terribly comfortable, as if this was legitimately their home and not yours, as if their place had always been here, the space they belonged to.

"It's stuffy. I don't want to get dressed." You reply, pulling the towel tighter around your chest. You actually contradict yourself by wrapping your arms around yourself, but you don't want to explain anything to them either.

"Personally, I like it all; you can keep going, baby."

"Of course you like it, Woo; we all know about your love for exhibitionism." You say this nonchalantly and let your body fall into Wooyoung's lap, not caring that you're actually naked under the towel or that his shirt is getting wet as the water from your wet hair drips onto it. You're trapped between their bodies again, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't like the feeling. You savor his scent and the feel of his smooth skin as your face sinks into the curve of Woo's neck.

You all sink into a nice, relaxing silence as the boys scroll through endless social media feeds, your eyes grow heavier, and the need for sleep becomes more palpable. But you love it so much—just being around them, not thinking about anything else, feeling the way San's fingers play with your hair while you twirl the rings on Woo's fingers—that you probably have a fetish for his hands. Anyway, you don't mind.

Minutes go by like this, slowly approaching an hour. You feel content and warm as you sit on Wooyoung's gorgeous muscular thighs. He is humming something to himself, drawing scattered patterns with his fingertips on your bare thigh. Your lips press against Woo's neck, leaving a sweet kiss on his skin. He squirms beneath you, his fingers clenching tighter and tighter on your thigh. God, he's so hot.

"You're so needy, kitten," San says with laughter before you feel his lips on your shoulder. It's not a chaste, friendly kiss; no, his lips are wet with saliva, open so you can feel the scorching breath and his tongue tip gliding across your skin in slow motion. San is licking you like a cat, damn it.

"Is this a side effect of the break-up or something like that? Look at you, Peach. You're a horny mess." Wooyoung raises an eyebrow in curiosity and pulls you closer to his chest. You slide down his thighs, and the towel scratches a little higher, a little more, and they can easily see your pussy. At that thought, the familiar throbbing between your legs reminds you just how wet you are, the viscous, clear liquid threatening to run down the inside of your thighs and stain Woo's clothes.

Praying that neither of them will notice how flushed and horny you feel at this moment, you squeeze your legs together and slide your hand down to pull the towel further down your legs, as far down as possible in this position.

You're so thirsty; the lust is bubbling just beneath the surface of your skin, and the heady mix of their scent and the residual alcohol in your blood is making you feel like such a needy slut.

The rational part of your brain tells you that you should be in a completely different state right now—a mess of tears and snot, probably on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown. Somewhere between the self-destruction of your own self-esteem and a crisis of identity, But here you are, practically naked in Woo's arms, with an obscenely wet pussy and no shame whatsoever.

In contrast to the'real' half of you, something small and evil urged you to go further, to spread your legs, to expose yourself shamelessly, to ride Wu's thigh and have a hot rodeo until you couldn't cum any more, and then let San use you however he wanted; you don't mind at all being a chew toy for him. Hell, boy, all you want to do is let him fuck your brains out.

You sink your teeth into your lower lip with force; the taste of blood is almost in your mouth.

"Fuck me. I want to sleep, baby. You can use me. Let's go to bed."You whine, puffing up your cheeks.

"Okay, okay, baby, let's put the princess to bed." San lifts you from your place on Woo's lap and pulls you tightly against his chest, and you can clearly feel every ripple of muscle on that perfect body. When did he have time to get that big?

He carries you into the bedroom like a princess. Wooyoung's shuffling footsteps can be heard behind you, and you throw your head back to meet his gaze.

"We had a change of sheets. Personally, I'm in favor of burning all his stuff."

"Have I told you I love you?"

"Mmm, let me think. Maybe just a few thousand times." He gives you a cheeky smile, and you laugh.

"Love, love, love, love, I love you so much. You're the best boys in the world. You sing with a big smile on your face, and the sound of their laughter fills the bedroom. 

"We love you too; we love you so much."

If you weren't so drunk and tired, your brain might have been able to process Wooyoung's changed intonation, but you completely ignored any possible hint of how they felt about you.

San gently laid you down on the bed, and Woo's lithe body crawled beside you, snuggling against your side, hugging you like his personal teddy bear.

"Woo, let her go; she has to put on some clothes." He pulls off his T-shirt and holds the soft fabric out in front of you. Your hands lazily crumple it up in an attempt to decide whether or not to put it on, but the boys decide for you. 

Wooyoung sits you down and holds you tightly by the waist while San pulls the T-shirt over your head and pulls off the towel at the same time. You are still naked, but you are a bit more decent now.

"You're such good friends. I wish I could date someone like you." You lie back down, and Woo's hands paddle you again, as if it's his natural reflex. You're not aware of the exchange of glances between the two of them. The silent conversation that goes on between them is completely ignored.

"Hmm, someone like us?" San sits down on the bed in front of you, and in an instant, your fingers cling to his naked chest. You want so badly to sink your teeth into the smooth, bulging muscles of his chest. "Baby, aren't you afraid we're going to be jealous?"

"You and jealousy, come on. I went out with Suho, and none of you minded."

"It's because the idiot has a tiny dick." With an evil giggle, Woo whispers in your ear.

"Wooyoung!"

"He's right, chagia. When was the last time you had an orgasm?"

"San, not you too." You whine and give him a light tap on the shoulder.

"Well, if you were with someone like us, you'd know what it means to have a good fuck. We'd fuck your brains out, baby."

"Jung Wooyoung, wash your filthy mouth. San, tell him." You call out to your more rational friend in a resentful tone to calm Woo down.

"Well, I can't say that he's wrong. You won't be on foot for days after we are." The grin on San's face is so predatory that you can't tell that it's your sweet himbo friend. It's making the muscles at the bottom of your stomach clench in anticipation of this promise.

"You do know that I used to sleep with Yunho before I started dating Suho, right? You can hardly come as a surprise to me; he's very good."

"We know." Woo hissed in annoyance, and his arms tightened around you, planting his foot on your thigh and completely cutting off any attempt you might have made to pull away from him, even if you wanted to.

"But we're so much better." A hot palm slides just over your waist near to Wooyoung's hand, practically covering your breasts. You feel the full weight of it on your body.

"In your dreams."

For a few moments, you close your eyes and fall silent. The comforting silence lulls you to sleep, but there is one thought that keeps you from falling completely into a deep slumber. With a groan, you come back to reality, blinking slowly as your brain forms the words that seem to be too heavy on the tip of your tongue—heavy, but so damned sweet.

"I wanna… I mean, let's have threesome." 

"Sorry, what!" Wooyoung almost yells, sitting up in bed in an instant and staring at you with his eyes wide open. If the situation wasn't so serious, you could laugh at his shocked expression. "Is it an offer for sex? Right now?"

"Jesus, Wooyoung, just let me finish." You sit down as well and take each one of them by the hand. "We graduate next year, and if… if we are all free and you don't mind, maybe we can have threesomes."

"I'm ready. Why wait?" Woo clings to you like a leech. He presses every inch of his body against you so tightly that you practically melt into each other. His skin is hot, and you can feel his breath brushing against your ear and his lips touching it as he speaks. "Come, Y/N, we can do this now. I'm going to take you to heaven."

"Wooyoung, I'm serious."

You have to look at San, who's been silent the whole time. The look in his eyes is so dark, full of lust and hunger. It doesn't leave you for a second.

"San…"

"I'll do anything for you, Y/N."

"I'll be ready for you in a year if you're still willing. Now get out of the room, the both of you. Tonight I'll be alone in bed."

You push them off the bed, San rolls over on the floor with a clatter, and Wooyoung jumps up like a man who has been scalded.

"But chagi…" He whines, loud and nasty, as San drags him out of the room.

"Sweet dreams, gongjunim." That's the last thing you hear before the door slams shut behind them and you're left alone in the bedroom.

You can hear their muffled voices coming from the hallway, trying so hard to keep quiet. Wooyoung's incessant complaining, mixed with San's low muttering, effectively lulls you to sleep. You probably won't even remember tonight, let alone this stupid proposal, but little do you know that neither San nor Wooyoung have any intention of letting you forget.

You are going to have a very funny year in front of you.

[mondaymelon]

₊˚ෆ 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇 !! | sagau xiao, childe, zhongli x gn!reader

ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: uhm. obsessiveness? yandere if you blink a couple times? cult themes... the usual deal with this au

⤷ [ you, the benevolent and kind overseer and creator of teyvat, has descended upon this world in mortal flesh, with a presence that is overpowering, omniscient, and so impossibly pure. ෆ yet, one day, you come into the cathedral with a gash on your arm, dripping with shimmering golden ichor that spilled from your veins. there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring. ]

— sagau!xiao noticed you immediately. it would be hard not to. since the beginning, he had always heard it.

your sound. a beautiful one, a heavenly one. a chord struck him, somewhere in his chest, and he found himself panting on the ground, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

like a electric charge - one that leaves you startled, tentative, with the tips of your fingers still tingling from what happened moments prior. a buzz in your veins that thrums along with your heartbeat.

he didn't deserve to see you. not with what sins he had committed. but xiao was selfish. he wanted to, with his tainted body, he wanted to praise you, scrape his throat raw with his voice.

and so he did.

his face brightens as you step into the cathedral, dressed in ceremonial robes as per usual. you look ethereal, why would you not? your eyes are warm as they fixate on him, and he can feel his heart skip a beat and words die in his throat. he kneels before you orderly, readying to lift his head when something catches his attention - that is, the coppery scent of blood.

blood?

a droplet splatters onto the dustless floor. melted gold.

xiao's already stood up before he realizes it. his eyes are blown wide, his shrunken pupils sharp, like a cat's. "who. who did this to you?" those words take all the willpower in him to speak. his mind is swirling, racing, thinking up of every single possibility, vision scattered and blurry as unbridled fury teems within him.

"it's nothing. some civilians have begun rioting in the city, saying that i'm an imposter. all i did was show them a little bit of my blood and they all started singing praises, so the issue has been resolved." you shake your head with a soft smile, like this matter isn't anything to concern himself over.

it is.

he hates it. how he feels so fucking powerless, how he couldn't even stop this simple event from occurring in the first place. it's his fault. it's his and everyone else who dared not believe your words. your word is the truth. it is the undeniable laws of the world, what maps the stars and what lays the land.

he'll have time to ingrain that within everyone's minds. even if it means time away from you. but that's not the issue at the moment. he turns to search for bandages, but sees the already-healing wound slowly closing up as your skin mends together.

there's a knife at your side, coated in something that shimmers in the rays of light coming from the high, color-tainted windows.

something in his heart decides, seeing your reserved smile.

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

very well.

then he'll just have to eradicate every last one of them. ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!childe had, to be honest, never cared all that much. why would he, to the person who had abandoned him into the cold, dark, abyss? yet, the smile on your face. it's bright. so bright it burns him. was there a day where he could smile like that?

no, no. he couldn't. that's an expression only reserved for someone as beautiful as you. as pure as you, like a blank, unblemished canvas, with the world as its paint. it's a level of resplendency that no one on this cursed universe could ever hope to accomplish.

a god in flesh, living in a tainted world. a walking contradiction that he had grown to call the thing that allowed him to keep living. something that spurred irony, you who broke all forms of the logic he had made to keep himself sane. perhaps that was why the heart he'd locked away has suddenly begun aching again? is that why he feels so warm from your divine prescence?

"childe?" you call out his name into the vast, empty hallways, glancing around for the familiar sight of a tuft of ginger hair. he hears you at once, rushing to your side with a grin on his face.

"your grace??" he bows at the sight of you, unable -to contain his excitement as he quivers in place, the smile on his lips tugging upwards even more than its current extent. "yes, what's-"

he stops abruptly, his voice faltering as he catches the scent of something iron. one familiar on the battlefield, a liquid that'd paint the surroundings a beautiful red.

his heart pounds. the thrill of a battle? no, that can't be it. if that was the case, how come it felt like he was slowly suffocating on his unspoken words?

that's when he catches the sight of the poorly wrapped bandages encasing your forearms. and the shimmering ichor that's soaked through the hastily wrapped cloth.

he moves to grab your arm, but curses himself out as he quickly changes direction and tightly holds your wrist, his expression more pained than yours, despite you being the one suffering with the injury. "what... your grace, what is this?"

he hates your knowing smile. he hates it. (oh, but does he? could he hate anything that is of you?) it just reminds him how you're all too far for him to reach, a purity that he does nothing to maintain. "there was a riot in the city against the church. luckily, they all quieted down after i gave them a glimpse of..." you trail off, ending your incomplete sentence with a sheepish smile. the rest is self-explanatory, anyway.

his vision trembles as his pupils shake. "haha, you...?" fuck. fuck fuck fuck, just whose idea was it to allow you near a knife? how did you get your hands on that?? which stupid fucking bumbling idiot allowed for this to happen?

it's his fault. he should've been by your side. curse the fatui, curse them all, how could they possibly dare keep him away from your holy being? the guilt that churns within him, is that why he remains mute as you step away, gracefully walking to meet with the other retainers?

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

no, it's fine.

it will all be fine.

cutting off their tongues won't be enough. cutting them up until they're a dismembered, bloody mess isn't even close to what you've suffered for the sake of humanity.

yes, he'll make them realize that. they'll pay with their blood a thousand times over. ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!zhongli had his breath taken away by you before he even saw you, before the two of you had even exchanged words. your presence - it was so simply alluring, a saccharide charm that just drew him closer and closer.

sweet. yes, it was a familiar flavor upon the tongue that had long since tasted the many marvels the world had to offer. like a warm cup of tea, made from the sugary extract of flowers, how the sensation of it seemed to bloom upon your mouth.

ah, how should he put this. perhaps you had procured the blossom in his heart instead? stems, leaves, buds, a floret that'd only appear when you were in his gaze. a steady thrum that ran throughout his body with every stolen glimpse he took from your attention expertly.

perhaps, was this what he felt all those years ago?

did it matter? his soul was resolute, now, and it glowed gold, just like the blessed blood that flowed through every vein and lay in every vessel within that beautiful, beautiful you.

yes, ichor... just like the splatter of it on the ground...? a pang of fear strikes him - has something happened to you while he was away? he should've none better than to trust those good-for-nothing other cultists, who spend all their time babbling about your gloriousness yet turn a blind eye to whenever you require assistance!

no, he had to calm himself down. this wasn't the moment where he should grow frustrated. first, he must confirm the situation... he's planned this out to the every plan b, c, d, e, and so on, so how come he's still feeling so anxious?

there you are, upon your throne, busy conversing with a fellow archon, the one as free as the wind. funnily enough, you were the one that tied him down like a shackle.

"ah, zhongli. are you alright? you're breathing quite hard." you tilt your head, averting your gaze from venti's sparkling eyes and instead fixing them on the usually stoic man's jumbled expression. his shoulder's heave as he resists the urge to collapse at your feet.

"what... what are you... you're hurt?" stained bandages peek out from just below your silk sleeve, a sight that cannot possibly be missed from his attentive gilded eyes. "why didn't you tell me? i-i'll call one of the healers so they can-"

"zhongli, there's no need for that." with a hand, you gently signal venti to leave the scene, which he does, with obvious reluctance. a silence gesture that resonates with appreciation deeply within him. "this was of my own accord."

"your own accord?"

"unbelievers decided to throw a riot, and there wasn't much i could do except...well, don't they say that seeing is believing?" how come you don't look the slightest bit pain? where is your self-pity? your frustration? "anyhow, i'm not in a good state. please leave me for the time being, i don't plan on receiving any more audiences tonight."

he bows hastily, yet each movement is still finely crafted with minuscule adjustments that have taken him thousands of tries to master. he does as you say, and his strides are quick and long. it won't take a genius to see that his facade has crumpled, with the clear agitation that's spreading across his features like a wildfire that devours all in its path.

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

he'll change that. every thrum of the golden markings running up and down his body seem to pulse in unison with his heartbeat, which is raring like he's recently returned from the battlefield.

who would've thought he'd so quickly return.

this time, of his own will. he'd be sure that these fools of this world would learn the truth of your paragon. ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) please save me the delulu has returned and iTS NOT LETTING GO

໒��� || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123

[senseichaos]

VALENTINE'S DAY SPECIAL

I'm crazy, but so are you,

I'm crazy, but you are too

Summary: Alastor surprises you with a Valentine's gift, causing you both to find out things about each other that would bring you closer than ever before

Genre: Romance, Angst

Warnings: Sexual themes, Angst, hurt slight comfort, psychopathic Alastor, implied sadism, self deprecation, talk of murder, let me know if you see any more!

NOT PROOF READ (YET)

Let me know your thoughts!

(tried to do my iconic 3 image banner but tumblr's formatting broke so it didn't work..)

"My fawn, I have a surprise for you!"

You look up from your book, face lighting up as you place the book onto the couch next to you. Currently you were just reading a book in the hotel lobby, mostly alone in the area save for husk cleaning the bar as usual. Niffty is currently fixing some windows that had been broken, Sir Pentious is in his room doing god knows what, Vaggie and Charlie are out getting dinner, and Angel is at work. Which leaves you.

"Hm? Really?!" You ask, not expecting a gesture from Alastor on Valentine's day. Alastor grins, reaching his hand out for you to take which you do politely. In an unexpected movement Alastor pulls you lightly so you come close to him, placing a hand onto the small of your back as he gives you a proud gaze.

"Yes my fawn, it's valentines day is it not? Come,"

Alastor leads you up the stairs, taking you to his room one one of the higher floors of the hotel. This is all a surprise to you, really. You'd never expected Alastor to get you something for Valentine's! Let alone a surprise. You can't hold that excitement inside of you at the fact that Alastor is going to surprise you with something! You practically buzz with excitement when Alastor leads you down the hall, looking up at him as you fiddle with the side of his overcoat.

"What is it, what is it!!" You ask with excitement, bouncing on your feet as Alastor settles in front of the door to his room, not yet opening it. Alastor laughs, adjusting his monocle and shaking his head.

"Patience, dear! Have I taught you nothing?" He utters with a grin, fixing his coat after you had meddled with it.

"I'm allowed to be excited Alastor!" You pout, folding your arms as Alastor rests his hand against the wall. He gives you a humorous gaze, laughing at your words with a grin.

"You are, fawn. But there is a difference between patience and greed~" He purrs, pressing hks microphone to your chin, tilting it up a tad; scowling at this action, you grab the top of his microphone and push it back to his chest. Alastor's lower lids rise.

"I am not greedy! You've never surprised me before..." You frown, looking at the ground beneath you. It wasn't wrong, at least you don't think. Alastor has never really given you a huge surprise like this before.

Alastor takes a step forward, hooking his finger beneath the leather of your collar.

"Now that is a lie. I surprised you just last week with this beautiful collar," Alastor speaks, pulling his finger away from your neck, dragging his claw down the column of your throat as he goes. You can't help but lean into that brief touch, flicking your eyes back into his as he stares at you with an odd adoration.

"I guess that's true.." You mutter, itching the side of your neck as you take your eyes from his own again. You instead look at the wall, focusing on the deteriorating wallpaper. Though you feel Alastor's claw press against your jaw, tilting your face back towards his own

"You guess? But it is true, my dear. I think you forget that I love you just as you love me," He says lowly, leaning in closer to your own smaller, meeker figure. You can't help but shrink backwards, feeling that odd fear buzz through your cold sinner veins.

"Do you really?" You ask, eyes blown as you stare. He chuckles, kissing your forehead and pulling away, leaving your skin burning on the area he kissed. Alastor quickly and deftly places his fingers onto the the doornob, twisting it with a neat skill. The skill of a man with property, you could describe.

"Hm, does this prove my point?" Alastor asks, pushing you into the room by the tip of his microphone staff.

You gasp, looking at the room. His room has a nice, neatly set table in the middle of his forest backdrop, which has cups of coffee and crumpets on it, along with some of your favorite sweet treats that make you drool to even look at. There's even a beautiful bouquet of dried roses set in the middle just near the edge of the table, meaning you can see Alastor completely when you eat.

"Oh my gosh! Alastor, this is.." You clasp your hands over your mouth, tears welling up in your vision as your heart swells from the pure kindness of the action. You watch as Alastor waltzes in front of you, prideful of his actions.

"And you say I don't know you.. I have your favorite music, your favorite food, your favorite drinks anddd" Alastor outstretched his hand, standing in front of the table completely with that grin of his that makes you melt. "Your favorite radio demon~!" He sing songs, causing you to laugh, running up to him and hugging yourself into his arms.

Though often you don't hug Alastor, but it's in these moments where he welcomes it that you value. He always hugs you warmly, as if his whole body is enveloping you in a swaddle. You feel small in his arms, almost like a baby.

You nuzzle yourself into his chest mumbling:

"Oh thank you Alastor this is so.. thoughtful. I didn't think you were capable of such a thing," You giggle, looking up at him with teary eyes as those butterflies swarm inside of you. That way he looks at you is so soft, before he laughs, tangling his fingers into your hair and pulling very lightly.

"Now don't ruin the moment, my fawn. It impolite," Alastor chastises, giving you that sadistic look that makes you fall to your knees and take what's given. Those dark eyes, that tight grip, that sharp smile, those piercing teeth. You bite your lower lip, laughing with a flustered blush as you push his hand away.

"Sorry Al' I just.. this is incredible! I'm so excited! I can hardly hold in my squeals," You squeak, jumping very slightly on your toes. Chuckling, Alastor folds his hands behind his back, though not before resting his staff at the side of the table. "Squeal all you want, my dear! You make a lot of noise anyway," He says with a lascivious smirk, leaning down to your level just to get a good look of your scowl and humor it as he feels necessary.

"Ew Alastor! I don't wanna squeal anymore.. but- EEEEEEE!" You squeal, flapping your arms with joy as Alastor sits himself down at the table. What you don't expect is for Alastors green magic to circle around your waist, effectively picking you up and placing you on your chair. He ignores your frightened squeak and flinch at this, instead leaning forward and resting his chin on his intertwined fingers.

"C'mon my dear, the coffee should be the perfect temperature!" He utters, nodding his head towards the cup of coffee at your side of the table. You nod, taking a small sip of the sweet coffee. Sweet? That's new. Alastor doesn't like sweet things.. which makes it all more surprising that he's given you sweet things.

"Oh actually! It's not huge but i did get you something," You interrupt your thought, remembering the Valentine's gift you had found on the streets of hell weeks ago. Alastor smiles wider, not expecting you to get him something in return. He feels gratitude that you did, though, not often does he get gifts.

"Hm? You did? How sweet of you, my fawn!" Alastor asks brightly, watching as you twist your body to grab something from your back pocket. What he doesn't expect is for you to pull out a light gray feather, a very slight shimmer against its surface. It almost looks like the feather of an angel with it's heavenly sheen.

"I found it on the street a couple weeks ago whilst on my outing, it's an exorcist feather!" You exclaim, passing it towards him with a proud smile. Taking it in his fingers, he examined it with a soft but peaceful smile, taking in every piece of it before smiling brighter.

"Ooh~ now this is a thoughtful gift!" He says, opening his mouth and placing it into his mouth, tasting it. He slowly drags it out, trailing his tongue around its entirety to taste every part of it. You give him a disgusted look, peering at him through your lashes before pulling it from him. Or at least attempting to, he pulls it away before you have a chance to reach it.

"Ew Alastor don't taste it! You don't know where that's been!" You scold, taking another sio of your coffee. Alastor holds it in his hand, tasting a little bit more of it by placing his red tongue against it kn random spots. You give him an exaggerated gag, causing him to finally pull it away with upturned, happy eyes.

"It's tasty, dear! Is that not part of the gift? A beautiful feather of an angel and the tasty remnants of death! I can't think of anything more delicious~" He pauses, lowering his lids seductively. "Besides from my fawn, of course.." He purrs, causing you to flush before swatting his hands.

"Alastor! That's gross...!" You exclaim, taking an aggressive bite from your (extremely delicious) crumpet. You almost forget that you're supposed to be mad before Alastor's condescending laugh rings in your ears, causing you to look back up at him with down turned brows.

"Oh come on dear, I know you just love it when I'm dirty!" Alastor says with a teasing gaze, before leaning forward and attempting to kiss you. You quickly move your head away, causing him to give you a short peck on the corner of your lips. When he pulls away, he seems proud, almost greedy with his affection.

"You just tasted an exorcist feather and you think I want you to kiss me with the same mouth, ew!" Alastor hums at your words, tilting his head.

"I guess you just don't like the flavour the same way as me," He says, taking a sip of his black coffee. Alastor can't stand sweetness, that's for sure. But it does still surprise you that he has a crumpet and a slice of your favorite cake Infront of him.

"Okay fine.." You sigh, leaning forward to invite Alastor into a kiss. He grins, clasping his hand onto your cheek and leaning forward, purring: "Lovely!"

Finally he presses his lips onto yours, quite literally immediately forcing his tongue past your lips. You moan surprised at this, gagging as he presses his tongue to the back of your throat - definitely on purpose - though you don't pull away. Alastor doesn't kiss you often, and that's a fact. So this moment, despite being uncomfortable with his sadistic ways is still powerful and makes your gut rearrange. The way he digs his claws into the back of your neck, twisting your head slightly so he can kiss you deeper, effectively taking away your breath. But you don't care if he suffocates you. You don't care if he kills you. Right now all you want is for him to continue massaging his lips against your own.

Or that was until he finally pulled away, licking a stray piece of saliva from his lip. You finally snap from your daze, flushing deeply and wiping your wet lips.

"Are you done?" You ask, taking a short sip of your coffee in an attempt to calm your fiery veins down. Alastor chuckles, taking a bite from his crumpet and only slightly flinching from the sweet flavour.

"Yes my dear, a kiss cannot last forever." He says, leaning his head against the back of his hand. Nodding, you bite your lower lip, finding something to say to take your mind from that intense kiss.

"So what are you gonna do with the feather?" You ask rather abruptly, chanting the subject with a swift execution of words. Alastor could detect as such, but he choses not to point it out to save your dignity. Instead he nods, twirling the feather between his fingers before speaking.

"Hmm, I will most likely place it at my bedside." He pauses, grinning and looking back up at you. "What do you plan to do with these hours of fun with yours truly? He asks, taking a neat sip from his black coffee. You can't understand how he drinks the stuff, being so strong and bitter. You can only have it sweet.

"I just want to talk with you, Al'. I don't remember the last time we just got to sit and.." Your words slowly jumble off into nothing's, realizing that you're rambling. Though when you look up into Alastor's eyes he doesn't seem annoyed, hell he even looks as though he's hanging off your every word with deep enjoyment. "Talk." You finish, pointed with your words as they drip from your tongue.

"Really, because I recall sitting down and having tea just last week," Alastor recalls, tapping his chin in mock-thought. You shake your head, taking a long sip from your coffee. "No I mean, I don't remember the last time we did something just for us. Just a moment where it's- just unbridled conversation between lovers for hours.." You utter, twiddling your fingers together as a pang of anxiety hits your gut. You swallow it down, not wishing to show your anxiety to your partner.

"Hm, I guess you are correct with one thing. We haven't done anything just for us in a while," Alastor answers, shrugging his shoulders as he looks down at the food in front of him. He seems content, cozy even. You don't often see him at such peace.. and you want him to be at such peace more often- hell you want to be at such peace more often.

"Doesn't it make you sad.. sad that we don't just have time for us?" You ask rather suddenly, looking up at him as he places his feather into his coat pocket. He lowers his lids, tilting his head softly as he speaks with a buttery tone: "Whatever do you mean?" Alastor asks, leaning his cheek on the back of his hand dreamily.

You sigh. "I mean.. doesn't it make you wish we could just be together for hours.. spend a whole day, even! Just us, laying in bed.. dancing to music, having tea.. cooking! Anything.. I just want to feel more connected to you sometimes.." You utter with a soft-spoken tone. Alastor almost seems sympathetic, hell empathetic for a moment. But he isn't, you can tell... But even still he leans forward, that smile across his face as he speaks with such an odd tone.

"Now now, dear. If you wanted a day like this why didn't you just say? Why leave it to the time we are supposed to be laughing and having fun?" Alastor asks, shaking his head softly as he moves his hands as to accentuate his words. You shrink into yourself in realization that all this time you felt a lack of deep connection with him you could have.. told him.

"I-I don't know I guess I just.. I only realize how much I need time like that now, when I have it.." You mumble, rubbing your palm across your eye before picking up the thin fork next to your sweet cake, wishing to take a bite to make you feel less sad. Though Alastor just smiles wider, giving you a soft look with his red intimidating eyes.

"Now why worry about the future when you have what you want right now? I promise you that spending time in the now will make this much more productive and enjoyable," Alastor says with such power, pulling at your strings to make your emotions mold to what he wishes. Though he isn't wrong, even with that later of manipulation with his tone. It is best to let this moment happen without worrying about the future.

"I guess you're right, Alastor." You finally say after a pregnant pause. Alastor chuckles to himself, watching as you take a joyful bite of your cake. After tasting it's sweet flavour you practically buzz with happiness, squeaking to yourself. "Thank you, my fawn."

You finish your happy 'squeeming', laughing softly at Alastor's words. "It wasn't really a compliment, but take it how you will." You say with a shrug, diving into another forkful of the delicious cake.

"You know," Alastor says suddenly, a grin churning on his face. You look up from your cake from big eyes, swallowing your mouthful of cake.

"Hm?"

"I recall this memory from my childhood sometimes when I'm with you, this memory from my childhood that is more pleasant than any other," Alastor begins, looking up at the sky-like roof above in thought and rumination as he speaks. Yet you hang into every word, leaning forward in your chair with such infatuation; You wish you were nestled in your lap to take in every huff of his breath as he tells his story.

"I was sitting beneath this tree reading a book my school had demanded me to read, for a project of some sorts. But the book was actually rather interesting! It spoke of love and loss, and it gave me this odd comfort," Alastor tells, Almost painting a picture with his hands as he describes the story to you. He moves his hands with every word that he annunciates, making everything he says seem even more rich and delightful for your brain as he goes on.

"It was like it was telling me that no matter what I do in my life, one day I will get this feeling again. And now, well now when I'm with you I get that odd feeling of comfort." He finishes, folding his hands in his lap as he watches your dumbfounded expression. He can't help but smirk.

"Alastor.. that's the most you've ever told me about your life on earth." You say with such a grin, kicking your legs in your chair with cheer. Alastor taps his pointer finger against his chin in a thinking moment before shrugging, giving you a sly smile. "Yes, I suppose it is, isn't it?" He asks, those buttery eyes of his low lidded. You bite your lower lip, poking your fork into your cake.

"You aren't lying are you? Please tell me this isn't a joke.." You beg, taking a piece from the cake with your dainty fork. You don't eat it, though, instead holding it at the end of the fork as you speak. "Why would I joke to my love about something like this?" Alastor asks, watching your body as your heart sits tremulous inside of your chest.

You look at the ground "I don't know, this whole thing it just doesn't feel real to me. And this- this childhood memory of yours.. I feel like I'm going to explode with happiness." You finish your sentence with a large almost painful grin, before dropping it down into a rather small smile. Alastor hums, poking his dainty fork into a piece of his own cake.

"Is that not good, my dear?" Alastor asks before taking a bite of the sickeningly sweet cake, he does make a bit of a face and the flavour, but he eats it all the same. You value that in this moment. Not often does he do something that actively makes him uncomfortable for you, so you feel as though he's sacrificing his life right now. You can't help but think of him as sweet for a small moment.

"It is! it's just.. this is the first I've ever heard of your past," You reply, drawing circles on the table with your hand as the other continuing to hold your fork with the piece of cake at the end. Once again you hear Alastor hum in acknowledgement, watching as he gives you a large unreadable grin.

"Would you like to know more about my past, my dear?"

You blink, biting your lower lip as your heart clenches beneath your rib cage.

"Please," You utter with glassy eyes, set on taking in every second of his story. Alastor replies to your enthusiasm with a chuckle, placing his fork down and clasping his hands together as he leans back onto his chair. He begins to speak, a whimsical propriety in his voice.

"Hm, alright then. You do have to understand that my life on earth may not be the most pleasant of lives," Alastor warns, tapping his foot against the grass beneath absentmindedly. You shake your head, dead set on hearing something more about his life as a person."I don't care."

He grins widely, eyes creasing with its largeness."Lovely, now," He begins, talking with such pride you can't help but sink into every word. "I remember this time, I was I think around my early twenties when I killed my first victim-" You interrupt with wide eyes and a tap of your finger against the table.

"Woah woah woah, why are you staring out with this?" You ask. You completely didn't expect Alastor to start out with his murder. You know that he was a cereal killer as a man, that is for sure- but you didn't expect him to tell you about it.

"Listen my dear, it's impolite to interrupt." Alastor chastises, brows high and nonchalant. You bite your lip, shrinking backwards into your seat. "Sorry Allie."

Alastor's smile grows. "Hm. I had killed this victim in the dead of night, it was an act of self defense I do admit. But, that feeling I got was like no other when his lifeless body laid dormant at my feet," Alastor describes, picking up his staff that he laid at the side of the table. Looking at the staff, Alastor drags his hand against its handle, his eyes dark and reminiscent, almost longing.

"I had this system after that. I would kill one person, eat them, and bury their bones in the forest behind my house. I was very good at giving no trace of myself, to the point where my killing became news that I had to cover on my radio show! How comical is that, hm?" Alastor suddenly perks up, laughing to himself as he finishes talking. He takes a sip of his coffee, one hand places against his staff as he watches you laugh awkwardly.

"I mean you are killing people, so not extremely comical." Alastor laughs again at this, swatting his hand in your direction. You finally take a bite of the cake on your fork, eyes pointed at Alastor as you do so in a judging fashion.

"Oh don't worry about that my dear, I promise if you were alive in my time I wouldn't have killed you. You most likely would have become my wife," His voice lowers as he speaks becoming flirtatious with his tone. At his words anxiety pools at your stomach, causing your skin to ripple into goosebumps; And yet you can't help but crave for more.

"In my life on earth I wouldn't have dated a cereal killer.. " You mumble, looking at the grass below as the goosebumps on your skin begin to fade with that fleeting adrenaline filling fear. But when you look back into those eyes of his, it comes back with a harsh waft. Those dark eyes, they send you into a trance.

"Well what are you doing now then?" He asks, leaning forward on the table with a sly gaze.

"..dating a cereal killer..." You utter guiltily. Alastor reaches across the table, planting his and against yours intimately. You feel tiny electric shocks of love go through you there, making you smile at his clawed fingers as they lay against your wrist. "Exactly, my fawn. Don't assume things about yourself, especially when it is just plain wrong. What have I done to hurt you?" You laugh at this, pulling down the collar of your shirt to reveal a healed bite mark across your shoulder.

"Exhibit A." You announce with a grin.

"Well that was during sex, darling. I wouldn't count that. And also you liked it," Alastor responds, taking your hand into his own. You shiver, feeling his claws draw a line from the bottom of your wrist to the middle of your palm. "Mhm.. touche! It still hurt.. and felt good.." Your words slowly jumble off into nothing, realizing that Alastor, in fact, has never really hurt you.

"Well then I didn't hurt you did I? I promise you I would never go out of my way to hurt you in a way you wouldn't enjoy," Alastor assures, tapping his claws against the bottom of your wrist as he grins.

"I love you, Alastor. I also really appreciate this cause I know you don't like sweet food but you're still eating this with me." Alastor chuckles, leaning over the table to ruffle your hair in a condescending way.

"Anything for my little fawn, hm? Anything I can do to make you smile is mine to give." Alastor says, pointed with his words. There is a confidence to his words, as well. Not that there isn't always but specifically when he said smile. He wants you to smile, and yet he loves to make you scream his name and cry out for him.

He wants to break you. And you let him.

"Can I tell you something about my past?" You ask, looking up as him with teary eyes. Alastor nods, taking another bite of his (now finished) crumpet. "Of course, I'm a very good listener." He replies after swallowing, blinking at you with an extraordinarily endearing gaze. You have to stop yourself from getting flustered.

"I know.." You mumble, fiddling with the sleeves of your coat. Watching with dark eyes, Alastor crosses one leg over the other in his chair, ears perking up at the silence. Sighing, you ready yourself to speak, biting your lower lip before just letting the words flow.

"I never liked anyone my whole life on earth, I mean.. I died early, I know that but still I have never felt any attraction to anyone. Anyone ever." The words come out anxious and almost scared, matching the way your hands shake in a tremulous way. And yet Alastor makes you feel better by laughing, humming at words.

"Ever? How odd, me neither!"

Your eyes widen. Never really asking anything about Alastor, you don't know why you are surprised. You often worry that you annoy him if you ask too many questions, so you guess this is your sign to ask him more.

"What, really?" You gasp, clasping your hands together as you lean towards him with attraction. Alastor just hums in affirmation, taking another reluctant bite from his cake. You think to yourself for a moment, before shaking your head and continuing.

"Well.. anyway. The only feeling I ever got towards anything was this idea of.. being with someone like you. And I know that's crazy, that I would feel attraction to the idea of dating a psycho but the label fit. I'd never changed, even into my 20s when I died I never felt attracted to anything but this personification in my head," You start, flushing deeply as you talk. You don't dare look into Alastor's eyes, too scared to see his reaction to your words. Whilst continuing to speak, however, you find that you don't feel any sort of distaste from his frame. "And I have to admit, that you are the embodiment of the personification in my head to a degree I can't even begin to explain."

Silence flourishes the air for a thin moment, making your throat clog up with regret. And yet to your surprise, you feel one of Alastors claws press at your chin, tilting your head to look at him.

"Why do you tell me this now, dear?" Alastor asks, looking into your teary eyes with an unreadably soft gaze. Your gaze shifts away from him and you bite the inside of your cheek, kicking your legs nervously beneath the table."Because I think that I completely understand why," You mutter, tone strangled as his claw begins to press slightly harder into your skin.

"Why is it, my dear?"

You sob, pulling backwards from his hand so you can shrink into yourself.

"Because I'm crazy! I just know it. All of this, this thing we have- it's all part of my delusional self. I can't love anyone unless I have this feeling like I'm in danger. I need to be on edge to be comfortable and feel this feeling I feel right now.." You cry, breathing beginning to become choked and ugly. Staying silent for a second, you take awful whiny breaths in, calming yourself. Not once do you look up at Alastor.

"I hate myself Alastor.." You utter out, another heap of tears dripping down your cheeks. To your surprise, Alastor is next to you in a flash, gripping your cheeks and making you look up at him. His smile is wide and sadistic and yet his eyes are soft and pseudo-empathetic."Now now my dear, do I look like I'm judging you? I'm crazy as well. We are both just psychopaths with a twisted idea of love." He assures, claws digging into you very slightly as he pulls on your cheeks, forcing you to smile.

"How so..?" You sniffle, pulling his hand from your cheeks. Yet instead Alastor just grips the back of your neck, ensuring that your eyes are on him at all times. He needs your full attention. "I like the idea of pulling on someone's strings and controlling them to submit to my every desire. You like the idea of being controlled and that thrill you get from the danger of it all." He says lowly, voice flowing into your ears with such tremor you can't help but stare at him with an adoration.

"Are you saying we're the same? Because I would never kill anyone.." You say softly, blinking at him. Alastor chuckles, shaking his head at your words. He almost tuts them, really, his chuckle being almost mocking in a way that you can't understand. You can never understand him, never completely. And perhaps that's the way he likes it.

"No no no, my dear. I'm saying that you and I fit perfectly into each other's idea of love. We are similar in those parts of ourselves, and that's what makes us fit so well together, hm?"

Your breath catches in your throat. He's right. He's so right. You are both broken souls that bring out the best you can out of eachother. Nothing will ever be normal with him, and nothing will ever be normal with you. And yet.. and yet your heart beats at such a fast pace you fear your adrenaline will spike through your skin.

"I guess this makes sense.." Is all you say, breathless with your words.

Alastor hums, trailing his hand from the back of your neck down your chest, until it reaches your hand. Pulling you by your hand to your feet, he brings you into a warm addicting hug. You moan into his embrace, shivering with goosebumps as his breath tickles against your ear.

"so do you really love me, really really?" You ask, teary eyed and tired.

"I really, really love you my dear. I'd kill every sinner in hell to keep you." There's a sinister tone to his words, and even yet you value them more than you can admit.

"That means a lot to me , Alastor."

"I'm glad, my fawn."

At peace, for now at least.

[phoenix--flying]

pjo characters as things my friend group has said

Hazel: I just kinda radiate towards caves

Nico: Breathing has been taken out of Nicos software

Connor: I can speedrun to your house when you're home alone

Cecil: raisins are dehydrated rats

Percy: It's a roller coaster where the only option is to die

Will: I just goooot- my jugular sliced open by a cat

Nico: We're going out tonight and killing all the homophobes. Call it a date

Will: Why am I so much taller then- Oh its cause im standing on a dead body

Connor: You're sooo welcome. I literally did nothing

Hazel: Just because your trash doesn't mean you can't do great things. It's called a trash can not a trash cannot

Piper: Cut my hair, I'll cut your throat

Thalia: Sometimes I do slap kids

Travis: When I grow up I'm gonna be a legal drug dealer

Beckendorf: I’m going to drop kick myself into space

Malcom: Briefly describe three applications that make use of the total eternal reflection of light Connor: The colour seven

Grover: Percys reaching old age, we should put him in a retirement home

Piper: Leo what did you do Leo: I may have burned down an orphanage and it may have spread to this site.

Lou Ellen: Travelling, usually done on the ceiling

Will: Imagine sitting on your couch watching TV and your phone buzzes. Reminder: Breathe

Austin: i just broke an acorn.. panic whY IS THERE AN ACORN IN MY ROOM

Nico: i feel like today happened yesterday and i just slept for all of tomorrow and woke up in the evening

Malcom: yeah i fell down the stairs and broke my spine in 3 places Connor: that's hot

Jason: Nitroglycerin. The forbidden smoothie

Will: I always look like trash. Annabeth: I know that's why I hate looking like trash

Travis: well we only have a few minutes left of class.. y'all wanna watch something explode

Piper: It sounded like you smoked 10 packs of cigarettes and then hit puberty

Jason: Imagine you get fired the day after you die

Nico: My stomach just like...started learning German

Nyssa: Leo if you don't leave, i'm shoving this desk fan up your ass

Jason: I slammed my foot on the accelerator, running multiple red lights at 220km/h, because I wanted to drive safe

Nyssa: When you go through the car wash but you forget the car

Drew: *points at trashcan* That looks like you

Nico: I only want chemistry between me and a coffin

Jake: Gotta put your wheelchair in 4Wheeldrive. Outdoor mode. Off-road mode

Leo: Murder is ok as long as its fine

Percy: Maybe if I fall asleep on my textbook I'll wake up with all the knowledge

Connor: Let's play spin the bottle but it's only you and me

Leo: Now how do we calculate the density if swiss cheese

Clarisse: I have to ask one of the experts Chris: Who are the experts? Clarisse: I don't know

Piper: Your mom is on vacation Leo: well- she's on a permanent vacation

Michael: AYO BITCH YOUR FOODS FLAMIN THE FUCK

Silena: If you're slow I'm a fucking snail

Jason: We need to hold a funeral! Percy: Here comes the bride

Beckendorf: Have you ever died? No??? Well here you go!!! Death simulator. It’s permanent!

*Annabeth and Percy sitting on a bench with drinks and a cop drives by* Percy: What if they thought we were drinking and driving Annabeth: We're not in a car

Will: I'm so smart Nico: Oh my god since when

Piper: *gives Leo a singular goldfish* Piper: Feeding the poor

Lou Ellen: Bless your soul Nico: What soul? Lou Ellen: ...good answer

Sherman: an apple a day keeps the doctor away, and anybody else if you throw it hard enough

Connor: I can see the veins in my eyes

Ellis: Whatever sinks your boat!

Cecil: You can't kill the gays if the gays kill you first

Will: dude sorry there's a knife in your grandma's face it grew wings and flew there :( Cecil: I’m sorry my knife flew out of my hand and slit that guys throat then burned it so he wouldn’t bleed

Silena: *playing Minecraft* I walked into your house and your birds started aggressively dancing at me

Lee: That's just so unfortunate for me. That is just so- oh I died

Percy: Wanna go to Toronto? Why drive just take the Earth Quake on natural disaster

Travis: The roof is just caving in on us it's fine

Michael: My arms are broken, my legs are broken, my lungs are broken, my knees are broken, I got decapitated when I was five

Connor: We're gonna die? No we're gonna beat the speedrun world record

Cecil: Hell to go down I there

Will: Mask to mask resuscitation

Travis: I may or may not have accidentally dropped a match in the building on purpose

Nico: Minecraft but I accidentally sets a school on fire

Percy: Minecraft but I die of hypothermia

Piper: Minecraft but I left my eyes at home

Jake: Minecraft but my legs are broken

Jason: Minecraft but I died

Lou Ellen: Minecraft but we're all gay

Will: If I die the game is homophobic

Cecil: Minecraft but I run my best friend over

Nico: I wanna hit a citizen with a baseball bat

Michael: Hey sir, you have Alzheimer’s. Would you like a side of bronchitis?

Silena: Why can't this be straight? Lee: Because you're not

Lou Ellen: mmmm i love my jesus fish Cecil: bro jesus fish Lou Ellen: ikr, jesus moment

[sister-lucifer]

Who’ll Stop The Rain?

Tim Wright/Masky x Gender Neutral Reader 

READ PART ONE HERE 

READ PART TWO HERE

Genre: Comfort, fluff, slight angst but nothing heavy, not explicitly romantic

Summary: The thunder rouses you from a nightmare-filled sleep, and in your distress you run to Tim for comfort

Content/Warnings: None really, reader has nightmares due to unspecified trauma but nothing is explicitly written, Tim is a little emotionally constipated but does his best, no explicit romance.

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

You nearly jump out of your skin when the screaming thunder rips you from your fitful sleep. You sit up so fast you almost fall out of bed, your jaw hanging open like you’re trying to cry out despite no sound leaving your throat. Your chest is heaving so fast you start to choke on your breath. It takes a moment for your eyes to focus, and even longer still for you to remember where you are. 

Do you recognize this place? 

Home? 

This isn’t home. 

No. Not quite.

A home, yes, but not your home. 

The TV is still on. 

The wallpaper is still peeling.

The shag rug is still discolored. 

You know where you are. 

You look around for a second, taking in your surroundings and making sure your assessment was correct. It’s like a flood of memories coming back to you in an instant, and for a second it’s almost calming. That is, until you get to the part that made you so afraid in the first place. 

The nightmares have been pervasive for weeks now. You’re not sure why. It’s some sort of episode you think, one of these days it’ll stop, but it’s been wearing on you. You’ve hidden it from Tim as best you can. You don’t want him to worry, that’ll only make you feel worse, and usually it’s easy enough to shake the thoughts from your mind. 

Usually. 

But this time it’s lingering, an unwanted guest meandering in the doorway for an uncomfortable amount of time, like dirty smoke permeating everything around it and yellowing the walls with its horrible malodor. 

God, it’s everywhere.

You squeeze your eyes shut, bringing your knees to your chest and hiding your face in them. It’s a feeble attempt to calm yourself, to stop the images of your nightmare from flashing in your mind over and over again, but it does little to help. 

The thunder cries out again and you yelp in surprise, the harsh noise cutting through the static buzzing taking over your mind. It irritates the pounding headache you can feel coming on. You’re exhausted, only being kept awake by the obscene amounts of adrenaline being pumped through your veins. 

God, it won’t go away. 

There are just some thoughts that can’t be forced out no matter how hard you try. They can’t be pushed away or covered up or cut out of you. You can only wait until they dissolve on their own, but right now they feel like a cement block weighing you down from the inside.

The headache is coming on faster than you thought, and you wince under the pressure of pins and needles in the back of your head. 

God, it hurts. 

You can’t stay here. 

You can’t stay in this room. 

It’s like the walls are closing in on you, the darkness barely shrouding their approach. 

It’s not safe here. 

You need Tim. 

He’ll know what to do.

You jump from your bed and tumble to the floor, not even taking a moment to acknowledge the pain as you thrash your way out of the covers tangled around your ankles. You barely manage to stumble to your feet, slamming into the doorway as you flee the room. It stings, but you don’t care. 

You’ve forgotten all pleasantries or manners as you burst into Tim’s room, slamming the door open so fast the knob rattles from the impact. Tim jolts awake with a grunt of surprise, and for a moment his hand jumps to grab the revolver he keeps in the dresser drawer. He only fumbles with the handle for a moment before he blinks a few times and pauses. He squints at you, tilts his head, then sighs in both relief and annoyance. 

He collapses back onto the bed, rubbing his eyes. 

“God…dammit, kid!” He groans, and you feel a pang of guilt that’s quickly washed away by the flood of tears stinging your eyes and burning your throat. 

You rush to his bedside, collapsing against the mattress and gasping for air as you try to collect yourself. You try to breath in, but the air is forced back out of your lung before you can take a meaningful breath. You choke out a pitiful cry of Tim’s name, but with the old TV being the only light in the room and his vision still blurry with sleep he can’t see the distress that’s evident on your face. 

He turns over onto his side, brows furrowed in annoyance and a hint of a scowl on his lips. 

“What do you need, kid?” 

You don’t get to answer before the thunder comes down again, making you flinch and forcing a surprised noise from your mouth. Tim turns and looks out the window, sighing and rolling his eyes. 

“Is it the thunder, huh? You scared, kid?” 

“Yes,” You finally choke out. 

He pauses, his expression instantly shifting to one of concern. He scrambles to sit up, making room for you on the bed. 

“Okay, okay,” He says softly, “Come on, get up here, I got you.”

You claw at the sheets as you climb up into bed with him, your hands immediately finding his body and grabbing onto his shirt. You pull yourself into him so desperately he almost falls over, barely managing to catch himself just in time to keep you both from going down. 

He’s almost as frantic as you are, large hands fumbling with you as he clumsily pulls you onto his lap and into his chest. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, your fingers clutching the back of his shirt so hard your knuckles are getting sore. It hurts, but you can’t let go. You hiccup and your breath stutters as you fight for air. 

“Hey, hey,” He whispers, trying to keep you still against him without crushing you, “Are you hurt or anything?” 

“No,” You answer, not relaxing your grip for a second. You feel Tim nod. 

“Okay, okay. What’s wrong, kid, what’s got you all worked up?” He asks. Hopefully you can’t hear that little shake in his voice. 

“N-Nightmare,” is the only reply you can stutter out, but it says enough. It strikes a nerve somewhere deep inside of Tim’s being, and it hurts like hell. He knows what it’s like to wake up screaming, terrified and alone. 

You’re not alone, though. Not this time. He won’t let you suffer like that.

…But god, he is so bad at this. 

He loves you with everything he’s got, but he can count on one hand the amount of times he’s come right out and said it. It’s embarrassing for him, that’s all, the words taste contrived and sticky in his mouth and it’s just unbearable. It’s not something he can make himself do. 

What else can he possibly say? 

He ponders that question as he keeps you against him, almost afraid to let you go. He can feel your hot tears soaking through his thin night shirt now. He doesn’t know how to stop them. He’s always suffered alone, he doesn’t even have a frame of reference here. 

Think, dammit, think, Tim. 

He won’t tell you everything is okay. It’s not, it never will be, and he’s not going to lie to you. 

He won’t tell you to stop crying. It’d be a horrible thing to ask of you, full stop. Christ, at this point, you deserve a good cry. 

He won’t stay quiet. It’s completely out of the question, he has to say something, and it has to be the truth. 

He has to tell you the truth. 

“…You’re safe with me, kid,” He sputters, trying to get the words out as fast as possible, “You’re safe, I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to you. Not ever.” 

You go quiet for just a moment, like you’re surprised to hear that. Then you hiccup and suck in a harsh breath, and the sobs roll in once more. He sighs and starts to rub your back in smooth circles. 

“Whatever’s scarin’ you, kid,” He mutters in your ear, “I won’t let it get you. Nothing‘s gonna get to you while I’m here. You can sit here in my lap all night if you want, I ain’t lettin’ you go nowhere ‘til you feel safe.” 

As he talks, you slowly start to calm down. It’s gradual, but when he stops talking your hiccups and sobs have gotten just a bit quieter. Your grip on his shirt has loosened a little, too. 

You believe him. 

God, you really do believe him. 

And for some reason, that’s the most amazing thought that’s ever crossed his mind. You really do trust him to keep you safe. 

He plans to keep it that way. 

He adjusts you in his hold just a bit, moving to lean back against his pillows. He tightens his grip a bit just to keep you from moving. He doesn’t want you to think he’s trying to get away from you, he just wants you both to be comfortable. 

Both of his hands rest on your back, slowly sliding up and down as you hide your face in the crook of his neck. Your body shivers against him, the heaving in your chest starting to level out bit by bit as you catch your breath. He can feel your lungs expand and contract with each breath. 

He reaches up to scratch the back of your head, his other arm wrapping around you. He listens intently as your voice quiets until you’re silent, and then the only thing he can hear is your steady breathing. 

He just sits there for a minute when he realizes he’s actually managed to calm you. He’s almost impressed with himself. In any other universe, that was probably a disaster.

His hands still and move to rest on your back once more. He doesn’t feel the need to keep you held so tight now. You’re not going anywhere.

Are you even awake? 

He turns his head to look at you, and you stir a bit in response. He quickly turns his head back so as not to wake you if you are asleep. He’s not going to get up until you are. 

He sighs softly to himself, his eyes turning back to the TV and whatever trashy sitcom he fell asleep too a few hours ago. He doesn’t really care. He won’t be up for much longer. Now that the adrenaline has worn off the exhaustion is quickly taking over, not to mention the warmth and comfortable pressure of you laying on top of him is more relaxing than he’d like to admit. 

He’s only just allowed his eyes to flutter shut when he feels you stir, and suddenly they fly open again. He stays still, but alert. You’re not having another nightmare, are you? Shit… 

He tenses as he listens to you, watching your movements  carefully. You don’t seem upset, at least not yet, but that can change in an instant. 

He’s ready to hold onto you if you freak out. He’s thinking about where he last left the first aid kit, just in case. He’s wondering what he’ll have to say this time if he can’t bring you down again. 

But then you go still. 

And you’re quiet. 

And you’re breathing steadily. 

And everything’s okay again. 

Then Tim flinches as an unexpected mumble of his name falls from your lips, and he turns to look at you in surprise and slight concern. 

“Yeah, kid? What is it?”

He gets no response. 

Your eyes are closed. You’re asleep. 

Thank God.

He huffs at his own anxiousness before laying his head back again. He pats your back softly, and his eyelids are starting to feel heavy again. 

“You know what?” He whispers as he reaches to pull a blanket over both of you, “I’ll ask you in the morning. Sweet dreams, kid.”

[jaehyunssi]

Teacher’s Pet ㅡ S.Jn

college romance ㅡ professor!johnny x college student!reader ㅡ age distance! prohibited relationship! warning: act of cheating - professor to student relationship

Summary: An academically committed student is what you’re trying to achieve, but what you don’t know is that Johnny finds it hard to resist an academically committed student like you.

ㅡ

“Astonishing.”

You smile as the whole class applauded. Just one word from the professor as his approval to your presentation can make the whole class agree even though you know some of them don’t like you.

You put your cheat paper down, bowing as you turn back to your seat. There’s no doubt that you felt proud of what you’ve done since you’re working hard on it. Oh well, reading 15 journals and spending three nights without sleeping properly had never felt better until now since you know you got your A grade secured. As a college student, this semester is the most important times for you to be the teacher’s pet.

Of course there are days where you felt unmotivated, desperate, even. But imagining yourself carrying the degree proudly as the people around you can cry about it lit your body to work even harder whatever it takes.

“You were fucking insane, you know that?”

Yuri smiles in disbelief as you take your sit next to her. You lift your shoulders, acting as if you didn’t stress a lot to work on that presentation for the past week. “Maybe I really am a genius.”

The woman hits your shoulder. “Oh, go to hell. Do you even see Mr. Suh’s face? I bet he’d drool if he didn’t force shut his mouth the whole time.”

You laugh the situation off, feeling relieved that it’s not only you who thought that you did a great job but also your one and only best friend… and Mr. Suh, of course.

Mr. Suh, well, how do you even start to describe him? The first time he ever teached your class is on this semester, actually taking the previous professor because that one is taking another degree for his name. Mr. Suh himself has always been famous ever since the first day he got into your university. You can’t really blame anyone about itㅡthe man is hella gorgeous. You’re not even sure how he’s a ‘professor’ when he’s that young and looks that good. But here he is, standing at the front of the classroom, teachingㅡwell, now looking at you with a smile on his face.

Proud much, Sir?

“Well, that concludes for today, isn’t it?”

Mr. Suh shuts the projector off as the student putting their books inside their bag. As with you, you didn’t bring much at the first place.

“Further questions can be asked next week since I don’t really have much time left.” He rolls up his sleeve, checking the time on the watch sitting beneath. “You can all leave, pleasant evening.”

As the student walks to the front door, Mr. Suh’s paying attention to each one of them. Some of them said thank you, some of them are too busy to talk since they have another credit they have to work on, and one of them, which is the one he awaits for, is talking to her best friend.

“(Y/n).” He calls your name when you’re just two steps away from leaving the room. You looked at him, noticing the man smiles as he release himself from leaning on the wall to walk to where you stood. “Do you have five minutes?”

You’re just as confused as Yuri, but she signs you with her finger that she’ll be waiting outside.

“Yeah, sure, Sir.”

As Mr. Suh’s waits for the rest of the students to exits themselves from the room, he rolls up his sleeve on the other side. “You did a really great job earlier.” He folds his arms that are full of veins, god, this is distracting you so bad.

“It’s my task, Sir.”

“I know. But it was hard for me to not praise you.”

You only laugh awkwardly as you see the man puts his hands inside the pockets of his trousers. There is something with this professor and his words that made your heart felt like it stopped beating for a moment. If this is the reason why he’s well known between the students, you can’t really blame on them.

Buzz…

Both you and the professor heard the vibration sound that you believe are from one of his pockets. You look at him as he lifts up his phone, trying to see the person who’s interrupting his short conversation with one of his brightest student.

“Excuse me for a moment, okay?” He signs with his finger, one minute. You nod as you see him leaving you by yourself on that big classroom. The man’s back covered with the sheerest color of white makes his skin pleasingly visible to you. But when he walks outside, he stopped by the edge of the door, turning his head again to your direction.

“Don’t run away from me.” He told you with a faint smile.

You wanted to say okay, but the guy closed the door already. Now that you know that you’re alone, you inhale the longest breath that year. Touching your chest as you feel your heart beats so fast for a reason you don’t want to admit. This felt wrong, is wrong, even.

The wide space that classroom provides makes it awkward for you to stand alone there, so you took a seat. Your mind is full of questions that you can’t answer, such as, why did he want to talk to me? or what does he want from me? even the silliest question like does he want me to teach the class?

You shake your head. Whatever it is, it’s probably not that important for you to stress about.

“Hey.” He walks inside with his hand putting the phone back to where it was. “I hope you’re not waiting too long for that.”

You smile at him, can’t wait for him to finish whatever business he has on his mind with you since you can’t look at him longer with clean thoughts.

“Tired already?” He asks as he comes closer to you. You’re not really sure of why that question popped, but you assume it’s because you’re sitting.

“A lot of credits today.”

“Ah, right. So, should I talk about it now?”

Your eyes traces the man who’s now walking right beside you, dragging the chair at it squeaks. He sits just right beside you as he puts both of his elbows on his knees, shortening the distance between your face and him.

“I want to see more of you.”

What?

“What?”

He smiled. “Not really sure also. But you excite me, and I’m trying to figure out why.”

Is this really fucking happening right now?

The sentence that he declared was not a lie. Mr. Suh does wants to see you often, he wants to know what it was from you that made him looked at you for the longest time earlier. “Can I?” He asks softly as he gives his right hand to you.

You can feel your breath shortening, can you even give him the answer he doesn’t want to hear when he looks at you like that? Asking a permission as if you’re going to deny him?

You put your hand on his, trying to see him right on his eyes. “Sure…”

He holds your hand, thumb stroking the back of your hand so softly that it made you feel like you can explode right there and right now.

It’s not really your fault. The man is drop dead handsome, vigorously captivating by having the body of the man everyone dreamt of.

You can see his smile growing, but not wide enough to show that he’s happyㅡmore of a proud smile because he got your permission.

“Then I have to prepare to see more of you.”

ㅡ

You sit on your bed as you lean on the wall, eyes not focusing on anything because your mind is asking too many questions. That did not just happened, you say to yourself. You can’t even believe that you gave him your number. What would the man do anyway? Should a professor text his own student, even when that professor is hot? Should this be happening between a man that is years older than you and you?

As your bedroom filled with nothing but silence, you can hear your phone ringing on the other side of the bed. Yuri’s name popped up at the screen, making you realize that you didn’t even meet her right after she left you alone with Mr. Suh.

“Dude, you’re taking too long earlier. I can’t leave the bus just to wait for your quick tutor with Mr. Hottie.”

You bit your own nail. “Yeah, about that.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me you’re getting an A+ secretly.”

“Well, I don’t know about that…”

On the other side, Yuri can feel there’s something bugging you by your hesitation. “Wait. What happened?”

You shut your eyes, contemplating inside your head if you should tell her or not. At one thought, everything could go wrong by that information. But on the other thought, Yuri is your best friendㅡshe would care, she would understand, and moreover, she would help you.

“(Y/n)…?”

You told her everything that happened that evening on the classroom while you’re with Mr. Suh. From the first second you’re alone with him until the last part where he said goodbye to you as he waits for you to leave first. Telling it felt wrong, telling it felt like you just confessed a sin to a priest, but you’re glad that you finally let the thoughts out from your mind.

“… and I really don’t know what to do now.”

With your final sentence from telling the chronology, you play with your own lips, waiting for your best friend to give a response.

But nothing can be heard from the other side.

“…Yuri?”

“Fuck, (y/n)? You’re telling me that he seduced you like that? Do you even know that he got a wife living inside his house?” Yuri shouts at you as you close your eyes. Yes, this is the realization that you have to go through once more.

“Shit. I need to hit you with a hammer now.”

You shake your head. “You know what, just do it. Fuck. I don’t even know why I said yes.”

Yuri sighed, didn’t believe any single word that she just heard from her own friend. “Come on. The Mr. Johnny Suh? I know everyone wants him but not like this.”

“I know. I know… Yuri, please…”

“God gave me the biggest test and it’s you. Okay, you know what? I’m not supporting this at all, let me just tell you that.”

“Sure. Sure you won’t, and it’s only normal like that.”

For once again, Yuri gave you a sigh to hear, longer, this time. “But, still. You’re my friend, (y/n).”

You smiled bitterly. Yuri has always been a good friend and you know she won’t leave you just because of what happened between you and Mr. Suh. As the conversation goes, Yuri told you that even at your worst self, she would be there if you needed help. She’s not the biggest fan of what you did, but she knows that you got no one but her here.

And now you have to realize that you’re dealing with Johnny, Johnny Suh. The hellgate you decide to enter.

ㅡ

[Unknown number: Good morning.]

You looked at your phone screen, even with that simple text, you know that that’s the man you’ve been shitting yourself on. You turn your head, looking from left to right, making sure that the students sitting around you is not looking at you. Also, the man chose the wrong time to text you. Come on, during class? He should’ve known that he seduced a fucking college student.

[Unknown number: I don’t have enough sleep last night because I’ve been thinking.] [You: Good morning, Sir. What exactly are your thoughts?] [Unknown number: Well, you.]

You gawked. This man is not the one you should mess with.

[You: I don’t think there’s anything to think about except the fact that you’re building another relationship inside your marriage, Sir.] [Unknown number: Okay. First of all, can you quit the ‘Sir’? And just call me Johnny, or whatever you feel comfortable.] [You: I can’t. You’re my professor.] [Unknown number: I can be more than just that.]

You roll your eyes. It felt like no matter how much you tried, Mr. Suh always find his ways to turn your words.

[Unknown number: And I want you to let me know you better than a professor know his own student. [Unknown number: Only if you let me.] [You: And if I’m letting you, then what?] [Unknown number: Then I’ll be anything you want me to be.]

ㅡ

Yuri choked on her own sandwich when you showed him your text with Mr. Suh. She hits her own chest, not wanting to die because over a seductive text between Johnny and you.

“What the fuck? Then tell him to be a loyal man to his wife.”

“Yuri…” You gaver her the box of kleenex placed on the cafeteria’s table. You know her words don’t only meant for Johnny but also for you. “My head is really empty right now.”

You can hear Yuri grunts as she chews on her food. “You know what? Maybe think about the seminar you’re going to talk on in two days rather than talking with that hot-but-already-married-man.”

Just a month ago, one of the college students invite you to talk at their own seminar about a certain topic you’ve been working on your journal. She told you that her colleagues are all interested on the topic you present and really hoping that you’ll spend a fifteen minute talk show on their seminar to talk about it. It’s just as surprising as it is to you, but you’re not the type of person who wastes on an opportunity. Silly how Yuri is the one who reminds you on that when it’s only a month ago you couldn’t stop worrying about it.

“Shit. Right, fuckㅡI totally forgot about that.” You hit your head, can’t believe that you haven’t even prepared the talking points, not to mention that you only got less than 48 hours left to both write and learn.

“I signed and paid for that fucking boring thing. Don’t embarrass me.”

This is exactly why you need Yuri. To remind you on your own goal everytime you found something more captivating than it. No, it won’t take an older and drop dead sex-bomb man to take you attention away and that’s what you stand by.

ㅡ

“…And that’s why aesthetic objects are life-affirming, meaningful and constructive.” You smiled at your last sentence. There’s a clap, two claps, and finally the whole participants clap at your words. You still can’t believe you’ll find a situation like this in your life, but this is what hard working has been giving you. Appreciation, just like what you always needed.

As you walked down the stage, you can see Yuri lifting both of her thumbs up to you. You laughed a little, still feeling a little nervous after giving a whole fifteen minutes talk in front of hundreds of people. You forgot the euphoria if being all praised and complimented like this, being the one that is talked about, being the person who’s so bright that you got invited in a seminar you don’t even know. This is the thing you should’ve been worrying about ever since you walked inside that university of yours. Being the best, the brightest, the wanted student.

While the staff on the backstage is now helping you removing the microphone wire that is still attached to your clothes, since it would bug you to carry a heavy microphone on your hand, you hear her compliments as if you didn’t have enough already.

“You did a really great job, Miss.” One of the staffs compliments you.

You shake your head. “Oh, that was nothing.”

“You even got a whole fan sending you things.”

You quickly stop your movement. “A what now?” As much as you wanted an explanation, the staff is just as surprised as you are.

“… You didn’t know?”

-

When the woman finished removing the annoying wire from your dress, she walks with you towards the outside of the venue.

Yet what’s sitting there at the center of the holding room felt unbelievable.

You put both of your hand on your mouth, not wanting to let the woman know that you can’t shut your mouth from how big the flower bouquet is. You’re not even sure if you can call that a bouquet since it’s as big as you. There are roses, different kinds of them: Grandiflora, Polyantha, Floribunda, even the miniature ones. That’s a lot, that’s a lot.

“This arrived this morning…” She points the large bouquet.

You looked at her, standing right beside you as you realize she’s also looking at the flowers in disbelief. “Thank you… for telling me.” You thanked her as she left you alone out there. There’s only one name that shows up on your head and you know for sure Yuri won’t give you things as extra as this one. You look on your surroundings, making sure no one is near you.

Then you grab your phone, immediately asking the obvious.

[You: Sir… this flowers] [Unknown number: Congratulations on your first talk, beautiful.] [You: This is too much.] [Unknown number: Looks like I have to teach you better ways to express gratitude.] [You: This is so fucked up. What if anyone knows?] [Unknown number: I’m the one to make sure about that.] [You: Sir…] [Unknown number: Should I remind you again?] [You: Okay, Johnny. Thank you, but this is too dangerous for us.] [Unknown number: Then tell me what to do with you, (y/n). It’s killing me to not to talk to you, or see you.] [You: Just how much do you want me to be there with you now?] [Unknown number: Okay, that’s it. You know what? I’m on my way there and you’re not running away.]

You shut your eyes, regretting of what words you just let your fingers typed. Now, you’re officially entering the hellgate.

ㅡ

a/n: i know i promised for a part two, but for the past months my life hasn’t been easy and i decided to discontinue this story </3 I’m really, really, really sorry…

[klausinamarink]

decided to write a steve part as a continuation of my steddie deals with chronic pain ficlet. Might’ve wrote this more in vein as a prequel but eh, you’re welcome :D also extra angsty

-

Steve used to consider himself as the embodiment of high pain tolerance. Since his junior year, he had been punched in the face many times, had a broken plate in his scalp, injected with Russian drugs, and gotten bit and nearly strangled by interdimensional monsters.

Or as he calls it Tuesday.

But after the Spring Break of Hell, Steve’s been feeling weird. Not the usual looking at my own body when I do things weird, but more physically weird. He doesn’t really know how to describe it even to Robin when he feels like he’s suffocating but there’s nothing around his neck. Or how every day his arms and back sting and pinch him at every breath like ants biting underneath his skin. Or how he’s walking fine until the next second, his knees get stiff and the pain travels upwards right to the top of his spinal cord, the place right on the back of his skull, it aches and aches to the point that he’s frozen but he has to move anyways because he’s standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

All he knows that it’s probably worse than the intense migraines he’s dealing with since Billy Hargrove and the Russians definitely cracked his right eye socket.

But there’s people who are more hurt than Steve. Like Max and Eddie who need and are getting actual help and care. He almost wants that too, but it’ll just get him in their way. Nobody would look at him and think that his suffering is even the same as theirs.

(Please, his heart and brain begs, look at me and take care of me. It hurts so much.)

So, even with his body betraying him and hurting him in ways he thought wouldn’t happen, Steve isn’t going to admit it. His injuries are healing fine anyway.

But god, can his body just actually rest and not hurt like bitch for one fucking hour?

(I’m sorry for hurting you, his body apologizes again, but it’s what i can do right now.)

It’s gotten more annoying, really. Steve keeps pushing the pain behind him, pointedly ignoring how it’s blurring his vision and pulses his certainly cracked eye socket. He knows it’s affecting his mood, but he doesn’t want to be that asshole King Steve anymore. He doesn’t want to everyone to lose their trust in him. So he keeps smiling, driving the kids, visits everyone, hands out clothes and food, and lives with the acid corroding his entire body.

Unsurprisingly, his suffering pushes back like an exploded dam.

At the Munsons’ new house, he’s visiting Eddie, who’s been more tired than Steve’s ever seen him since being discharged from the hospital. He still talks to the Party but he couldn’t go outside much without his scars and limp acting up.

It’s during when Steve finds himself placing wet towels on Eddie’s bare shoulders (“I can’t waste the water but I need some cold water on me right now!”) that it. Just hits him.

He can’t explain it - he’s never good at explaining anything well - but the sour and tired mood Steve’s been vaulting up vanishes. But then comes the hyperawareness of how much his skin is bubbling and itching with discomfort, his muscles dissolving into bone which are exploding starbursts of agony, and the pulsing under his right eye is slithering through his brain. It should’ve been horrible than the Russian torture, but it doesn’t even hurt. It’s like in class when the teacher is giving an important lesson but Steve is barely listening.

He does feel overwhelmed but so much so it just circles back to apathy. He doesn’t feel himself moving but he does end up on the floor, his face pressed against the frizzy carpet.

“Steve? Are you okay?” He hears Eddie asking. Feels him poking at his buzzing shoulder. He opens his mouth to say something but only says through salt-tasted lips, “Hurts.”

“Oh shit, what hurts? Where?”

Steve doesn’t answer. He closes his wet eyes and refuses to open them. The pain still follows him even when he falls asleep because of course it does. He hasn’t gotten a pleasant night of sleep since the demogorgon burst out of the Byers’ ceiling, but the pains makes him closer to the edge of consciousness than he liked.

When he slowly wakes up, there’s a heavy pressure sitting on his back. Steve lifts his head up and sees Eddie sitting on him, reading a worn book and the towel still on his shoulders.

Huh, that’s new.

Eddie flips a page, his eyes flickering to Steve, who stares blearily back. Eddie gives him a small smile. “The king awakes from his slumber as the prophecy foretold.”

Steve blinks. “W-Why are you sitting on me?”

“Wayne lays facedown sometimes after his shifts and I sit on his back almost every time. He says it’s the best massage he ever got.” Eddie says nonchalantly, but then he looks nervous. “Is, is this working for you?”

Steve reflects on his body. The pain is still everywhere but it’s a bit lighter this time. Where Eddie sits on his back is like a fucking miracle - the pressure settled into the muscle and bone where it feels like a portion of how his body used to be before the Upside Down busted into his life.

He grins with long-lost relief, “Yeah, man, just stay here forever. I’m not gonna move again.”

Eddie looks at him pensively, putting his book away. “Steve, are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, this is kinda weird but I don’t mind it.”

“Steve, are you okay?”

He doesn’t cry, but Steve feels the tears trickling down his face and over his nose. He sniffs, blinking rapidly as Eddie gets off him and the pressure disappears so the pain comes back in its ugly sense. Steve turns around so his back on the ground and he’s staring at the ceiling, refusing to look at Eddie. He never cried before even when his body started hating him and he started hating movement.

“Hey, hey, Steve. Look at me, big boy.”

He does. Eddie is laying right next to him, his worried doe eyes staring at him. Fuck, he looks so kind and Steve shuts his eyes, clamping a hand over his mouth. The phantom pain of the demobat’s tail returns, but it feels more wet and clogged.

Eddie’s hand is on his. Gently moving Steve’s hand away from his mouth. Eddie is still looking at him as he says, “You hurt worse if you don’t ask for help.”

Steve opens his mouth. For an awful second, he wants to yell at Eddie ‘what the hell do you know about feeling like complete shit”. But he doesn’t and he is so fucking glad because it would’ve been so hurtful to Eddie and Steve would feel even more in agony that he just proved the other boy’s old impression of him as an asshole.

Instead, when Steve opens his mouth, he doesn’t say anything and starts weeping. He sobs like a baby and Eddie is holding him closer now, his face pressing against Steve’s messy face.

Moments pass in a blur. Steve stops crying. Eddie has moved himself on top of Steve, the familiar weight pressing the pain down and forcing his bones and muscle to rest. Their faces are closer to each other now, Eddie’s nose brushing Steve’s chin.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks again in a hushed tone.

Steve gives a little shrug. “A little.”

“Is this okay?”

Steve isn’t sure if he’s talking about laying on him or this new kindle of their friendship or both. But he nods, carefully wraps his arms around Eddie’s torso, and rests despite the pain stiffening him.

[cassynite]

wip wednesday

today was basically just one long drawn out fart noise but at least i went back to my roots (daefic) and finished a scene, even if it is once again a chapter ahead of the place i need to be working on. behold: the back half of dae's shitty birthday party

--

Hours after, when the fog of drink has lessened the presence of ghosts, he sits at a table across from Sparrow and tries to maintain eye contact as they continue their interminably long drinking game. Sparrow's not doing well--she's struggling to stay upright, in fact, and should have cried surrender some five glasses of wine ago.

Daeran's own head is floating, his veins thudding with alcohol--he should have ended this three glasses or so ago, but at this point it's a matter of pride. He's going to knock Sparrow out or they'll have to carry him out, and he's not sure he cares which.

Ah, well. At least the last few hours have been entertaining. Or were entertaining, at least--the fun has grown a little thin, and certainly their audience, enraptured by the stalwart Knight-Commander letting loose, have grown bored. It's only him and her left in the main hall now, the rest having trickled outside to get some fresh air.

Gods, does he want some fresh air.

Later, he'll wonder if he imagined the conversation, conjured it out of nothing but the buzzing wine and his own strange thoughts about ghosts in the family manor that would not even come out to see him one last time. A drunken vision or truth, he is still surprised when Sparrow, listing to the side, fixes him with a glaze-eyed stare.

"You're allowed, you know. To do whatever you want with it."

"Excuse me?" Words are clumsy in his mouth, but he might not have done much better if he was sober. Sparrow's expression is open, disconcertingly so, naked in a way he'd only ever seen before in minute flashes when her emotions got the better of her. It makes him shift in his seat, uncomfortable, like he's looking at something he shouldn't, or like she is reciprocating an openness he hasn't realized he is giving himself.

"What happened here is yours," she says in the same intense, earnest voice. For someone who seems loathe to string more than five words together, the wine has made Sparrow very verbose. "It happened to you. No one else. And no one else can tell you the right way to feel about it. Throw a party, burn the house to the ground. Cry or laugh or sing or mock it. The only people who can care are the ones who this was done to--you are all that's left. The dead don't give a shit how they are mourned. So don't ever let anyone tell you that you're grieving wrong."

Something bubbles in Daeran's chest--laughter, maybe, but probably something worse. He swallows it down. As if he needs some stranger's permission to do what he likes with this house, with his things, with the memory of his mother. They don't know even a fraction of what he went through, what he endures every day.

He already knows that everyone who criticizes him are bores and upright, pompous, self-righteous sycophants toadying to the queen and Iomadae and good taste. They think they have the right to judge him, and that's their mistake. If he didn't want to be sad about what happened to him then he damn well wouldn't be, and there is nothing they can do about it except sneer; and they will sneer regardless.

He isn't some pathetic, sniveling victim boo-hooing about losing his mommy. He doesn't need pity. But it's not pity that he sees in Sparrow, it's something--something else, something he doesn't want to look at fully in the face. With some amount of shame, like he's lost a game he didn't know he was playing, his gaze slides to the wine glass in his hand, still half-full. His stomach roils. The thought of drinking another drop makes him sick.

I'm not grieving, he wants to say. I don't care what happened here. But the alcohol makes the words burn in his throat. He swallows them and the bile churning in his stomach down, lifting the glass of wine that he won't drink.

"My grandfather...or, maybe it was my great-grandmother, put this bottle in the family cellar. So why did it fail the scion of the illustrious Arendaes in his time of need?"

[rosewould]

phases ~ bc

{cw: he's a lil mean}

Every day you spend with your boyfriend, you discovered something new, another reason for your heart to skip a beat. Despite the mundanity of sitting in the passenger’s seat of his car while he sang to his favorite song, you still found a reason to swoon. His eyes were focused on the road before him as he swayed back and forth slightly. His plump lips formed each lyric as he serenely sang along.

He pauses for a moment and you wonder what he’s thinking about. What could’ve possibly made him make such a captivating expression? You could sink hours into just watching him.

“I can feel you staring.” The corner of his mouth curls into a grin and it’s like something clicks. Your expression drops. Chan glances over at you, suddenly filled with worry.

“Is something wrong?”

You try to open your mouth to speak but you freeze, still transfixed. The thought hit you like a ton of bricks. What would you do if you could no longer see his crooked grin? If you couldn’t breathe his scent during a tight hug? What if one day you woke up, knowing you’d never hear him sing you to sleep again?

The tears were hot as they formed behind your eyelids. The moment they welled up they were spilling down your cheeks.

You look down at your buzzing phone.

Lee Yongbok lit up your screen as it danced across your lap. You watch for a moment, knowing you haven't talked to any of them since that night.

You sigh, answering the phone.

“___? Hey. Um,” Felix pauses to sigh frustratedly, “I don’t know how to ask this-” The sound of a struggle fills your ears before a more assertive voice speaks.

“You need to come over here. He’s been biting everyone’s head off for weeks and now he’s barely eating. I can tell he’s been crying.” Minho barks. You grit your teeth. Why is this your responsibility? This wasn’t your fault.

You don’t tell them this. Instead, you sigh again. You were already in your car, sitting in the driver’s seat like you did every time you thought about him, which was every night. Slowly building up the courage to start your car and act on what you desired deep down.

“I’m on my way.”

“You’re just… you’re really my type.” Chan finally found the courage to say. Your eyes immediately light up. “Ever since I first saw you, it was like the girl of my dreams came to life.”

You couldn’t even process the compliment. How could you? No one had ever said anything so flattering to you in their life.

“Oh my god… I don’t even know what to say!” You shake your head, continuing to search for the words. How could a simple thank you ever suffice?

“Well, I’m hoping I’m at least close to your type…” Chan trails off before laughing nervously.

“Oh, of course. I’ve always thought you were so handsome.” You smile, cheeks rising in temperature. His cheeks heat up as well, not expecting you to say that.

“T-thank you!”

“It’s nothing!” You pause as someone walks past the two of you down the backstage hallway. Both of your eyes follow them until fully pass before continuing. “Especially compared to calling someone their dream partner come to life.”

“Now that I’m hearing it again I’m realizing how corny it was.”

You giggle like a schoolgirl at his embarrassed reaction. “Nonsense.”

“Fucking hell.” Chan muttered under his breath. This wasn’t one of those passive-aggressive fights, the only ones you’ve ever had with him. You could feel this was bigger. It formed a big lump in your throat. The air was tense and it made you debilitatingly anxious.

“I told you multiple times to just ignore him. I told you.” He slams his fist against the steering wheel and you flinch. You peer over at him cautiously, feeling your stomach twist when you see the vein in his jaw pulse.

“Does it fucking pain you to listen to me?!” He shouts and you shrink. “Now Changbin has a goddamn black eye because of your carelessness.”

As if it wasn’t embarrassing enough that hundreds of guests in a formal setting witnessed the altercation, and witnessed Chan dragging you away to his car; now you had Chan rubbing salt in the wound. You hated every second of this. You wanted to shrink until you disappeared completely. Did he even care how he was making you feel? The car went silent for a while. You could sense Chan was still seething, judging by how hard he gripped the steering wheel.

You thought that maybe he had dropped it. Maybe he was already feeling apologetic. The moment you heard him chuckle you knew that wasn’t the case.

“Now I have to deal with all this." He clenches his jaw before looking over at you.

"Are you happy now?”

You didn’t look at any of the boys as you walked through the door and removed your shoes. The air was tense, but it was nothing compared to what you were about to face. Suddenly you regretted ignoring all his calls and texts. That decision was going to make this experience all the more difficult.

As you approach the door, you stop, hand hovering over the doorknob. Behind the door you could hear faint sniffling. Your heart sank. Chan had shared many emotions with you, but you had never seen him cry.

Did you do this?

You slowly twist open the doorknob and push it open. Your boyfriend was sat on his bed, face cradled in his hands as he trembled. When the door clicks behind you he lifts his head up.

He hesitates for only a moment before standing from the bed and racing toward you. The last thing you expect was for him to crouch lower and wrap himself around your waist.

“I’m so sorry.” He sobs. Your heart shatters into a million pieces. You reciprocate his tears, rubbing his head. He apologizes profusely, the word sometimes getting muddled by his hiccups.

“I hate myself for what I did. I never wanna lose you.” He cries quietly as he pushes his face into your shirt. You wordlessly nod.

“It’s okay”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Chan immediately pulls the car over into a nearby parking lot. As soon as he parks the car he’s leaning over to you. You wipe your tears, sniffling. “What’s wrong baby?”

You hiccup as you try to answer. Everyone always says you’ll know. It confused you, and you were nervous they were wrong. But as this overwhelming feeling washed over you, you knew. It was heavy, like something was tugging on your heart and weighing it down. It hurt just as much— if not, more— than your mom said it would.

The answer to all those questions? You didn’t know. You had no clue what you would do if you no longer had Chan, and that scared you a bit.

“Baby…” He reaches out to you and rubs your arm. You look over at him as more tears flood down your cheeks.

“I love you, Chan.”

-

so far this "crumbs" series has just been me making the most depressing shit and forcing other people to experience it

[warofchanges]

Drabble prompt: B insinuates L had a type (smart twinky Japanese murderers) and that Light was a major downgrade. Light is mortified by the insinuation but also can't help but insist that he would've been a major upgrade compared to B. LMAO

As the day wore on, the heat climbed higher, even higher, for a mid-summer day. Rivulets of sweat slid down his forehead, his shirt soaked and oppressively clinging to his back. Light felt the cotton stretching uncomfortably against his skin as he leaned against the wooden counter, seeking relief in the shadows of the empty pub and the cold glass of whiskey in his hand.

The sweet buzz of the fan with the jingle-jangle of bottles shifting order on the shelves would lull even a workaholic God… He could ask for more minutes of rest, but the sudden slam of the door opening didn't agree, apparently.

"Hello there, Yagami."

Light knew Beyond was there before the man talked. With eyes closed, sipping his drink in total peace, his ears well-captured the agonizing sounds of heels stomping on the floor and fingers drumming against the counter saying in Morse code ─ 'Hello God of the assholes'.

"Beyond." Light had the decency to say before gesturing for another drink. "What brings you here?"

"Gossiping. Well─ it's likely to become the talk of the town soon." Beyond poured himself a drink from a bottle, grinning in Light's direction. Who was still pretending he didn't exist ─ too bad, he would get the long-awaited attention within seconds. "Good ol' L really like murders. And murderers. To L─ being in direct contact with a killer felt like bathing in blood during a carnage. The benefits of walking barefoot in the hot fluids, viscera squishing under the soles, you know, that subtle rolling massage that makes your skin crawl and de-stress from all the tension… Aaah."

Beyond gulped down the alcohol, cheeks flushing with loving memories.

"Nah, killer Gods cannot know. They just hold their fingers like this," He turned towards Light, fingers aiming at his head like a gun. "And, puff, he's deaaaad! Deader than dead! HA HA HA."

Light huffed in silence, forehead sinking against his glass as he counted down to ten to refrain his venom ─ was it worth killing this man with his bare hands? "Beyond. Get to the point."

"L fell on disgrace liking Kira." The lonely audience of Light and the barman was enough for the sociopath to jump on the counter and walk down his catwalk, dripping alcohol at every step by swinging the bottle with only him would define elegant energy. "I don't really understand what he found in a kid playing God with a damn pen and a notebook, doing all the pfewh pfewh in the obscurity of his cute little bedroom─" Heels planted in front Light, Beyond crouched down to observe the man who stole L's attention from him. "And jerking off on an L scribbled on a piece of paper like 'Oh captain, oh my captain L, roses are red! Violets are blue! But the world is not the same without y─'"

"Excuse me?!"

Light stared back angrily, cheeks flushing─ certainly not because of the heat wave or the alcohol in his veins. His intention to ignore B's insinuations crashed to pieces the moment he spat back his retort. "Then, I guess L wasn't fond of sociopath killers who even failed at setting themselves on fire!"

The answer was yes ─ yes, he would kill this man with his bare hands right now.

"You don't see the poetic in the scorching fire of a suicide murder!" "Accept the fact he liked me more than you!" "Your hands have no knowledge of the ecstasy of disembowelment! Oh L, if you only let me show you─" "Your worm-shaped brain cells coming back to the underground? Oh, I am sure he would love that." "You're unworthy of his attention, little illusion of a God." "Worthier than you, asshole─"

───

"STOP!" Mello roared from his director's chair, throwing away the script that Beyond and Light weren't following ─ obviously. "STOP, FUCKIN' STOP YOU TWO! "

Matt rolled his eyes as it was already the twenty-ninth failed attempt at shooting the same scene ─ he had told Mello from the start that it was a bad idea involving both Beyond and Kira in a memorial documentary of L.

[liyawritesss]

ᖴᒪOᗯEᖇᔕ Iᑎ ᗷᒪOOᗰ - ᐯᗩᒪEᑎTIᑎEᔕ ᗪᖇᗩᗷᗷᒪEᔕ

Ｄａｙ ２１ － Ｆｉｒｓｔ Ｋｉｓｓ

－ Better Than A Dream - Milton "MG" Greasley - The Vampire Diaries: Legacies

－ In which MG dreams about the perfect kiss with you, unintentionally manifesting it.

－ Check out more prompts and other activities on the Flowers In Bloom Event Masterlist!

“You’re gonna make your move tonight.”

“No I’m not!”

“Dude, yes you are!”

The hushed argument between MG and Kaleb did little to interrupt the festivities of the evening - a vampire party at the Old Mill that MG definitely didn’t want to go to, but was lured in by the prospect of his longtime crush being in attendance. He knew he shouldn’t have told Kaleb about it, for situations exactly like this. While he was always appreciative of the older’s efforts to increase his self-confidence and boost his esteem, he did not need to be pushed into confessing his crush on you tonight of all nights.

“You’ve been eying this girl since we got to this school, and you’re telling me you’re still chickening out on it?” Kaleb drowns, a bottle of bear in his hand, arms crossed against his chest as he leans against one of the wooden beams which keeps the Old Mill standing.

“It’s not the right time!” MG says defensively. “I have a very exact way I wanna do it, Kaleb, and I’m not rushing it!”

He had dreamt of what he’d like his first kiss to be like with someone he had strong emotions for. MG wasn’t the kind of guy to go into something head first without any planning, and this was no different. He had a plan on how he wanted it to go, and god forbid Kaleb start his antics to get everything messed up!

“There’s no time like the present,” Kaleb counters, “seriously, man. We’re vampires, the present is literally every day for us now.”

He says this while something catches his eye; as you come into view, laughing at some joke that was told in the group you were in, your own hand cradling a wine cooler, Kaleb snickers, slinging himself onto MG, teasing saying “And look at what the present has brought you!”

Before MG can even chastise Kaleb for his blatant attempts at pushing past his boundaries, the older Vampire is gone, and the more timid one of the two is left alone, trying to stutter up some sort of conversation starter as he sees you starting to approach him.

“MG!” You chirp as you bound over to the young vampire. You have a fruity scent to you that, while is most definitely from some sort of liquor you’ve consumed that’s got a buzz going for you, makes him weak in the knees like he’s never felt before; “H-Hey! Hey, (Y/N)...”

“Seeing you at a party? Not something on my bingo calendar.” You joke.

“Hey! I’m not a total buzzkill…” the brownskin boy pouts, and for some reason, his reaction has you cheesing harder than usual, but it wasn’t your fault. The liquor was definitely making MG cuter than what you’d normally allow yourself to admit.

“You’re right,” you hum in response, taking a sip of the wine cooler you opted to drink instead of the harder liquor provided after starting to feel a little too weightless, “you’re just a cute buzzkill.”

The liquid courage buzzing in your veins gives you the incentive to plant a kiss onto MG’s cheek, and given the face he makes, you’re sure that if he were human, a rush of heat would have replaced your lips the second they left his skin.

“See you around?” Was the last thing MG’s brain registered before you had left him to mingle with another group of schoolmates, leaving the poor boy in his spot, speechless.

This definitely wasn’t how the kiss was supposed to go…but he definitely wasn’t complaining either way.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

[saga-project]

It had had to come to a head sometime. His bad feelings over his future self fucking up so badly, his reluctance to let Draxum see the messy sides of him, even how badly he had failed Three. Saga just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

They’d retired to bed early, claiming to be thoroughly exhausted by the day’s events—and, well, it had been a genuinely long day, that much wasn’t a lie—but the minute they’d allowed their state of wakefulness to go from simply dozing to full REM sleep, well….

That was when the nightmares had started.

They were standing over the bloodied and broken bodies of their friends, and they could feel the empyrean singing through their veins and buzzing in their head as they brought their scythe blade down again and again and again, even as they screamed for themselves to stop, even as they tried to wrestle back control. Their system flooded with poison until their very vision seemed fogged over with that haunting shade of green, they just stood there and laughed and laughed and laughed until their throat was bloody and raw, they couldn’t stop laughing they could never stop laughing why couldn’t they stop laughing—

He woke up screaming, clawing at himself, trying to get the empyrean out get it out get it out oh god he could feel it in his system buzzing and humming and trying to sing its song and he’d never been able to fight it he wasn’t strong enough—

“Donatello? What is the matter? I heard screaming.” He spun towards the door, then, breathing heavily as Draxum’s imposing form came into view. No, no, Draxum couldn’t be here. He couldn’t hurt him he couldn’t—

“Go away. Go away please please it’s in me it’s in me I can feel it I can feel it I—“ He clawed at his arms, then, trying to manually extract it as he hunched over and dry-heaved and god god why was it so hard to fucking breathe—

“What is in you?”

“The empyrean. I can feel it I can feel it it’s in me it itches it’s like ants under my—please go away please I can’t—“

Draxum stepped closer, slowly, much to his overwhelming sense of panic. “I do not see any signs of empyrean exposure in you, child, but I acknowledge that you see them. It must be distressing, and for that, I apologize. But I have dealt with empyrean extensively, and I am certain no harm will come to me if I am near you. May I touch you?”

They wanted to say no. They wanted so badly to say no, to keep Draxum out of harm’s way, to keep that deafening song in their head from harming him too. But their traitorous head nodded anyway, breath caught in their throat and words dying on the tip of their tongue as they huddled there and shook like a leaf. Saga felt more than saw Draxum cross the room and settle onto their bed, gently pulling them into a tight embrace.

This was fine. This was fine. Draxum had dealt with empyrean before. He would know how to draw it out of them, how to safely dispose of it, how to protect himself and keep their brothers safe in turn. He would be able to deal with the effects of what was humming through their system, act as an anchor, keep them from losing themselves entirely. It was safe. It was safe.

He huddled into Draxum, shuddering as he swore that he saw green flash in the corners of his vision. “Don’t let me hurt them. Please don’t let me hurt my brothers don’t let it take them away please—“

“I will not. Nothing will harm you or your brothers. I am here with you, and we will get through this together.” He could feel Draxum’s deep breaths now, chest to chest as they were. “Try to copy my breathing, Donatello. Let the fear run its course, but do not let it consume you. Acknowledge it. Turn it into a tool to use, not something that can be used against you.”

“I don’t know how—“ He whined as green flashed in his vision again, screwing his eyes shut.

“I will show you how. Keep trying to breathe like I am, and repeat these things to yourself. It does not have to be out loud. It can be in your mind. But it has helped me in the past. Challenge. This is a challenging situation. Calm. I am staying calm. Control. I am in control of my emotions. Fear is but a temporary feeling, and it will pass, and though it seeks to tell me something I will not let it consume me.”

He breathed. Did what Draxum had asked, even as his veins seemed to buzz with energy and green continued to flash in his peripheral vision. And gradually, his breathing evened out, and he sagged into the Baron’s arms, blinking, realizing that the empyrean wasn’t real and that he had simply been in the midst of yet another nightmare that had felt all too real.

Saga wanted to pull away. He wanted to struggle out of Draxum’s arms and make some excuse and force him to leave. He wanted to shout and scream and demand an answer as to why the Baron had decided that he should want to see one of his adoptive children in quite so pathetic of a state. He wanted to argue that he could have easily sent for Maias and dealt with the challenging situation himself.

But the words didn’t come. They couldn’t. In spite of how a part of him was still very much intimidated by the Baron and his stoic demeanor, he felt safe pressed against the sheep yokai’s chest then, in a way that he’d seldom felt with anyone outside of his immediate family. It felt like the world could end, that the very fabric of time could rip apart, and Draxum would still be here to hold him close and keep him safe. It made him feel anchored in the midst of his swirling emotions.

So it was that he blinked up at Draxum and then simply buried his snout into the former warlord’s shoulder, voice muffled. “Thank you….”

“It was no trouble, Donatello. No trouble at all. Think nothing of it.”

“I’m sorry—“

“Do not apologize for feeling what you feel, unless it hurts others.”

He nodded, gently, in understanding.

“Do you wish for me to stay with you?”

….another nod. He curled up against Draxum’s chest then, out like a light in a matter of minutes.

Only this time, he slept quietly and dreamlessly.

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ For @fictober-event’s Fictober 2023 prompt: “Do I look like I knew that?” Set during S2, written after airing of ep.3. SPOILERS FOR EPS 1-3. A UA/insert extension of the scene where Ed confronts Frenchie. Masterpost of my Fictober OFMD fics

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death Characters/Relationships: Ed Teach/Blackbeard, Frenchie, background Ed x Stede Tags/Content Warnings: Drug Reference, Canon Typical Violence

Papers

He has Frenchie up against the ropes, trembling and struggling to keep eye contact. He can practically taste the fear and it’s horrifying and delicious, not unlike the rhino horn. It buzzes through his veins sending his eyes a bit too wide and he smiles like the predator he is. He can hear the breath whistle through Frenchie’s dry fucking liar’s throat. A not insignificant part of him wants to rip it out with his teeth.

Bottles in the basket tinkle quietly between them in the silence, and a sudden curious impulse draws his eye. He taps one of the bottles.

“What are these?”

“Uh. Papers.” His voice squeaks, but fuck is that man brave. And foolish.

“Papers?”

“Y-Yep. I was just, uh. You know, cleaning up.”

“Oh, well, maybe I can help then. I’ve got a bit of a system. What kind of papers are they, hm? Maps? Pay slips? Recipes?”

Liar.

Even Frenchie’s quick tongue is finding it difficult to work in these conditions. Ed reaches into the basket and takes one of the bottles. He uncorks it with his teeth and pries out the paper. He scans the first line of it.

Dear Ed,

His heart stops. At least it feels like it does. The manic buzzing in his brain that’s been the only thing keeping him standing for God knows how long now suddenly feels like it’s underwater. Like he’s back in the blanket fort with some distance between him and the constant, soul-sucking, flesh eating rage. There’s only one person in the world who calls him that.

Dear Ed,

I hope this letter finds you well. As well as you can be, under the circumstances. I know things are difficult right now but I can only tell you how sorry I am and I promise I can explain everything.

The crew and I have been waylaid for a while but the good news is, we have commandeered another vessel and are making good time. I am sure it won’t be long before we find each other again. Please be kind to yourself, at least try, until then.

Love, with all my heart,

Stede.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. He can’t even count the emotions that flood back in - rage and heartbreak and love and warmth and everything he had thought was long since rotted away inside him. Frenchie doesn’t dare move as he digs through the loose papers frantically, furiously.

Dear Ed, I had a dream about you last night.

Dear Ed, Apologies, but we have eaten all the oranges.

Dear Ed, How are you?

Dear Ed, Dear Ed, Dear Ed…

He clutches another message in a bottle in his hand and raises it over his shoulder. Frenchie flinches, as if he’s expecting him to smash it on the post behind him or maybe even glass him in his very too-close face. He’s not wrong to expect it. But despite the way Ed’s blood is positively fuming inside of him, he can’t do it.

He grits his teeth, and snarls his words instead.

“How many are there?”

“Uh. A little over twenty, I think,” Frenchie confesses. “Another one comes in every few days.”

“Mm-hm. And is everyone else hiding these or is it just you?”

“Uh, ev- I mean we all- We thought you knew he was writing you, I swear.”

“Do I look like I knew that?”

“N-No. Izzy said you’d ordered us to destroy them.”

“Izzy said that, did he?”

Frenchie nods.

He’s tortured the man long enough. He’s so tired. Ed finally breaks the predatory pose, letting the bottle clatter uselessly to the floor. He steps back far enough that Frenchie can get past him if he wants. He wisely takes a second to make sure he’s serious before inching his way forward, and then fleeing.

Ed turns to the door where he knows his former first mate is hiding. They have a lot more unfinished business than he’d thought.