#and now im stumbling from day to day trying desperately to remember all the things im supposed to be managing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

robobarbie · 5 months

Note

im new to bloomic !! do they have canon names?

but of course

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So, there's a man crawling through the desert.

He'd decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn't get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here.

He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he'd paid attention to the sun, and thought he'd figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he'd be back to the small town he'd gotten gas in last.

He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he's afraid that he'll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella he'd had in the back of the SUV with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right.

He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he's really thirsty. He's been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He's reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it's mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst.

He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark.

By the end of the day, he starts getting worried. He figures he's been walking at least three miles an hour, according to his watch for over ten hours. That means that if his estimate was right, he should be close to the town. Unfortunately, he doesn't recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn't remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he's close, and that after dark he'll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills. That'll be all he needs.

As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights.

Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars.

He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they're full of sand. He’s so thirsty that he can't even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He'd forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn't noticed it the night before because he'd been in his car.

He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. The desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn't the best situation to be in without water. Unless he finds water, he figures, this is his last day.

He rinses out his mouth with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits for a while after spitting that little bit out to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? He's not sure. He'll go a little farther, and if he still doesn't find water, he'll try drinking some of the fluid.

Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way as yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do.

Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking.

As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that. He knows that when you stop sweating, you’re in trouble. It’s usually right before heat stroke..

He decides that it's time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can't wait any longer - if he passes out, he's dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dry and cracked throat that he doesn't even care about the nasty taste. He takes another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle. He figures that since he's drinking it, he might as well drink enough to make some difference and keep himself from passing out.

He's quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him, it kills him. If he didn't drink it, he'd die anyway. Besides, he's pretty sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designed to make you sick: their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluid for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up if it comes to that.

He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills, dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water. Sometimes he'll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatever moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds, lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. He's careful to stay away from the movements.

After a while, he begins to stagger. He's not sure if it's fatigue, heat stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of the wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself and keep going.

After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! He knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV - he remembers doing donuts in it, or at least he thinks he remembers it; he's getting woozy enough and tired enough that he's not sure what he remembers anymore or if he's hallucinating. He thinks he remembers it, so he heads off into it, trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town.

He was heading for a town, wasn't he? He thinks he was. He isn't sure anymore. He's not even sure how long he's been walking anymore. Is it still morning? Has it moved into afternoon, and the sun is going down again? It must be afternoon; it seems like it's been too long since he started out.

He walks through the sand.

After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He doesn't remember any dunes from when he was driving over the sand in his SUV. At least he doesn't think he remembers any. This is bad.

All the same, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figures that he'll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything from there that can help him find the town. He keeps going up the dune.

Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or third time and falls to his knees. He doesn't feel like getting back up, since he'll just fall down again. He keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees.

While crawling, if his throat weren't so dry, he'd laugh. He's finally gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert, crawling through the sand on his hands and knees. It would be the perfect image, he imagines, if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desert in the cartoons always had ragged clothes, but his have lasted without any rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buried in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape - shake the sand out, give them a good wash, and they'd be wearable again. He wishes his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it hurts.

He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that he's at the top, he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he sees is sand. Sand and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks he sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more dunes, more sand. This isn't where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or close enough.

Again, he doesn't know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the wiper fluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle and starts removing the cap when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the sand. At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something strange. It's a flat area, in the sand. He stops opening the bottle and tries to look closer. The area seems to be circular, and it's dark: darker than the sand, and there seems to be something in the middle of it, but he can't tell what it is, so he looks as hard as he can but still can't tell from here. He's going to have to go down there and look.

He puts the bottle back into his pocket, and starts to stumble down the dune. After a few steps, he realizes that he's in trouble; he's not going to be able to keep his balance. After a couple more sliding, tottering steps, he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot that he thinks he's caught fire on the way down - like a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before it ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face with his hands, and waits to stop rolling.

He stops at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enough energy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. When he clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark spot in the sand it still there and he hadn't just imagined it.

Seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand still there, he crawls towards it. He'd get up and walk towards it, but he doesn't seem to have the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final stages of dehydration he figures as he crawls. If this place in the sand doesn't have water, he'll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his last chance.

He gets closer and closer, but still can't see what's in the middle of the dark area. It’s hard to focus, and lifting his head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He just keeps crawling.

Finally, he reaches the area he'd seen from the dune. It takes him a minute of crawling on it before he realizes that he's no longer on sand - he's now crawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on it - a pattern cut into the stone. He's too tired to stand up and try to see what the pattern is, so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the center where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark stone area.

His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and knees are so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this dark stone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sun overhead, doesn't seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers lying down on the nice cool surface.

Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. He's probably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down and dying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon the beautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start giving him a drink. Then he'll know he's gone.

He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If he's going to die here in the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see what's in the center before he goes. He keeps crawling.

It's the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what he's hearing. He would swear that someone just said, "Greetings, traveler. You do not look well. Do you hear me?"

He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands and knees, but it's too much effort to lift his head. So he tries something different: he rolls over and leans back trying to sit up on the stone. After a few seconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up, and tries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands and tries again. Better this time.

Yep. He can see. He's sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark expanse of stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post or pole about two inches in diameter and sticking about four or five feet out of the stone, at an angle.

And wrapped around this white rod is what must be a fifteen foot long desert diamondback rattlesnake, with a hovering tail and rattle seemingly prepared to start rattling, looking directly at him.

He stares at the snake in shock. He doesn't have the energy to get up and run away. He doesn't even have the energy to crawl away. This is it: his final resting place. No matter what happens, he's not going to be able to move from this spot.

Well, at least dying from a bite from this monster should be quicker than dying of thirst. He'll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up a little straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and flicks it in the snake's direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for a moment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes.

Hmmm. Maybe the snake has no interest in biting him. It hasn't rattled yet - that’s a good sign. Maybe he isn't going to die of snake bite after all.

He then remembers that he'd looked up when he'd reached the center here because he thought he'd heard a voice. He is still very woozy; he feels like he might pass out soon. The sun still beats down on him even though he is now on cool stone. He still doesn't have anything to drink. Although maybe he had actually heard a voice. This stone doesn't look natural. Nor does that white post sticking up out of the stone. Someone must have built this. Maybe they are still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this snake is even their pet, and that's why it isn't biting.

He tries to clear his throat to say, "Hello," but he’s too dry. All that comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There's no way he's going to be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and the bottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls out the bottle, almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This isn't good. He doesn't have much time left by his reckoning before he passes out.

He gets the bottle open, manages to get the bottle to his lips, and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and then swallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can talk now.

He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping to spot the owner of this place, and croaks out, "Hello? Is there anyone here?"

He hears, from his side, "Greetings. What is it that you want?"

He turns his head back towards the snake. That's where the sound seemed to come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be a speaker hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He decides to try asking for help.

"Please," he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, "I'd love to not be thirsty anymore. I've been without water for a long time. Can you help me?"

Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice was coming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open its mouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and he falls forward, face first on the stone, "Very well. Coming up."

A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He sits up and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. He's momentarily disoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers: the crawl across the sand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still wrapped around the tilted white post, still looking at him.

He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly wet. He pulls his fingers away and looks at them - blood. He feels his shoulder again - it feels like his shirt has two holes in it - two puncture holes. They match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He has been bitten. By the snake.

"It'll feel better in a minute." He looks up - it's the snake talking. He hadn't dreamed it. Suddenly he notices - he's not dizzy anymore. And more importantly, he's not thirsty anymore - at all!

"Have I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in the afterlife?"

"Sorry about that, but I had to bite you," says the snake. "That's the way I work. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine."

"You bit me to help me? Why aren't I thirsty anymore? Did you give me a drink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to not be thirsty anymore? I haven't had a drink for over two days. Well, except for the windshield wiper fluid... hold it, how in the world does a snake talk? Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation?"

"No," says the snake, "I'm real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. I didn't give you a drink. I bit you. That's how it works, it's what I do. I bite. Plus I don't have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water just sitting around here."

The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of the desert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasn't, talking to a snake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better. Not great - he was still starving and exhausted, but much better - he was no longer thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He felt hot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the cool stone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longer dying of thirst.

"I might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in your system with the next request," continued the snake. "I can guess why you drank it, but I'm not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was left in the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. It'll make you go blind in a day or two, if you drank enough of it."

"Ummm, n-next request?" said the man. He put his hand back on his hurting shoulder and backed away from the snake a little.

"That's the way it works. If you like, that is," explained the snake. "You get three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish." The snake grinned at his own joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs.

"But there are rules," the snake continued. "The first request is free. The second requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding of responsibility." The snake looks at the man seriously.

"By the way," the snake says suddenly, "my name is Nathan. Old Nathan, Samuel used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the Bound used to just call me 'Snake'. But that got old, and Samuel wouldn't stand for it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big into names. You can call me Nate, if you wish." Again, the snake grinned. "Sorry if I don't offer to shake, but I think you can understand - my shake sounds somewhat threatening." The snake give his rattle a little shake.

"Umm, my name is Jack," said the man, trying to absorb all of this. "Jack Samson."

"Can I ask you a question?" Jack says suddenly. "What happened to the venom...umm, in your bite. Why aren't I dying now? How did you do that? What do you mean by that's how you work?"

"That's more than one question," grins Nate. "But I'll still try to answer all of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question." The snake's grin gets wider. "Second, the venom is in you. It changed you. You now no longer need to drink. That's what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked to not be thirsty any more - but 'any more' is such a vague term. I decided to make it permanent - now, as long as you live, you shouldn't need to drink much at all. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able to get enough just from the food you eat - much like a creature of the desert. You've been changed.

"For the third question," Nate continues, "you are still dying. Besides the effects of that methanol in your system, you're a man - and men are mortal. In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years. Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is." Nate seemed vastly amused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin.

"As for the fourth question," Nate said, looking more serious as far as Jack could tell, as Jack was just now working on his ability to read talking-snake emotions from snake facial features, "first you have to agree to make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I can't tell you."

"Wait," joked Jack, "isn't this where you say you could tell me, but you'd have to kill me?"

"I thought that was implied." Nate continued to look serious.

"Ummm...yeah." Jack leaned back a little as he remembered again that he was talking to a fifteen foot venomous reptile with a reputation for having a nasty temper. "So, what is this 'Bound by Secrecy' stuff, and can you really stop the effects of the methanol?" Jack thought for a second. "And, what do you mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in wiper fluid, and just denature it?"

"They may, I don't really know," said Nate. "I haven't gotten out in a while. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your breath and on that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when you pulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I assume that they still color wiper fluid blue?"

"Yeah, they do," said Jack.

"I figured," replied Nate. "As for being bound by secrecy - with the fulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing about me, this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when you decide to go back out to your kind. You won't be allowed to talk about me, write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that will lead someone to guess correctly about me. You'll be bound to secrecy. Of course, I'll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as I'm guessing that you're a man of your word, you'll never test the binding anyway, so you won't notice." Nate said the last part with utter confidence.

Jack, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt a little nervous at this. "Ummm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you know that? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something?"

Well, Jack," said Nate sadly, "I can't tell you that, unless you make the second request." Nate looked away for a minute, then looked back.

"Umm, well, ok," said Jack, "what is this about a second request? What can I ask for? Are you allowed to tell me that?"

"Sure!" said Nate, brightening. "You're allowed to ask for changes. Changes to yourself. They're like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, and before you ask, I can't give you immortality. Or omniscience. Or omnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you gaseous and yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere and sort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be - you still wouldn't be omniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not very useful, at least in my opinion." Nate stopped when he realized that Jack was staring at him.

"Well, anyway," continued Nate, "I'd probably suggest giving you permanent good health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, you'd be immune to most poisons and diseases, and you'd tend to live a very long time, barring accident, of course. And you'll even have a tendency to recover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for a request to me."

"Cure the methanol poisoning, huh?" said Jack. "And keep me healthy for a long time? Hmmm. It doesn't sound bad at that. And it has to be a request about a change to me? I can't ask to be rich, right? Because that's not really a change to me?"

"Right," nodded Nate.

"Could I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy?" Jack asked, hopefully.

"That takes two requests, Jack."

"Yeah, I figured so," said Jack. "But I could ask to be a genius? I could become the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best athlete?"

"Well, I could make you very smart," admitted Nate, "but that wouldn't necessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make you very athletic, but it wouldn't necessarily make you the best athlete either. You've heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, there's some truth to that. I can give you the talent, but I can't make you work hard. It all depends on what you decide to do with it."

"Hmmm," said Jack. "Ok, I think I understand. And I get a third request, after this one?"

"Maybe," said Nate, "it depends on what you decide then. There are more rules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the second request. You know how it goes." Nate looked like he'd shrug, if he had shoulders.

"Ok, well, since I'd rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanent health doesn't sound bad, then consider that my second request. Officially. Do I need to sign in blood or something?"

"No," said Nate. "Just hold out your hand. Or heel." Nate grinned. "Or whatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I said, that's how it works - the venom, you know," Nate said apologetically.

Jack winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was. Hey, it didn't hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Jack feel better about the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen foot snake sunk it's fangs into you. Jack stood up. Ignoring how good it felt to be able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach, Jack tried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that it wouldn't hurt for long, Jack knew that this wasn't going to be easy.

"Hey, Jack," Nate suddenly said, looking past Jack towards the dunes behind him, "is that someone else coming up over there?"

Jack spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle of nowhere? And did they bring food?

Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nate...

Jack let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end, through his jeans...

Jack sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. "I would have decided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didn't have to hoodwink me like that."

"I've been doing this a long time, Jack," said Nate, confidently. "You humans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you - especially one my size. And besides, admit it - it's only been a couple of minutes and it already doesn't hurt any more, does it? That's because of the health benefit with this one. I told you that you'd heal quickly now."

"Yeah, well, still," said Jack, "it's the principle of the thing. And nobody likes being bitten in the butt! Couldn't you have gotten my calf or something instead?"

"More meat in the typical human butt," replied Nate. "And less chance you accidentally kick me or move at the last second."

"Yeah, right. So, tell me all of these wonderful secrets that I now qualify to hear," answered Jack.

"Ok," said Nate. "Do you want to ask questions first, or do you want me to just start talking?"

"Just talk," said Jack. "I'll sit here and try to not think about food."

"We could go try to rustle up some food for you first, if you like," answered Nate.

"Hey! You didn't tell me you had food around here, Nate!" Jack jumped up. "What do we have? Am I in walking distance to town? Or can you magically whip up food along with your other powers?" Jack was almost shouting with excitement. His stomach had been growling for hours.

"I was thinking more like I could flush something out of its hole and bite it for you, and you could skin it and eat it. Assuming you have a knife, that is," replied Nate, with the grin that Jack was starting to get used to.

"Ugh," said Jack, sitting back down. "I think I'll pass. I can last a little longer before I get desperate enough to eat desert rat, or whatever else it is you find out here. And there's nothing to burn - I'd have to eat it raw. No thanks. Just talk."

"Ok," replied Nate, still grinning. "But I'd better hurry, before you start looking at me as food.

Nate reared back a little, looked around for a second, and then continued. "You, Jack, are sitting in the middle of the Garden of Eden."

Jack looked around at the sand and dunes and then looked back at Nate sceptically.

"Well, that's the best I can figure it, anyway, Jack," said Nate. "Stand up and look at the symbol on the rock here." Nate gestured around the dark stone they were both sitting on with his nose.

Jack stood up and looked. Carved into the stone in a bas-relief was a representation of a large tree. The angled-pole that Nate was wrapped around was coming out of the trunk of the tree, right below where the main branches left the trunk to reach out across the stone. It was very well done - it looked more like a tree had been reduced to almost two dimensions and embedded in the stone than it did like a carving.

Jack walked around and looked at the details in the fading light of the setting sun. He wished he'd looked at it while the sun was higher in the sky.

Wait! The sun was setting! That meant he was going to have to spend another night out here! Arrrgh!

Jack looked out across the desert for a little bit, and then came back and stood next to Nate. "In all the excitement, I almost forgot, Nate," said Jack. "Which way is it back to town? And how far? I'm eventually going to have to head back - I'm not sure I'll be able to survive by eating raw desert critters for long. And even if I can, I'm not sure I'll want to."

"It's about 30 miles that way." Nate pointed, with the rattle on his tail this time. As far as Jack could tell, it was a direction at right angles to the way he'd been going when he was crawling here. "But that's 30 miles by the way the crow flies. It's about 40 by the way a man walks. You should be able to do it in about half a day with your improved endurance, if you head out early tomorrow, Jack."

Jack looked out the way the snake had pointed for a few seconds more, and then sat back down. It was getting dark. Not much he could do about heading out right now. And besides, Nate was just about to get to the interesting stuff. "Garden of Eden? As best as you can figure it?"

"Well, yeah, as best as I and Samuel could figure it anyway," said Nate. "He figured that the story just got a little mixed up. You know, snake, in a 'tree', offering 'temptations', making bargains. That kind stuff. But he could never quite figure out how the Hebrews found out about this spot from across the ocean. He worried about that for a while."

"Garden of Eden, hunh?" said Jack. "How long have you been here, Nate?"

"No idea, really," replied Nate. "A long time. It never occurred to me to count years, until recently, and by then, of course, it was too late. But I do remember when this whole place was green, so I figure it's been thousands of years, at least."

"So, are you the snake that tempted Eve?" said Jack.

"Beats me," said Nate. "Maybe. I can't remember if the first one of your kind that I talked to was female or not, and I never got a name, but it could have been. And I suppose she could have considered my offer to grant requests a 'temptation', though I've rarely had refusals."

"Well, umm, how did you get here then? And why is that white pole stuck out of the stone there?" asked Jack.

"Dad left me here. Or, I assume it was my dad. It was another snake - much bigger than I was back then. I remember talking to him, but I don't remember if it was in a language, or just kind of understanding what he wanted. But one day, he brought me to this stone, told me about it, and asked me to do something for him. I talked it over with him for a while, then agreed. I've been here ever since.

"What is this place?" said Jack. "And what did he ask you to do?"

"Well, you see this pole here, sticking out of the stone?" Nate loosened his coils around the tilted white pole and showed Jack where it descended into the stone. The pole was tilted at about a 45 degree angle and seemed to enter the stone in an eighteen inch slot cut into the stone. Jack leaned over and looked. The slot was dark and the pole went down into it as far as Jack could see in the dim light. Jack reached out to touch the pole, but Nate was suddenly there in the way.

"You can't touch that yet, Jack," said Nate.

"Why not?" asked Jack.

"I haven't explained it to you yet," replied Nate.

"Well, it kinda looks like a lever or something," said Jack. "You'd push it that way, and it would move in the slot."

"Yep, that's what it is," replied Nate.

"What does it do?" asked Jack. "End the world?"

"Oh, no," said Nate. "Nothing that drastic. It just ends humanity. I call it 'The Lever of Doom'." For the last few words Nate had used a deeper, ringing voice. He tried to look serious for a few seconds, and then gave up and grinned.

Jack was initially startled by Nate's pronouncement, but when Nate grinned Jack laughed. "Ha! You almost had me fooled for a second there. What does it really do?"

"Oh, it really ends humanity, like I said," smirked Nate. "I just thought the voice I used was funny, didn't you?"

Nate continued to grin.

"A lever to end humanity?" asked Jack. "What in the world is that for? Why would anyone need to end humanity?"

"Well," replied Nate, "I get the idea that maybe humanity was an experiment. Or maybe the Big Guy just thought, that if humanity started going really bad, there should be a way to end it. I'm not really sure. All I know are the rules, and the guesses that Samuel and I had about why it's here. I didn't think to ask back when I started here."

"Rules? What rules?" asked Jack.

"The rules are that I can't tell anybody about it or let them touch it unless they agree to be bound to secrecy by a bite. And that only one human can be bound in that way at a time. That's it." explained Nate.

Jack looked somewhat shocked. "You mean that I could pull the lever now? You'd let me end humanity?"

"Yep," replied Nate, "if you want to." Nate looked at Jack carefully. "Do you want to, Jack?"

"Umm, no." said Jack, stepping a little further back from the lever. "Why in the world would anyone want to end humanity? It'd take a psychotic to want that! Or worse, a suicidal psychotic, because it would kill him too, wouldn't it?"

"Yep," replied Nate, "being as he'd be human too."

"Has anyone ever seriously considered it?" asked Jack. "Any of those bound to secrecy, that is?"

"Well, of course, I think they've all seriously considered it at one time or another. Being given that kind of responsibility makes you sit down and think, or so I'm told. Samuel considered it several times. He'd often get disgusted with humanity, come out here, and just hold the lever for a while. But he never pulled it. Or you wouldn't be here." Nate grinned some more.

Jack sat down, well back from the lever. He looked thoughtful and puzzled at the same time. After a bit, he said, "So this makes me the Judge of humanity? I get to decide whether they keep going or just end? Me?"

"That seems to be it," agreed Nate.

"What kind of criteria do I use to decide?" said Jack. "How do I make this decision? Am I supposed to decide if they're good? Or too many of them are bad? Or that they're going the wrong way? Is there a set of rules for that?"

"Nope," replied Nate. "You pretty much just have to decide on your own. It's up to you, however you want to decide it. I guess that you're just supposed to know."

"But what if I get mad at someone? Or some girl dumps me and I feel horrible? Couldn't I make a mistake? How do I know that I won't screw up?" protested Jack.

Nate gave his kind of snake-like shrug again. "You don't. You just have to try your best, Jack."

Jack sat there for a while, staring off into the desert that was rapidly getting dark, chewing on a fingernail.

Suddenly, Jack turned around and looked at the snake. "Nate, was Samuel the one bound to this before me?"

"Yep," replied Nate. "He was a good guy. Talked to me a lot. Taught me to read and brought me books. I think I still have a good pile of them buried in the sand around here somewhere. I still miss him. He died a few months ago."

"Sounds like a good guy," agreed Jack. "How did he handle this, when you first told him. What did he do?"

"Well," said Nate, "he sat down for a while, thought about it for a bit, and then asked me some questions, much like you're doing."

"What did he ask you, if you're allowed to tell me?" asked Jack.

"He asked me about the third request," replied Nate.

"Aha!" It was Jack's turn to grin. "And what did you tell him?"

"I told him the rules for the third request. That to get the third request you have to agree to this whole thing. That if it ever comes to the point that you really think that humanity should be ended, that you'll come here and end it. You won't avoid it, and you won't wimp out." Nate looked serious again. "And you'll be bound to do it too, Jack."

"Hmmm." Jack looked back out into the darkness for a while.

Nate watched him, waiting.

"Nate," continued Jack, quietly, eventually. "What did Samuel ask for with his third request?"

Nate sounded like he was grinning again as he replied, also quietly, "Wisdom, Jack. He asked for wisdom. As much as I could give him."

"Ok," said Jack, suddenly, standing up and facing away from Nate, "give it to me.

Nate looked at Jack's backside. "Give you what, Jack?"

"Give me that wisdom. The same stuff that Samuel asked for. If it helped him, maybe it'll help me too." Jack turned his head to look back over his shoulder at Nate. "It did help him, right?"

"He said it did," replied Nate. "But he seemed a little quieter afterward. Like he had a lot to think about."

"Well, yeah, I can see that," said Jack. "So, give it to me." Jack turned to face away from Nate again, bent over slightly and tensed up.

Nate watched Jack tense up with a little exasperation. If he bit Jack now, Jack would likely jump out of his skin and maybe hurt them both.

"You remember that you'll be bound to destroy humanity if it ever looks like it needs it, right Jack?" asked Nate, shifting position.

"Yeah, yeah, I got that," replied Jack, eyes squeezed tightly shut and body tense, not noticing the change in direction of Nate's voice.

"And," continued Nate, from his new position, "do you remember that you'll turn bright purple, and grow big horns and extra eyes?"

"Yeah, yeah...Hey, wait a minute!" said Jack, opening his eyes, straightening up and turning around. "Purple?!" He didn't see Nate there. With the moonlight Jack could see that the lever extended up from its slot in the rock without the snake wrapped around it.

Jack heard, from behind him, Nate's "Just Kidding!" right before he felt the now familiar piercing pain, this time in the other buttock.

Jack sat on the edge of the dark stone in the rapidly cooling air, his feet extending out into the sand. He stared out into the darkness, listening to the wind stir the sand, occasionally rubbing his butt where he'd been recently bitten.

Nate had left for a little while, had come back with a desert-rodent-shaped bulge somewhere in his middle, and was now wrapped back around the lever, his tongue flicking out into the desert night's air the only sign that he was still awake.

Occasionally Jack, with his toes absentmindedly digging in the sand while he thought, would ask Nate a question without turning around.

"Nate, do accidents count?"

Nate lifted his head a little bit. "What do you mean, Jack?"

Jack tilted his head back like he was looking at the stars. "You know, accidents. If I accidentally fall on the lever, without meaning to, does that still wipe out humanity?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it does, Jack. I'd suggest you be careful about that if you start feeling wobbly," said Nate with some amusement.

A little later - "Does it have to be me that pulls the lever?" asked Jack.

"That's the rule, Jack. Nobody else can pull it," answered Nate.

"No," Jack shook his head, "I meant does it have to be my hand? Could I pull the lever with a rope tied around it? Or push it with a stick? Or throw a rock?"

"Yes, those should work," replied Nate. "Though I'm not sure how complicated you could get. Samuel thought about trying to build some kind of remote control for it once, but gave it up. Everything he'd build would be gone by the next sunrise, if it was touching the stone, or over it. I told him that in the past others that had been bound had tried to bury the lever so they wouldn't be tempted to pull it, but every time the stones or sand or whatever had disappeared."

"Wow," said Jack, "Cool." Jack leaned back until only his elbows kept him off of the stone and looked up into the sky.

"Nate, how long did Samuel live? One of his wishes was for health too, right?" asked Jack.

"Yes," replied Nate, "it was. He lived 167 years, Jack."

"Wow, 167 years. That's almost 140 more years I'll live if I live as long. Do you know what he died of, Nate?"

"He died of getting tired of living, Jack," Nate said, sounding somewhat sad.

Jack turned his head to look at Nate in the starlight.

Nate looked back. "Samuel knew he wasn't going to be able to stay in society. He figured that they'd eventually see him still alive and start questioning it, so he decided that he'd have to disappear after a while. He faked his death once, but changed his mind - he decided it was too early and he could stay for a little longer. He wasn't very fond of mankind, but he liked the attention. Most of the time, anyway.

"His daughter and then his wife dying almost did him in though. He didn't stay in society much longer after that. He eventually came out here to spend time talking to me and thinking about pulling the lever. A few months ago he told me he'd had enough. It was his time."

"And then he just died?" asked Jack.

Nate shook his head a little. "He made his fourth request, Jack. There's only one thing you can ask for the fourth request. The last bite.

After a bit Nate continued, "He told me that he was tired, that it was his time. He reassured me that someone new would show up soon, like they always had.

After another pause, Nate finished, "Samuel's body disappeared off the stone with the sunrise."

Jack lay back down and looked at the sky, leaving Nate alone with his memories. It was a long time until Jack's breathing evened out into sleep.

Jack woke with the sunrise the next morning. He was a little chilled with the morning desert air, but overall was feeling pretty good. Well, except that his stomach was grumbling and he wasn't willing to eat raw desert rat.

So, after getting directions to town from Nate, making sure he knew how to get back, and reassuring Nate that he'd be back soon, Jack started the long walk back to town. With his new health and Nate's good directions, he made it back easily.

Jack caught a bus back to the city, and showed up for work the next day, little worse for the wear and with a story about getting lost in the desert and walking back out. Within a couple of days Jack had talked a friend with a tow truck into going back out into the desert with him to fetch the SUV. They found it after a couple of hours of searching and towed it back without incident. Jack was careful not to even look in the direction of Nate's lever, though their path back didn't come within sight of it.

Before the next weekend, Jack had gone to a couple of stores, including a book store, and had gotten his SUV back from the mechanic, with a warning to avoid any more joyriding in the desert. On Saturday, Jack headed back to see Nate.

Jack parked a little way out of the small town near Nate, loaded up his new backpack with camping gear and the things he was bringing for Nate, and then started walking. He figured that walking would leave the least trail, and he knew that while not many people camped in the desert, it wasn't unheard of, and shouldn't really raise suspicions.

Jack had brought more books for Nate - recent books, magazines, newspapers. Some things that would catch Nate up with what was happening in the world, others that were just good books to read. He spent the weekend with Nate, and then headed out again, telling Nate that he'd be back again soon, but that he had things to do first.

Over four months later Jack was back to see Nate again. This time he brought a laptop with him - a specially modified laptop. It had a solar recharger, special filters and seals to keep out the sand, a satellite link-up, and a special keyboard and joystick that Jack hoped that a fifteen-foot rattlesnake would be able to use. And, it had been hacked to not give out its location to the satellite.

After that Jack could e-mail Nate to keep in touch, but still visited him fairly regularly - at least once or twice a year.

After the first year, Jack quit his job. For some reason, with the wisdom he'd been given, and the knowledge that he could live for over 150 years, working in a nine to five job for someone else didn't seem that worthwhile any more. Jack went back to school.

Eventually, Jack started writing. Perhaps because of the wisdom, or perhaps because of his new perspective, he wrote well. People liked what he wrote, and he became well known for it. After a time, Jack bought an RV and started traveling around the country for book signings and readings.

But, he still remembered to drop by and visit Nate occasionally.

On one of the visits Nate seemed quieter than usual. Not that Nate had been a fountain of joy lately. Jack's best guess was that Nate was still missing Samuel, and though Jack had tried, he still hadn't been able to replace Samuel in Nate's eyes. Nate had been getting quieter each visit. But on this visit Nate didn't even speak when Jack walked up to the lever. He nodded at Jack, and then went back to staring into the desert. Jack, respecting Nate's silence, sat down and waited.

After a few minutes, Nate spoke. "Jack, I have someone to introduce you to."

Jack looked surprised. "Someone to introduce me to?" Jack looked around, and then looked carefully back at Nate. "This something to do with the Big Guy?

"No, no," replied Nate. "This is more personal. I want you to meet my son." Nate looked over at the nearest sand dune. "Sammy!"

Jack watched as a four foot long desert rattlesnake crawled from behind the dune and up to the stone base of the lever.

"Yo, Jack," said the new, much smaller snake.

"Yo, Sammy" replied Jack. Jack looked at Nate. "Named after Samuel, I assume?"

Nate nodded. "Jack, I've got a favor to ask you. Could you show Sammy around for me?" Nate unwrapped himself from the lever and slithered over to the edge of the stone and looked across the sands. "When Samuel first told me about the world, and brought me books and pictures, I wished that I could go see it. I wanted to see the great forests, the canyons, the cities, even the other deserts, to see if they felt and smelled the same. I want my son to have that chance - to see the world. Before he becomes bound here like I have been.

"He's seen it in pictures, over the computer that you brought me. But I hear that it's not the same. That being there is different. I want him to have that. Think you can do that for me, Jack?"

Jack nodded. This was obviously very important to Nate, so Jack didn't even joke about taking a talking rattlesnake out to see the world. "Yeah, I can do that for you, Nate. Is that all you need?" Jack could sense that was something more.

Nate looked at Sammy. Sammy looked back at Nate for a second and then said, "Oh, yeah. Ummm, I've gotta go pack. Back in a little bit Jack. Nice to meet ya!" Sammy slithered back over the dune and out of sight.

Nate watched Sammy disappear and then looked back at Jack. "Jack, this is my first son. My first offspring through all the years. You don't even want to know what it took for me to find a mate." Nate grinned to himself. "But anyway, I had a son for a reason. I'm tired. I'm ready for it to be over. I needed a replacement."

Jack considered this for a minute. "So, you're ready to come see the world, and you wanted him to watch the lever while you were gone?"

Nate shook his head. "No, Jack - you're a better guesser than that. You've already figured out - I'm bound here - there's only one way for me to leave here. And I'm ready. It's my time to die."

Jack looked more closely at Nate. He could tell Nate had thought about this - probably for quite a while. Jack had trouble imagining what it would be like to be as old as Nate, but Jack could already tell that in another hundred or two hundred years, he might be getting tired of life himself. Jack could understand Samuel's decision, and now Nate's. So, all Jack said was, "What do you want me to do?"

Nate nodded. "Thanks, Jack. I only want two things. One - show Sammy around the world - let him get his fill of it, until he's ready to come back here and take over. Two - give me the fourth request.

"I can't just decide to die, not any more than you can. I won't even die of old age like you eventually will, even though it'll be a long time from now. I need to be killed. Once Sammy is back here, ready to take over, I'll be able to die. And I need you to kill me.

"I've even thought about how. Poisons and other drugs won't work on me. And I've seen pictures of snakes that were shot - some of them live for days, so that's out too. So, I want you to bring back a sword.

Nate turned away to look back to the dune that Sammy had gone behind. "I'd say an axe, but that's somewhat undignified - putting my head on the ground or a chopping block like that. No, I like a sword. A time-honored way of going out. A dignified way to die. And, most importantly, it should work, even on me.

"You willing to do that for me, Jack?" Nate turned back to look at Jack.

"Yeah, Nate," replied Jack solemnly, "I think I can handle that."

Nate nodded. "Good!" He turned back toward the dune and shouted, "Sammy! Jack's about ready to leave!" Then quietly, "Thanks, Jack."

Jack didn't have anything to say to that, so he waited for Sammy to make it back to the lever, nodded to him, nodded a final time to Nate, and then headed into the desert with Sammy following.

Over the next several years Sammy and Jack kept in touch with Nate through e-mail as they went about their adventures. They made a goal of visiting every country in the world, and did a respectable job of it. Sammy had a natural gift for languages, as Jack expected he would, and even ended up acting as a translator for Jack in a few of the countries. Jack managed to keep the talking rattlesnake hidden, even so, and by the time they were nearing the end of their tour of countries, Sammy had only been spotted a few times. While there were several people that had seen enough to startle them greatly, nobody had enough evidence to prove anything, and while a few wild rumors and stories followed Jack and Sammy around, nothing ever hit the newspapers or the public in general.

When they finished the tour of countries, Jack suggested that they try some undersea diving. They did. And spelunking. They did that too. Sammy finally drew the line at visiting Antarctica. He'd come to realize that Jack was stalling. After talking to his Dad about it over e-mail, he figured out that Jack probably didn't want to have to kill Nate. Nate told Sammy that humans could be squeamish about killing friends and acquaintances.

So, Sammy eventually put his tail down (as he didn't have a foot) and told Jack that it was time - he was ready to go back and take up his duties from his dad. Jack, delayed it a little more by insisting that they go back to Japan and buy an appropriate sword. He even stretched it a little more by getting lessons in how to use the sword. But, eventually, he'd learned as much as he was likely to without dedicating his life to it, and was definitely competent enough to take the head off of a snake. It was time to head back and see Nate.

When they got back to the US, Jack got the old RV out of storage where he and Sammy had left it after their tour of the fifty states, he loaded up Sammy and the sword, and they headed for the desert.

When they got to the small town that Jack had been trying to find those years ago when he'd met Nate, Jack was in a funk. He didn't really feel like walking all of the way out there. Not only that, but he'd forgotten to figure the travel time correctly, and it was late afternoon. They'd either have to spend the night in town and walk out tomorrow, or walk in the dark.

As Jack was afraid that if he waited one more night he might lose his resolve, he decided that he'd go ahead and drive the RV out there. It was only going to be this once, and Jack would go back and cover the tracks afterward. They ought to be able to make it out there by nightfall if they drove, and then they could get it over tonight.

Jack told Sammy to e-mail Nate that they were coming as he drove out of sight of the town on the road. They then pulled off the road and headed out into the desert.

Everything went well, until they got to the sand dunes. Jack had been nursing the RV along the whole time, over the rocks, through the creek beds, revving the engine the few times they almost got stuck. When they came to the dunes, Jack didn't really think about it, he just downshifted and headed up the first one. By the third dune, Jack started to regret that he'd decided to try driving on the sand. The RV was fishtailling and losing traction. Jack was having to work it up each dune slowly and was trying to keep from losing control each time they came over the top and slid down the other side. Sammy had come up to sit in the passenger seat, coiled up and laughing at Jack's driving.

As they came over the top of the fourth dune, the biggest one yet, Jack saw that this was the final dune - the stone, the lever, and somewhere Nate, waited below. Jack put on the brakes, but he'd gone a little too far. The RV started slipping down the other side.

Jack tried turning the wheel, but he didn't have enough traction. He pumped the brakes - no response. They started sliding down the hill, faster and faster.

Jack felt a shock go through him as he suddenly realized that they were heading for the lever. He looked down - the RV was directly on course for it. If Jack didn't do something, the RV would hit it. He was about to end humanity.

Jack steered more frantically, trying to get traction. It still wasn't working. The dune was too steep, and the sand too loose. In a split second, Jack realized that his only chance would be once he hit the stone around the lever - he should have traction on the stone for just a second before he hit the lever - he wouldn't have time to stop, but he should be able to steer away.

Jack took a better grip on the steering wheel and tried to turn the RV a little bit - every little bit would help. He'd have to time his turn just right.

The RV got to the bottom of the dune, sliding at an amazing speed in the sand. Just before they reached the stone Jack looked across it to check that they were still heading for the lever. They were. But Jack noticed something else that he hadn't seen from the top of the dune. Nate wasn't wrapped around the lever. He was off to the side of the lever, but still on the stone, waiting for them. The problem was, he was waiting on the same side of the lever that Jack had picked to steer towards to avoid the lever. The RV was already starting to drift that way a little in its mad rush across the sand and there was no way that Jack was going to be able to go around the lever to the other side.

Jack had an instant of realization. He was either going to have to hit the lever, or run over Nate. He glanced over at Sammy and saw that Sammy realized the same thing.

Jack took a firmer grip on the steering wheel as the RV ran up on the stone. Shouting to Sammy as he pulled the steering wheel, "Better Nate than lever!", he ran over the snake.

#bp ask #anon ask #bp server

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whumpshaped · 7 months

Text

Stray 1

hi im here to bring u a fun lil interactive thing bc i felt inspired. will this have a second chapter before november? uhhhhh idk man...... anyway have fun

masterlist

tw institutional/systemic pet whump, second person pov (and you're the pet!), forced to eat gross stuff, memory loss, past trauma, dehumanisation

You stumble out of the facility with the vague understanding that you want to leave. You can't quite remember why, you can't quite remember what you had before the facility, and you can't quite remember what's so bad about the place... but something in you is screaming at you to run.

So you run.

Even as the evening air clears your head, the memories don't come back to you. You have no concept of life before being a pet, outside of a few flashes of faces you think you might've known at one point and places you might've frequented. It's not a lot, not even enough to convince you they aren't dreams that lodged in your head for a little too long.

Maybe this is a mistake, honestly. You're basing your entire escape on these flashes, and a weird gut feeling. Now you're on the run from the Pet Protection Agency, and you have zero idea how to survive as a stray. It'd be so much easier to turn back around and give yourself up... but god, this nagging feeling in the back of your mind just won't leave you alone. You have to keep running.

Days pass, and you learn what kinds of food in the dumpster are still fit for consumption. Weeks pass, and you learn how to seem semi-normal. How to blend in and pretend you're a person. Months pass, and you're starting to run out of stamina. Of drive. Of motivation. It's getting colder, too. You're thinking of turning yourself in again.

You don't even make an effort anymore. You stay in the same alleyway, go through the same dumpster... Sometimes you venture a bit further out, but at this point, you're entirely over it. If the PPA's people find you, so be it. Being a stray is miserable.

But one day, a small offering appears on the ground. It's a little plastic bowl with some kind of paste in it. It smells... suspicious. It's definitely not for you– no, that's not true. It's definitely for you, but it's clear that the person who left it doesn't... know who you are. What you are.

You crawl a bit closer, your stomach rumbling loudly. Maybe just a scoop. A bite. Maybe it's not that bad. Maybe eating cat food is fine, under certain circumstances. Maybe you can trick yourself into liking it, even.

Well... as soon as you try it, you realise that won't be happening. But food is food, and you're desperate. You can only hope it won't poison you.

The empty bowls disappear every morning, and a full one appears every evening. The routine soothes you somewhat. Of course it does, you're just a pet, and pets need routine — another reason why it was utterly stupid to run and throw yourself into a life of uncertainty. But in an odd turn of events, you accidentally found someone who seems to care, and that's comforting.

One evening, while you're furiously rubbing your hands together to create some semblance of warmth, you hear the stranger enter the alley. You hear the telltale scratch of the bowl against the ground as they set it down, and your mouth waters despite knowing how gross the food is. But you don't hear them leaving.

"Here, love. I've brought you some food," they — he? — say softly, and you realise your mysterious patron saint is planning on staying this time. He wants to see where his food is going, clearly. An infinite number of options and fears run through your head all at once.

What if he's with the PPA? What if this has all been a setup? What if he's going to be angry about you not being a sweet little animal? What if he's a horrible person who's just playing you? What if– what if–

i'm gonna start a separate taglist for this so lmk if u wanna be on it :) also no promises whatsoever abt the updates i just felt rly in the mood for smth like this tonight

@whumpsday @the-scrapegoat

#whump #whump writing #choose your own adventure #cyoa #memory loss #past trauma #dehumanisation #pet whump #stray

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tiens-letters · 3 years

Text

Oohh another request haha. I love this thank you and i hope you like it :>

were the bruises to your heart worth it?

Childe angst

You mulled over your sister's words for the nth time today. Her voice playing on loop inside your head, drifting in and out of a mundane daydream.

"why are you still with him?" you wondered as well as to why you still stuck with Ajax, all these days in 3 years of being wit him. Perhaps it was devotion, it was love to persevere even in the wrath of crumbling times and yet why does your heart ache a little more these days he's been far from you.

The days when he would come home, wounded and tired you were there to nurse him back. Back then it was something you'd do out of care and worry, which was until these recent days where it felt as if it were a job you didnt want to do as he would shrug you off instead and locking himself in another room. You barely remember the time where you both shared a quiet night basking in each other's presence, with limbs in a tangle and your forehead upon his beating chest, it was almost none existent as the home you both had felt so utterly desolate, void of the homey ambience.

Youve endured a month of his uncalled behaviour, breaking you even further as things slipped from your grasp leaving you empty and in agony. There were times you'd silently let tears fall as he slept so soundly beside you, unbothered by your pain. He's become more and more as the harbinger you forgot him to be and not your darling lover Ajax.

He never noticed your puffy eyes, sunken cheeks and dwindling weight yet he noticed all the small mistakes youve made. Where one day, left you with a bruise on the arm due his snake like grip after blowing up on you right after he came home from a long journey to sumeru.

You left.

Childe came home earlier than expected, once again tired and nursing a few minor wounds on his body. All he wanted was your touch on his skin as you lulled him to sleep only that to his utter surprise that the house was empty. Perhaps you went out for an errand or for another pot of your favourite flower that you kept in the small garden at the back.

Not giving it too much thought, he lounged on the couch awaiting your return, eyelids soon drooping as the soft pillow coaxed him to sleep.

As the grandfather clock swings its pendulum, the sound echoing through the whole room signifying the arrival of midnight, an eerie sound waking Childe back to consciousness. Groggy from rising he scanned the room only to find it darker than before, if it werent for the nearby lamp he switched open, he swore he couldve been swallowed by the darkness.

Were you not home yet?

A dreadful feeling washed over him as your presence was nowhere around the house. He called out for you as he rushed through the halls, a sliver of hope vanishing every corner turned and every door opened led to nothing but misery.

You always leave a note as to where you are going and yet it was another one out of the many abnormalities in his home.

"Darling? Please i hope youre not playing with me!" he calls out to no one in particular, denying the fact of your existence gone with the wind. Your clothes were all intact and so does your other belongings. He thought of every possibility of what couldve befallen his lover, mostly gravitating towards the worst of the worst case scenarious and may the archons forbid, he would never recover from the blow.

"Where are you?!"

Then it dawned on him after much pondering and pulling his falling parts together. The things he did, the words he said it all came flooding through him like a rushing cold river, hitting him fair and square in the chest and came forth an otherworldly pain and regret. He gasps, almost suffocating by the weight of his sins and he wished he had died right then and there in atonement for his crimes.

Soon his vision became bleary as eyes misted over with tears that fell freely from his ocean eyes. He ruined it. Ruined you.

And yet he could not let you go.

Days seemed to pass by so fast that it had already been 5 months of liberation from Ajax's presence. You were slowly building yourself up once again, the temple that was torn down by a single crack, slowly being rebuilt brick by brick.

Your love for Ajax, even if it left quite the bruise to your heart, it was still there, lingering in the air and a part of you missed him so. You wondered how he would be doing, you wondered if he looked for you just as you did when he didnt come home on the date set, you wonder if he wept when he couldnt feel you next to him, just as you did 150 days ago. You wondered if he ever called your name all the while giving a lingering kiss to the painting that hung on the foyer. You wondered if what you both had, had any significance to him at all.

"Stop doing that." you jolted from where you sat, the book falling off your lap as you met your sister's stern glare from across the room.

"Stop doing what?"

"You are thinking about Tartaglia again. Its been over 5 months and that blundering fool never made an effort to find you much less apologize for what he did when you were still there." there was anger in her voice as she recounted the day you came to her door, teary eyed and just utterly torn. Never once did she felt like murdering someone so bad, especially when it had you, her only family involved.

"Im sorry, I-i just--"

"Hush now." she came over in her elegant strides to take you in her arms, the familiar scent of your mother's favorite perfume stayed on her like second skin and you were so grateful that you had her. You let yourself cry in her embrace in quiet comfort.

Childe never stopped.

Secretly searching for atleast a tiny clue of your whereabouts wore him down to the bone and yet he never gave up. How could he? Even if he thought he was so undeserving of you he still pushed on to right what wrong he's made. The details gathered had been insufficient to serve as a lead making Childe more desperate in his attempt to search for you. Nights were spent on scouring places and information seeking and his work, only done in the daytime. He never wasted a wink on sleep as it was an obstacle to getting closer to you and even when his body collapsed due to exhaustion of overworking all he could think was you.

The search has led a certain fatui informant who works for one of the harbingers. With a note slipped in secrecy on a specific time containing an address on the small parchment. It was all Childe needed to fuel his buried hope as he took off towards snezhenaya.

He never imagined he'd arrive right in front of the iron gates that encased the whole estate atop a mountain. The wind bellowed stronger than before as the snow rained harder upon the place. Luckily, he was born in this region and had survived throughout.

He wondered why you came here, to such a dreadful place but then again, anywhere was better than right by him.

Trying to push open the gates only to be repelled by cryo magic, burning through his gloves and into his skin, leaving fresh burns on his palms as he gasped in pain. Whoever lives here clearly didnt want anyone trespassing much less had a fancy for guests.

He was starting to grow cold as his energy was slowly being siphoned by days of travel, it would only take a matter of time before he passes out.

He calls out, hoping someone inside would hear him.

And you did, only that it seemed like the wind but the time you looked outside the library window, you saw a person outside the gates. The familiar ginger hair tousled with the wind and as you strained your ears to hear and that was when it filled your ears, Ajax's voice. Something you havent heard in quite a long time.

As quick as lightning you stood, half running half gliding through the halways and down the stairs, there was no coherent thought, only him. He was freezing outside the barrier and you pushed yourself more to reach him.

Your figure stepping out through the door was almost like a dream to him. Your name oh so longingly leaving his bluing lips.

"Ajax!" you were in time as you caught his figure which seemed lighter than before. He clung to you, legs desperately tryinf to hold him up. You were here, right in his arms, alive and warm.

"Im sorry. Im so sorry. Please I love you." he rambles on, like a mantra he apologizes over and over again, sobbing and stumbling on his words as he held you so achingly close "Forgive me. Forgive me..."

"Step away from him this instant." your sister, Signora hisses from behind you, just as you were about to coax Ajax she already had a cryo dagger aimed at his head

"Sister please!" you plead, your panic growing as you saw Ajax huffing in labored breaths "Let him come inside or he will freeze to death."

Signora sees the urgency in your eyes and the undying devotion you still hold for the man in your arms. She dematerializes the dagger with a wave of her hand.

"Fine but if I see tears in your eyes then dont you ever dare stop me from what Im going to do to him."

"Thank you sister." you smile at her as she steps backs inside the house and you follow in after her with Ajax leaning on you for support. Once inside, you had him lay on the couch by the fire after helping him out of his winter garments and replacing it for a knitted quilt.

"Im sorry." bloodshot ocean eyes looked at you with so much guilt and a love that you almost forgot "I-i im so so sorry."

"Lets talk about this after youve rested." this time you couldnt look at him, the ache in your heart throbs from the bruises it still nursed. You stood before falling further only for him to catch your shaking hand with his equally shaking one.

"Dont leave." he whimpers, the fear of abandonment increasing as he pleaded for you to stay. instead, you let go of his hand and placed yours instead over his eyes making him uncharacteristically shriek surprising you even more, making you think what other worldly pain he was experiencing as of the moment. "No! No No. Please Its dark."

Ajax cries as he thrashed around because he feared that if he sleeps he would go back to the nightmare of you not by his side and that would leave him all cold and alone just like in the past. he didnt want to go back there, not now when he's seen you. As much as he'd hate to admit, he was truly and utterly terrified but you had to let him rest and with the help of your vision he finally succumbed to a dreamless, peaceful sleep. Only that he calmed down did you notice how much he's lost, where your once sunken cheeks, puffy eyes and weight loss now transferred to him and it made you sick to your stomach. your lips found his forehead as you wished him a good rest, you left the room after bandaging his burned hands to gather yourself for when he finally came to his sensible self.

when you thought it was going to take a full day for him to wake up only to find him stumbling about in the living room calling your name on his lips like a broken record. you immediately rushed down and burst into the room to find him clutching his head and gasping breathlessly. he looked crazed until he caught sight of you standing by the door, a worried look on your face was when he finally came to. he ran to you, clung to you like it was the last day of the world to live and sighed into your welcoming smell.

"are you alright now?" you ask him as you part in arms width

"Hit me." he tells you in all seriousness in his worn out state

"W-what?" you were certain he was still out of it until he grabbed your hand in an attempt to hit himself to which you stopped immediately

"Hit me! Scream at me all you want. Call me words Ive called you. Ive broken you! Do you not see that?!" funny how he couldnt see himself, he who's become worse over the course of the months . his tone rose and fell until it was only a whisper above his panting

"Just dont abandon me." he shuts his eyes, steeling himself for your judgment until he felt your hands on his face again, making soothing circles on his cheek

"look at me Ajax." you coax him and he did and he could see assurance and the love for him still remained and he wanted to cry again but tears have long gone abandoned him and left him in such a regretful state, he truly didnt deserve you and you never deserved to be treated that way. "Youve hurt me yes and nothing can change that but I wasnt planning on you leaving you. I couldnt as I love you too much that I wouldnt imagine life without you but Ajax, the things you did to me, to us, was painful."

"I know and Im so sorry." he held himself from rambling as the pain in chest grew even more burdensome, something he would willingly carry as he vows to himself to never hurt you and if he did then he would tear himself down "I love you"

"and I to you Ajax. Just promise me that when you are having a hard time, let us talk it out and not result to screaming and painful banters."

"I promise darling. on my life and everything in this world. I vow to never cause you pain like I did and to only give you love and care that someone like you deserve."

there he was, your Ajax. He was home.

#genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin impact x reader #ajax #tartaglia #childe #childe angst #childe x reader #childe x reader angst #childe request #angst #haha yes pain #Spotify

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wincore · 3 years

Text

field day | jung sungchan

pairing: sungchan x fem!reader

synopsis: when you, as cheer captain, are best friends with the pride and joy of the soccer team, rumors are bound to fly around.

genre: high school au, soccer au, bff2l, fluff

words: 7.5k

warnings: language, jung “the risk i took was calculated but man am i bad at math” sungchan

request: sungchan + ball + “ everyone is looking at us. is that a good or a bad thing? ” (from the first option) ^__^

song recs: after school - weeekly / pleaser - wallows / some - bol4 / sweet talk - saint motel / love so sweet - cherry bullet

a/n: i tried recalling some hs memories for this and im hoping i wasnt the only one that went through the “shipped with a random dude” ordeal LOL. i haven’t written shorter fics in a while so i’m glad i got to. tq for requesting, lovepie <33

In high school, peer pressure tends to come in different forms. For you, it’s taken the shape of this.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You look around your classmates, scanning each and every face chanting with glee like you’re a star player scoring the winning point. The tall figure shifts beside you, glancing at you like a blinking idiot. You’re not even on the losing team but it feels just as frustrating.

You glare at the boy beside you. The trouble is Jung Sungchan. The trouble has always been Jung Sungchan.

“Come on!” Chenle calls with a teasing grin from the buzzing crowd. The little shit. It’s getting hotter with each minute you spend by the green soccer field and its dusty chalked lines, just at the tip of the bleachers. You didn’t even get enough time to breathe before you were surrounded, the soccer team pushing a stumbling Sungchan onto you. It’s too sunny for this today.

“The star soccer player gets a kiss from the lead cheerleader after a winning game! That’s the rule.” Chenle announces.

Sungchan looks at you and you turn to him, the both of you looking at each other like fish out of water. Even though you’ve clarified at least a hundred times that you’re just friends, your peers don’t seem to be satisfied. (“Famous last words,” they say.)

“No,” you say, firmly.

“No,” Sungchan agrees, nodding his head wisely.

“Don’t copy me,” you say, smacking his chest, and a quiet ‘oof’ escapes his mouth.

The fact that you’ve been best friends since Sungchan offered you a light green crayon in elementary school just fuels the idea that you have to date. There’s this difference between elementary school kids teasing and high school kids teasing—it was so much easier back when boys were afraid of cooties from girls. It was innocent too. Now, it’s more of nudges and sly grins, teasing with unnecessary innuendo. (What else do you expect from teenagers experiencing puberty?) It doesn’t stop you from being best friends though. Sungchan still visits on Fridays to get on your mom’s nerves and help you with homework (or try to). You still have all the little trinkets he’s gifted you over the years and the lock to his phone is still your birthday. You’re best friends and strictly that.

When you got into the same middle school though is when it started going downhill. Holding his hand was awkward, touching him in any way was awkward and god forbid you compliment him on something. The kids around you would run across the halls saying “(name) likes Sungchan!” or the other way around sometimes. Heathens, the lot of them. But at the very least, he wasn’t too fazed and you wonder how he could be that even-tempered. If it was just you feeling that way, then maybe you did like him more than he did you.

You shake it off.

Sungchan’s much more grown now and at least a foot taller since his awkward adolescent years; he looks handsomer too but you wouldn’t be caught dead saying it out loud. After all, it’s only going to spark another debate on the anonymous school forum. (“(name) finds Jung Sungchan attractive, they’re totally dating.” “I knew it. A boy and a girl can’t be friends, especially if they’re both good looking.”) If you’re being honest, you hate the rumours so much—it’s one of the reasons, apart from puberty, stopping you from being as close as before. However, you do understand that this is how the passage of time works. You’re not going to be spending all of your time with each other, yes, but you still regard him as important. Your life is too busy now, with exams and practice—and you’d think a busy bee would get some honey as reward.

Sungchan’s curls stick to his forehead, unruly after he wiped at them with a towel. The sunlight plays with his eyes when he looks at you intently and you shrug. The smell of sweat is starting to make you nauseous. You remember that you too need to take a shower.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mumble.

“Not today?” He asks.

You shake your head. “The girls have a plan.”

It’s not just the sweat. Or the crowds. You don’t like being here at all. There’s one more problem with this place.

You hate soccer.

And by hate, you mean you despise it. Like you’ll throw up at the sight of it. What’s so riveting about a bunch of smelly, sweaty guys excited about chasing a patterned ball? You’ve tried to understand it but every time your dad explains the rules, you find yourself zoning out of whatever alien language he speaks.

Sungchan has been the closest to getting you to understand the game and even then, you refused to learn. It’s not like you’re society’s definition of girly—but you’re not a tomboy either. The school has granted you the “ice queen with a warm interior” stereotype so you’ll just go with that. To be honest, you’re just a little more awkward at open affection than your friends. (And Sungchan has the “friendly beagle” stereotype which you’ll agree is partly true. He’s more of a retriever though, with that size.) It’s just funny how you can never seem to know who you are but other people see so clearly.

You hurry up to the locker rooms and hope for a better evening than this afternoon.

The sky burns blue and you wipe the sweat off your brow once you step out of the changing room. Cooling off from your shower has gone to waste. Adjusting your school skirt, you take your usual strides to the school gates.

Ryujin seems to be showing Yuna a very flamboyant dance move while the latter hypes her up. Ryujin is in her gym uniform because she has no care for her reputation apparently, but she makes it work. Yuna’s about to show her own move when she notices you and waves at you vigorously enough to make you jog towards her and stop embarrassing herself in front of the after school crowd. But then again, she’s too cute for that.

“We got bored waiting for you,” Yuna explains, voice hoarse from her cold. Poor thing wasn’t let into performing because of it. “Do you wanna see our cool new move? Ryujin came up with it!”

Ryujin rolls her eyes. “You’re trying to advertise me to (name) so she can recruit me into cheerleading, aren’t you?”

You smile and cross your arms, facing Yuna who’s been caught mid-act. She smiles sheepishly and pats your shoulder like she just said a funny joke.

“Actually…” You begin and Ryujin holds up her arms in a cross.

“No. Never. I’m already part of the hip-hop dance club.”

“I was going to say that I’ll join you instead.”

Yuna gasps in betrayal, big eyes widening, and Ryujin grins before sticking her tongue out and potentially ruining her image with that expression. She doesn’t care, however.

“Anyway, I can’t wait to get to college and join a dance club.” Ryujin looks at the two of you excitedly. “I keep getting snaps from Yeji and feel so jealous.”

Yuna pouts. “Don’t be so happy about leaving me.”

“Aw, is the baby afraid of not getting any more sisterly doting?” Ryujin teases and you laugh at the disgruntled expression on Yuna’s face.

“Don’t worry,” Ryujin continues with a sly grin. “Taehyun’s here to keep you company for another year.”

Yuna turns red in the face, a high pitched complaint emitting from her throat. “I told you to keep quiet about that!”

“Oh, what’s this?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “We’re starting boy talk early today.”

Yuna huffs. “At least, mine’s just a crush. I don’t know what relationship status: complicated you have going on with Mr. Soccer Captain.”

You flush hotly. “There’s no relationship status to be complicated about! Seriously, why does everyone think we’re a thing?”

“You’re cheer captain and he’s soccer captain,” Ryujin answers logically. “Plus, you’re best friends.”

“You have a lot of sexual tension,” Yuna answers honestly.

You make a face, slipping your arms into theirs and pulling them along the sidewalk. You better get something to drink before the sky starts to turn purple from pink tinged blue.

“Ooh, another desperate attempt from (name) to not get teased,” Ryujin leans back to whisper to Yuna.

You stop walking. “Wait. Where are we going?”

Yuna shakes her head. “I’ll lead the way.”

Skipping over the concrete sidewalk, you laugh at your friends and their stories (read: Ryujin gushing over Yeji’s college dance club and Yuna’s newfound crush on Taehyun). The blue sky has tinged orange by now but it’s the sort of colour that sits in between more significant timeframes, like night and evening. Passing by a city square, you eye the people with wonder. A girl in a pink skirt skateboards smoothly over the concrete, her boyfriend filming her with a loving smile.

“We’re here!” Yuna announces.

You look around the large open plaza, with people of all ages and in different attires trying out skateboarding and rollerblading over the grey concrete. It’s been getting popular lately, with idol pop stars taking to it too but you never knew there was this big a community. There seems to be a few stalls renting out skateboards too. The wind caresses your hair, evening cool settling in nicely on your skin. The sky is purple but it’s lit up with the city buildings and street lamps flickering on. It’s not a bad day at all.

Someone catches your attention. A boy that sticks out like a sore thumb everywhere he goes.

“Sungchan?!”

Your eyes somehow always settle on his figure, tall and standing out in the crowd of teenagers. He clutches his blue bag, the one he’s had since third grade, close to his chest and looks more like a tourist in this place than a frequent visitor. He’s not the only one in school uniform now that you’re here.

“(name)!”

You hate how you love the way his face lights up when he sees you. You’re not actually into him. It’s your friends brainwashing you.

“I was going to invite you,” Sungchan says, a sorry smile on his face.

Ryujin and Yuna frown at each other but you can’t exactly ask the reason for it.

“Isn’t it great we had the same plans?” he beams at the three of you.

Yuna suppresses a smile and you wonder why. It’s not like your friends would know he’d be here—you’d know first as best friend.

"How did you guys come across this place?" He asks, eyes round with curiosity.

"Somi's Tiktok," Yuna answers, smiling. "We thought she works here but if she really was, guys would be swarming this place."

Ryujin raises her eyebrows. "Speaking of which, I can clearly see why there are so many girls here."

Sungchan beams, turning to you for affirmation and when you don't give him any, he drops his grin to a more polite smile.

“I don’t work at the stalls though,” he answers. “I’ve just been here a few times.”

“You’re trying to learn, aren’t you?” Ryujin asks, raising an eyebrow.

He nods. However, you furrow your eyebrows at her. How does she know? Eyes widening, you realize it must be the school forum. You remember reading a post about a student wanting to learn skateboarding and the wording felt familiar but you didn’t think much. How they figured it out, you will never know.

“Oh! Oh, I think my nose is bleeding. Oh god.” Yuna sniffs vehemently, her finger at her nose. “I think I’m going to need Ryujin to get me to a clinic.”

Linking her arm through Ryujin’s, Yuna makes an apologetic expression and runs off into a particularly crowded area.

You blink. The realization dawns.

"They just left me," you tell him, exasperated. "How could they just leave me?"

He shrugs. "My team left me at a rival school's field once."

Great. Your last outing before midterms and your friends have abandoned you. If this is the case, you wonder why they complain about you spending so much time with Sungchan and allegedly ignoring them.

You regain a sense of your surroundings and turn to him. "Wait. They really left you?"

He nods diligently, eyes trained upwards as he tries to recall the memory. "I told you, didn’t I? On the plus side though, I made friends with the opposite team."

"That's so… cute."

Your cheeks heat up at saying it out loud. If Sungchan is affected by it in any way, he doesn't show it. Instead, he has his usual smile on.

“Do you wanna try?” he asks. “Skateboarding. Or rollerblading but I personally don’t recommend that.”

He curls his lips, shaking his head slightly. You laugh. Of course this beanpole has trouble balancing on skates.

"I- I figured you'd be good at skateboarding. Since, you know, you're so balanced and all."

You raise an eyebrow. "You wanna add skateboarding to your resume or something?"

"Yeah, that and the ability to imitate dog sounds. Wanna see?"

"No, thanks. I’ll pray this weekend to cure your furry behaviour."

Before he can respond, you’re interrupted by a whirlwind of colours and excited calls. A few girls run up to the two of you, younger and probably in middle school, flocking to Sungchan like bees to honey. Never in your life have you felt so ignored as in this singular moment.

You blink, turning to Sungchan who looks like a rather helpless, flustered eye of the hurricane. The winds don't seem to be stopping any time soon.

You clear your throat trying to get their attention.

"Wow, you brought your girlfriend?" One of the girls exclaims, sounding disappointed.

The other girls make similar whines of disappointment and you have half the heart to whack them over the head and tell them to focus on their academics instead of boys.

"You're so lucky to have him as your boyfriend," a girl comments, round eyes brimming with jealousy.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you declare sharply.

Sungchan looks at you with his doe eyes, blinking cartoonishly. You nudge him with your elbow.

“Yeah!” He agrees, with far too much gusto to be believable. “I’m not (name)’s boyfriend. I have no idea why everyone keeps saying that.”

“Let’s go, babe,” you say, resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at the girls. They’re younger than you and you have high school dignity, you remind yourself.

Slipping your hand into his, you take a few long strides away from them before you realize what you said.

“I- I did- I didn’t mean to call you babe,” you sputter, pulling your hand from his to look at him with wide eyes.

“It’s okay though?”

Sungchan raises an eyebrow and slips his hand back into yours, smiling.

“I don’t mind the rumours, you know?” He says honestly but his smile feels all too teasing. “Maybe we should go out for real.”

You huff, separating yourself from him again. “Maybe you just love attention. Disgusting.”

You point an accusatory finger at him and he bites at it playfully.

“While you're here, wanna see a cool trick I learned?" He straightens only having to tilt his head to look at you.

"If it's you falling on your face, then yes."

"I mean, hey, I could totally do that. Done that several times actually."

You smile despite trying your hardest not to. You like this about him—that he’s easygoing enough to make you look at life less seriously. If it’s with him, you could quit everything that makes you unhappy and start everything you love.

“So where is your skateboard?” you ask, walking side by side with him, who has finally learned to match your pace.

“It’s with one of my friends,” he answers, and points to a tall girl with long brown hair, wearing a pair of tomboyish shorts and T-shirt. Another girl with short hair and a bucket hat accompanies her, wearing a long hoodie and shorts, but she leaves before you reach them. They must be from a different school because you’ve never seen them before. The first thing that pops into your head is that they’d be good replacements for your cheerleading position if you were ever to leave. You shake your head. Now is not the time.

“That’s Jimin!” he introduces, and you wonder how he’s this way—how he makes friends so easily.

Jimin waves at Sungchan and then proceeds to ask if you’re his girlfriend with a big smile, like a script being followed everywhere you go.

She seems a little disappointed at the answer. “Well, I was going to suggest one of the couples skateboards.”

You flash her an awkward smile.

“But those are pretty difficult! I’ve been here for a month and my idea of skateboarding is still sitting on it while Soeun pushes me around. That’s my friend, by the way.”

“Ah.” You nod. “This is my first time skateboarding, actually. The only ‘sport’ I’ve ever done is cheerleading.”

Jimin furrows her eyebrows before her eyes widen. “Wait a minute. You’re the cheerleader best friend that Sungchan wouldn’t shut up about!”

Sungchan flusters, in the subtle way he usually does, and waves his hands robotically trying to explain. “I was just saying- that- that you’d be good at skateboarding. Because of the cheerleading.”

A boxy grin accompanies his explanation.

“Right.” Jimin covers her face and sends an obvious wink your way. “Anyway, you can have my skateboard for the day.”

She hands over a smooth black skateboard with white wheels, but on closer inspection you find that they’re light-up wheels instead. It’s oddly fitting for someone like Jimin even if you’ve known her the entirety of ten minutes. Sungchan is good at finding friends, rather. Soon enough, she runs off after making Sungchan promise he’ll deliver the skateboard home.

The trick Sungchan wanted to show you was a failed kickflip. At the very least, it made you laugh so hard you almost spit out the strawberry milk he’d bought you. Sipping his own banana milk, he sulked for a moment or two, telling you to try it out and see how difficult it is.

On the contrary, Sungchan was right. You are good at balancing on skateboards. But that’s where it ends. You don’t think you’ll be naturally good at kickflips, though being able to glide through the plaza while Sungchan runs after you with the drinks puts a big smile on your face. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a while.

Accompanied by Sungchan’s panicked “oh no”s and “oh we messed up”s, the two of you try the couple skateboarding move too; no one’s watching you here. It’s fun to see him stress over a skateboard because frankly, you’ve never met anyone as easy-going as Sungchan. (“I’ll figure it out along the way,” he says when you ask if he’s studying for finals, and proceeds to get a decent enough score). Suddenly the wandering gap is closed again. You’re not going to worry about stupid rumours from now on.

But for some reason, ‘you like him as a friend’ doesn’t sound right either. Despite having said it so many times, you might not believe in it. You shake off the thought. This evening, at least, you’re going to enjoy with Sungchan without thinking of teenage drama and hormones.

"You still don't think you and Sungchan make the perfect pair?" Yuna pouts.

You narrow your eyes. "I don't take opinions from traitors."

Chaeryoung leans back on her chair, and whispers to you asking if you’re okay. At least someone is concerned about you.

“It hurts to be left by my own friends but—”

“No, I meant, are you okay? Why aren’t you dating Sungchan already? You’re so cute together! And you’re best friends—Netflix writers literally daydream of this.”

You groan, throwing up your hands in defeat.

“And,” Yuna adds, knocking her chair closer. “Who’s really the traitor here? Us who ditched you with the love of your life—or you, who runs off every time she gets a call from her boyfriend?”

“Sungchan is not my boyfriend.” You cross your arms.

“She even shares her lunch with him more,” Ryujin complains from the side. “And they’re not even in the same class. Unlike me, by the way. Class 1 Shin Ryujin. Same class as you, (name).”

You slump, resting your forehead against the desk. At this point, you wish the teacher would walk in and start the class already. Unfortunately, lunch break isn’t over for another ten minutes and lady luck clearly isn’t smiling upon you.

“Speak of the devil!” Ryujin announces monotonously, leaning against her desk.

Sungchan and a few of his friends from the soccer team wave at you and the girls from the classroom door. Noticing Taehyun, Yuna quickly fixes her hair and you would tease her if Sungchan hadn’t casually strolled up to your desk and sat down on the chair in front of you. Long legs barely contained in the space, he adjusts himself by resting his arm on the headrest and his chin upon it. It’s all normal. However, when he leans down to match your eye level, you hear the sudden pit-a-pat of your pulse in your ear. At this proximity, you can even see the mole on his lip that he’s pointed out before. The sunlight from the open windows is pulling golden strings over his eyelashes and his lips aren’t dry as a desert like you expected. You know he uses the watermelon flavoured lip balm.

“Too close,” you croak. Embarrassed at your own voice, you rise sharply and glare at him.

“Is your heart fluttering?” Sungchan asks, smiling as he looks up at you.

You roll your eyes.

You can hear Yuna’s giggling and before you can shoot her a glare, Sungchan calls.

"Do you have any bandaids?"

He points to a rough scratch at the base of his palm, fingers slender and less calloused than what you'd pictured. Then again, soccer players don't use their hands much, do they?

You blink. "You came all the way here for bandaids?"

"Well… I remembered you keep band-aids in your phone case. And the nurse hates me."

You giggle.

Yujin mouths from behind Sungchan, “He just wanted to see her.”

You would feel flattered if you didn't know these people and their shenanigans. They'd do anything for some drama (and to get two innocent people into the dating trap).

“Why would I waste my cute band aids on you?” you mutter under your breath. “They’re limited edition, you know?”

No way are you sticking Ice Bear on your urban hazard of a best friend. A tall, cute, surprisingly polite hazard but he still annoys you nonetheless.

However, Sungchan's pleading smile has grown on you.

You reluctantly take the band-aid out of your clear phone case, the pink panda doll attached to it swaying with the movement. Proceeding, you take Sungchan's hand and lay it on your desk. With careful focus, you place the band-aid, admiring the size difference of your hands before snapping to reality.

Enough with the pink cloud of thoughts, you scold yourself.

When you look up, the proximity makes your heart skip a beat despite the logical part of you saying you shouldn't. Your faces are too close and this time, you don't even have the energy to croak it out.

"Thanks, (name)," Sungchan smiles at you.

Right then, the sound of a chair sliding harshly against the floor makes the two of you jolt away from each other. All of your friends and his friends seem to be sporting Cheshire cat grins and you don't like it one bit. You don't like not being in on the gag.

"Anybody up for gaming after this? My treat." Chenle looks around. “Sungchan is banned from the arcade soccer game though.”

"'Ey," Sungchan complains.

"Hey, Jisung and Ryujin are banned from DDR too but that's because they almost broke the handles off last time."

The memory makes you smile. Sungchan was there too, and you don’t know why you’re only just recalling all the memories with him in it, carefully and in detail. Every one of them seems to have been amplified, the little interactions suddenly coming to mind.

“(name)? You’re coming?”

You take one look at Sungchan and give up. Even if this is another childish ploy by your peers, you don't mind spending some more time at the arcade with infuriatingly addictive games. A tiny part of you is even willing to go along with them and see if it turns out the way they want it to.

“I’ll go,” you mumble, and the rest of the group cheers.

“But I have cleaning duty today.”

The group groans.

“Just get someone else to do it. Like a junior.”

“Isn’t that bullying?” You ask, frowning.

“Ask nicely. Anyone would be willing to do your bidding, (name).”

“Chenle, will you do it?” You give him a sickly sweet smile. “You’re class president after all.”

Chenle wrinkles his nose. “You’re getting stupider every day, (name).”

You sigh. “Fine. I’ll ask one of Yuna’s classmates then.”

“By the way,” Chenle announces. “Only twelfth graders are invited—”

A bunch of groans interrupt him.

“Quit whining.” He crosses his arms, glaring at them. “What do you even have to worry about? We’re preparing for the exam of our lives. Oh, and Jisung is an exception.”

“We’re only two years apart,” Yuna mutters under her breath.

“Oh, and from class 5, only Sungchan is invited.”

Another round of complaints pass and Chenle breaks into laughter. “Just kidding.”

Your friends are and will always be an odd bunch. Sungchan has previously proved to be the weirdest (several times) and it makes him the most lovable too. But then again, you don’t have free space in your timetable to put in teenage crushes, much less falling for your best friend. What you do have time for this afternoon, however, is relaxing at the arcade.

“Let’s go! I am so good at this. Think I’d impress your Steve Curry?” Ryujun gloats, after having scored three hoops in a row at the arcade basketball game.

“It’s Stephen Curry,” Chenle corrects. “And no, let’s focus here. Our goals are—”

He points to the two figures by the DDR machine, looking like a real couple. He’s been acting as damage control for the rumours and making sure you don’t drift apart because of it. They really don’t make guys like him anymore, Chenle sighs. He should get a friendship award or something.

“—those two.”

Really, Sungchan better be thanking him by the end of this. He’s never met anyone quite like Jung Sungchan, especially because Chenle cannot picture himself liking the same person since elementary school.

“Man, now I wish I had a girlfriend,” Chenle mutters.

Ryujin snorts. “Who’s going to date you?”

“You don’t have a boyfriend either,” Chenle reminds and gets a basketball to the shoulder.

“Why are you playing that when you don’t even know how to use it?” Your voice rings through to them.

“I said I’ll figure it out!” Sungchan reasons.

Chenle and Ryujin stare at the two of you blankly, as you bicker over a claw machine game and they share a look.

“Do they need our help?” Ryujin whispers.

Chenle shakes his head. “I think they’ll figure it out from here.”

Soon enough, you were laughing at Sungchan’s failed attempts and trying to outplay him. Your friends have already given you the shove. Chenle and Ryujin share a high five and that’s where the new story begins.

You finally know the thrill of a teenage crush. It makes you so damn infuriated that it had to be Jung Sungchan.

Now every time he waves at you from the field or hands you a bottle of strawberry milk or explains the calc notes you missed or does the bare minimum, you need to deal with the quickening of your pulse and a few butterflies loose from their cage in your stomach. It doesn’t help that you’re almost always together.

The two of you currently sit by the school field, Sungchan tying his shoelaces while you cool off with the water bottle he offered you. Practice ended a while ago for you and the girls have receded into the air conditioned indoor gym. The indoor gym is apparently occupied by the gymnast club and you couldn’t be more disappointed that you didn’t join them instead.

If anything, however, you’d rather leave this whole thing and focus on your academics. Hobbies shouldn’t be draining you—they should feel like skateboarding on a lilac evening with the wind in your hair.

With a friend you like very, very much.

“Sungchan,” you call quietly.

“Hm?”

When he looks up, you can’t hold in the urge to fix the hair out of his eyes. You’ve never been very physically affectionate so it might have come off strange. Sungchan looks at you quietly, stars in his eyes and you clear your throat.

“How long have you been playing soccer? It was before we met, right?”

He hums, eyes traveling up and then back to you when he remembers. “Since I was six. You were there at my first soccer match actually.”

“I was? Oh my god, was it the one you lost horribly and the whole team started crying?”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

You giggle. “Six year old you would be so in awe now.”

Sungchan beams at that.

“Who knows?” he smiles, looking into your eyes with firm determination. “Maybe I’ll be the next Son Heungmin.”

“Even I know who that is so… no.”

Sungchan pouts and you make a face in disgust. “Don’t act cute, it gives me hives.”

“Okay, maybe not Son Heungmin. I could definitely be the next Park Jisung—and I don’t mean him.”

Sungchan points to a boy passed out on the benches, his exhaustion typical of any high schooler while another boy sits beside him, fanning him with a bunch of assignment papers. Jisung and Chenle really are more entertaining than any game on this field.

You turn to look at Sungchan, who’s moving his head around trying to catch their attention. When he finally does, he waves at them and gets big grins in response. He’s not all that bad, you think. In fact, he’s quite possibly the most amiable boy in senior year.

“Just be Jung Sungchan,” you mutter. “Not Son Heungmin or Park Jisung.”

Sungchan turns to you, smiling wide. “Advice taken.”

You scoff. “Whatever.”

Maybe it’s just you but Sungchan has been glancing at your lips very frequently today and mentally thank Chaeryoung for letting you borrow her lip tint. You didn’t know something so subtle could get you this giddy.

“Are you… going to give the CSAT?” You ask, glancing at him nervously. Part of you is sad you only developed your first high school crush in the very last semester. Or if it’s comforting, you could believe you’ve liked him all this time.

“Nah. Sports scholarship,” he says nonchalantly. “I was going to tell you but… I’ve been scouted already.”

You gasp. “That’s… great. Your future’s all settled.”

Sungchan seems to dislike the idea, lips pursing. “I don’t think anything’s settled except for the next step.”

You nod, somewhat understanding.

“What about you?” He asks. “Any university in mind? SKY? I’ve seen you study extra hours at the library.”

You look away, not feeling ready for the conversation.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “I don’t know what I like and what I want. I don’t even like cheer anymore.”

Sungchan gazes at you wordlessly but it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt talking about this.

“Maybe I should quit,” you mumble.

You don’t want to commit to something you no longer have passion for. But then again, you’ve spent so much time on it that it’s hard to leave.

“You should,” he responds, honest.

You scoff, shaking yourself from that moment of vulnerability. “But why would I quit something I’m good at?”

“If you don’t like it. If it hurts to leave but isn’t any better when you stay, you should leave.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re quite the philosopher.”

“I’m smart, right?”

You smile.

“Oy, you two!” Chenle calls, making his way to you two with Jisung trailing behind. “I don’t mean to interrupt your flirting but you got a spare water bottle?”

“Are you two going out now?” Jisung asks as a follow-up, and you feel a hot flush for some reason, unlike the previous times you’ve been asked this question.

“No,” you answer. You don’t mind the idea though now.

“Don’t lie,” Chenle complains. “I saw that picture of Sungchan teaching you how to kick a ball. You? And soccer? Something’s up.”

You throw up your hands in exasperation. “Seriously, who keeps up posting to the school page? And where do they get the time?”

"Two people with this much compatibility will always be a hot topic."

"We're not compatible," you retort quickly.

"Wait," Jisung says. "I know how to resolve this."

You raise an eyebrow.

"How do you have your cereal?" He asks, looking from you to Sungchan.

"Cereal first, obviously," you answer.

Sungchan looks up, finger below his chin as he thinks. "I drink the milk first, then eat the cereal and then breakdance to mix it all together."

You pinch your nose. "I swear I question your sanity all the time."

"Hah! That means you're thinking about me all the time."

You look away, rolling your eyes. He responds with an open-mouthed smile and finger guns.

"See?" Jisung grins. "Compatible."

The gruff voice of Coach Lee startles the four of you and Sungchan leaves with a sigh and a promise of meeting after practice. Jisung leaves with Sungchan and Chenle gives you one last teasing smirk before sitting down and going through the assignment papers he was using as a fan previously. You will never understand his miraculous ways of performing his presidential duties.

You don’t have a good feeling about the next match. The only reason you’re even sticking around anymore—as embarrassing as it—is to spend more time with Sungchan. Being with him puts you at ease, even if the school tries to wrap the two of you in a rope of uneasiness. This is your very last practice, for the next match is the final one of this year and then you’ll be back to spending even longer hours at the library with a stack of textbooks. It’s supposed to be a carefree age. At least, adults say that. Your high school life seems to be riddled with worries, and with that thought, you head into the air conditioned room to take a breather off your anxieties.

Only one more match, you remind yourself.

The pre-match buzz is driving you to the edge.

Your form is off, you can feel it already and Coach Kim isn’t as sunshine-as-rainbows as she usually is, courtesy to it being the last match of your life. She’ll never know though, how much you don’t want to do this.

Sungchan waves at you as he usually does before a match, disappointing a third of his fangirls, but it helps you ease. One last time, (name).

Watching the crowd of people, parents and siblings and friends, all excited and talking makes you take a deep breath. You practiced but it wasn’t good enough. You can never do well at something you don’t like anymore. This time, you feel guilty for committing to things half-heartedly. You want to start that fresh new college chapter already, with all of this behind.

There’s ten minutes left. You go back to the empty hall outside the lockers only to pace. This isn’t helping.

“(name)!”

You turn around abruptly to find Sungchan’s tall figure, and you must be looking miserable because his smile falls.

He doesn’t even ask what’s wrong, only takes careful steps towards you. “Do you need water? Medicine?”

His hands hover over your shoulder but he doesn’t burden you with them. You put your face in your palms and sigh, sinking down to the floor in a crouch.

“I want to quit,” you whisper. Your voice comes off more brittle than you’d like, and you realize that Sungchan hasn’t seen you cry since seventh grade when you failed a math test. You didn’t tell him then but you appreciated him studying extra hours for math just to teach you.

“You don’t have to go out there if you don’t want to,” he says quietly, dropping to the floor beside you. “I’ll stay with you.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “Don’t be ridiculous! They’ll lose without you—you’re the ace, Sungchan!”

“There will always be an ace,” he retorts. “Maybe Jisung will finally get to shine. Or anyone else. I don’t mind spending an hour with you alone.”

You feel a hot flush spread over your cheeks. Looking away to the side, you mumble an ‘alright’ and only glance from the corner of your eye to see him smiling. Jung Sungchan is the most unreasonable boy you’ve ever met. Perhaps it makes him somewhat loveable too.

“It’s your last match,” you whisper helplessly.

“I’ll join the college soccer club and get to play more matches.”

You sigh, giving in. If he’s so adamant, you think that perhaps there is something in you worth sacrificing his game over. It makes an oddly warm feeling bloom in your chest. Sungchan is so damn convincing with his words. You wonder if it’s really okay.

With shoulders touching, an awkward silence takes over in the next second. You turn to him and open your mouth, watch him do the same and close it at the same time he does.

“You know,” he begins, “I was kind of lying about not worrying because I get the feeling coach will evaporate me tomorrow but—I can handle it. Mostly.”

You stare at him with wide, worried eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Sungchan. I’m the one running away.”

You slouch, pulling your knees closer to your chest and burying your face in them. The urge to scream is boiling within you but you can’t get caught. Not now.

“Sometimes to run is the brave thing,” he responds, insightful. “If you’re not up for it, it’s better to quit early than to regret it in the long run.”

You don’t know if it’s the fact that he just quoted Taylor Swift or spoke like your old school counselor—but you find yourself laughing. He makes sense. Sungchan, in his weird, oddball ways, always makes sense. And in that same way, he feels like home.

“You’re so good to me,” you say, looking up at him and at a proximity you’ve never been before.

It’s his turn to fluster, though he doesn’t do so as visibly as you do. He clears his throat, shifting his eyes around before meeting yours. “I- This is bad timing but… I like you. I really do. Since third grade when you drew that birthday card for me. I have it in my bedside drawer, by the way.”

He looks away and makes a face, probably wondering why he said that out loud.

You press your lips tight to prevent the smile that tugs at them. He looks at you with a wobbly smile, trying his hardest to resume his usual dignity—but he’s just a boy, after all.

“My type is dumb and pretty, though?” You tease, the smile escaping. “You said it yourself.”

He blinks. “Well, I am pretty but if you want me to be stu—”

You shake your head. “I like you too. You don’t have to act cute.”

He pauses, thinking. “I have never acted cute in my life ever. I was born cu—”

You hold his face between your thumb and forefinger. “You do that again and you die.”

He breaks into a smile.

“I’ve never met someone quite like you,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own feelings bubbling up from the bottle you had kept them in.

He laughs, open-mouthed and pretty.

“Actually, hey, I didn’t like you all this time from fifth. I liked you and then I didn’t like you and then I liked you again—”

“Okay, I get it.”

His shoulders relax and he smiles at you. You look up at the clock on the wall by the entrance to the field and bite your lip. You don’t love performing anymore but you know all the girls do, even the stand-bys. Jisung might not have to take over Sungchan’s position but you bet one of those tenth graders would love to take yours, the same way you did back then. They’ve practiced harder than you too and it’s only a matter of deserving.

You take a deep breath and get up, pulling up Sungchan by the hand. He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive eyes scanning over your face and you smile at him, strengthening your resolve. You should have done this way sooner.

Sungchan plays. You don’t let him sit it out with you.

Halfway through, you cheer the hardest you ever have, plastic decorative gemstones stuck by your eyes borrowed from the other girls cheering. It’s much more fun, you think. You’ve never experienced soccer like this. You’d love to sit at stadiums and join in victory chants. There’s enough weight off your chest to yell your lungs out.

Sungchan scores a goal almost immediately after and sends a thumbs up over to you. You laugh. This is the best break you’ve ever taken from cheerleading.

“Ooh, is this perhaps the (name) effect?” Chenle’s voice rings through the speakers and you feel yourself shrink slightly under the eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your homeroom teacher signal very angrily to the commentator box. You shake yourself off it. So what if everyone’s looking?

Sungchan places his hands on his hips, chest heaving and sends another signal to you before beelining for a straight goal. You whoop and the girl with a notebook beside you is visibly annoyed at this point but you don’t care.

Without doubt, your school wins and you watch as Sungchan runs to his team, a big smile on his face. The second he’s done getting pet by the team, however, he rushes to the bleachers, skipping over the steps to you, panting when he stops. The risk he took was definitely not calculated. He holds up one finger while he heaves.

“My cheering worked best this time, it seems,” you say to him, laughing.

His face is flushed from the exertion but he laughs heartily. “You could be yelling profanity at me and it’d still encourage me.”

You shake your head at the cheesy line. He takes a step forward, well inside your space but you don’t mind. He leans in.

“Everyone is looking at us,” he says under his breath. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

You look behind him to find the whole team, along with your girls sharing furtive glances and giggling at the sight of the two of you. A few of the junior girls slap each other’s arms, bouncing on the balls of their feet in excitement. You’re not a celebrity. But everyone wants to cheer things on once in a while, don’t they?

“Good,” you answer, before pulling him by the shirt into a chaste kiss. When you pull apart, Sungchan’s face is so struck with awe that you want to look away but instead you bite back an obvious smile. It’s about damn time, someone from the soccer team yells.

“Woah. I think I scored a goal either way,” he says, an offbeat smile on his face.

“Oh come on, we didn’t even get to chant ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ yet—oh shit, the mic’s on.”

Chenle is definitely getting an earful from your teacher after this. The two of you wave at him at the box and end up laughing at him trying to hide behind the desk.

As expected, the whole crowd surrounds the two of you in less than a minute’s worth of time, with several congratulations and “good score” offered to the two of you. The boys mess up Sungchan’s hair while the girls compliment you on how cute a couple you are. There’s also the question of when you started dating that pauses the buzz and makes everyone look to the two of you for an answer. Sungchan turns to you and you turn to him, and there’s no way you’ll tell half the school that your confession came in a private hallway outside the field—teenage imaginations run wild.

Instead, you slip your hand into Sungchan’s and run down the bleachers and towards the exit, laughter spilling from your lips. There’s only one place you can think of going to spend a cool blue late afternoon with.

“Skate plaza?” He asks.

“Skate plaza,” you answer.

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #nct x reader #sungchan x reader #nct fluff #sungchan fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #sungchan imagines #sungchan scenarios #nct x you #sungchan x you #nct sungchan #jung sungchan #nct oneshot #sungchan oneshot #nct fanfic #sungchan fanfic #moonwrites

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miyagihawk · 3 years

Text

why’d you only call me when you’re high? pt. 2 | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

part one

here’s part 2 by popular demand! based off the arctic monkeys song and amazing request by @deadbeatharlz <3 thank you guys for the support on part 1 im so happy you liked it :)

warnings: self harming behavior, LOTS of swearing, alcohol and drug abuse, sooo so angstyyyy buckle up

summary: it’s been 3 months since your last night with hawk, and you haven’t been yourself.

word count: 3,062

The past 3 months have been rough. Maybe the worst you’ve ever been. You fell into the deep hole that you dug yourself. The hole of loving Hawk Moskowitz.

You never thought you’d be one of those people who let unrequited love devastate their whole being. In fact you always thought the whole heartbreak thing was pathetic and melodramatic. Until it happened to you.

You hate yourself for letting him have this effect on you. But there’s a pestering voice in the back of your mind that reminds you: it’s all your fault. He didn’t ask you to love him. It’s just easier to blame him for your downfall.

Parties, drugs, alcohol. Sex with people you don’t even know. High on the same drug that compelled him to call you in the night.

You’ve become so desperate to forget him that you ruined yourself. It hurts your pride to be the whiny heartbroken girl who let a stupid boy’s rejection shatter her self worth. But the hole is too deep and there’s no hope trying to grasp onto the dirt walls to get out.

The worst part of it is that he sees it all. At school, (if you even go) he looks at you like the scum of the earth as he passes by with his little karate gang. When you end up at the same party, he’ll have a disgusted expression on his face and leave as if he can’t bare to look at you.

Tonight is one of those nights, and you watch him from across the backyard as he goofs around with his friends. He hasn’t noticed you yet, hence why he’s even still here and not on his way out the door to get away from you.

“If you stare at him any longer, I think he’ll shoot up into flames,” your best friend Robby hands you a cup, and you don’t hesitate before downing its unknown contents. The burn in your throat makes you hum with content.

“That’s the plan,” you take your eyes of off Hawk to look at Robby. You gesture to his own cup in his hand, “Are you gonna drink that?”

“Easy there, Y/N. We got here 5 minutes ago,” he warns, but holds out the drink towards you anyway. Robby’s always been worried about you and your habits, but he knows how you can be when you’re told no.

You swallow down the drink in a few seconds, ignoring his remark. “5 minutes? I can beat my record!” you cheer sarcastically, and start walking to the kitchen in search of a keg. Robby follows closely behind you, a wary look on his face.

The fuzzy feeling starts to take over your body as you throw back drink after drink. It’s the buzz you crave every second of every day because it just makes you feel so good. Everything is happier and your cares feel so far away. Hawk feels so far away.

You sit on the couch next to Robby in your dazed trance, drunkenly rambling to him about random things. He glares at anyone who comes near you and looks like they would take advantage of you in your state.

Robby really hates you like this, but he can’t help but feel protective over you. He’s not even a fan of parties; he really only goes to keep an eye on you. You’re grateful even though you act like you hate it when he babysits you.

“Heyyy pretty Y/N! Want some?” Yasmine approaches where you sit, a joint held between her fingers. Her eyes are drooped and she sways as she stands.

You reach out to take the blunt, but you feel Robby push your arm down. “You’re already drunk. That’s enough,” he says sternly, making you roll your eyes.

“I can do what I want, Dad,” you taunt, and take the joint from Yasmine. Smoke fills up your lungs, immediately giving you pleasure. Robby just shakes his head in disapproval as the air around him becomes hazy.

“I’m going to the bathroom. Stay here,” he orders, getting up from the couch.

You nod, but of course, you don’t listen. The sound of splashing from outside sets off a lightbulb above your head and you feel like you’re floating while you walk to the backyard.

Right as you step out of the house, you make eye contact with none other than Hawk. He gives you a distasteful look like always, before turning back to his group. Asshole.

You just scoff and stumble towards the pool, where a couple is making out and a few people are drunkenly playing with the water like little kids.

Reaching the edge of the pool’s rim, you let yourself fall in with a splash. You feel the pressure in your ears start to build as you sink to the bottom. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re cross faded, but being underwater feels like a world of bliss.

The loud music of the party is muted, creating a sense of serenity. The legs of the other people in the pool make you laugh to yourself, sending bubbles from your mouth to the surface. It’s glittery and pretty and you want to stay forever.

You don’t know how long you’re under there for, but you don’t notice your lungs running out of air. It just feels good to be alone for a second. Next thing you know, you feel your eyes start to droop closed; a strange peace overcoming your body.

A loud thrashing noise in the water makes you wake up with a gasp. You swallow too much water as you feel someone grab hold of your arm. It’s all a blur and you’re being pulled up to the surface, taking you away from the tranquil world you were just in.

The music is pounds against your ears again and the air is cold on your skin. You feel your body being laid down on the concrete of the poolside, but everything feels numb. You just feel sleepy and you want to close your eyes again.

“Y/N, hey, wake up. Wake up,” a voice makes your eyes shoot back open. Someone is looking down at you, with a hand shaking your shoulder. Your vision is somewhat blurry, but the mohawk gives it away. It’s him.

You suddenly become aware of the large amount of water in your lungs and you turn over to your side to cough it up. After you get it all out, you notice the people at the party looking at you with eyes of pity mixed with judgement.

“What the fuck were you doing? You could’ve died, are you fucking stupid?” Hawk curses, but even in your inebriated state you can hear a hint of worry in his voice.

You sit up to face him. He looks angry; his clothes and hair are as wet as yours.

Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen in your brain, or maybe it’s the marijuana and alcohol, but you just feel the urge to laugh. So you do. Like a complete maniac. The way he probably just saved your life like he cares is sickly comedic to you.

His face twists in confusion as you break out into a fit of giggles. “Are you serious? You’re fucking insane, Y/N,” he gets up, shaking his head at you. He gives a glare to the people staring, and they look away in fear.

You think he’s going to leave like usual, but he surprises you by grabbing your arm to pull you up. People whisper amongst themselves as he drags you through the backyard, going through a gate that leads to front of the house. You trip over your own feet, still feeling dizzy from almost drowning, but he just pulls you along.

“What are you doing?” you ask, tugging on your arm to try and release it from the tight grip he has on you. You’re both dripping chlorinated water, leaving a track of drops on the concrete below.

“You’re going home Y/N,” he says sternly. You two arrive at his car and he opens the passenger door. “Get in.”

“Hey!” a voice yells from the house and you both turn to see Robby rushing towards the car. He looks pissed, and now you remember him telling you to stay put. Shit.

“Robby I-”

“Don’t get in there with him Y/N,” he says, sending a death stare to the boy next to you.

“I’m taking her home, Keene, so back the fuck off. Get in Y/N,” Hawk snaps, clenching his fists.

You keep quiet, not wanting to add to the fire already starting. They loathe each other; if not because of the karate rivalry, then because of you. To Robby, Hawk broke your heart and made you spiral. To Hawk, Robby is the piece of shit who he thinks is your boyfriend, and he won’t admit it but he’s jealous.

“You’re not driving her, asshole. You’re probably as drunk as her,” Robby reaches to take your arm, but Hawk pulls you back.

“You don’t know shit about me, Keene. I’ve been sober for three months, so yeah, I will drive her,” Hawk picks you up like you’re a doll, placing you in the passenger seat and closing the door. You don’t resist, you just feel tired and your head starts to pound as if the mix of drugs in your system are punishing you. The window’s down, so you can still hear the two boys loud and clear.

I’ve been sober for three months, his voice echoes in your head.

“Oh so now you care so much about her? It’s your fault she’s like this!” Robby raises his voice even more, starting to move towards Hawk threateningly. You begin to feel scared that a physical fight might actually break out, but you don’t know what to do.

“I’m not the one who almost let her die a few minutes ago, am I? Just fuck off, we’re leaving,” Hawk dismisses him, walking around the car to the driver’s seat. You’re surprised by his self control to not throw a punch, especially with his reputation.

“Robby, it’s okay. I just want to go home. I’ll call you, alright?” you reach your hand out of the window in reassurance and he takes hold of it. Hawk clenches his jaw as he turns on the engine.

“Promise you’ll be careful? I’m sorry I left you,” Robby furrows his eyebrows in worry. When he came out of the bathroom, someone filled him in on what happened to you and he almost had a heart attack.

“Promise. And it’s my fault,” you hook your pinky with his, before the car pulls out of the curb and separates you from your best friend. He watches you guys drive away, an anxious expression etched on his face.

The whole situation has sobered you up pretty well, and now you’re left with a throbbing headache, wet clothes, and awkward tension. You hate it. Being sober. You miss the foggy feeling that prevents you from thinking too hard about things. But now you’re inches away from the boy who broke your heart, all by choice.

You don’t know why you agreed to go with him, but did you even have a choice? You’re confused by his actions. He acts like he hates you but he jumps in a pool for you. He yelled at you but he’s driving you home. It all makes you overthink and it causes your head to ache even more.

You hold your head in your hands to try and ease the pain as Hawk drives quietly.

“You good?” he breaks the silence. His voice is softer compared to how he talked to Robby minutes ago.

“Head hurts,” you mumble.

“What were you doing back there? If I didn’t get you out, you’d probably be in the hospital right now,” he says. You peek at him through your hands and his eyes are on the road.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It was just peaceful. I didn’t really even think about breathing.”

He scoffs. “Well that’s just fucking stupid. You’re lucky I noticed you were under for so long.”

“Well thanks,” you reply quietly, feeling like a little kid being scolded.

There’s a couple beats of silence before he speaks, “What happened to you?”

The question makes you sit up and look over at him. “What are you talking about?”

“The old Y/N wouldn’t even touch a drink. You’re different,” Hawk taps his finger on the wheel in thought. His icy blue eyes quickly glance at your confused look before returning to the road.

“You happened, Hawk.” You pinch your temples in frustration. Anger starts to bubble up in your stomach at his criticism. At the mention of “old you”.

“I didn’t do this to you,” he shakes his head, as if trying to convince himself of his own words.

“You did,” you raise your voice, making him flinch. “You know it.”

“What, because I stopped sleeping with you? I didn’t make you fall in love with me, Y/N. You did that to yourself,” he spits, sending a knife to your heart and making you see red.

“You knew I loved you way before I said it. But you still stringed me along, didn’t you? You knew I would pick up everytime you called. You knew that I would let you into my bed because I was the girl who loved you no matter how fucking shitty you were!” you fire back, vomiting out words that you’ve wanted to say for months. The alcohol in your system makes you bolder than usual, but you’re grateful for it.

He’s at a loss for words at your outburst so you continue, “I didn’t ask for this Hawk. Loving you. I’m sorry that I’m such a burden and that you hate me so much that you can’t stand being in the same room as me. But please just answer me this and I’ll leave you alone forever. I’ll leave when we show up at the same party and I’ll even hide in the halls so you don’t have to see my face.”

You pause, choking on your words. You didn’t even realize that the car is already parked in front of your house and your clothes are halfway dry.

“Why don’t you love me?” your voice cracks as you spit out the question that has caused you to throw yourself away. The question with an answer that could dissipate your self worth in a mere moment.

Hawk finally looks into your glassy eyes with shock. He could’ve never anticipated what you asked him and his mouth runs dry.

“I told you, I- I don’t deserve someone like you loving me,” he swallows, but you shake your head.

“That’s not what I asked.”

He blinks slowly, trying to come up with an excuse. Any excuse, to avoid telling you the truth. You can see the inner conflict on his face, the panicked speed of his running thoughts.

“You should go home, Y/N,” he deflects, turning away from you. Putting on his mask to keep you from reading him like a book.

“I’m not going until you tell me,” you demand.

“Just get out of the car, fuck!” Hawk yells, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel. It makes you jump a little, but you’re too angry to fear the flames in his eyes.

“Why can’t you just tell me!” you fire back. “You came to me almost every night, so why do I feel something that you don’t? Is it me? Is there something wrong with me?”

“What do you want me to fucking say Y/N! That I do love you? Fucking fine. I love you. Is that what you wanted to hear? Just get out.”

I love you.

The same words you said that made him leave.

“You don’t even mean that,” you blink back your tears.

His voice is softer now, more gentle. “If I didn’t mean it then I wouldn’t have said it.”

“You said you needed me and then you left me,” your voice shakes and you hate how pathetic you sound.

“I-I didn’t leave you,” he stammers before taking a deep breath. “I left because you wanted something more than I could give you. I would’ve felt like a selfish asshole if we became more than just sex, Y/N. You deserve someone like Keene and yeah he’s a pussy but he’s good. Better than me.”

It feels like every piece in the puzzle is being put together. Everything makes sense. He does love you, but he was just afraid. He can’t be near you because it hurts too much to see someone he can’t have. Somehow, you can’t find the anger you’ve held against him for these past months; you just understand him now.

“I’m sorry, alright? For everything. For treating your feelings like shit. All of it.”

You swallow, thinking about his words. It all feels too much and the truth is now looking you in the eye, demanding an answer. You love him, but he dropped your heart on the floor for you to pick up every shard. Is one sorry going to magically fix everything?

“I- I don’t know what to say,” you admit, and he nods in understanding.

“You don’t have to say anything. Let’s just... move on. And you get better... I hate seeing you like this,” Hawk scans your red eyes and dilated pupils. “We’ll get to a better place and you and me, we’ll be good.”

It’s bittersweet, but he’s right. Being together now just because he loves you back would be a huge jump that would only end in broken hearts and toxic cycles. It would be foolish. As much as you want him, the only person who can fix you is yourself.

So it’s a meet up at the top of the mountain, when you’ve both made the journey from opposite sides.

“A better place,” you reiterate, before placing a light kiss to his cheek and leaving the car with a new sense of closure.

a/n: that was longer than i planned and a freaking roller coaster!!!!!!! im not sure if there should be a part 3? lmk what you think maybe it’ll just be short. but hehe i added robby into the mix he was so cute. ty for reading!

taglist for people who wanted part 2 :) ty friends for the support <3 @littlered6307 @deadbeatharlz @spiderman-berries @axastasiasstuff @r0-xie @estupidteen @hawkwhore @idkwhatishouldput4

#eli moskowitz #hawk cobra kai #cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai x reader #eli moskowitz imagine #eli moskowitz x reader #hawk imagine #hawk x reader #cobrakai #hawk moskowitz

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dyketubbo · 3 years

Text

im rewatching doomsday (comps of all povs of course) and. yeah i just.. feel bad for the lmanburgians. i dont know how i could just. say these people deserved it, when they all sound, panicked and desperate and so so fucking sad. long long ramble under the cut as i recount the events and pick out a bunch of little things

even the day before then is painful. ranboos panic room. ranboo and tubbos talk (tubbo admitting that hes wrong, saying he believes that history is repeating itself and trusting ranboo because he believes in his loyalty), fundy showing the ring toss. tubbos surprise at being told to kill dream before stating that quackity would be in control if he didnt (god, did he plan to fail?). tommy being so so excited. everyone playing ring toss and cheering on jack. tommy still believing in tubbo. tubbo panicking. ranboo and tommy and techno talking, ranboo giving them info. dream placing walls and quackity instructing tubbo on where to kill dream. dream lying about the community house. the entire community house debacle. just, everything.

and then doomsday itself. having to frantically get there because it started early, tubbo only having diamond armor to protect him, fundy standing still after he sabotaged them. tubbo and ranboos genuine despair about the apiary.

tubbo eventually going nonverbal and actively putting himself in danger, not even moving away from techno at first and getting in the way of the firework launcher. tubbo trying to save tommy from the fireworks, ponks broken "dont come over here!" after she was trying to save his cat, tommys face falling and desperate attempts at convincing techno, ranboo going "its all gone", niki spiralling and silently burning down the tree, quackitys pure anger. all the death messages.

jack going "what is there left to protect", tommy brokenly trying to accept that its gone as tubbo and quackity blankly do accept it. jack going "i lost everything again". tommy desperately trying to understand dream, on the verge of tears as he asks why dream didnt just hurt him. his low health and food as hes unable to do anything anymore, his quiet gasp as he spots ghostbur, tubbos tiny shake of his head when dream says dream and tommys story wont be over.

tubbo and quackity breaking the repeaters. ghostburs "i didnt even know we were fighting". ghostbur finding out phil let friend die, hes pained "phil? but i- i gave, i gave phil to look after. and dream found me friend, and technoblade said we were friends", tommys pained talk about technoblade. "we were never his friend. to him, all of this was just an act of politics, an act of clout and a-a social ladder, and you won't remember. tubbo you will, and to you big q, this was a friendship. but to technoblade, this was a ladder. and techno climbed to the tippity talk. do you wanna know the only way you can go? on the ladder? -- and once you reach the top of the ladder tubbo, you can only go down."

quackity asking to sing the anthem again, him strumming as ghostbur sings (and tubbo and tommy joining in). ghostbur forgetting the second verse because it blew up. quackity remembering it, them stumbling through it. tommys "tubbo? im so so sorry", tubbos quiet "its okay." the four all singing together. tubbo looking at the lava with an ender pearl in his hand, tommy correcting quackity and going "our l'manburg". ghostburs speech about friend, about people not taking him seriously just because he has memory loss.

meanwhile.. phil and techno were laughing. cracking jokes. phil mocks them as he spawns withers on the apiary, going "ohhh noo not the bees!". techno shouts at tommy and shoots at him and tubbo. he kills jack and doesnt even notice that it was one of his lives lost. jacks death itself proves that it doesnt take any particular intent, doesnt have to mean anything to the killer. techno and phil were willing to kill people. it would be foolish of them to act as if there were no risks in the terms of canon lives, especially with phil. phil doesnt take ghostbur seriously, treats his despair as an opportunity to drill in a lesson. the most either of them lost was some of the dogs and used up potions, fireworks, and wither skulls

and then theres dream. dream whose been harming the l'manburgians since the beginning, who had taken tubbo hostage, offered eret a chance to betray them all, who had been the man in tommys walls and offering money to tubbo and jack to try and get them to destroy things, who tried to get tommy to kill tubbos villagers. dream, who took tommys discs over and over, who killed tommy twice in one day, who stopped caring about his friends that loved him and were so so loyal. dream, who helped schlatt and pushed wilbur deeper into his spiral, who even then tried to manipulate tommy.

dream, who helped destroy l'manburg the first and second time, who took advantage of tubbo so he could have a premeditated kidnapping of tommy. dream, who abused tommy, physically, psychologically, emotionally. dream, who degraded tubbo and had taken ranboos memory book (which btw, since ranboos memory loss counts as a mental disability with the memory book as his aid, thats dream taking the thing that aids ranboo in dealing with his disability).

dream, who had been the reason l'manburg was created. dream, who got to destroy l'manburg three times. dream won. and techno and phil dont regret it, dont care.

maybe l'manburg was never meant to be. and sure, it started with stealing and an attempt to monopolize on potions but. that wasnt even l'manburg then, was it? it was just wilbur and tommy having fun. l'manburg came after. after the police hurt them. l'manburg started as a silly little revolution, led by a naïve man who thought he could win wars by saying no. it was a place for a family, a place for them to escape from dream. it was a place to try and escape the harm of those outside the walls. it was meant to be safe, even if those against them made it hard to be. it was made from love. it was meant to be happy. it was a symphony, however unfinished.

so. i don't know. i just feel, bad. they never really won, did they? tragedy after tragedy, death after death, destruction after destruction, betrayal after betrayal, hurt after hurt. and now what's left of them, really? out of the founders, erets doing the best and even shes doing awful, forever trying to make up for what he did. tubbos paranoia led him to developing nukes in a desperate attempt to stay safe, because he was taught to stay quiet and keep his emotions to himself, because his death was "justified", because nukes and walls and weapons are the only way he can feel safe anymore.

tommy went through months of abuse, lost all of his lives and suffered upon coming back, suicidal but unable to bring himself to do it because limbo is worse, feeling lost and like he has no family anymore other than wilbur, who he knows is hurting him but cant bring himself to leave, who loved lmanburg so so dearly and only wanted a home, still doesnt have one (tommy from everywhere, tommy from nowhere at all). niki who loved lmanburg and wilbur so much that it hollowed her out and made her bitter and shes so used to being spoken over that all she can think to do is raise her voice and get pissed, who cant see wilbur as a good person anymore because shes hurt and hasnt truly recovered and she doesnt know how to cope without being angry.

jack manifold feels forgotten, hes lost all his lives and crawled out of hell and no one truly noticed, he doesnt even believe that niki really cares, hes desperate and has made his purpose to be spiteful and angry because he cant deal with the emptiness that comes when he realizes theres no point. fundys desperate to have friends, family, a partner, anyone thatll love him, anyone thatll keep him safe, slowly killing himself with cigarettes and disowned because of giving too little too late, because he was too little too late.

and wilburs lost himself. spiraling, paranoid. a young, naïve man who wanted to fight swords with words, who wanted to impress his father, who wanted a nation of his own to feel safe, who was so effected by erets betrayal that he cant trust anyone but himself, whose possessive nature eats him from the inside out, desperate for control and unable to let go of the only person he knows loves him unconditionally

all because outside forces kept pushing, kept destroying, kept ruining them and hurting them and traumatizing them and taking away their homes and pets and loved ones. and i just. cant feel happy for the ones that hurt them, i cant feel victorius, triumphant, any of that. i just feel bad that the l'manburgians never got to be a family. i know they arent the best people but shit, i love them anyways, love them because theyre flawed and because theyre *people*, people who tried so so hard and got pushed so so much and. fuck, i cant be happy that the people who loved nature and play fought and laughed by campfires and read poetry and re-enacted theatre and loved each other and wanted to *live* (even if they were willing to die, if it meant giving everyone else a chance).. lost. they lost.

canonical years of work down the drain in one day. records of history gone, now only remembered in full by a traumatized teenager who was taught not to talk about his negative emotions, and even he misremembers some parts. they didnt even lose fairly. they had no chance. they couldnt have prepared for withers, for tnt rain, for the hounds. they were poor, weaker than their opponents, sabotaged by one of their own. thats.. tragic.

doomsday was a tragedy. i cant agree that it was deserved. i cant agree that they had it coming, that they deserved to lose homes and pets and limbs and lives and land because they werent the greatest people around.

a small country of less than 10 people (at both creation and destruction) now a giant crater in the ground, remnants of a parisitic egg taking over the land. and it wasnt even lost fairly. three people were stronger than an entire nation, even with all of its allies. two anarchists working with an abusive tyrant. so, no. doomsday wasnt deserved. people dont deserve tragedy. there were better ways, i truly cant be happy that the way chosen was violence. i cant.

l'manburg's citizens deserved better. they really did. the ends dont justify the means. and god, am i fucking tired of "justice". if justice means choosing violence over love and respect and caring about those less strong than you, i dont wanna hear about it. fuck that man, id rather love and be loved than constantly give a shit about making up for hurting others by getting hurt, thats stupid and cruel and i cant see it as okay on a moral level. not when the people that got hurt deserved to be loved and cared about and protected and *talked to* instead of constantly shot down.

of course for the narrative i can enjoy violence and characters getting hurt and i do like how "real" it all is, the despair and dissonance in tone and how terrifyingly messy it all is. out of story perspective- honestly rather cool even if it makes me feel bad. in story perspective- holy fucking shit no that wasnt deserved and god i hope everyone hurt will be able to heal and learn to love and be loved again because thats such a terrifying thing to go through. from a detached pov i can appreciate the insight into everyone involved and i like the plotlines that came from it, but from a compassionate pov i just wish the l'manburgians were allowed to be happy and treated as equals so they didnt have to go through all of this

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starlight-writes-stuff · 3 years

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hi, do you think you could do another blurb for ethan? maybe something nsfw? like, a party hookup? im thinkin about fratboy!ethan 👁👄👁

(wc: 5.5k) pls im always thinking about fratboy ethan :,) but yes i can do this 100 % ! this ask prompted something deep in me and i ended up making a playlist to go with it as well 🤧here’s the link to that if ur interested https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4yXuVtAKBHexm5ifE9NQ2B ! A L S O i’m sorry this took forever to get to ,,,, life has been a lot recently lol . reblogs are always appreciated ! <3

AYO LOOK AT THESE ! : smut (obvious but still) , sex while under the influence (with explicit consent given) , softdom! ethan , marajuana use , alcohol use , unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it , plz) , swearing , college au , an unus annus reference if u look close enough , and i believe thats it . enjoy ! xoxoxoxo , starlight .

a little party never killed nobody

it was the exact same as every other college party you’d ever been to. shitty music, shittier alcohol, shittiest people- except for him.

when ethan nestor had invited you to a frat party, you’d laughed in his face. you knew that he was a member of data data data, but he wasn’t the type that made it his whole personality. as far as you’d observed, he wasn’t the partying type, either, but there he was, texting you the house address.

“so you’ll come tonight? it’s going to be a pretty big thing- a lot of people coming. you should be able to walk right in, but if anyone gives you shit just tell them you’re with me,” he said, a slight smirk playing on his lips. you and ethan hadn’t been talking for long; technically, you hadn’t even known that he’d existed two weeks ago.

when ethan had first sauntered up to you in physical sciences, that same smirk painting his face, you’d picked up on the underlying chemistry right away. he was a flirt by nature, but he seemed to play it up even more around you- the brunette boy had asked for your number the first day you met, and you’d been talking almost constantly since. he was funny and sweet and extremely charismatic, and he made your heart flip in your chest with the smallest glance. the two of you hadn’t hung out alone yet, so this party felt like a big deal.

or, at least, that's what you’d thought.

when you showed up at the front door of the frat house loud, bass-filled music was already shaking the window panes in their frames, and you could hear what sounded like a hundred different voices all talking over each other. ethan hadn’t been kidding when he said that it was a big party; at least half of your year was here, plus the older and younger students interspersed throughout the throngs of people as well. as you made your way to the kitchen, ethan was nowhere to be found. you felt as if all eyes were on you as you started to pour a drink, and dimly, you wondered if people could tell that you didn’t belong.

however, most of your anxious thoughts had been subdued after the first solo cup of vodka lemonade, and you were now well through your second. the music pounding throughout the house felt as if it had infiltrated your veins, filling them with a warm, buzzing sensation that loosened your limbs. at some point, a guy had come up to chat with you. then another. you weren't sure how many times you’d given out your snapchat tonight, but it had been a lot, and you were about to do it again.

the guy you were currently talking to introduced himself as danny. he was some sort of business major, much like every other guy that you’d spoken with tonight, and was very clearly trying to hit on you. even through the alcohol-induced haze, you remembered who you came here for and you weren't leaving without him. you put a hand on danny’s shoulder, effectively cutting him off in the middle of his sentence.

“hey, do you know where ethan is? ethan nestor, i mean? he’s the one who invited me here.”

danny looked disappointed, but seemed to shift and slot puzzle pieces together in his head, snapping his fingers. “you're the girl he invited? that makes so much sense, actually. yeah, he’s out back- toking up, probably,” he explained, gesturing towards a door you would’ve never noticed. “out there and down the stairs. need an escort?”

you almost denied his advances but spotted an old fling loitering by the hidden door. giving danny a tight smile, you drained the rest of your drink and held up a finger. “one sec! stay here.”

butterflies flooded every inch of your being as you stumbled over to the makeshift bar, pouting a variety of liquors into your cup. you were going to see ethan outside of class. on his turf. something about it shook you to your core, but you couldn’t quite figure out why.

sure, ethan was hot- that was obvious. but he’d been flirty, too. were the two of you a thing? if you weren’t, why had he been talking to danny about 'the girl he was inviting’? clearly, ethan had been talking about you, you just weren't sure of the context. you tried to swallow all these fears as you topped off your cup with lemonade, taking a small sip. trying not to spit it out, you added more juice; you’d made the strongest mixture you could think of, and it tasted like some sort of poison. that didn’t stop you from taking another small sip, then a bigger one. you needed the buzz.

“okay! let's go.”

danny led you out the door and down the stairs with no issue, and you quickly realized how tipsy you were - the stairs seemed to bob and warp under your feet, and you grabbed onto the handrail with a death grip. he noticed this easily, laughing a bit. “are you good?”

“great. it's the heels and alcohol- they don't mix well.” you laughed at yourself, regretting the chunky, heeled boots you’d thrown on.

“you can ditch them, if you want. we’re going out onto a deck, so you won't be in grass or anything,” danny explained, pointing to a pile of shoes by the door you were about to exit. you weren't going to argue with that, thankful that you’d chosen cute socks as you wrestled the footwear off and tossed it onto the pile. your stomach flipped as danny opened the door, cool night air biting into your warm skin, waking you up a bit. the sourish-sweet scent of marijuana flooded the small stairwell, and danny chuckled. “told you he was smoking.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way you felt watching ethan take a long drag off of some sort of pen, letting the vapor pour from his lips in pale blue plumes. something about the easy way the smoke seemed to float from his mouth went straight to your center, and you dug your nails into your palms, trying to get yourself under control. ethan finally realized that more people had joined the small crowd on the bench, and his heavy-lidded eyes seemed to light up as they roamed all over you lazily. this only furthered the sensation between your legs, the coils starting to tighten in your lower stomach.

what the hell?

“y/n, you made it,” ethan said, a smile taking over his face. he quickly hopped down from where he’d been sitting on the guardrail and made his way over, wrapping an arm dangerously low around your waist. he hugged you tightly, making your heartbeat stutter as you squeezed him back.

you mumbled a ‘hello’ into his neck as ethan let his touch linger, your body held tightly to his. someone cleared their throat, conversation starting back up, and ethan reluctantly pulled away, dropping his eyes to yours. he kept a hand on the small of your back, sending electricity running up and down your spine. “having fun?”

you could barely talk as you forced yourself to respond. “yeah, lots. you’re a hard person to find.”

ethan grinned again, letting his head fall back as he laughed. “my bad. i thought you would text me when you got here. found someone to take care of you , though?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow. the facial expression did absolutely nothing for the situation building up under your skirt- only worsening your want for the tall boy in front of you.

“who?”

ethan smirked, dropping his lips to your ear. “that's what i like to hear. you look pretty, y/n.”

the way he said your name practically undid you, ripping your self-control apart at the already weakened seams. you let a hand wander up and down one of ethan’s sculpted arms, outlining the planes of muscle through his hoodie as you crossed your legs; sure, it was the ladylike thing to do, but you were desperately looking for some sort of friction, anything to lessen the need for him.

“thank you.”

ethan nodded, the hand that had been perched on your back sliding over your hip before finding your hand. he laced his fingers into yours, and you were shocked at how forward he was being. the two of you had flirted heavily- and okay, maybe you’d sent some suggestive pictures back and forth- but ethan seemed to be claiming you as he led you over to the round table where all his friends were sat. again, you carved half-moons into your palms with your nails as you added up all the chairs- there wasn’t enough. you began to let go of ethan’s hand, ready to boost yourself onto the railing, but he gave your fingers a gentle squeeze. you watched as ethan settled into the overstuffed outdoor chair, gesturing at his lap.

fuck.

you took a brief moment to admire the mess you’d gotten yourself into before you gingerly sat on ethan’s lap, trying to make yourself as small and weightless as humanly possible. that didn’t last long, though. ethan circled an arm over your hips, pulling you onto his lap firmly. you couldn’t breathe as you settled into him, crossing your legs tightly. your lower body was tucked away, hidden under the table, but still. you tucked a small portion of fabric between your thighs, ensuring nothing would slip.

you didn’t say much as ethan continued to conversate with his friends, passing the silvery, skinny device around the table.

soon, the talk turned from school and classes to typical, stuttering stoner laughing; everyone besides ethan and danny seemed to be a complete lightweight, gone after one hit of the cartridge. however, both the boys were on at least their fourth hit and still seemed relatively composed. they’d started to talk about some sort of economic study, and you’d quickly grown bored and confused. after sitting through 10 more minutes of the terminology you didn't understand, you began to wiggle around on ethan’s lap, loosening his grip on you.

at the same moment, you and ethan both shifted in just the right way, causing one of his legs to end up between both of yours just as your hips rolled forward. delicious friction flooded your system, and you bit down hard on your lower lip, trying to stifle a moan. you fought with everything in you not to rock your body again, sensation overwhelming your impulse control. before you could do anything, one of ethan’s large hands found your hips, squeezing just enough to leave fingerprint-shaped marks on your skin. ethan knew what he’d done- you could hear the satisfaction threaded through his voice.

“you okay? what d’you need?”

you tried to steady your voice, painfully conscious of the people around you. while most of ethan’s friends were high enough that they wouldn’t notice, you knew that danny would pick up on any changes in your demeanor. you swallowed hard before answering him.

“i'm gonna go get another drink.” another gentle squeeze practically lit your skin on fire, and ethan held the pen up to you.

“wanna try this instead?”

you weren’t going to lie- you’d been a bit jealous of the boys, not even thinking of passing the device to you. with shaky hands, you reached to accept the cartridge, but ethan had different plans. a sinful look found its way into his slitted eyes as ethan held the pen up to your lips. “go ahead.”

you could’ve passed out from the command, the look, the way that he’d started to bounce his leg. it was as if he was trying to break you- like he wanted you to give him some sort of sign that you wanted him. you did, more than anything. desire seemed to curl its way into every inch, every cell of your body, its spurs digging into your skin.

you met ethan’s eyes deliberately as you accepted the cold metal into your mouth, inhaling deeply. you took immense pleasure in the look that crossed ethans face as you pulled away with lungs full of the hazy drug. you held your breath for as long as possible before letting the vapor drift from your lips, just as ethan and done earlier. you watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard, his eyes snapping off of yours and over to danny.

“i’m gonna take y/n to get a drink. watch them, will you?” he asked, gesturing to the rest of his friends. danny just nodded, mumbling a low ‘have fun’ as ethan practically lifted you off of his lap. adrenaline coursed through each and every one of your veins and ethan laced his fingers through yours, leading you inside.

ethan barely let the door shut before his hands were on your hips, pinning you to the wall of the small stairwell. his lips met yours roughly, and you couldn’t hold back the whimper that had been building in your throat for the past hour. you felt ethan smirk at the soft noise before he bit at your lower lip, dragging the soft flesh between his teeth. again, you let out a whine full of pleasure- he just felt so good. you let your arms circle ethans neck, one of your hands knotting in his dark hair. you pulled at the roots gently as ethan’s tongue rolled against yours, your body entirely succumbing to him.

he forced himself to pull off of your body, and you let out a small whine; you’d been waiting on this. ethan smirked, his laugh coming out dark and much raspier than usual. “don’t worry doll, i'm not done with you yet. just can't have you here.”

the words went right through you, only adding to the ache between your thighs. ethan took your hand with a profound gentleness, and dropped a soft kiss on your forehead. “before this even starts, are you sure?”

you nodded eagerly, getting up on your tiptoes to recapture his lips, but ethan pulled back. you furrowed your eyebrows at the tall boy, confused- until he brought a hand up to your face, holding your jaw. ethan tilted your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “i need words, baby. are you positive? i can-”

“so sure. i promise.” you nodded at him, your eyes never leaving his. “i want you.”

ethan swore under his breath and kissed you hard before leading you up the stairs. you started to feel the effects of the drug as ethan took you from kitchen to living room, up some stairs… you lost track of all the places you’d been, allowing the weed to cloud everything in a gauzy veil. you felt good; light and somehow heavy at the same time, and you enjoyed the way that everything seemed to slow down. finally, ethan opened a door and pulled you in behind him. you realised where you were- his room. it smelled like ethan, like citrus and musk and something you could only describe as boy.

you let out a small giggle as ethan reached for a remote, colored lights dousing the room in a sultry red glow. “setting the mood?”

quickly, you were shut up in the best possible way. ethan kissed your roughly, all teeth and tongue and hands everywhere as he backed you against one of his walls. you let yourself get lost in him, basking in the warmth of your hunger for him. one of ethan’s cold hands made its way under your shirt, the other holding your jaw in place as he bit into your bottom lip once again, making you whine.

“feel good?” ethan asked, breathlessly. you could hear the smirk in his voice, but you couldn’t help the way your back arched at the simple question. your nails dug into his shoulder as ethan slid his thumb under the band of your bra, and he let out a rough moan, managing to undo the clasp with one hand. ethan pulled away from you long enough to rid you of your shirt, discarding your bra on the floor as well while you practically ripped his hoodie off, desperate to feel his skin against your own. he clearly wanted the same, judging by the way he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you flesh against his chest.

ethan managed to capture both of your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them above your head. you were unfamiliar with the feeling of being restrained, but the sensation seemed to send your heart thrumming even faster. he kissed you until your lips were sore and your knees were weak before finally dropping his forehead to yours. ethan took his chance, letting his eyes roam all over you and you watched his pupils grow larger until his eyes were practically black. “jesus fuck, y/n. you’re beautiful.”

your voice came out high and breathy as you responded. “ ‘could say the same about you.” you were practically panting, your body no longer responding to your mind as your back arched. ethan let out a hard breath.

“do you know what you do to me?”

your eyes fluttered shut as ethan’s lips met the sensitive skin of your neck, his tongue exploring the delicate flesh. he quickly found your weak spot and focused his attention there; he let his teeth gently sink into your skin, making you gasp before using his soft tongue to soothe the spot. he repeated this process all over your neck, sucking on your flesh when he found a sweet spot. you knew that you’d be covered in purple-blue bruises, but you’d wear them proudly- that was ethan’s motivation for marking you up.

ethan trailed soft, wet kisses all the way down your neck to your collarbones, groaning at the way you pushed your chest toward him. he hesitated, but started kissing back up your neck, your jaw, back up to your lips. he released his grip on your wrist and you quickly cupped his face in your hands, kissing him with everything in you. you wanted the boy to feel the way you wanted him, and you knew he could as his lips seemed to slow, the kisses getting deeper and deeper. you lost yourself completely in ethan, unsure of where he started and you ended. you could feel his heartbeat against your own, the two thumping rapidly, almost erratic.

the two of you stayed pressed up against each other, your back firmly against the wall for a while, until ethan finally pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “bed?”

you nodded eagerly, wanting the boy all over you. the two of you stumbled, half kissing over to the mattress, falling together. ethan quickly situated himself on top of your body, caging you in between his arms. he began kissing down your body at a torturously slow pace, tracing the dark marks he’d already left with his soft tongue, driving you insane. ethan took his time working down to your breasts, finally taking one of your sensitive nubs into his mouth. you let out an almost guttural moan at the sensation, pleasure overwhelming your senses. ethan hummed at your reaction, only intensifying the feeling. you tangled a hand in his hair, the other digging into his back, leaving long, red scratches on his pale skin.

ethan swirled his tongue around your bud, taking extreme pride in the way you let your head fall back against the mattress, moans of his name spilling from your lips. he tucked an arm under the arch of your back, pulling your body even closer to him- he didn’t want any space dividing the two of you. ethan pulled off of your puffy nipple with a soft moan, wasting no time in kissing over your chest, pulling the other into his mouth. he covered your chest in dark, deep bruises, admiring his work under the sensual glow of the red lights. “so pretty..”

you couldn’t form full sentences to respond with, just broken moans and pleads and tugs on his hair. ethan found it endearing, the way you wanted him so badly. he couldn’t help but give you what you needed.

he kisses hastily down your body leaving small lovebites here and there on your ribs, your stomach. ethan hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your skirt and pressed a kiss to the exposed skin right above the fabric. “this okay?”

“yes, i- please,” you pleaded, lifting your hips to make it easier. ethan got rid of the piece of clothing, discarding it on his bedroom floor, quickly followed by your panties. he let out a throaty moan, his eyes working over you lazily, like he had all the time in the world. he admired your body until you wriggled underneath him, needing some sort of stimulation.

“what do you want, baby?”

“you,” you whined, desperation weaving through your voice. ethan pressed gentle, warm kisses on your hip bones, fighting a laugh.

“i know that. what specifically?”

“fuck, ethan. anything, just touch me. please.”

“okay, okay. and you're positive this is alright?”

“yes. i’m so sure. i swe-” your words died in the back of your throat as ethan pressed his thumb to your clit, rubbing small, soft circles. “holy fuck.”

“already so worked up,” ethan mumbled, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. “this because of me?”

you were taken aback by the way your high seemed to multiply the pleasure by tens of thousands- ethan was barely touching you and you could feel your high approaching quickly. you couldn’t find the words to answer him as ethan shifted between your legs, giving himself a better view of your sex. “does that feel okay?”

a stream of swears left your lips as ethan quickened his pace, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. “so fucking good, just like that.” the knots in your stomach continued to tighten as you balled the sheets in your fist, tugging at his hair with the other hand.

ethan pressed a kiss dangerously low on your hip, looking up at you. “can i?”

your hips bucked at the tone of his voice, and you nodded vigorously. ethan kept his eyes on yours as he ran his tongue through your folds, lapping your arousal up. he couldn’t help but groan at the taste of you, the way you pulled at his hair, putting his mouth where you wanted it before letting your head fall back onto his bed. ethan started to suck at your sensitive bud, rolling his tongue over the bundle of nerves and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

“i- fuck- i’m close.”

he hummed, the vibrations sending you over the edge. your eyes rolled back into your head while you tugged at his hair, your orgasm completely undoing you- the high only added to the sensation, making it that much better. your hips bucked under the skillful work of his soft tongue as ethan let you ride out your high on his face.

ethan dropped a gentle kiss on your clit before peppering your entire body with them, giggling at the way you squealed. he finally attached his lips to your neck, your jaw, back to your lips. you kissed him hard, tasting yourself off of him. finally, when your exhaustion won out you pulled away, running your hands through ethan’s fluffy hair.

“how was that?”

you propped yourself up on your elbows, pecking ethan’s lips. “so, so good,” you mewled between heavy breaths. ethan bit down on his lower lip and smiled, pride filling his system.

“god, you look good moaning my name. you're beautiful, you know,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. ethan looked at you with a tenderness in his eyes, placing another kiss on your lips. “think you can go again?”

ethan started trailing down your body again, not waiting for an answer. he was laser focused on pleasuring you, making you whine and whimper for him- only for him. before he could get far, though, you were grabbing at his arm and shaking your head. he flushed, peeling away from you while starting to profusely apologize, but you pressed a finger to his lips.

“want you. inside of me,” you explained between pants, still exhausted from the first round of stimulation. ethan threw his head back, swearing.

“jesus christ, y/n. need me that bad, baby?”

his choice of words drowned you in desire, and you were all his. “yes. please, ethan?”

he wanted to fuck you until all you could do was moan his name just like that, over and over again. before you could process what was happening ethan had his hands all over you, roaming your body as he practically drooled at the sight before him: your already fucked out body, the sweet look painting your face, begging for him. ethan could barely control himself, his words coming out as rough murmurs.

“protection? i mean, i have it.”

you bit at your lip, hard. you were on birth control, and you wanted him- all of him.

shaking your head, you explained. “birth control. we’ll be fine, if you’re comfortable.”

you jumped as ethan moved a finger to your entrance, dipping into your sex. he groaned at the way you clenched around the appendage, his cock jumping in his boxers. “want my cum inside you?”

“yes- fuck, ethan, please,” you begged, reduced to nothing. all you wanted; all you needed was him inside you, ruining your body until you couldn’t take anymore pleasure.

“so tight,” he mumbled, lining another finger up. you bucked your hips, the sensitivity almost too much as he stretched you out, watching the way your face contorted under his influence. ethan placed a large hand low on your abdomen, applying light pressure. “if you can’t take this, you won’t be able to take me.”

you nodded, pace almost desperate for him to continue. “feels good baby. so good.”

you took note of the pleased expression that stretched over ethan’s face as you praised the boy- you were just telling the truth, but clearly he liked to hear what a good job he was doing. ethan brought his thumb up to your clit, rubbing tight circles on the bundle of nerves and you grabbed at his wrist, nails digging into skin.

“gonna make me cum again,” you warned, but ethan only smiled at you, nodding almost condescendingly.

“wanna finish on my fingers, pretty girl?”

you wanted to say no, wait to come undone around him, but his movements felt too good. you dug your nails into his arm even harder, your other hand clawing into ethan’s soft sheets as the knots in your stomach came undone, your walls contracting around his fingers tight enough to make him moan.

ethan let his pace slow, extending your orgasm as you practically rode his hand, crying out in absolute euphoria as he increased pressure on your clit. unable to form words, you released your grasp on the boy’s arm, bringing your hand up to his face instead. you pulled ethan’s lips down to meet yours, whining at the feeling of his clothed cock grinding against your center.

ethan couldn’t take it anymore, quickly ridding himself of the soft sweatpants. you watched as his manhood sprung up, hitting his abdomen; the sight in and of itself enough to make you let out another bliss-filled noise. ethan let his eyes fall to yours as he stroked himself, shuddering at the heavenly friction. again, his voice came out low as he lined himself up with you.

“sure?”

far beyond words, you nodded and laced your fingers through his.

ethan returned your grasp with a sweet squeeze, gliding the tip of his cock through your folds- coating himself in your arousal. the two of you moaned in sync; a sweet, satisfied sort of harmony. finally, ethan pushed into you slowly, gasping at the feeling. you couldn’t help the way your eyes rolled back into your head, the feeling of him inside you almost too much.

“you okay?”

“so good,” you breathed, trying not to yelp at the feeling spreading through your lower body. ethan was well endowed- the biggest you’d ever taken- and it was an addictive sort of pain. he moved slowly, stopping a few times; allowing you to adjust around his length. when he’d bottomed out, ethan let his head fall back, groans escaping his throat.

“so fucking tiny,” he gasped, a groan cutting his statement off. “feel so good around me, gorgeous.”

you nodded at him, trying your best to meet ethan’s eyes as you praised the boy. “so fucking big- you feel so good,” you whined, your hips bucking. “want you so bad.”

a breathless laugh escaped ethan’s lungs as he maneuvered a hand behind one of your thighs, lifting your leg to hook over his shoulder. he pushed even deeper into you and black spots began to crowd the sides of your vision, the pleasure overwhelming. slowly, ethan started to pull out of you, eliciting filthy words and moans from you before he slid his length back in.

“fucking hell, y/n. so tight,” he said, voice tipping up into a whimper at the end. he quickened his pace, the noise of sleeping skin filling the room. you could barely contain yourself, no longer fighting the stream of murmurs and swears leaving your lips as ethan continued to pump in and out of you. your next orgasm was already building, the coils tightening rapidly in your lower belly.

ethan let his hand wander down to your sensitive bud, almost coming undone at the sight of your eyes fluttering shut. you traced up his forearm, scraping at his sweet skin before knotting your fingers in his hair, tugging at the roots.

“eyes open, baby. look at me.”

you could’ve cum then and there, the instructions only turning you on further. you forced your eyes open, meeting his as ethan sped up again. an almost animalistic noise left your throat as ethan thrusted into you roughly- you weren’t going to be able to hang on much longer. ethan felt the way your walls were clenching around him, fluttering and tightening as he increased his speed on your clit.

“close?” he asked, unable to say much more than that. your grip around him was euphoric- he was closer than he’d like to be. it hadn’t been more than 20 minutes, but with the way you were pulling at his head, almost crying in completely bliss, ethan wanted to fill you to the brim with his cum then fuck it into your sensitive pussy, overstimulating the sweet flesh.

you nodded, humming a small “mhm,” as you looked at him with wide eyes. ethan paused for a moment, shifting your leg up even higher onto his shoulder before plunging back into you. you felt the head of his cock hit a new, even more delicious spot and you became almost delirious. looking at him with furrowed eyebrows, you felt a tear crawl down your cheek.

“gonna cum, ethan-”

“fuck- me too. let go, baby.”

your entire body seemed to shake and shudder under the force of your orgasm- it hit you like a fucking train. you felt ethan’s thrusts get sloppier as he buried himself inside you, his head dropping to the crook of your neck. he whimpered as he shot his cum deep into your pussy, the sensation all consuming. the two of you stayed like that for a while- riding out your highs with each other, rough moans turned to honey-sweet mewls.

as your heart rate started to come down, you peppered the boy's face with soft, careless kisses: ones that he gladly returned. ethan finally found your lips, pressing tender, long kisses to the swollen skin.

“you’re a fucking god,” you murmured, stressing the word as ethan’s face flushed even hotter than it already had been.

“that,” he huffed, breathing still hard and uneven, “would be you.”

you giggled at the statement, your voice hitching as ethan slowly pulled out of you. you could feel a mixture of him and you spill out, the substance flowing over your things as ethan kissed down your body, taking in the sight between your legs.

“so pretty, baby,” he whispered, sinking a long finger into your pussy. your whole body spasmed at the feeling, completely overstimulated. ethan pulled out of you softly, watching the way his cum seemed to spill out of you endlessly. he placed small, delicate kisses to the marks he’d left covering your thighs, admiring his work. “can i keep you here for the night?” he asked, eyes turning affectionate.

you nodded at the boy as he came back up to meet your lips, then your forehead. as you settled onto his chest, drawing lazy patterns on his skin, ethan's voice seemed to return to normal.

“such a good girl.”

#ethan nestor #crankgameplays #crank gameplays #smut #ns/fw #ask #anon #request #writing #blurb #fic #college au #ethan #nestor #starlight-writes-stuff #aight thats it #love u drink water

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redheadedpineapple · 3 years

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Hey author san. I absolutely love your writings. They are making me so happy. Why didn't i get notifications when you posted. I searched your blog and found out... you were the sweetest person who wrote the angel sanji. I was the one who requested thatt!

Can I request for Y!Ace X Reader please. Your yandere Scenario made me crave for more yandere. 🙊. Not too gore or blood please. I am in loveeeee with your writings. How did I not get notifications from your blog? Im still sad about that.

Yandere! Portgas D. Ace x GN!Reader

TYSM <3 i’m so glad i can make people happy!! also, notifs can be weird with tumblr, but if you’d like i can tag you for my posts so you get notifs >< also!! if you’re on mobile, it might help to go into your Settings > General > Dashboard Preferences > then turn off Best Stuff first! it makes it show stuff at the top that’s been posted recently instead of stuff tumblr thinks you’ll like !

Yandere word count: 844

──────〔Portgas D. Ace〕────── GN!Reader reader is p weak, ace takes advantage of that, suggestive content and comments, somnophilia

Portgas D. Ace is impatient. He can’t help but take action the moment he decides he wants you. He makes the decision when you smile at him at the shop. You smile at him differently than you smile at the other customers, and he can feel his heartbeat quicken.

To ease his curious mind, he approaches you and asks for help in picking out his bouquet. Without describing the occasion at all, you go into flowers for love and romance, and he decides you must feel the same rush he does when you look at him. So he talks to you more, and as you realise he wants more conversation than what flowers look best together and mean the most, you tell him your break is in half an hour and you’ll see him then.

When you two sit down for coffee, he pushes you for information about yourself. He finds you love your little flower shop and company of plants. When he asks, you insist you wouldn’t give it up for the world. Rather, it was your world.

He does the only thing he can think of and burns it down. Not with you around, of course! He would never hurt you like that.

From up on a roof hidden by the night and chaos of a roaring fire, Ace watches tragedy strike your heart as your hard earned shop goes up in flames. He watches as you run away from the scene with tears in your eyes, desperate to get away from the heart crushing sight and suffocating atmosphere of shouting and screaming.

He makes the decision that you officially need him as you stumble along the beach hopelessly. The sand huffs as you fall to your knees, letting out sobs.

You cry for what feels like hours until you’re so exhausted you can hardly even keep yourself sat upright. As your body sways in fatigue, Ace rushes over to catch you before you fall. His arms are secure and warm, carrying you as his fire powered boat pushes you two along the splashing waves. Half lidded eyes gaze up at him, pupils swimming in your eyes as your dizzy mind tries to make sense of what’s happened. It’s all for naught when your vision blanks and you fall completely limp in his arms.

Ace decides he quite likes the feeling.

When he finds a place to stay, he lies you in bed and curses his fire powers, wishing for ice as your temperature skyrockets. Still, he does the best he can to cool your fever, and in a few hazy days, you’re back to normal temperatures.

While you don’t remember much while you were awake, Ace couldn’t erase the way you depended on him so heavily, looking at him like you knew you’d die without him. Don’t worry, though! Ace would die without you, too---he’s certain now. He has to have you.

He’s giddy as he notices you gaining consciousness again, hopefully feeling much better. You move to sit up, and he rushes over to support you.

“Hey, careful there baby, you’re comin’ off a pretty harsh fever.”

Rubbing your eyes, you inspect the face of the man taking care of you. His expression is soft, contrast to his sharp jawline and defined features. Freckles are spread across his face, and you think it’s rather cute compared to the rest of his more manly appearance.

You smile. “Ah, thank you. You must have taken care of me, and I really appreciate that. How sweet of you.”

Oh, how little did you know, how unaware you were to how much he really took care of you. Every little need of yours was met with passion and desire on his end, wanting nothing more than to fill each little need.

“I must ask though, where am I? This is hardly a room of a hospital.”

He chuckles and sits on the side of the bed. “We’re just at an inn I’m staying at, no need for paranoia. You seemed more than ill physically all washed up on the beach like that. I’m not harbouring a lunatic now, am I?” he asked, smiling to himself at his own little joke.

But you panicked at his comment, shaking your head furiously. “No, no no! Ah, bad idea,” you murmured, moving your hand up to massage your temples.

“Oh, baby, c’mere.” He pulls you into his lap facing him, and he wraps his arms around your body. “You’re just so sensitive, aren’t you?” he coos, cradling the back of your head and gently petting your hair with his thumb.

“Uhm… Ace, right?” He nods. “I should really get going, I have lots of work to do,” you say, trying to shimmy off his lap, but his hold is strong.

“Poor thing, you are. Always trying to overwork yourself. You can grow as many flowers as you’d like, plants from all over the world, let’s get you back home, alright?”

If only your desperate innocence had a little more paranoia to understand he meant your new home.

#portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #ace x reader #yandere!ace #yandere #one piece #one piece x reader #portgas d. ace x reader #yandere!ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #x reader

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hongism · 3 years

Text

under my skin - khj x jwy 18+

pairing; jung wooyoung x kim hongjoong genre; pwp, smut, 18+ wc; 7.2k summary; wooyoung should never have admitted that he liked hongjoong bossing him around, and he most definitely shouldn't have done it so publicly. aka hongjoong knows how to get under his skin and god damn if he doesn't do it fucking well. warnings; explicit smut, fingering, oral sex: m, dirty talk, praise, a lil bit of degradation and humiliation if you squint a/n; hi 😳 so uh this was an impulse writing moment whoopsie but also yeah this is my first mxm work as well as my first mxm smut so yeehaw im going all out on the first one huh :’D as always feedback is appreciated esp since this is something new to me and idek if it did it well 😳

On the list of things Wooyoung knows he definitely should not have done, openly admitting that he is both attracted to Hongjoong and enjoys it when the leader bosses him around on a Christmas live of all things is at the very top.

“He was just sitting on the couch, and I was about to go back to my room then he goes ‘Hey Wooyoung, get my meal ready’. I thought ‘this is the first time someone has treated me like this’. It was — it was attractive.”

Seonghwa’s eyes had flashed with panic the moment the words left Wooyoung’s mouth, clearly picking up on exactly what he meant behind those words. He managed to bite out a strained and awkward laugh that grated against Wooyoung’s ears for far too long. Then, if he hadn’t done enough damage, not even two minutes later was he opening his mouth to spew some further nonsense after staring holes into the side of Hongjoong’s head.

“In that instance, I was attracted to Hongjoong when he treated me badly.”

Except it was not merely that instance. It was – is – far more than that, and the coy smirk that had stretched over Hongjoong’s lips spilled the truth. That Hongjoong knew his power over Wooyoung well before he even admitted it.

That instance had indeed started it all, but Wooyoung does not know how he had spiraled with such haste and intensity. Sometimes, it isn’t even his fault. His body just reacts to something his hyung has said, and he has to force ugly thoughts to the front of his mind or grab the thing closest to him to conceal the raging boner he’s left with. Wooyoung distinctly remembers the first time it became a serious issue though.

It was during a dance practice, another one of those awfully late nights that had everyone on edge, and Wooyoung was already dizzy with exertion before Hongjoong even opened his mouth. Then Yunho and Mingi decided to start fucking around with the choreography and making funny faces at each other in the mirror. Wooyoung knew he was in for it the moment he saw Hongjoong’s normally soft and gentle features flash with a barely contained rage. Then Hongjoong reeled on the pair, eyes flashing a bit of anger as he told both boys off, before shifting back to face Wooyoung now. The younger had choked on his saliva just from the intense eye contact.

“Go reset the music, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung’s cheeks burn with shame to think back on it now because he had most definitely squeaked out the most pathetic “yes sir” known to all mankind and scampered over to the computer to do as told. He had to shove the palm of his hand down so hard against his growing erection that it physically hurt, but it got the job done, and that’s all Wooyoung could have hoped for in the heat of the moment. If anyone noticed his dramatic reaction or thought it to be odd, they decided to spare him the embarrassment and did not mention it.

Then came the practice a few weeks later when Hongjoong was working twice as hard as usual to prepare for awards season. Everything had to be squeaky clean for all the performances. That led to Wooyoung being both blessed and cursed by the sight of a certain Kim Hongjoong in an all too tight-fitting black tee with sleeves rolled up over his shoulders and sweat dripping from his chin to the floor.

Now Hongjoong may not be the most muscular or lean among the group, but god, Wooyoung was positively salivating at even the barest glimpse of tantalizing skin under that shirt. It felt wrong and dirty to thirst after his bandmate – his leader – in such a public way. Hongjoong made things ten times worse by shifting to look Wooyoung in the eyes, brow arched dangerously high and a sharp gleam to his eye that had Wooyoung sweating more than he was before.

“Hey Wooyoung, grab me a water.”

Just simple and straight to the point. Not even a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. Wooyoung didn’t need one. He was rushing to follow the order like a good little boy in mere seconds, and the smirk Hongjoong awarded him with nearly made him blackout on the spot. A smart little quirk to one corner of his lips, the other side staying completely still. Hongjoong looked so mean and condescending in that moment, yet Wooyoung ate it right up without even batting a lash. His cock twitched to full attention behind the confines of his grey sweatpants, then he was moving out of the practice room at breakneck speed, desperate to get to the bathroom as quickly as possible.

He had slammed the door behind him and flipped the lock with desperate fingers before stumbling towards the sink to splash his face with cold water. In the reflection of the mirror, he could see how red his face had gotten, the red hue deepened to a scarlet that was only accentuated by the sheen of sweat clinging to his skin. Embarrassing. It was so fucking embarrassing to get off to the idea of Hongjoong bossing him around and being mean to him. Wooyoung had hoped that the water would quell him enough to bring him back to the practice room without being weak enough to jerk off in the company bathroom. Those hopes were dashed when the dastardly image of Hongjoong standing across from him with that cruel smirk floated to mind.

Wooyoung slipped his leaking member out and fucked the tight ring he formed with his hand at record-breaking speed, not stopping until he painted his fingers white with hot cum. And if not for thinking to lock the door, he would have been caught in the act too, because not even ten seconds later was someone knocking and banging at the door.

“Wooyoung? You good?”

Thank fuck it had just been San and not Hongjoong himself. If it were Hongjoong, then Wooyoung is certain that he would have caved and told the man exactly what he was doing without any resistance whatsoever.

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine! Just needed to pee! I’ll be out in a minute!”

He thought that that instance would be the worst of it.

Hongjoong proved him sorely wrong.

In fact, if anything, those instances seemed to increase in frequency. Hongjoong would corner him just to deliver a sharply-spoken order then grin as Wooyoung fervently followed the order without complaint or whining. Wooyoung would be forced to dart off to the nearest bathroom and cum into the palm of his hand to curb the raging horniness in his system. And after he was done, he would pull himself out of the bathroom with his head hung low in shame, not ever noticing the way Hongjoong stood not far off with that same smirk as always painting his pretty lips. If Wooyoung ever whispered a breathless “hyung, please” to himself while jerking off, then he would deny it with his dying breath because that would be too close to admitting how desperately he wants Hongjoong.

Such a stark contrast to how he behaves with Seonghwa, as San noted one day. Sure, Seonghwa would ask him to do things but Seonghwa would ask, accentuating his words with a ‘please’ and making sure to thank Wooyoung afterward. And Wooyoung would always whine no matter what Seonghwa would ask of him. The reason being — well, for two reasons actually. One: Seonghwa isn’t Hongjoong, and two: Wooyoung secretly (read very secretly) loves being ordered around like he’s not good for anything else.

The full admission on Vlive must have been the breaking point for both of them though. Hongjoong was trying to hide himself behind his hands as a faux sign of embarrassment, but Wooyoung could clearly see the curling smirk and hungry gleam in his eyes when he saw past those small fingers. It felt almost like Hongjoong could eat him alive on the spot, and Wooyoung would just roll over and let him.

Whatever Wooyoung had expected to happen after that fateful live left him sorely disappointed because Hongjoong did absolutely nothing. Didn’t comment on it, didn’t tease him about it, acted like it didn’t even happen. Even when Seonghwa granted him a sharp slap upside the back of the head and Yeosang muttered something about Wooyoung being into some kinky shit, Hongjoong huffed out a quiet laugh and led the way out of the room.

Was Wooyoung upset? Both yes and no. He saved himself from heaps of humiliation even though he admitted it in such a public manner, but he would be lying if he didn’t say that he was somewhat trying to egg Hongjoong on a little. All these months of teasing and playing only for him to do nothing? This had to be some sort of blue balling, at least that’s what Wooyoung whined into his pillow before Yeosang and Jongho entered the shared room behind him.

“Who’s blue balling who?”

“No one, Yeo! No one! I didn’t say that!”

Wooyoung is tipping closer and closer to his breaking point, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he absolutely snaps. That fact is what finds him hesitating by the back of the couch a few days after the aforementioned Fateful Vlive. Hongjoong sits on the cushions, arm slung casually behind his head as always, and Wooyoung is truly trying his hardest not to drool over the sheer attractiveness the position exudes. It doesn’t help that Hongjoong has been driving Wooyoung up a wall all day with his teasing.

First, it was light touches during breakfast, ghosting fingers over his bare forearm that sent goosebumps all over his body.

“Is something wrong, Wooyoung?” Hongjoong had asked like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“No, no, hyung. Just haven’t fully woken up yet.”

That was a lie but oh well. Wooyoung has lied about worse things in his life.

Then after breakfast, Hongjoong had leveled him with a sharp stare and ordered him to pick up the dishes for Seonghwa. Wooyoung didn’t even have time to jerk off in the bathroom afterward because San and Seonghwa dragged him off to play some game before he could make a hasty escape to the bathroom.

“You called for me, hyung?” Wooyoung manages to ask without a stutter to his tone. It’s a miracle truly because when Hongjoong’s voice boomed through the hallway and found him in the bedroom, Wooyoung almost melted.

“Yeah, get me some coffee from the kitchen.”

Now, if it were Seonghwa asking him, Wooyoung would whine and complain. Say that he’s on the fucking couch which is literal steps away from the kitchen and he has two perfectly (sexy) functioning legs that could easily get him a cup of coffee himself without needing to call Wooyoung all the way from his bedroom to get it for him. It is, in fact, not Seonghwa asking him, however; it is Hongjoong, and Wooyoung will be damned if he doesn’t obey the order without even a breath of complaint.

“Sure, of course, hyung!” He chirps in response to hide the shaky smile on his lips. His legs feel like jello but he puts them to use anyway, carrying his body to the kitchen to prepare a mug of coffee just the way Hongjoong likes because of course, he knows exactly how Hongjoong likes his coffee. Once he has finished perfectly preparing the drink, Wooyoung carries it back to the couch and goes as far as to step around the armrest to deliver the mug directly into Hongjoong’s hands.

“Good boy.”

The words are unmistakable. It’s a miracle that Wooyoung pulled his hand away when he did otherwise he would have most definitely dumped piping hot coffee all over Hongjoong without being able to stop himself.

“H-Huh!?”

Hongjoong blinks up from the rim of the ceramic mug. Not an ounce of shame coats his features. Wooyoung knows that hiding behind that cup is his trademark cruel smirk, and that sends him reeling.

“I said good job. You made it just the way I like.”

Wooyoung needs whatever deity or spirit or entity out there in the universe to backhand slap him to high heaven. Hongjoong did not say good job. He said good boy, loud and clear without so much as a stutter to his tone. Wooyoung stumbles back regardless and excuses himself with a hasty mumble about needing to go to the bathroom. He can only hope that his flustered state of embarrassment mixed with tingling humiliation is not as noticeable as it feels like it is.

“I wasn’t done with you.”

Wooyoung has to bite down on his tongue to keep from whimpering at the tone of Hongjoong’s voice combined with those words. He dares to glance back at Hongjoong over his shoulder. The leader is now on his feet, mug of coffee left forgotten on the table in front of the couch, and Wooyoung can find only a single word to describe the look in the man’s eyes.

Hungry.

“Go to my room. We need to talk in private.”

Wooyoung should experience a surge of panic – any normal person would be petrified to hear those words from their leader – but the words go directly to his dick instead. He whips his head forward once more and makes the short trek to the end of the hall without once looking back to see if Hongjoong is following him. He knows the man is though, the steady shuffle of socks on the wood floor tells him that much. Wooyoung half expects Seonghwa to be inside the room when he enters, ready to defend himself and say he has no clue what’s going on, but his taller hyung is nowhere to be found. Hongjoong doesn’t let Wooyoung stay distracted or confused for long; he trails a daring hand over the expanse of Wooyoung’s shoulders, lifting off at his bicep as he steps past the younger man to get into the room. He then drops to the edge of his mattress with blazing eyes and regards Wooyoung with a full-body stare.

“Shut and lock the door.”

There is so much potential behind those words. All the months of sexual tension and teasing and practical blue balling could all be paid off right now, and Wooyoung is not about to let that opportunity slip through his fingers. He jerks into action, spinning around and slamming the door shut with more force than is necessary, and the lock clicks into place a moment later.

“Hyung—”

“It’s always hyung, isn’t it?” Hongjoong taunts, cutting Wooyoung’s thought short. Frankly, Wooyoung has no clue what he was going to say anyway so thank goodness for Hongjoong interrupting him before he made a bigger fool of himself. Hongjoong pushes himself off the bed to step closer to Wooyoung. He closes the distance between them in a matter of seconds, and Wooyoung is still too slack-jawed to react even a little bit. “With Seonghwa hyung, you are always so whiny and bratty. Can’t do anything he says when he tells you to. Always need to talk back and mock him in return. But with hyung, you are so needy. Pliant. Obedient.”

Hongjoong is not bigger than Wooyoung. Not by much at least. He is hardly taller than him, but Wooyoung has shoulders that are a tad broader, features that are a bit sharper, and a face that is just naturally more stern when all his muscles are relaxed. But in this moment? Wooyoung feels impossibly small. Like Hongjoong is meters taller than him, bigger than him, stronger than him, better than him in all ways. His leader has power and control over him. He’s able to make him do whatever he wants with a simple command, and Wooyoung could combust from the mere thought. It gives him a sick rush, one that makes him want to get on his knees and beg for Hongjoong, but he won’t dare do that unless Hongjoong asks him to.

“What is it you want from hyung, Wooyoung?” Hongjoong catches a finger on the underside of his chin, lifting his head just enough so that he can look the other man in the eye. Wooyoung forgets every word in existence as he meets Hongjoong’s burning gaze. His jaw stutters, he blinks dumbly at the brunette, and nothing comes out of him. Hongjoong twists his finger into two now, squeezing down on either side of Wooyoung’s chin until the impact burns a little. “I asked you a question.”

“Y-You,” Wooyoung breathes out shakily. “I just — I want you.”

“That doesn’t sound quite right, darling.” The words catch Wooyoung a bit off-guard at first, and the use of the small pet name has his gut blossoming with too much warmth to be normal. Hongjoong tugs him closer just to drape his pretty lips over the curve of Wooyoung’s ear. Hot breath sends shivers down his spine, and Wooyoung does his best to keep his knees from buckling when Hongjoong speaks again. “That doesn’t sound like the begging I hear coming from the bathroom so often these days.”

Wooyoung’s cheeks are alight with both embarrassment and shame. Hongjoong heard him. Heard him jerking off quietly in the bathroom after every single time he taunted the younger man. Heard his desperate pleas and wishes that it were his hyung touching him and not the warmth of his own shameful hand. Hongjoong pulls back to look him in the eye again, but this time it feels ten times more intimate and inviting.

“Try again, baby. And this time, tell me a safe word so I know when to stop.”

Oh, Wooyoung is fucked, and he’s fucked in more ways than one, that’s for certain.

“I, uh, red. Yeah, red. Red for stop, green for go,” he rambles while blinking like a madman. Hongjoong huffs out a dry laugh.

“That’s step one,” he says, tone as even and steady as ever. “Now tell me what it is you want from me, Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung truly wishes he could put up more of a fight. He wants to complain or whine or be even a little bit of a brat in response rather than just caving without pressure. Yet here stands Hongjoong, maintaining that iron-tight hold over him without the slightest bit of effort and forcing Wooyoung into complete and utter submission with a simple command.

“W-Want hyung to – to kiss me and tell me that I’m his good boy. Want him to stuff my mouth full of cock and fingers until I can’t speak be-because I talk too much. And for him to order me around l-like it’s the only thing I’m good for. T-Talk down to me and – and humiliate me because it feels good when hyung taunts me. I… I r-really want hyung to fuck me open and use me until he’s filled me to the brim with cum.” Hongjoong’s pupils are dangerously large, so blown out with lust and desire that Wooyoung feels himself slipping deeper and deeper into their embrace. Even though the words came from his lips and he spoke them into existence, it feels as though Hongjoong reached down his throat and pulled them out himself. It has to be that because otherwise, Wooyoung would not have the confidence to be so bold about his desires.

“Look at you,” Hongjoong sneers. His tone turns mocking in the blink of an eye, and it causes Wooyoung so much whiplash that his head actually spins even though he hasn’t moved an inch. Hongjoong’s free hand snakes downward, finding the jutted bone of Wooyoung’s hip and brushing over it in a taunting way. The leader caresses the soft band of his underwear, then suddenly Wooyoung is positively choking because the man cups the prominent bulge of his erection and gives a teasing squeeze. “So hard just from following orders? Are you so pathetic and desperate to be a good little boy that you would do this for anyone? Or is it only hyung?”

“J-Just hyung,” Wooyoung squeaks out, pressing his thighs together to alleviate some of the growing pressure in his underwear. That answer isn’t enough to satisfy Hongjoong though, and he tugs a bit harder at the younger’s chin.

“Which one? Last I checked, you had more than one hyung.”

“You! You, hyung. Hongjoong hyung.”

“Good boy,” comes the taunting coo from Hongjoong’s lips. Wooyoung really does whimper this time, lower lip jutting out as he releases the shaky sound, and he practically falls in on himself. He probably would too if Hongjoong weren’t holding him so tightly. “If I had known that would have such a strong effect over you, I would’ve said it much sooner.”

There’s a certain insinuation to his words, one that tells Wooyoung that Hongjoong has been purposefully riling him up for a long while now. Hongjoong drops his chin and lets his hand fall away from the other’s cock. Wooyoung misses the pressure immediately, reaching down to replace the hand with one of his own, but Hongjoong slaps the back of his wrist harshly.

“Don’t you want to be good?”

“Y-Yes, sir!” That little word slips out against his will. Hongjoong’s eyes go wide for half a second before settling back into their steady, hungry stare. When he smiles this time, it is a full and blinding gesture that has Wooyoung’s stomach doing little somersaults. That must be the boiling point for Hongjoong’s desire though; next thing Wooyoung knows, Hongjoong has a hand clasped tight around the back of his neck and the man is yanking him forward until their lips collide in a mess of teeth and saliva. It feels positively filthy, but Wooyoung takes it in stride. He lets a surprised moan slip through, and Hongjoong swallows the sound with his mouth, tongue not wasting any time in dancing over Wooyoung’s lip. The younger grants him access to his waiting mouth. His jaw falls slack and his tongue would probably loll out if Hongjoong were not pressing so fervently against him at the moment.

Wooyoung truly is fully pliant before Hongjoong, and he can’t even get his arms to function enough to wrap around the older. So he just stands there, applying an ample amount of pressure to Hongjoong’s lips when the other isn’t fucking his tongue into his mouth, and waits until Hongjoong pulls back to breathe. As it turns out, he doesn’t get much time to catch his breath because his hyung’s mouth and hands are back on him moments later.

Cold hands brush at the skin near Wooyoung’s hips, slipping under the fabric of his shirt to gain more access. Hongjoong mouths his way down to Wooyoung’s jaw where he nips and sucks gently at the skin. It’s not enough to leave a mark, but something tells Wooyoung that the marking will come later. The older hoists his shirt up, tugging and pulling until it’s over Wooyoung’s head and tossed off to the side. Seonghwa will most likely complain later. Although if this is going the direction Wooyoung thinks it is, Seonghwa will have many other things to complain about so he doesn’t dwell on it much.

Besides, Hongjoong’s hands are far too distracting for that, currently tracing soft patterns over the expanse of Wooyoung’s exposed skin until dipping lower to grab both his sweatpants and underwear in one go. Wooyoung helps him tug the material down and bends a bit at the waist to fully discard the garments. He finally processes how he is now fully nude and Hongjoong has not taken even an ounce of clothing off, and when that sinks in, embarrassment burns at his skin. He withdraws his hands to his body, curling tight around his waist in a desperate attempt to cover himself up. Hongjoong is still attached to his jaw by the lips, but he can feel the movements between their bodies enough to know what is going on.

Fingers latch around Wooyoung’s forearms.

“Sweet angel, you have no need to cover up around me,” Hongjoong murmurs against his skin. His hot breath meeting the cool trail of saliva over Wooyoung’s jaw causes goosebumps to rush over his body, along with the sudden lack of clothes to keep him even a tiny bit warm. “Let me show you how pretty you are.”

Hongjoong pulls off his neck with a wet pop and steps an arm’s width away. He makes a full show out of the way he strips himself. Splayed fingers drag down his sides before catching on the hem of his shirt. Inch by inch, he exposes more supple skin, lean muscles straining and working under the movements, and when he tugs his shirt loose at last, Wooyoung ogles the way the tendons in his neck bulge a bit. He doesn’t get a chance to breathe though because Hongjoong fumbles with the buckle of his belt and tugs the leather loose. He doesn’t toss it off to join their shirts off to the side; rather, he throws it onto the bed, eyes holding something that leaves Wooyoung with the sweet taste of anticipation. Although that might just be the taste of Hongjoong on his tongue because he is still dizzy from the short kiss. He continues to stand as still as a statue as Hongjoong tugs his pants down, thumbs hooked around the band of his underwear too. Slowly but surely, the man exposes himself to Wooyoung, and the younger would be lying if he said his eyes didn’t go straight to Hongjoong’s cock.

It’s a bit shameful to admit, but Wooyoung has spent many times in those frequent bathroom trips fantasizing about what Hongjoong might look like underneath all those clothes. Seeing each other nude is something that happens often; however, Hongjoong always makes a habit of taking showers last or coming home so late that no one can see him. Wooyoung initially thought that it was an, for lack of a better term, insecurity about size deficit but looking at him like this now, Wooyoung can clearly see that that is not the case.

He’s a bit thicker than Wooyoung, not so much longer, but definitely holding more girth and curve to his member. A lump rises in Wooyoung’s throat at the thought of finally having the man in his mouth among other places. He has to clamp his teeth down on his lip to keep from openly drooling over the sight of Hongjoong’s body. The bit of solidarity in being fully nude helps Wooyoung’s confidence quite a bit, but it’s Hongjoong’s next comment that sends him spiraling.

“I wonder how pretty my little Wooyoung would look on his knees for me, hm?” His little Wooyoung. Yeah, Seonghwa is gonna have to cart Wooyoung’s dead body out of this bedroom once this is all said and done, because he is close to a heart attack as it is and Hongjoong has hardly done anything. Hongjoong picks up on the way Wooyoung’s breath hitches at those words and lets that dangerous smirk slip through before turning back to his bed. He moves to it without hesitation, and Wooyoung just watches on without daring to move before he is told to, eyes wide with curiosity as Hongjoong pulls a pillow off the bed and drops it to the floor. In the same motion, Hongjoong props himself on the edge of the mattress and nods his head towards the pillow. Wooyoung’s brain doesn’t process the action quick enough because he stands there with a dumbfounded expression on his face for far too long before it sinks in that oh Hongjoong wants him to kneel between his legs on a pillow.

He moves towards the bed on shaky legs, all but collapsing on the pillow once he reaches it, and Hongjoong greets him by dropping a hand to his hair and carding his fingers through the dark locks there. His hair has grown a bit, just enough to have his bangs fall into his eyes whenever the hair isn’t tucked back. Hongjoong tucks a few of the stray locks behind his ear before reaching lower to cup Wooyoung’s chin in the palm of his hand.

“Do you want another command, baby boy?” Now that has Wooyoung’s gut turning every which way, and he nearly squirms where he sits because goddammit there is not enough pressure on his cock and he is nearing desperation.

“Y-Yes, hyung.”

“Then suck me off, yeah? I bet you’d look so pretty all wrecked and fucked out with a cock between your lips.” Those words are oh so sinful and go directly to Wooyoung’s gut, knocking the air out of him with ease. Hongjoong doesn’t stop there though. He curls his fingers up to press against Wooyoung’s lower lip where he teases and tugs at the skin until it’s swollen. Wooyoung drops his jaw to let those same fingers push down hard against his tongue, and he almost gags at the sensation, but fuck, it’s so worth it. Hongjoong’s fingers are heavy on his tongue, a steady and tantalizing weight that begs what is to come with his member. Wooyoung can’t resist the urge to swirl his tongue between the digits and takes them a bit deeper. He sucks softly at Hongjoong’s skin all while blinking up at the man, his leader, his hyung with wide and shining eyes.

When Wooyoung locks gazes with him, he could cry on the spot because that little half-hearted smirk is back on his lips, and this is exactly what Wooyoung fantasized about in these past weeks. Being leveled only with that stare, forced into submission with mere words — Wooyoung is truly living the dream.

Hongjoong retracts his hand, pulling his fingers loose of Wooyoung’s lips too soon for the latter’s liking, but he doesn’t have room or time to complain. A hand threads through the hair at the back of his neck and drags him forward until Wooyoung is met by Hongjoong’s fully erect member. The unspoken command is there but still Wooyoung waits until he gets the verbal one, so desperate to be told what to do in that condescending tone Hongjoong holds.

“Well, go on. It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?” Wooyoung’s cheeks could not possibly flush any darker, but if Hongjoong keeps this up, he might just find a way. The burning sting in the corners of his eyes is practically euphoric, the taste of humiliation on his tongue as he leans forward to give a single, testing lick to the head of Hongjoong’s cock, and Wooyoung is the one to moan when he closes his lips around Hongjoong. The older simply lets his head fall back, hand still tangled in Wooyoung’s hair as he begins to sink deeper on his cock.

Hongjoong tastes of sweat, a stark saltiness on his tongue as he gets about halfway down his member, but Wooyoung’s brain is so high on arousal that he also tastes somewhat sweet. Wooyoung can’t get enough of it. He drags the flat of his tongue over the underside of Hongjoong’s member, feeling for each vein and ridge along his shaft as though trying to memorize the feel. Hongjoong grips Wooyoung’s hair a little tighter. His nails scrape over the younger’s scalp, and a distinctly pleasant burn throbs in that same spot. The idea of Hongjoong’s dainty, painted nails dragging over his skin is too much for his imagination, and Wooyoung reaches a hand up to grasp the base of Hongjoong’s cock before sinking as far down on him as he can go. He chokes around him there, throat pulsing at the sensation of the tip pushing deeper, and Hongjoong releases a loud groan. The sound sends a surge of confidence through Wooyoung along with the knowledge that he drew that noise out of Hongjoong, he made him feel good, he did a good job. He whines weakly around Hongjoong, sucking in as much air through his nose as he can, then he returns to bobbing his head along the length of him.

“Fuck, look at you. Somehow still so noisy even with a cock to keep you busy,” Hongjoong mumbles, biting back another groan. Wooyoung squirms thanks to the words and sneaks a hand down to palm at his weeping cock. “I didn’t tell you to do that.” Hongjoong spats the words with such vehemence that a bit of spit slips from his lip and catches on Wooyoung’s hair. If he didn’t jerk his hand away from his cock, Wooyoung might have cum right then and there because of how damn hot the action is.

Hongjoong tugs hard at the younger’s hair and pulls him off his cock, leaving only a thin strand of saliva to connect Wooyoung to his member. The sight is as intoxicating for Hongjoong as it is for Wooyoung because the older hisses between his teeth then descends to plant a kiss directly over Wooyoung’s lips. He kisses back with a hunger and fervor that begs for more, begs for Hongjoong to do more, and it seems that that is exactly what the elder has in mind because he hoists Wooyoung up enough to trade places with him on the bed.

Wooyoung finds himself splayed out on the bed with Hongjoong looming over him, hair fallen forward to shroud his forehead and eyebrows, and he can safely say that his hyung looks positively menacing in the best way possible. Hongjoong presses a single gentle kiss to the tip of Wooyoung’s nose – an action that has his heart constricting painfully in his chest before Hongjoong drags his lips down the curve of his cheek. He mouths at the sharp edge of the younger’s jaw, letting out a quiet exhale that has Wooyoung shivering. He dares to be bold enough to bring a hand to the older’s hair as Hongjoong reaches the curve of his neck and bites at the skin there.

“F-Fuck, Hong — hyung,” Wooyoung whimpers, hips bucking up to meet nothing but air. Hongjoong presses the heel of his hand down hard against Wooyoung’s hip and keeps him pinned to the bed with that simple touch. The way Wooyoung unravels under him is nothing short of beautiful and mesmerizing, the perfect catastrophe to watch unfold piece by piece until he is writhing and begging with his body for more. The younger doesn’t even see Hongjoong move his arm, but when he sits back, he holds a small bottle of lube in his hand, lid popping open to squirt the clear liquid over two fingers.

“Color?”

“Green,” Wooyoung exhales quickly. “So fucking green, hyung, please just hurry up.” Hongjoong arches a brow then clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“You waited weeks for me to corner you like this. I think you can wait a little bit longer.”

“If you recall, I was jerking off in the bathroom begging for you to fuck me senseless every other day, so no. I don’t think I can wait any longer,” Wooyoung huffs out in response, resituating a bit on the bed so Hongjoong can spread him open properly. The other man bends over him with teeth flashing as he grins. He catches Wooyoung’s lobe between those same teeth and nips at the skin until Wooyoung moans loudly.

“Next time you try to do that I’ll be sure to follow you. And maybe make you scream a bit for good measure. You’d do that for hyung, wouldn’t you?” Hongjoong sinfully enunciates the word, and it affects Wooyoung so much that his vision goes spotty for a few seconds.

Fuck, Wooyoung is not going to survive. His heart is gonna give out before he can even get fucked. Hongjoong chuckles under his breath as he gauges the younger’s reaction. His lubed fingers slip between Wooyoung’s legs and trail lower until he brushes over his puckered hole. He starts with just one finger, pushing into Wooyoung so slowly that the younger thinks he’s gonna die of old age by the time Hongjoong finally settles the digit inside him. He squirms a little under the man’s weight.

“I’m not gonna break, hyung. You can go harder than that.”

“And I will. Be patient.” Wooyoung lets his body go slack at the sound of that; it’s a half-hearted command at best but still a command nonetheless, and it continues to have the same dastardly effect over him as always. Hongjoong continues to wiggle his finger around bit by bit until he deems Wooyoung comfortable enough for another, and the next stretch is so pleasant that Wooyoung’s lashes flutter as he pushes a second finger in.

“Hyung,” he whispers, tone so breathless that it almost sounds like just a sigh and nothing else. Hongjoong lifts his chin to look the younger in the eye.

“Hm? What it is my baby wants?” There Hongjoong goes again with that little possessive word that has Wooyoung melting under him.

“Want – want you to kiss me please.”

Hongjoong answers by dropping his lips atop Wooyoung’s, starting out with a barely-there pressure that only grows in force as he starts to fuck his fingers in and out of Wooyoung. The younger can only gasp and moan into the kiss. He forgets what it means to be quiet as the pleasure takes over, too lost in the sensation of Hongjoong’s lips and body and everything. They’ll surely get an earful later, but Wooyoung is not about to let them take this away from him so he is going to be as loud as possible while he can.

A third finger finds its way into Wooyoung. It draws an even louder moan from his lips, the pads of Hongjoong’s fingers brushing just shy of that elusive spot where he wants to be touched so badly.

“P-Please, please fuck me, hyung. I can’t – I can’t wait any longer, I just n-need you in me now.”

Apparently, Wooyoung should have led with that because Hongjoong almost growls and pulls his fingers out of Wooyoung, snatching up the lube again and squirting more onto his palm. He jerks hastily at his cock and warms the liquid on his member before guiding himself to Wooyoung’s eagerly awaiting hole. When Hongjoong at last starts pushing into Wooyoung, the younger sees stars in his vision and his brain empties of all coherent thought. It is everything that he could have dreamed of and better, for fuck’s sake, it’s the best feeling Wooyoung has ever felt in his life and he might cum after just a single thrust of Hongjoong’s hips.

He manages – by sheer miracle for certain – to last a bit longer than that. Hongjoong starts slow, rocking his hips gently against the backs of Wooyoung’s thighs. In time though, the pace grows until it’s hasty and absolutely brutal. Wooyoung can barely catch his breath long enough to moan between thrusts with the speed Hongjoong keeps up. Skin slaps hard against skin and leaves the lewd sound to resonate alongside Wooyoung’s high-pitched moans and Hongjoong’s much softer grunts.

Words continue to tumble from Wooyoung’s lips in the height of his pleasure, but it’s just nonsensical ramblings that range from “more, more, fucking more” to “yes, hyung, there, right there”. He grips desperately at the sheets under his body in a desperate attempt to ground himself from the dizzying amount of euphoria running through his veins. Every nerve in his body is alight with all sorts of sensations, and despite still not having cum once, Wooyoung truly feels like he’s being overstimulated to absolute filth.

He doesn’t even feel it when he actually does reach his high – cock twitching and spurting hot ropes of cum over his stomach completely untouched by either himself or Hongjoong. It’s almost embarrassing how easily Hongjoong made him orgasm; Wooyoung brings his hands up to cover his reddened face in the humiliation of the action. A choked and dry sob rips through his parched throat, cock weeping uselessly against the vee of his abdomen.

“F-Fucking hell, you’re so beautiful,” Hongjoong grunts through his thrusts. Wooyoung’s body reacts on its own, preening at the sound of the praise despite his neverending embarrassment. That sends Hongjoong over the edge right then and there. His hips stutter in their quick thrusts, then he’s pressing flush against Wooyoung and cumming hard in him. His elbows buckle, causing him to topple on top of Wooyoung’s chest and smear the semen painting his stomach and chest. It doesn’t seem to bother the man one bit though as he just lifts his chin and drapes his lips over Wooyoung’s like the softest and warmest blanket on a cold day.

They stay like that for too long probably, just kissing and nipping at each other’s lips in the laziest manner, and Wooyoung doesn’t even mind when the cum between them starts to grow sticky. He releases a content sigh as Hongjoong slips his lips back down to the underside of his jaw – apparently his favorite place to kiss given how much he’s done so already – and dares to speak.

“Good talk, hyung,” he rasps out, throat burning from the mere effort of the words.

“The fact that you had the balls to say something while we were live but not the first hundred times I cornered you,” Hongjoong grumbles against his skin, and Wooyoung huffs out a weak laugh.

“You could’ve interrupted my, erm, bathroom trips at any time.” Wooyoung smiles a bit to himself and draws a hand up to comb through Hongjoong’s sweat-slick hair.

“Next time I will.”

“N-Next time?”

“I can think of many other ways I’d like to have you, and many other things I’d like to do to you. If you’ll let me, that is.”

“Yep! Yes, yeah, you got it, sign me up, I am on board. Don’t even need to convince me,” Wooyoung rambles, cheeks flushing dark again at the insinuation in Hongjoong’s words.

“Good. Now, let’s get cleaned up before Seonghwa gets back.”

“Where’d you send him off to anyways?”

“I just told him we were gonna talk and he disappeared.” Hongjoong shrugs as he pulls his body free of Wooyoung’s and climbs to his feet, albeit on shaky legs. The younger tilts his head to the side with a bit of confusion gracing his features.

“That’s all it took?”

“Well, I told him I would be doing a majority of the talking and it would include my mouth doing positively sinful things to your body, but… we had a change of plans, didn’t we?” Hongjoong glances down at Wooyoung, passing a teasing wink his way, and for the last time (at least Wooyoung hopes it is the last time otherwise he really will pass out) his lips curl into that signature smirk.

“We can make up for it in the shower.”

...

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bxtchforstyles · 3 years

Text

The greatest headache ever

Harry Styles x Meredith Cooper

(part of the hey doctor series)

When Harry starts getting headaches bad enough to where he has to go to the emergency room, Meredith is there to help. This is the story of how they met.

Warning: mentions of hospitals, slight mentions of needles, just medical things.

Word count: 2.1k

gif not mine.

Whenever Meredith worked overtime at the hospital, those always seemed to be the same days that Harry didn’t have to go to the studio, or the days that Harry had something planned for the two of them.

Meredith was the definition of a workaholic, making it very difficult for her to often go home on time after her shift. Harry tried to get her to take more breaks as the years of dating her went on, but she never let up.

He would say, “baby, I’m only looking out for your health.”

To which she would respond with, “actually, I’m looking out for my patients health.”

She was at the hospital doing rounds, or maybe at the office seeing patients. She was always working.

So, maybe it was unbearable for Harry to never get to see his girlfriend, but when he really thinks about it, her working overtime at the hospital was the reason he met her.

FLASHBACK:

Grueling headaches were an often occurrence for Harry, so it never really occurred that he would end up in the emergency room from utter exhaustion.

“Good evening, Mr…” She looks down to find out what Harry’s name is on his chart, “Styles, correct?”

He nods, furrowing his eyebrows and wincing as another sharp pain echoed through his head.

“Okay, well I’m doctor Cooper. It says here that you’ve been having ongoing headaches for a while, so what made you want to come in?”

“Um…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his head, “I was at the studio, and I had been standing for a while and I sorta fainted.”

“Hm,” Meredith looked down, expecting any other injuries, “so, I’m guessing you cut your wrist on the way down?” There was a white bandage with blood showing through it wrapped tightly around his wrist.

“Yup.” He laughed as she began to unwrap the bandage, “Not to sound rude or anything, but you look a little young to be a doctor.”

“Unless you are suggesting that I am incapable because of my age, which I don’t think you are, then I take you saying I look young as a compliment.”

“Of course I meant it as a compliment.” Harry shakes his head with a small chuckle, making Meredith smile.

“Ouch.” She winced along with Harry once the bandage was all the way off of his wrist before she set it on the medical tray next to her. “Yeah, you’re definitely going to need stitches.”

Harry’s jaw dropped, “Are you being serious?”

“Do you really think I would joke about something like that? C’mon, I’m not that cruel.”

She was being honest, and Harry liked that about her. She wasn’t trying too hard to fit the entire doctor role that most of the arrogant doctors did.

She patted his shoulder as she stood up from the rolling stood she was sitting in, “I’m going to go grab a suture kit, I’ll be right back to fix you up.”

“I see you’re taking a liking to one of your patients over there.” Meredith jumped as she stood in the supply closet, turning to find Maggie, one of her friends (and colleagues) behind her.

“What?” She asked as she reached for the suture kit she had been looking for.

“Ya know,” Maggie snatched the kit for Mer’s grasp, “nurses are perfectly capable of a couple stitches, that’s their job after all.”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing the plastic container with all the tools necessary inside of it back, “I had some free time, he’s a pretty interesting guy, actually.”

“Guy? That’s it?” Meredith sees her friend's jaw drop, “Do you not know who that man is?”

Her eyebrows furrowed in response, “What do you mean? He’s a patient...”

“You’re about to suture the wrist of like the most famous popstar ever, Meredith!”

She whipped her head back around, “What? Who? Wait, what’s his name?’

Another one of the girls who works with the two of them walked up to where they were standing in the hall, appearing to have been eavesdropping. “Does she seriously not know who Harry fucking Styles is?”

The name definitely rang a bell, and Meredith had definitely heard it before, but she just could remember exactly where.

“What is he? A singer?” She looked towards Maggie, making her groan.

“Mer! You literally listen to his music!” Maggie smacked her friend in the back of the head, making her hiss from the sudden contact, “You know that one song that you were obsessed with over the summer, golden?”

Meredith nodded before her jaw dropped, “Oh my gosh! He wrote that song?”

Maggie copied her previous motion, nodding before turning her friend back towards where Harry sat, pushing her forwards. “Go get ‘em tiger!”

When Meredith walked back up to Harry, she stumbled a bit before setting all her supplies on the small, metal table that sat next to his bed. “Sorry that took so long, you are apparently the talk of the town all over the hospital.”

“Ah,” Harry only tucked his lips into his mouth, “really thought I was off the hook when you pretended to not know who I was, ya really had me sold.”

“Um…” the girl trailed off awkwardly, “I didn’t know who you were.”

"Oh, Im sorry, I shouldn't have assumed that you knew who I was.” He spoke, the shock in his voice was still quite apparent though. "I guess after a while of being recognized everywhere I go, I learned to act as if everyone knows who I am, and have the worst intentions. It's the best way for me to assure that my integrity is saved.”

Meredith nods, "I know I'm not famous or anything, but I somehow understand that.”

Harry's wrist was still obviously hurting, she could tell by the way he flinched every time she came close to touching.

"Okay, you may feel a small pinch when I insert the numbing agent, but after that, the stitches should be smooth sailing.” Meredith grabs his wrist, just above his injury, she had the syringe filled with lidocaine in her other hand, "ready?”

Harry nodded before she quickly inserted the syringe, beginning to numb the area. For a moment, it looked as if all of the color had completely drained from his face, his eyes falling closed.

"You doing alright?” Meredith light-heartedly asked, trying to ease the tension as she finished numbing Harry's wrist.

He looked quite dazed, as if he was in a trance, "I think I'm alright.” He sighed, leaning back in the chair, still having that void look in his eye.

Meredith stood up again, "Why don't I go get you a cool washcloth to put on your forehead while we wait for the numbing to fully kick in, you look a bit pale."

Harry smiled, "That would be great, thank you.”

When Meredith returned from the sink outside the procedure room, Harry was still slumped back in the large chair, his forehead glistening with sweat.

"Here ya go.” She smiled, placing the washcloth soaked with cold water on his forehead. He was surprised by the cool temperature at first, but he sighed in relief moments later.

"Okay, so I'm going to get started on the stitches now, if you're all settled.”

"Yeah, I'm okay, go ahead.” He held his injured wrist out to her.

It only took around thirty minutes for Meredith to finish the stitches, and once she was done she was already suggesting other treatments for Harry's headaches in question.

"I honestly think that you are getting these headaches from just pure exhaustion, the symptoms you are describing sound much like the type of migraines I had in med school, and with such a high stress level job, it would make sense why you wouldn't be getting enough sleep, correct?”

Harry bows his head, "It is true that I could probably use a little more sleep.”

Meredith begins to jot something down on the chart, "and some more water, since you also seem to be showing signs of moderate dehydration.”

"Whatever you say, doc.”

It was beginning to get harder and harder for Meredith to keep her level of professionalism, because all she could think to herself was is this super hot, famous, heartthrob flirting with me right now?

It was safe to say that she was beginning to understand why so many girls, including her own colleagues, found this man so enticing.

"Okay!" She quickly broke herself out of her daydream, "I think that's all I can really tell you, sleep more and drink some more water. But, if you start doing those things and you are still getting headaches, please don't hesitate to come back.”

"And as for the stitches?” He questioned, making her furrow her eyebrows.

¨What do you mean?” She countered immediately feeling stupid when he responded.

"I mean, won't I have to come back to get them removed?"

"Oh! Yes, I would say fourteen days." Meredith was mentally face palming at this point as her embarrassment took over.

She wasn’t even a huge fan of his, hell, she didn’t even know who he was a hour ago, so the reason she was stuttering like a blubbering idiot was beyond her.

“Can I just come back here?”

“Yup, I’ll be here.” She says with a bigger smile than she intended as she handed Harry the medical forms for him to fill out.

“Thank you so much.” He said gratefully as she said her goodbyes before walking out of the room and into the hall, where Maggie, and many other nurses stood, seemingly waiting.

An array of questions began to be shouted from many different people, some including:

‘How was he?’

‘Did you get his number?’

‘Is he coming back?’

Meredith was appalled by the amount of shouting going on, when everyone was well aware that the man they were desperate to know about, was only behind the very thin, wooden door.

“Are you guys fucking insane? Patient confidentiality!” She defended, adjusting her white coat before beginning to make her way back towards the nurses station at the end of the hall.

******

Meredith wasn’t expecting to ever see Harry again after he came in to get his stitches removed, which was a long, drawn out process because of Harry’s attempt to stall the doctor.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him again either, she would have been perfectly happy to. He was charming, and didn’t seem too arrogant, which was something she completely adored about him.

But it wasn’t until about three weeks after he had gotten his stitches removed that she felt someone approaching her on the cereal island that she stood in Whole Foods.

“Meredith?” She turned around, being met with a surprised look at Harry. “Sorry, can I call you that?”

She laughed at that, “I mean I wasn’t expecting you to call me doctor when I’m not even your doctor anymore. Can I call you Harry?” She countered his question.

He let out a sigh of relief, remembering how down to earth Meredith really was for being someone with such a high profession. “Well, I’m not your patient anymore, now am I?”

She looked back at the shelves, picking up her choses box of cereal, throwing it into the basket that was hanging around her wrist.

“I guess you do know who I am, don’t you?”

“I do now.” She responded, not really knowing what else to say.

Harry on the other hand, was debating whether or not it would be inappropriate to attempt to make a move on his doctor. Was she even technically his doctor anymore? He didn’t know.

He was always very straight forwards through, which was something he prided himself in. “Would it be weird if I were to ask you out on a date?”

Meredith liked the game that they were continuing to play, the one where he would ask her a question, and she would counter back with almost the exact same one. “Would it be weird if I were to say yes?”

“I guess that answers both of our questions.”

It was safe to say both of them left the grocery store blushing and smiling like idiots.

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