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yaekiss · 1 year

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#Mailroom Open!- Hello, I would like to request a love letter for Alhaitham. NSFW and Yandere response please, and any pet names work but if you could use Habib that would be great 💖 (I hope I did this right)

_______________________

"To my favorite feeble scholar,

I hope this letter is finding you well! I have arrived safely in Fontaine and haven't known a moment of peace since I have arrived. The chaotic cocktail of getting settled into a new city, preparing for this research project, and missing home makes me yearn for the simpler times spent in Sumeru.

Especially my time spent with you.

Thats enough of my lamenting, how fare things with you back home? Have you finally shaken the title of acting Grand Sage yet? Is Kaveh being too much of a "menace"? (Also, please let him know his mother says hello and sends her best wishes to you both). Regardless, I hope you are taking care yourself. Archons know I can't ensure you are eating well while I'm nations away. I will just have to trust that you are treating yourself with the same kindness I would extend to you.

On the topic of kindness, I have a gift for you attached to this letter. I know while I am here doing my research for the next six months we won't be able to have our usual meetings at Lambad's to discuss books over good food, but I hope these books will entertain you well during my absence.

I'm eagerly counting down the days until I can see you again. I find myself thinking of you often and it is a truly vexing experience to see you on whim like I would do so before. It makes the days seem to drag on even longer, but I pray time will fly by regardless of this.

-Sincerely, your wayward scholar

[In a simply decorated box, there are three books: one is on the topic on Fontaine's hydro transportation system and infrastructure, the second is about the complexities surrounding Fontaine's judicial system, and lastly is an infamous and popular erotica anthology from Fontaine (think the Karma sutra but French)]

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Alhaitham, Alhaitham calls you "habib", lightly implied abuse of power, unhealthy possessive and obsessive relationship from Alhaitham, mentions of sex toys, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: He tipped me extra and requested me to be extra careful with the delivery so I'll hand it over to you directly instead of leaving it at your door as per usual procedure! ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

There’s a knock at your door when you’re relaxing in your room, opening it shows a hotel staff member who passes you a delivery. And it doesn’t take a genius to know it’s from your beloved feeble scholar.

Alhaitham sends you a simple package, nothing too gaudy or showy, just a few accents of turquoise to denote who the sender is. It’s secure and durable, perfect for weathering long and bumpy trips.

When you open up the package, you find a few gifts he carefully arranged so that nothing would be broken if the contents were jostled around a little too hard. Gingerly, you lift out a lacquered box which reveals a set of headphones and a music player that’s almost identical to the one he owns. It rests in its cushioned groove in the box with the colours of the device matching your favourites instead of the shades of green on his set.

There’s a small note attached to the music player, “In case you ever miss me too much, you’ll have my voice as background noise for your moping, habib.” On the back of it, he’s written something akin to a track list. Flicking through the different audio files for a quick sample, you realise there’s one for every mood. Tracks with words of encouragement (...or as encouraging as someone like Alhaitham can get), ones scolding you for overworking. There’s even a really cute one where he softly hums a love song that both of you adore, his voice low and soothing. However, the best track of all might be the one where you get to hear his grunts and moans, as if he were right next to your ear in person. The sounds are so sinful and wet, you could just picture him grinding on his dildo, trying to reach his peak. And the way he pitifully breaths out a “I c-can’t cum witho- AH! -without you!” has you yearning for him yet again.

Taking the headphones off before you get too carried away, you retrieve his letter in the package. The envelope is the one from his Grand Sage office, not that he ever really uses them for work purposes. Inside it, his reply is written on parchment, the kind that’s provided for him due to his high position once again. His handwriting is as tidy as ever, the font and formatting standardised throughout the letter. His reply reads:

“Reply for: My springtime sublimity,

I was wondering when you were going to write back to me. After all, there’s no way you would’ve forgotten me in the midst of your research or from meeting someone new, right? Regardless, you have not left my mind since your departure and I’m sure it’s the same for you too habib.

Do let me know if the gifts are to your liking. I’ve managed to recreate my headphones and they will definitely be useful in blocking out anyone else who might be getting on your nerves or when you’re trying to focus on your research. I included my latest read in the package as well. I'd like for us to discuss our thoughts on the book, even if it’ll have to be done over pen and paper. I’m eager to hear your thoughts on it.

There’s also no reason for me to answer whether I’ve managed to resign from my title as Grand Sage, as evident from the envelope and parchment used. I simply have an unfortunate one last thing to wrap up before I can do so.

Moving on, habib, you know Kaveh is always a menace. I relayed his mother’s well wishes to him earlier and he just smiled. Now he’s locked himself in his room. I never have any idea what’s in that mind of his. It’ll be a miracle if I don’t have to drag him out before he starves. Although I must ask, since when were you privy to Kaveh’s background? I don’t recall him bringing it up around us. Habib, just how close are you to him? How close has he gotten to you? Do write back to me and explain.

Now, this is where I must thank you for your gifts. They all have proven to be succinct and informative. However, I must comment on the choice of one of the books. My, I knew you were lewd before, but to send me an erotica anthology habib? Though, I never said I minded it. I am simply inspired, that's all. Perhaps, you should come back sooner and we can try some of the positions referenced in it. In the meantime, habib, I can only pleasure myself with toys, although, they’re nothing in comparison to you. I’m addicted to you, the caress of your hands on my skin, how only you can make me shudder and cry out your name. You have me wrapped around your finger.

I crave you desperately, habib. There are so many words I could use to describe you with my extensive vocabulary, but the most fitting one would be blossoming. You’ve managed to sow all these emotions in me and now that they’re blooming, you’ll take responsibility right? I’ve always been logical but the degree of affection I feel for you is irregular, all-encompassing and ever-growing. Almost as if you’re twisting the very essence of my mind, rotting and changing me from the inside out. It matches in a way, spring being the season of rebirth.

This letter has gotten too long, I will end it off here habib. I trust you will stay safe and return in one piece unharmed. I await your reply.

May your days be peaceful,

- Alhaitham -”

Setting his letter back in the package, you pick up the book he entrusted to you. Flipping through the pages, it’s littered with markings and annotations from the scribe, he even wrote some questions for you to ponder over. “What do you think about this point?” “Why would the author write this in?” But there are a few unrelated… unsettling annotations that you probably shouldn’t dwell on for too long such as, “Do you know just how much I miss you?” or “How were you able to corrupt my reason and rationality to this extent?” These annotations were left in here for a reason, Alhaitham is a smart man, a renowned member of the Haravatat. There’s a message behind his carefully selected words, waiting for you to unearth it before it festers and decays into something even worse.

Lastly, written neatly on the inside of the back cover, is a puzzling riddle, each word written in a different ancient script. After deciphering the question, an unpleasant awareness worms its way into your mind.

It reads, “Would you still extend your same kindness to me after realising what I would do for you?”

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

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outofconcheol · 1 year

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Sign Here For... (HJS x F!Reader)

pairing: delivery boy!Jisung x afab!reader genres/au/rating: crack, smut, fluff, one night stand au, 18+ summary: Feeling frustrated and reeling from your recent breakup, you put in a special order on your favorite delivery app. However, with the goods, comes Jisung, who's a lot more than you'd ever bargained for.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: past relationship and referenced breakup (Minho x reader), regrettable decisions are made, Jisung and reader are both so very shy and cute but also bold, lots of innuendos, alcohol use, swearing, some little thoughts of self-doubt, Jisung's black nail polish, unexpected feels, smut warnings: nsfw thoughts, sex toys, making out, nipple play, fingering (f receiving), oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex (the pull-out method)

a/n: djsksk what is this?? except the unhinged product of both my imagination and my infatuation with Han Jisung. this is my first time writing a fic for anybody besides bts, so I'm super nervous about this. Special thanks to Miss Emme (@temptaetions) for informing me that Dashmart, of all places, sells sex toys which then became the impetus for whatever kind of delusional thing this is. i hope you enjoy, and please be nice!

This had the potential to be a bad idea. A very bad idea. Rubbing at your eyes, you glare at your phone screen in the dark, legs tucked underneath you on the couch. If this backfired, maybe you could blame the blue light. Your psych professor in college had always loved to mumble about how cell phones were killing the younger generations’ brain cells.

Or, you could blame the fact that you’d shown up to Chan’s party last night, determined to have a good time after months of moping over your breakup, only to find your ex, Minho, sucking face with a new girl. Yeah. You could definitely blame it on that.

It wasn’t like you didn’t expect him to move on — it was just that you also expected yourself to have. Minho had been your first and only relationship, lasting through all of college and beyond before you’d broken up, deciding your lives were heading in different directions.

Honestly, you hadn’t been upset until the party last night. You’d accepted the breakup, growing pains were inevitable when you’d gotten together so young. But the fact that he’d moved on this quickly and you hadn’t stung.

Not to mention you were horny. Four years with Minho and then just like that, it all stopped. All you wanted was to get laid again. Unfortunately, after a disastrous drunken encounter on a dating app with a physical therapy student named Changbin, in which he’d fallen asleep before you’d even done the deed, you decided that it might have been too soon, and to take a step back.

But you were human, and if devoting your college years to studying the human psyche had taught you anything, it was that humans were needy. Very needy. For food, for shelter, for company. Which is why you were surprised at how the human race hadn’t crumbled already, given the rate of break-ups and divorces occurring these days. The problem was, that despite being needy, humans were also overthinkers.

So you’d spent a week pondering over what you were about to do, rationalizing every aspect of it in your brain - the pros, the cons, the consequences. And had almost talked yourself out of it when running into Minho tonight had been the catalyst for driving your decision the other way completely.

All you wanted was to hop onto your favorite delivery app, ready to wallow in pity over some ice cream and chips, and maybe Pride and Prejudice (2005), but then you’d seen it.

It seemed delivery apps were becoming more and more full service these days. Because right there, past the Doritos and the body wash, were sex toys.

You feel your throat go dry and eyes widen as they flash across the screen - all different sizes, shapes, and colours. There was more variety than you expected.

Immediately, you groan at yourself. More variety than you expected? Who expected to see sex toys on a delivery app anyway? The drought must finally have been getting to your brain.

Throwing your phone aside, you groan, trying to ignore the throbbing at your temple and in between your thighs. Maybe it was time to go out and find someone – maybe your self-imposed celibacy was driving you stir-crazy. It wouldn’t be so crazy to check out Minho’s Instagram, and see how he was doing…

“Get it together!” you mumble to yourself, pinching your arm. You were not going to stoop to the level of texting your ex. However, you were going to stoop to a different level entirely. You wipe your clammy palms on your thighs, picking your phone back up and clicking on a pink one quickly, immediately scrolling down to avoid dealing with the consequences of your transgression.

A few minutes later, you’ve managed to fill the cart with a dozen different snacks…and well… the other thing. It taunts you as you check out, and you focus your mind elsewhere, like the berry cheesecake ice cream you’d ordered. This was just another form of self-care, right?

You can feel the blood rushing in your ears and a bead of sweat trickles down your back, and you make the decision to hop into the shower while you waited. Sighing, you push yourself to stop being the overthinker you’d always been. Whoever was in charge of it would just put it at the door and then leave. It was none of their business, right?

Jisung really wasn’t a judgemental person. He knew people went through so much in their lives, which is why he never questioned orders with enough food for twelve people, only for one person to show up at the door. Or when someone ordered just yogurt and Tide Pods. People tended to forget things. Or they wanted to enjoy things. And who was he to stop them?

But right now, he was conflicted. He’d thought nothing of the order he’d just gotten, clicking accept on his delivery app, but then he’d done a double take when he actually saw what he’d had to pick up. Chugging along to the store on his red bicycle, he heaves for breath, trying to calm the racing in his heart.

You had to be joking right? Maybe you’d clicked it by mistake. He was more than used to his fair share of strange requests, but delivering a vibrator to someone’s doorstep was a new one. For a second, he’d thought about calling to confirm that you’d actually meant to order it, along with a mountain of snacks, but pushed the thought away immediately. That would only make things more awkward.

He wondered what could have possessed you to do something so impulsive. But then a lightbulb went off in his head. People tended to make rash decisions when they were going through a tough time — like a breakup. And suddenly, it all made sense to Jisung.

And being the empathetic person he was, his heart twinged for your sadness. You must have been really lonely. He wondered who could have broken up with you to make you so upset - from what he saw from your snack choices, you already had impeccable taste and he liked you. So he’d make sure you got your things safely.

Pulling up to the store, Jisung parks his bike away safely, the bell above the door signaling his entrance. The store clerk takes one look at him in his snapback with the app’s logo on it, and can barely hold back a smirk. Jisung feels his cheeks heat up… this wasn’t even his stuff, why was he feeling self-conscious?

“I’m uh, here for, —” he chokes out, feeling his throat close up, unable to get the words out. “Yeah.”

“Here you go,” the store clerk pushes the bag his way, unable to hold back their laughter, and Jisung feels a flash of anger go through him. Yeah, it was odd, but there was no reason to be so judgemental about it. “I hope whoever it is enjoys themselves.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they do,” he blurts out, watching the clerk’s eyes widen before he realizes what he’d just said. “I-, I mean I’ll make sure they get it, you know?”

He decides it’s time to leave before he does something even more stupid, slapping his palm against his forehead while he rushes out. What was it about this specific time that had him so flustered?

Actually, he knows what it was. He’d taken one look at the pink vibrator nestled away in its packaging, and thoughts of what would happen to it after he’d left it at your door raced through him. Rubbing a hand at the back of his neck, he wipes away the sweat that collects at his nape, taking a few deep breaths before hopping back on his bike.

Looking at the map, your apartment was only a couple of blocks away. He had to get it together before then.

Shaking out your wet hair, you slip your oversized t-shirt on, pulling up your fluffy socks, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. That couldn’t be what you thought it was. You decide to wait a few minutes to see if they knock again, and sure enough, they do.

You huff, looking down at your app. You’re pretty sure you’d clicked “leave at front”. But whoever “Jisung” was, he clearly didn’t get the memo, knuckles continuing to rap at your door.

“Helloooo,” his voice calls out, laced with genuine concern. “Is anyone there?”

Filled with annoyance, you stomp over to the door, pulling it open, ready to give this guy a piece of your mind when—,

Oh. Oh.

Big, brown doe eyes look at you from the other end, glassy and filled with sparkles, and your mind immediately goes blank, forgetting what you were so upset about. You stay there, lips parted, taking in every detail of the handsome stranger currently at your door, from his longish hair that falls in his eyes underneath his snapback, to the black painted fingernails on his slender hands.

The two of you remained locked in a stare for a few moments, Jisung unable to take his eyes off you either, and that’s when it registers that you’re only wearing a t-shirt and socks. You have the urge to slam the door in his face and scream from embarrassment, but then you wouldn’t be able to see his pretty face.

Jisung lets out a strangled sound, somewhere in between choking and a cough, hitting his chest in order to get the words out.

“Hi, I’m here with your order,” his voice cracks when he presents the bag full of things, the pink vibrator lying right on top

Your lips remain parted in an “o”, unable to say anything, eyes flitting in between your order and the cute delivery boy at your door. Eventually, you realize you should do something. Just maybe. So he doesn’t think you’re weird.

“I, uh, thank you, uhm, Jisung was it?” you watch his eyes widen at your acknowledgement, a smile lighting up his face. And it has your heart doing backflips.

“No problem, I hope you enjoy it!” Jisung responds enthusiastically, his ears reddening when he realizes what he’d just said.

Time seems to stand still when you accept the bag, watching him zip up his backpack and put on his jacket, those black nails taunting you. For a moment you imagine what they’d feel like inside of —

“Do you wanna come inside?” The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them, and Jisung freezes. You swear you hear him curse underneath his breath.

This was insane. Probably the most insane thing you’d done since breaking up with Minho. But he gave you butterflies in a way that no one had for a long time, and maybe, just maybe, this was a sign from the universe to take a risk. One more time.

“Jisung,” you repeat slowly, and he finally looks up at you, checking over his shoulder to see if you’re talking to him. “Do you want to come inside?”

He shrugs his jacket off, letting his backpack slip off until it’s hanging off one shoulder before he nods, unable to take his eyes off you standing on the other side of the threshold.

“I’d love to.”

Jisung feels like he’s going to pass out, wondering if he was having an out-of-body experience. Not only did he deliver his first sex toy today, but of course it had to be to one of the hottest girls he’d ever seen. None of it seemed real, as he followed you into your cosy apartment, filled with fairy lights and soft cushions.

A troublesome thought crosses his mind as he slips off his jacket and shoes, when he thinks back to how maybe you’d been going through a break-up. You inviting him in only served to strengthen that suspicion in his mind, but you’d been nothing but nice, just as shy and nervous at he’d felt. Whatever this was, Jisung was down for it, whether you just needed someone to talk to or — he thinks back to the pink vibrator.

Perhaps it was better not to get ahead of himself.

“Make yourself comfortable,” your soft voice echoes from the kitchen. He can hear you rustling around in there, putting away your things, and it makes him even more flustered. He looks around for anything to distract him from his racing mind, settling on a few photo frames of you and another guy, posing with three cats.

“I should probably take those down,” you surprise him again, coming up from behind and setting down some of the snacks you’d gotten and a few bottles of soju. “I haven’t really had anyone over here since the breakup.”

He was honestly shocked you were still on the rebound from your last relationship, given that you were — well you. If he’d known you then, heartbreak wouldn’t even have been a word in your vocabulary.

“It wasn’t horrible, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you reassure him, seeing a cute frown cross his face. “Minho was my first for a lot of things, but eventually you realize not everything is meant to last forever.”

“Is that why you, uh, you needed the things today?” Jisung chokes on sip of soju, hoping the sharp liquid can make him a little less awkward. From the way you fidget with your hair, he realizes it’s not helping at all on that front.

“Enough about me,” you take another swig, a bit of soju dribbling down your chin, and Jisung fights the urge to reach over and wipe it off. But then he’d be too close.

Jisung is a natural talker, opening up easily about himself and his life, from his own cute puppy to his friend group. Through the course of the conversation, he realizes that you’re older than him, but it doesn’t bother him. Something about the earnestness in your eyes makes him feel comfortable. It doesn’t help that you’re stunning under the dim lights, your damp skin shining and lips twisting into an adorable grin while you listen to him talk.

He wonders if he’s being a bit too forward, unable to keep his eyes off them while he goes on, but if you notice, you don’t say anything.

Half an hour later, and the distance between the two of you on the couch is completely non-existent, your thighs pressed up against Jisung’s while you giggle at his Doraemon impression.

He knows he’s probably a little tipsy, both of you are, but that doesn’t stop shock from registering when you pick up his hands, intertwining your fingers to marvel at his nail polish.

You bring them close to you, and even though he’s not touching you, he can swear he feels the thud of your heartbeat underneath your shirt.

“Do you like them?” his voice is gravelly as he asks the question, the soju making him feel like he’s floating.

“I do,” you stutter out. “They look really fucking good, I want them to, I-I mean I want some like them, shit–”

Another giggle bubbles from your lips and Jisung thinks he’s going to lose his mind, watching your eyes grow heavy-lidded, still clutching his hands in yours. The two of you are impossibly close now, any more and you’d be on top of him, but maybe he wants that. Maybe you want it too.

You squeak when he pulls you on top of him, the haze clearing momentarily when he feels your legs straddle him, clutching onto his shirt to avoid falling over completely. Jisung grips your thighs to hold you steady, and your stomach swims at his proximity. Looking into your eyes, he sees your pupils go dark, your throat bobbing while the two of you remain frozen, contemplating your next move.

He watches you suck in a breath, breaking eye contact to look over at the photo frames on your shelf, sadness flashing in your eyes. It stirs something within him, and he stops you midway, cupping your chin in his hands and tilting your head back towards him.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice is lower than he’s ever heard it, desire seeping into every crevice, and he sees you give a little nod before you’re leaning in, crashing your lips onto his.

Jisung stifles a groan, melting into the kiss, your soft, slightly chapped lips adding to the fire that fuels in between you. A whine escapes the back of your throat, your nails raking through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him into you. He traces the inside of your mouth, pressing you down onto his thighs, shocked to find wetness leaking onto his jeans.

You pull away with a flush, realization dawning on your face. Chewing your lower lip, you give him an apologetic look.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I forgot I wasn’t wearing anything underneath…”

Jisung pulls you back into him, nipping at your bottom lip, before he’s pulling away again, his warm breath fanning into your neck.

“You don’t have to apologize baby,” he voice makes you shiver. “I came here for you after all.”

The two of you stumble back into your bedroom, lips clashing desperately, and you tug at the hem of Jisung’s shirt. He breaks away from your lips to allow you a small bit of focus, but it’s gone in seconds when he eyes your neck, pressing small kisses along its length, pausing to graze his teeth in a few spots.

You flutter your eyelashes against Jisung’s temple, finally grabbing hold of his shirt and slipping it over his head. You pause, taking him in, running your knuckles along his sides, and he shivers.

Jisung doesn’t even wait for you to finish undressing him, pushing you back onto your bed softly, watching the way your oversized t-shirt hikes up, exposing more and more of your body to him.

You feel your stomach fall into knots at the appreciative look in his eyes. It’d been so long since someone had looked at you like that, and you feel like you could explode from that alone. You cling onto his biceps, giving them a squeeze, and he moves quickly, pulling you flush against him so he can grab your shirt and tear it off.

Shoving you against him, he mouths at your jaw, tugging your hair so you arch up into him, grinding against the rough denim of his jeans. You collapse into a series of moans and sighs, rutting against him while Jisung continues to work you over, moving down to your neck, before he thumbs at your breasts.

The first swipe of his thumb against your nipple has you keening, throbbing with need until —

Jisung pins you in place, lifting his body slightly so you’re no longer touching. He toys with your nipple experimentally, giving it a squeeze, and you nearly sob at the contact, wanting to feel him again.

“Had to cut it off or I wouldn’t last,” he rumbles into your ear, stroking the soft skin of your stomach before he dips down in between your thighs, stroking exactly where you need him.

Jisung’s eyes widen in surprise at exactly how wet you seem to be, curiously swiping up and down before he plunges a finger in.

“Jisung, please, god, I—” you’re unable to get the words out, tugging at his hair while he fucks you open, your clit throbbing. Your hands roaming underneath the waistband of his pants, pushing at them uselessly, before Jisung pauses. You watch your arousal coat his fingers while he works the button open, finally pulling them off.

Closing your eyes, you ready to finally feel him, but like everything else today, Jisung is full of surprises, kneeling until he’s face first with you, exposed and open for him. The first press of his tongue against you has you bucking up into him, and you feel him smirk, his other hand reaching to press on your neck.

Your eyes flutter, your entire focus narrowing to where Jisung sucks on your clit, and then you’re breaking, nearly flying off the sheets as your thighs clamp around his head, both of you unable to contain your moans.

Jisung looks down at you, his lips swollen and messy with you on them, and you watch him study you, flushed and fucked out underneath him.

“Hey,” he says softly, brushing away the hair that’s fallen on your face. “You okay still?”

“Better than okay,” you mumble through your lips, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. It’s too soft a gesture for what this was supposed to be, but Jisung melts into it anyway, reveling in the quiet moment.

“Keep going please?” you breathe into his neck. There’s barely a moment to think before Jisung’s hands are on your ass again, pushing you up into him so he can line himself up with your entrance. Without warning, he slides in, bottoming out harshly, and you dig your nails into his back.

You open up wider, letting him grab your leg and rest it on his shoulder, and his arm braces itself around your waist, lifting you up so he can find your lips again, tongue catching all the sounds that fall out of you.

His hands roam all over you, like he can’t get enough of your body. Jisung’s sweat soaked bangs are messy as he throws his head back, thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier, and you know he’s close.

“Fuck,” he groans, rubbing tight circles on your clit, until you feel yourself snap, gushing around him. “Where can I–”

Your hand rests on his jaw, rubbing small circles into it, and you’re pushing him back, watching his eyes widen in shock as you lower, taking him in between your lips. Jisung makes a strangled noise when he feels himself hit the back of your throat, twitching once before spilling into you.

The two of you fall into each other, heavy breaths mingling, and Jisung buries his head into the crook of your neck. You feel him smile against you, and your own soft smile lights up your face, the both of you falling asleep holding each other.

It must be the middle of the night before you muster up the energy to move, cleaning yourself off and changing into a comfy shirt and sweatpants. Behind you, Jisung is still dozing off, his face even softer in sleep than it was awake, and you stroke his cheek.

Feeling bad, you slip out, deciding to make him a cup of coffee. There’s a pang in your heart when you realize that he has to leave after this, that the two of you made no promises to each other. Every muscle in your body is aching as you hunch over the boiling coffee pot, begging you to ask him to stay.

From the corner of your eye, you spot the pink vibrator sitting on the counter, still in its packaging, and you chuckle, realizing you’d never got a chance to put it away.

“I hope you’re not thinking of using that without me,” you jump in shock at Jisung’s voice, turning around to see him grinning at you, hair mussed and clothes rumpled.

“Oh god, Jisung, I’m so sorry, your job, I didn’t even realize,” panic sets in as you try to make an excuse, guilt filling your chest for dragging him into your heartbreak.

“___,” he comes up to you, wrapping you in a hug from behind, his head resting on your shoulder. “Believe me, I wouldn’t have stayed unless I wanted to. And I wanted to.”

“Really?” you breathe out, unable to believe he’s actually saying this. “Why?”

You can’t stop your voice from cracking, the doubt creeping in again when you thought about how things had been good with Minho, and yet they hadn’t lasted, believing that someway, somehow, it was your fault. That you hadn’t been enough.

Jisung chuckles into your neck, pressing a kiss onto your cheek.

“You’re so cute. I wanna be here for you, in whatever way you need. If that wasn’t evidence enough, I’m kinda into you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

You feel your heart explode at his self-assuredness, finding comfort in his presence. When the morning came you knew he’d have to go, but maybe, just maybe, you’d let yourself be needy again. Especially when it worked out so well the last time.

a/n pt. 2: As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

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sui-imi · 1 year

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[NEW REFERENCE HERE]

this is my sans OC Roo, he's a delivery driver for UNDEREATS (a cross-AU food delivery service)

his moped lets him travel hop

he likes to frequent deliveries for a few shops, namely Grillby's 2 (the multiversal version of Grillby's)

100 Facts about Roo post

Roo answered some questions!

Want to learn more? Use the tag #undereats!sans

For more UnderEats in general, use the tag #undereats

#undertale au #undertaleau #undereats #roo #sans oc #imi art #undereats!sans #utmv #outdated ref sheet

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mrs-barnes-rogers-writes · 27 days

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Sometimes Your Soul Family Is The Only Family You Need - Part 5

Marvel AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve Rogers

Summary: 18 months ago you were a mess but with the help of your close friends you start to rebuild your life. Your soul friendships maybe chaotic but they're your family, just as you're theirs. With one of them about to have a baby, you and your misfit friends are here to visit. But will you stay? And what will the small town think of you having two soulmates and why do you keep finding yourself in the same place as a bunch of hot bikers.

"Sometimes families are assholes, sometimes your soul connections mean far more than family ever can. Sometimes your soul family is the only family you need." - Nurse Maggie

Chapter Warning: Premature labour mentioned, baby loss mentioned

Chapter Summary: The reader is processing that they may have seen their soulmate. Are two worlds about to collide?

By the time you leave the hospital Annemarie is in high spirits. Mostly because she's practically eaten a whole pie to herself, and because you’ve fallen on your ass trying to get on the hospital DVT socks up her legs, as Ryan had recorded the whole thing, but also as she has her soul family near. Daniel’s grateful, even if you have teased him and wound him up to the point that it feels like you’ve been there all day and it’s only been an hour.

Ryan is quick to befriend the hospital nursing staff as you found a doctor for a clear update and you both feel reassured that Annemarie and the baby are getting the best possible care.

You’ve also made a list of everything she wants doing at the house and it’s a lot. The baby’s room isn’t finished and there’s furniture to be delivered and built, baby clothes to be washed and more. Annemarie mentions a deep clean of the whole house and Daniel looks like he’s about to throw himself on the floor.

You add it to the list and both you and Ryan reassure her it’s all in hand. Wanda and Darcy will be here for a long weekend soon and it’ll all get done, one way or another.

When you slip back into the driver’s seat of your car, you let out an exhausted sigh. You snort with laughter when Ryan tells you he’s ready for bed.

“What? Napping in this passenger seat does not count as full sleep!”

You laugh and start the car, not noticing the redhead watching you both as you pull away.

When you arrive at the Airbnb, you find a cute welcome basket and a note from the owner to let her know if you need anything and that she hopes Annemarie is ok. Ryan giving the host your life stories had seemingly paid off as she’d supplied you with breakfast supplies for at least a couple of days, along with snacks and wine. The fridge also had milk and juices stocked inside. Ryan was quick to message her to say thank you as you ordered Chinese takeout for dinner.

You both knew each other well enough to know that if you sat down you’d fall asleep so you pushed through and busied yourself with bringing in your bags, getting unpacked and showering quickly. You were both in your PJs by the time the delivery guy arrived. Although boy would have been more appropriate and he blushed heavily when you’d open the door.

“Hi, I’m food, here’s your Peter. No that’s not right.”

You laughed as Ryan joined you at the door.

“Hi, I’m Peter, thank you for ordering with us. Here’s your food.”

“Thank you Peter.”

You paid for the food and included a generous tip. He looked you up and down, blushed and sped off down the path to his waiting moped.

“Poor kid. You’d think he’d never seen a girls legs before.” Ryan quipped.

“He probably hasn’t.”

You and Ryan ate in comfortable silence as your latest murder documentary played in the background.

“So tomorrow I’m thinking we start with the list and get the supplies, take them their clean stuff and figure out what we’re dealing with at the house. What do you think?”

“Agreed.” Ryan replied as he cleared away the plates as you stretched and yawned.

“Don’t fall asleep there.”

He knew you so well. You groaned and shuffled off to bed, as Ryan followed behind taking the room across from you. It didn’t take long for you to drift off, your dreams filled with blue eyes.

You’d slept solidly for a few hours when a dream you were having slipped into a nightmare. Blue eyes, two pairs, tender touches, a growing bump and then a baby in your arms. Then the touches and blue eyes were gone. The baby in your arms was disappeared to dust and you panicked, waking yourself as you started to cry and jumping up in the bed. You put a hand over your mouth to cover the sob that stuck in your throat. Once you’d steadied your breathing you’d kicked off the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. You listened out for Ryan hoping you hadn’t woke him but were met with silence.

It had been at least a couple of months since you’d dreamt of the baby and what could have been and you gave your face a frustrated rub. Your soul marks caught your eye and you looked at them rubbing your thumb over the letters.

S.G.R J.B.B

They still felt sore after yesterday and you thought again of the blue eyes and the biker they’d belonged to. You felt your letters tingle again as you heard a rumble of a motorbike. You jumped to your feet and tried to peek around the closed curtains. You watched as two bikers passed by. You couldn’t quite be sure if they were the same ones as yesterday but the burning in your arm told you one of them definitely was. You jumped back, paranoid that one of them had seen you and returned to the edge of the bed.

You stared at the floor for at least half an hour, trying to figure out what it all meant, before forcing yourself into the shower. By the time Ryan wandered down you had googled ‘how to know your soulmates are near’, ‘soulmate signs’ and ‘triad relationships’ at least three times. You were on your third tea, showered, dressed and ready to take on the day.

“Good morning Sleeping Beauty.”

“Haha.” Ryan replied dryly. “How long had you been up?”

“Not long.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, knowing you were lying from the pile of tea bags on the draining board alone. The bags under your eyes also confirmed it.

“I went over the list and the Airbnb lady messaged again. She recommended the hardware store down from the pie shop. Said to mention her and we’ll get a discount as they’re soul friends.”

“Small town, guess everyone knows each other one way or another.”

“Hmmmm” You replied.

“Ok, that’s enough of you bullshit missy. Spill it.”

“What?”

“Don’t what me with that fake surprise on your face. I know you.”

You shrugged.

“It’s two things. Either both or one.”

You remained silent and looked out of the window from your spot seated at the kitchen island.

“It’s the baby.”

“It’s not.”

“It’d be completely normal if it was.”

“It’s not.”

“Or it’s something to do with your soulmates."

Your eyes snapped to Ryan.

“What?”

“I saw your wrist in the bathroom before you put the band back on. Your letters were inflamed.”

“I, erm, I.......”

Ryan slipped onto the stool beside you.

“And inflamed letters mean they’re nearby.”

You began to sniffle and Ryan turned towards you, pulling you into his arms. He continued to rock and hold you, placing the occasional kiss to your head.

“I’ll listen when you’re ready.” He said. Ryan had learnt the hard way not to push you when you weren’t ready to talk and full of emotion. A habit of shutting down and walking or running away had grown worse since your break up with he who shall not be named.

You swallowed hard and began to move out of his arms. You had a hundred things swirling through your mind.

How would it work? Would they know each other? What if they hate each other? Are they both here? How does it really work? Like ALL of it? With three people?

Before you had chance to brain dump all over him your phone started to ring.

Daniel calling……

You picked up quickly and put it on speaker.

“Hey, everything ok?”

“No.” He sounded stressed. “The cramps have started again. They’re talking about giving her something to speed the baby’s lungs up.”

Ryan mumbled “shit” under his breath.

“OK. What do you need us to do? Do you want us there or to get the other things done?”

You heard him start to cry and mouthed to Ryan to get dressed. He moved quickly as you followed behind him reading an overnight bag for you both.

“Daniel. Breath. Take some deep breaths, ok?”

“I don’t know what to do.” He cried.

“Are you with her right now?”

“I’m in the hall. A nurse is with her, Maggie, I think.”

“OK. This is what we’re going to do.”

The call continued as you calmed Daniel down and took control of the situation as much as you could over the phone. You’d do some of the tasks they’d given you and split up the remainder over the next few days. You’d bring them clean clothes and a top up on toiletries, you’d call anyone that should be called, allowing Daniel to concentrate on Annemarie and the baby. Your last instruction was for him to go to the bathroom and splash his face with water and reassure Annemarie. Ryan entered the bedroom as you finished up the call. You’d never known him get ready so quick.

“We should pick up blankets and pillows in case we need to sleep on the floor.”

You nodded in agreement.

“I’ve got two yoga mats for us to sleep on as well. I left them in the car. Grab some of those danishes and a carton of juice we’ll have breakfast in the car. I’ll throw the bag in.”

Ryan nodded. You were always the friend everyone wanted in an emergency. You stepped up for him and the others in so many ways he couldn’t even explain. It was one of the reasons they rallied like they did when you were near to giving up. He couldn’t help but worry what this was doing to you though and if it would play with your emotions. Snapped out of his wandering thoughts by the sound of your car starting, he gathered up the breakfast supplies and left the house, locking the door behind him.

On route to town you continued to take charge of the situation. Passing your credit card to Daniel with an instruction to order premature baby clothes. You’d also managed to call Daniel’s mum, who was currently cruising around the Mediterranean with the rest of his family. You were thankful that Annemarie and Daniel had made the decision to drop out of the vacation once they’d realised how far along she’d be. The thought of this happening with them far away and on a cruise ship made your stomach turn. You’d also updated Wanda and Darcy, who’d immediately start packing and were on standby to bring forward their visit. Screw work, being the most used phrase. They were all going to be unemployed at this rate but you told them all not to mention it to Annemarie as she was already worried about Ryan’s possible lack of employment.

Pulling into a parking space outside the row of stores and spotting the town was buzzling, even for a midmorning on a Saturday, you decided on a divide and conquer approach. Ryan would go and get more pie, you’d pick up the basic decorating supplies from the hardware store, then you’d meet back up at the sandwich shop.

You'd then stop by Annemarie and Daniel’s for their things and head to the hospital. Twenty minutes later though your plans would come to a drastic halt.

Meanwhile........

“Thanks guys. Have a good weekend.” Steve called as the others headed towards their cars and bikes.

“You say that like we’re not going to be hanging out in a couple of hours.” Clint laughed patting Steve’s shoulder as he went. Steve smiled back.

“I know, I know. Ermmm Clint, before you go, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Soulmates.”

“Steve don’t.” Bucky interrupted.

“Did you see her again?” Clint asked.

“What? How do you know?” Steve asked, as he and Bucky shot Natasha an annoyed look.

“You don’t remember?” Clint asked. Steve shook his head in reply. “The end of summer barbecue at Thor’s last year?”

Steve glanced at Bucky.

“Don’t look at me. We weren’t talking that night, remember? You got wasted and fell asleep on the kitchen floor.” Bucky reminded him.

“You got really drunk and you cried to Laura about how you thought you’d seen her, your soulmate. You’d rode around looking, this idiot didn’t want to help you because he was still in his self loathing era.”

“Hey.”

“Just saying it how it is, well was. You didn’t mention it again. Laura and Nat said not to bring it up. Didn’t want you getting upset, none of us did.”

Steve nodded. Clint reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

“Soulmates can be a complicated business Rogers, even more so when there’s more than a couple of people in the mix, but we’re soul friends, brothers. You can ask me anything. What do you need to know?”

Steve nodded sheepishly and went to speak but was cut off by Bucky.

“I saw her. Well, I think I saw her last night.”

“You’re sure?” Clint asked.

“I felt it.” Bucky huffed “I know it’s weird. I don’t have her letters anymore, my arm, you know, but I saw her and I felt like my chest was on fire. When she looked at me, I knew, I knew it was her. I’m so fucking sorry Stevie.”

Tearful by the end, Bucky rubbed his face. Steve pulled him into a bone crushing hug as Natasha rubbed his back soothingly. Clint smiled at them softly as they parted.

“Ok, then let’s go find your girl.”

Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

TAGLIST

@animegirlgeeky @mrsevans90 @spookyparadisesheep @thezombieprostitute

#avengers au #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel au #soulmates #soulmate au #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #avengers biker au #biker au

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 2 years

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Do you think about me?

AN: I was originally going to post a Felix fic for Valentine's Day, but I realised I haven't posted any fics about Seungmin yet, and this was the perfect time. Kill two birds with one stone. I do have a softer Seungmin fic in my drafts, but I chose violence because I don't love myself obviously lol. Happy Valentine's Day!

Synopsis: Seungmin is the guy you told your ex-boyfriend not to worry about. Turns out he had reasons to be concerned after all.

Heads up: Kim Seungmin x Fem! Reader, friends to friends who fuck/potentially lovers , some angst pertaining to Reader's previous relationship with Chris, Seungmin being a menace, dirty talk, hair pulling, mild biting (f. receiving), nipple play (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), degradation (f. receiving), mild edging (f. receiving), slight dacryphilia, unprotected piv sex, Seungmin being a bit of a douche and slandering Ex! Chris, Possessive! Seungmin, implied breeding kink (it's not stated outright but, it's definitely there) and creampie.

I will block you if you are minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

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"You look terrible," Seungmin comments when you let him into your apartment, making himself at home on your couch.

"Wow, thanks. It's nice to see you too Seungmin and, Happy Valentine's Day," you respond dryly, shutting your door and trying to remember why you let him into your home in the first place. You'd much rather continue to wallow in solitude.

"It's true. Go take a shower and change while I get us some food. You've been moping for long enough, and you need to come back to the land of the living," he says, not missing a beat and opening up a food delivery app as though you'd just go along with him.

"It's been two weeks. I think I reserve the right to still be sad about Chris," you say, your heart clenching uncomfortably at the mention of your ex-boyfriend's name. At least you're not crying anymore. That's progress.

"Sure, but you can't just keep yourself locked up in your apartment forever. Also, shower. Now. We'll talk when you're finished," he says, glancing up at you and leaving you with no room to argue with him. Seungmin always seemed to know just how to get you to listen to whatever he said. It's really aggravating.

"Fine," you sigh in defeat, trudging your way towards your bathroom and choosing to ignore the triumphant smirk you know is on his face right now.

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You try to steady your breath as the warm water from your shower head washes over you. You'd never give him the satisfaction but, Seungmin was right. A shower definitely made you feel significantly better.

When you step out and take a look in the mirror, you're startled by your appearance. You look like a ghost of yourself. You probably looked worse before taking a shower and actually doing some skincare, but you still can't help how caught off guard you are by how unlike yourself you look. However, making yourself feel worse isn't productive.

You opt to start getting dressed after moisturising your skin, throwing on an oversized shirt without a bra and shorts. Pointedly ignoring your reflection this time around, you leave your bathroom feeling better than you have in admittedly a long time.

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"There she is," Seungmin says when you come into view, a genuine smile painting his face. Your mouth waters when the smell of the food he ordered wafts over to you, luring you towards your coffee table where Seungmin spread it all out.

"What did you get?" You ask, settling beside him. Your eyes taking in the various dishes in front of you, saliva pooling in your mouth.

"Comfort foods. Dig in," is all he says in response, grabbing a dish filled with what looks like rice cakes. You don't notice his careful gaze watching you as you grab a few slices of pizza for yourself and eat away, his eyes softening considerably.

A comfortable silence fills the space between the two of you as it always does. You'd be lying if you said you didn't appreciate him being here. Your apartment had been lonely the past few weeks, and having someone here feels... nice.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks quietly, his eyes meeting your surprised ones. Seungmin isn't pushy and invasive usually. You know he's happily drop it if you said no, but talking about it might help, and you know he'd listen. Really listen.

"We just... I think we just wanted different things. I think we're both in different stages of our lives, and it wouldn't have been fair to make the other wait. It was mostly mutual but, it still sucks, you know?" You say softly, swallowing around the lump you can feel building in your throat.

Seungmin pulls you into a hug before you realise what's happening. Strong and supportive and just there. You return his embrace, food forgotten on your table as you try your best not to completely fall apart. It's been so long since someone else has touched you. You close your eyes as you let his warmth and scent wash over you, hands fisting the fabric of his shirt.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just thought it might help," he mutters against your ear, his breath making a shudder involuntarily run down your spine. It takes a moment for you to steady yourself, "No, it's okay. That's the gist of it, really. He'd get a little jealous sometimes too but, it wasn't the biggest problem we had."

"Jealous? Why? You were nothing but loyal to him," he responds, confusion clear as day in his voice.

You could never lie to Seungmin even if you tried.

"He was jealous of you. Of us. The friendship we have," warmth filling your face as the confession spills out of you.

Seungmin pulls back then, his warm, wide eyes meeting yours as his hands rest on your shoulders, "Jealous of me?"

"Yeah, I mean even Jisung always makes jokes about how the two of us are closer than most. I think it got too much for Chris,"

"Jisung's an idiot," he retorts with a roll of his eyes, and you actually laugh. You can't remember the last time anything or anyone managed to get even a chuckle out of you.

"You're not wrong there, but my point still stands. I think you made him feel threatened, in a sense," you say, and an unreadable expression crosses his face. He seemed to be contemplating something.

"Were his feelings unfounded?"

It's your turn to be surprised because Seungmin's question catches you completely off guard.

"What?"

"Did he have a reason to feel threatened?" He asks with so much seriousness that you don't know what to say for a few beats, your mind totally blank. Seungmin is a good friend. You care about him deeply. You also recognise that he's kind, funny, great to banter with and attractive, but you've managed to keep those thoughts mostly to yourself over the years. Or at least you think you have. Maybe Chris caught onto them more than you realised.

"The look on your face is telling me maybe his feelings weren't unwarranted,"

His voice breaks you out of your thoughts. The small, smug uptick of the corners of his lips is both irritating and unnecessarily attractive. "No- I- I would've never done that to Chris."

"I know you wouldn't have, and I think he knew that too, but I think your hesitance to even answer my question is pretty telling," he says, his eyes taking on a knowing gleam.

You flounder with your words once more, denial at the implications Seungmin is making hot on your tongue, but you know you'd be lying.

"I'm flattered, really," he says, far too amused with how flustered you are and privately just relieved to see signs of the old you.

"You're so annoying," you huff, lightly shoving his chest with your hand and rolling your eyes to distract yourself from the tension you feel in the air. It's probably all in your mind anyways.

"Yeah, and you want me," he retorts with a full-blown smirk this time around, his usually warm eyes taking on a more mischievous glint. All you can do is stare at him. Kim Seungmin leaving you speechless at his audacity.

It's made all the more worse because he's not wrong.

Your heart rate picks up considerably when one of his hands moves to cup your jaw, his thumb lightly brushing your bottom lip as he watches the movement intently. He looks like he wants to eat you alive.

"I can't say your feelings aren't reciprocated," he mutters lowly, the drop in his voice making your insides clench around nothing. Embarrassment running through you at how easily he manages to effect you.

"I- huh?" Is all your murky mind can manage to come up with at the moment. Resisting the intrusive thought to just take his thumb in your mouth.

The grin he gives you is mean and condescending, not the typical smile you've come to know and expect from your friend. It only makes the ache so much worse. He let's out an amused, throaty chuckle before speaking, "Do I really have to spell it out for you? I want you too."

Seungmin seems to be trying his utmost to make your heart stop beating in your chest today.

"But, I need to know you're okay with this. Actually okay with this. I would never take advantage of you when you're vulnerable. I care about you too much to do that. If you say no, we can stop right now and pretend this never-"

You cut him off with a kiss to his pretty lips. Pouring years' worth of want and frustration into it, your hands desperately pulling him towards you and swallowing his startled noise. The kiss is messy and uncoordinated, but you can't bring yourself to really care when you finally have him like this.

One of Seungmin's hands weaves its way into your hair, giving it a slight tug and grinning against your lips when you gasp at the sting. Taking the opportunity to lick into your mouth while his other hand runs along your waist, toying with the bottom of your shirt. You barely have a chance to breathe, let alone think with how thoroughly he's kissing you.

Eventually, oxygen does become a necessity, but he doesn't relent. Moving from your likely bruised lips and kissing along your neck, his teeth occasionally grazing the skin there in a way that makes you melt further into him.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to have you like this," he utters against your skin, pressing his teeth a little harder against a weak spot he found during his exploration. His hand ghosting over one of your breasts, stilling the air in your lungs. Between his words and his ministrations, trying to remember how to speak is becoming increasingly more challenging.

"I've wanted you for s-so long too," you breathe, too wound up to care about bearing so much to him at once. Your response seems to shatter whatever fragile resolve Seungmin had because you soon find yourself on your back. His hands impatiently shoving your shirt up as his mouth finds yours once more.

He swallows the mewls you let out against him as his hands touch your breasts for the first time. Giving them experimental squeezes to gauge your reaction. You find yourself arching into him when his fingers toy with your sensitive nipples, a gasp flying from your mouth when he gives them a particularly hard pinch.

"I didn't think you'd be such a masochist," he muses, licking at your throat once more as his fingers and hands toy with your tits to his hearts content. His hardening cock pressing against you through your flimsy shorts.

"I didn't think you'd be such a menace," you fire back, but the breathlessness in your voice dispels any potential venom in your tone. You cry out when he bites down on your neck harder than before. Not enough for it to really hurt, but the little pain it provides is enough to worsen the sticky mess in your panties and, you involuntarily grind yourself against his sweatpants covered cock.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of. This is nothing," you're not sure if that's a promise of things to come or a threat, but either way, you're not complaining. Before you can think to retort, his hot, wet mouth envelopes one of your nipples. Licking and sucking at the sensitive nub in a way that makes your toes curl. All of this is only worsened by one of his hands slowly trailing down your body, fingertips lightly grazing your abdomen until they reach the top of your shorts.

But because Seungmin seems to enjoy seeing you suffer, his hand stills there. Toying with the waistband of your shorts and every brush of his fingers making the ache you've been feeling for what seems like ages more unbearable.

"Seungmin," you whine, thrusting your hips up towards him in search of any sort of relief, your hands tugging on his hair desperately. The pop that rings out when he releases your nipple borders on obscene, his eyes alight with desire and mischief once more.

"Yes?" He asks, sounding far too pleased with himself as his fingertips trace featherlight patterns just above your shorts.

It takes everything in you not to huff in frustration at this incredibly aggravating man, but you have a feeling that would just emboldened him. "Please touch me," you beg barely above a whisper, the throbbing between your thighs currently more of a priority than your ego.

"I am touching you," he retorts, pressing kisses to the tops of both of your breasts to prove his point and snapping the waistband of your shorts against your skin.

You might actually hate him.

"No- I mean, please touch me here," you respond, grabbing his hand and sliding it down the front of your shorts until his fingers brush your more than likely ruined panties.

You can't help the smugness you feel when you see the ever composed and teasing Kim Seungmin falter for once. His lips parting and eyes becoming lidded when his fingers experimentally touch you, taking in just how wet you already are.

The unadulterated want on his face makes him look more attractive somehow. A strangled gasp flies from your lips when his fingers run along your clothed slit, hips twitching into his touch at each brush of his calloused fingers on your swollen clit.

"You're soaked already," he groans against your skin, sweat dotting his forehead and making his hair stick to it as he meets your gaze. His fingers continue to touch and brush and run along you in a way that quickly drives you to madness.

"Seungmin, please. It hurts. I want your fingers inside me please please plea -" your begging is cut off by two of his fingers pushing your panties to the side and sinking into you to the knuckle, his lips finding yours again and leaving your mind spinning.

His fingers stretch you out in a way you haven't felt in some time. Your own not nearly as long and thick as his. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull when he starts moving, curling them inside of you in a way that makes an embarrassing high-pitched keen spill from your lips that's he's more than happy to swallow.

"So fucking wet and tight," he groans, increasing the speed of his fingers when it seems like you've adjusted to the stretch. His fingers quickly finding that spot inside of you that results in your walls gripping his fingers harshly because of fucking course he would. He just had to be good at everything. He opts to continue kissing and licking and nipping at your neck as he fucks you brainless on his fingers. All you can do is lie there and take it, moans and mewls and keens mixed with incoherent words all you're able to offer in return. Your hands moving in a frenzy. Unsure of whether they want to tug on his hair or grip his shirt to steady yourself.

"Are you gonna cum just from my fingers already? Isn't that a little too pathetic, y/n?" He asks against the shell of your ear, the harsh tone of his voice making you gush on his fingers more.

"Oh, you like it when I'm mean. Aren't you a cute, little, brainless slut," he groans, tugging your lobe with his teeth as his thumb presses against your clit. His body keeping you in place as your body bucks against him at the sensation, crying out when he rubs hard circles against the hypersensitive nub.

Your orgasm is so close that you can practically taste it. Sparks building at the base of your spine and spreading throughout your body as Seungmin's fingers, mouth and words push you closer and closer and closer to the edge.

Which is why it hurts all the more when Seungmin abruptly stops and pulls his fingers out from inside of you. Your eyes fly open, and you meet his dark ones, a devilish grin spread across his face as he leans away from you. Sadistic pleasure coursing through his veins as he takes in your dishevelled state.

The tears build in your eyes make his cock throb, "Seungmin, why- why'd you stop? I was close," you ask and the whiney edge to your voice tempts him to sink his cock into you right then and there.

"I'd much rather feel you cum on my dick," is all the answer you receive. Complaints dying on your lips as Seungmin tugs off his shirt impatiently, your hunger eyes taking in his bare torso as he makes quick work of his boxers and sweats as well. Seeing him completely naked infront of you makes you realise just how empty you are, panting like an animal in heat at the sight of his long, flushed cock smearing pre-cum against his tense abdomen.

"Well, what're you waiting for?" He asked with a raised eyebrow like you're a moron. It takes you a moment to catch on to what he means, your own hands tug off your skewed, ruined clothing in record time. Seungmin takes a moment to admire you spread out before him. Thighs parted and, your pussy swollen and leaking with arousal all for him. His cock pulses as he takes it in his hand and slowly runs his tip along your slit, the corners of his mouth lifting up when your hips buck up into him everytime he brushes your clit or teases your entrance like he'll sink in any minute now.

You think he might just make you lose your mind.

"Seungmin, please," you beg so desperately that your voice cracks in the process, but you couldn't care less. Nothing but, the desire to cum or feel him inside of you or, both really, taking over.

"Since my needy slut asked so nicely," he responds, pushing the head of his cock inside of you. Both of you moan at the feeling, Seungmin gritting his teeth as he pushes inch after inch inside of his cock into your tight, hot pussy. His forehead rests against your shoulder when he finally bottoms out, your quiet mewls and his harsh breathing being the only sounds heard in your living room.

Your nails dig into his back when he gradually starts moving, his cock hitting spots inside of you that render you borderline delirious. "You're so fucking ah tight," he rumbles against your throat, grabbing your thigh and angling your leg over his hip in a way that makes him slide impossibly deeper.

"Seungmin, yo-you feel so good. So de-deep," you babble out, a few stray tears falling down your face as he picks up speed, his balls slapping harshly against your ass with each one of his thrusts and his tongue lapping at the sensitive skin of your neck.

"Yeah? Is my little cockslut already going stupid on my cock?" You noticed it earlier but, the possessive edge to his voice makes you clench around his cock harder. All you're able to do in response is whine and moan, nodding your head in an attempt to answer his question.

"Aren't you cute and pathetic," he breathes unsteadily against your skin, groaning at the way your walls try their best to get him to cum. "Didn't take you long to let me fuck you, did it? How long have you fantasised about this?"

Shame intertwined with arousal knots in your gut because he's right. It didn't take him long at all to have you spreading your thighs for him. You're honestly amazed that he can speak coherently right now. Your own cognitive abilities failing you as you try to muster up words to answer him.

One of his hands grips your jaw once more and forces you to meet his intimidating gaze, his cock stilling inside of you completely.

"I asked you a question. I expect an answer," god, the commanding tone in his voice really shouldn't turn you on as much as it does.

"I-I've thought a-about you um like thi-this since we f-first met," you manage to stutter out, trying your hardest to focus with him nestled so deeply inside of you.

"So, it seems like you can speak," he says, resuming his unrelenting fucking into as though it's nothing. You can feel your orgasm building once more, hoping against hope that he'll let you finally cum this time around. You're not sure what you might do if he doesn't.

"That long, huh? You should've said something. I would've happily fucked you dumb on my cock a long time ago. No wonder Chris was jealous," he muses, but hearing Chris's names throws you for a second, surprise colouring your face.

"Oh, come on, y/n. Don't give me that look. We both know that you were thinking about every time he so much as touched you. I bet you touched yourself to thoughts of me too" he whispers into your ear, his hand moving between your bodies until his fingers eventually find your clit. He wastes no time in rubbing fast circles against you, low groans filling your ear as you clench and gush around him.

Even if you could respond, you're not sure what you would say. Seungmin's sheer nerve leaving utterly speechless. Fortunately for you, your orgasm slams into you before your mind can dwell too much on the jarring accuracy of his words. Your hands cling to his broad shoulders for purchase. Your body convulsing harshly underneath his as he continues to fuck you through your mind numbing release.

"Fuck," he moans, lidded eyes taking in your purely blissed out expression and his hands flying to your thighs as he chases his own climax.

"Your pretty pussy is gonna make me cum, baby. Gonna fill you up with my ah cum. Fu-fuck, gonna cum inside you. Make you take it all," he groans deliriously, picking up speed even more all while the obscene sounds of your wetness and skin slapping against skin rings out. "My good girl. My cumslut ah fuck," is the only warning you receive before he stills inside of you to the hilt. Moans and curses spilling from his mouth as his hot, thick cum paints your walls white. His hips jerking against yours from time to time as he rides out his release.

The two of you catch your respective breaths. The sticky mixture of your climaxes slowly leaking out of you but, you're still too hazy and thoroughly rung out to bring yourself to care at the moment. Your fingers playing with the ends of Seungmin's hair as he plants soft kisses against your shoulder and collarbone.

"Hey,"

"Mmhmm?"

"Happy Valentine's Day," if anyone asks, your heart definitely does not stutter in your chest at the smile he gives you after wishing you a happy Valentine's Day. Not at all.

#kim seungmin smut #seungmin smut #stray kids smut

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thezombieprostitute · 7 months

Text

Changing Minds - Part 5

Summary: Your long time work acquaintance Nick Fowler offers to take you to a fancy fundraiser as a way of cheering you up. He insists it's only as friends but when he sees you falling into the grasp of someone he knows is no good, he might change his mind on that.

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: Implied violence and attempted murder. Please let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Reader is an older female (late 30's +).

Part 4 -- Part 6

Series Masterlist

You don’t get much sleep and finally give up trying when you get a phone call from your boss letting you know you’ve been given a week off to recover. You’re strongly tempted to dip into your regular time off and take a vacation but then you remember you’re being watched. Could you really enjoy a day on the town if someone’s trying to kill you or use you to send a message? Would you be able to relax at the beach if you know you’re not being protected by more than just Nick?

Ugh. Nick, you think bitterly. You know he couldn’t have predicted Mr. Kent’s interest in you. Nor the following incidents. But still, if he had just let you mope in private about your family issues, if he hadn’t been…if he hadn’t been the friend you really needed. You really can’t stay angry at him. You’re not ready to apologize to him, if you even need to apologize, but you’re ready to no longer be angry.

You walk back out to the main living area and it almost looks as if Nick hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch. The only reason you know he didn’t is because of the mug of tea in his hands. He’s staring at nothing.

“Nick?”

Your voice startles him out of his trance. He spills a little of the tea in surprise and he realizes it’s been sitting so long it’s gone cold. “Yes,” he questions, “what do you need?” His icy blue eyes are practically begging you for ways to make things right.

“Update from my boss, I’m not going to work for at least a week,” you report. “I don’t know if you need to tell your security team about that.”

“I’ll let them know,” he grabs his phone and starts texting. “They’ll still monitor, in case someone comes by looking for you, but it’ll help them prioritize.” You nod and he continues, “are you going to go right back to work after that or take some more time off?”

“I really don’t know,” you sigh.

“That’s okay,” he quickly asserts. “We’ll take this a day or two at a time, okay?” You nod in agreement. “In the meantime, how about some food? We’ve got people watching your apartment so I can go get you some lamb curry from Shalimar. Or I can have someone else go pick it up, pretend it’s a GrubHub delivery.”

“How did you know I like lamb curry,” you interrupt him. “Specifically from Shalimar?”

“One or two of our conversations, we’ve talked about lamb,” he says. “Complaining about how difficult it can be to find at a reasonable price around here. I did some checking while you were asleep and Shalimar is the only place that delivers around here and has a reasonably priced lamb curry.”

“I’m impressed,” you admit, nodding your head. “Whichever option is safest, I would absolutely love some lamb curry.”

“Okay,” Nick gets up from the couch. “I’ll go and get it. Can’t have too many people in and out of the area lest one of our people gets ID’d. We’ve got Jake monitoring the security cams at your building’s doors and a couple of…bruisers are setting up in another apartment. They get a notice from Jake they’re at your door in seconds.”

You’re not sure you’re ready to be alone but you don’t want to tell Nick that so you just nod. As soon as he’s out the door you rush to lock it. You try to do some reading, make some tea, turn on the TV, anything to distract yourself but it’s not working. Every noise makes you jump and the silence isn’t better. You curl up into a ball on the couch and just wait for Nick to get back.

Nick is completely on edge the entire trip to the restaurant. He’s hyper-alert and constantly second guessing his perceptions. Is that car really following me or is it a coincidence? Was that shadow moving or am I moving too quickly? He’s continually checking his phone to see if there are any new messages, any texts that you’re in danger. He needs to calm down but he finds he can’t because he’s too scared about you. Specifically, he’s scared to lose you.

Yes, he was trying to play at being interested to keep you safe. Yes, you’re convinced that he has only ever wanted to be friends. But the bomb scare woke something up in him. You were in danger and he couldn’t get to you. He had failed you. In so doing, he realized he actually did want to be more than friends with you. His chaotic, hellish life was made so much more bearable with you around. Stable, kind, intelligent you.

But now you were, justifiably, pissed off at him. He volunteered to get the food not because it was safer, but because he figured you needed your space from him. He kept screwing up everything and that was throwing him off kilter. He’s always been surefooted, careful, sharp. Now it felt like he was drowning in quicksand. He needed to get his head together if he was ever going to be able to pull himself out of this mess.

Inside the restaurant he places his order to go, getting himself a little something to eat as well. He pretends to be interested in his phone while he waits, actually keeping a side eye on the door. He considers your requirements for the fake dating and remembers he should also get you a small gift. He ponders for a minute, looking around the restaurant before he hears his order number. He leaves the restaurant, still on high alert, but with a determination to make this up to you. To keep you in his life.

You receive a text message from Nick saying that he’s back and he’s about to knock on the door. Sure enough, you hear two knocks but you still check through the peephole to be sure. You unlock the door and let Nick in. Along with the promised food, he’s also carrying a stuffed animal, a puppy holding a bone in its mouth. You can’t help the little “aww” that escapes you, seeing this dangerous man holding such a soft, adorable toy. He smiles a little and hands it to you. You don’t hesitate to take it and squeeze it tight. It helps you feel a little better.

“Thank you for the gift, Nick,” you smile softly.

“Well, you said to bring a gift every time I see you.”

“I…I meant that as part of the fake dating thing. You didn’t have to start so soon.”

“I wanted to,” he asserts. “Especially if it’s something that might help you.”

You see the pain in his eyes, see the sincerity written all over his face, so you nod and whisper “thank you”. The two of you eat your meal in silence, just some background noise from a show you pretend to pay attention to. You’re still not ready to tell him you feel safer with him around. You don’t know you’ll ever be ready for that. But this is a nice step towards that.

Part 4 -- Part 6

Series Masterlist

Tags:

@alicedopey

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@rebekahdawkins

@texmexdarling

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know.

#nick fowler x reader #mafia!nick fowler x reader #dark!clark kent #mob au #nick fowler #mob!nick fowler #nick fowler x female reader

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dreamylittlesugarcube · 10 months

Text

Delivery

Genre: EXO AU

Characters: Yixing x Female Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Your holiday stint as a food delivery worker isn’t going as well as you’d hoped. Will a chance meeting with a handsome bartender be just the gift you need?

A/N: A very happy Secret Santa reveal to my giftee, @leewalberg. I hope this brings you some holiday cheer! It’s been great getting to chat with you about Yixing and our mutual love of baking and food! @exols-silver-christmas

*Please note: I do not own the image used, so credit should go to the original creator/owner.*

~*~

“I specifically said ranch, not mustard, you idiot!”

Sauce packets bounced off your helmet and for the millionth time tonight you wondered why you were subjecting yourself to this.

Oh, that’s right–Christmas presents. Times were tough in this economy and gifts didn’t buy themselves.

“ –um, HELLO, are you even listening to me?” Unfortunately.

Restraining yourself, you fished a copy of the receipt out of your pocket and held it up for her inspection. “I’m sorry ma’am, but the receipt specifically said mustard and–”

“ –well you should have known what I meant!” she sputtered. “Who eats mustard on a pizza anyway? That’s so stupid!”

“Ma’am, I don’t tell anyone how to eat their food, I just deliver what’s in the bag.” You started to back away towards your moped, ready to be done with this conversation. “If there’s a problem with your order, please contact Food2You support and they’ll be able to offer you assistance.” With that, you got on your moped, strapped on your helmet, and backed out of the driveway, as the customer continued to scream about “lazy, good-for-nothings, don’t think you’re getting a tip”.

And true to her word, you did not get a tip. She’d gone into the app and removed it. Sigh.

Thankfully, the rest of your deliveries went without a hitch. You’d even scored an extra large tip from a heavy order of sushi platters to a penthouse suite downtown. With enough cash to add to your Christmas Fund, you figured you deserved a little treat of your own for what you’d had to deal with tonight.

The craft beer passport burning your roommate had gotten you for your birthday was just burning a hole in the button of your purse, so you figured you might as well use it. Flipping through the pages, you noticed one included location was not far from here: The Black Sheep Bar & Bistro. It advertised itself as having local, custom brews paired with bites to complement the individual notes of each beer. Right up your alley.

As busy as it was downtown, you were lucky to find a parking spot not too far from the bar. From the outside, the bar looked welcoming with festive Christmas lights Upon entering, you were greeted by a friendly host, a tall dark-haired man who told you his name was Chanyeol. The dining room was dimly lit with pale yellow twinkle lights on the ceiling and a variety of booths and small tables that gave it a cozy, intimate atmosphere. Situated on the other end of the room, was a shiny, mahogany bar. The low hum of conversation was quiet, surprising, since it seemed like all the tables were filled.

“It looks like we’re fully booked tonight, so unfortunately I don’t have a table for you.”

You were about to say “no problem”, when Chanyeol’s gaze shifted over your head. He paused for a second, then smiled.

“ –unless you wouldn’t mind sitting at the bar? Looks like a spot just opened up.”

It must have been your lucky night, as you soon found yourself promptly seated at the shiny, wooden bar, perusing the many drink and food options. Beer flights, specialty cocktails, and appetizer pairings with an array of global dishes that changed monthly, according to the menu.

“So, what can I get started for you?”

You looked up to see a handsome man, probably in his mid-twenties to early thirties. Blonde hair, dark eyes. Cute. Not that you were looking. He’s here to ask you for your order, not for you to ogle like a piece of meat.

You cleared your throat. “Ummm…it’s my first time here and there’s so many good choices…do you have a recommendation?”

He took the menu and flipped through to the entree page. “We do small plates here, but some are more generous than others. If you’re hungry, the beep tenderloin with garlic potato puree is very popular. More adventurous, I’d recommend the bison barbeque sliders. And finally, my personal favorite, the loaded mini hotdog bites. They’re stuffed with cheese and caramelized onions.”

You scratched your chin in thought. “Hmm, I think I’ll take the hotdog bites, you made that sound really interesting.”

“And to drink?”

“Whatever you have on tap that would go well with the buns.”

He finished scribbling on his little pad of paper. “Sounds good, I’ll go put this order right in. I’m Yixing, by the way, in case you need anything else”. He winked then walked away.

You watched him as he went. Yixing. You knew his name!

After hanging your ticket at the kitchen window, he went about his business, taking orders, making drinks, chatting with guests who were clearly regulars. It was calming to watch him move about the bar; it was rhythmic and he flowed as though a dancer might.

Finally, he came to you again, holding a pint of pale liquid and a plate of little bites made of what looked to be puff pastry. He presented them to you with a flourish. “Our brewmaster recommends a nice, amber ale to cut through the richness of the meat and complement the cheese and caramelized onions. Both the chef and the brewmaster are very open to feedback, so please let me know if it isn’t to your liking.”

You dutifully followed his instructions, and mindful of his watchful gaze, attempted to take a some-what elegant bite out of the steaming mini hotdog bites. Not expecting to heat, you reached for your beer and chugged a third of the glass. Smooth.

“Sorry, sorry! I should have warned you. People usually wait for them to cool off a bit.” Yixing said, pressing his hands together in repentance.

You swallowed. “That’s okay, it’s my fault. They just looked so good that I couldn’t wait.”

“I’m the same way,” he said, grinning. “I’d rather look like a fire-breathing dragon, than wait a whole five minutes.”

You smiled, staring at his face and wishing you were better at small talk. Come on, think of something. You did improv in high school and this is what you have to show for it?

“...well, enjoy your first couple bites and let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

You tried to say something to get him to stay, you really did, but all you could manage was a small smile and a thumbs up. Oh my god, really, that’s all the game I have?

He raised an eyebrow, returning your thumbs up with one of his own. You could swear you heard him chuckling as he walked away.

You tried to eat your food slowly, taking small bites and even smaller sips of your drink to make your time here last longer. After an hour, you’d finally finished your food, taking your time to people-watch, well person-watch, without making it too obvious. The bar had pretty much cleared out and only a few diners lingered in the restaurant.

“Kitchen’s closing in five minutes, so last call for orders. Do you want anything else?” Yixing asked. He stepped towards you from the other end of the counter where he’d been drying glasses. Which you had not been watching him do.

You were, in fact, very full. And honestly, at this time of day, you’d typically smash a bag of salty kettle chips and call it a night.

“I think I’m good, I usually finish out my night with junk food, so I’m not used to eating rich food so late. I’ll take another order of the hotdog bites to go though, my roommate would kill me if I didn’t bring anything home for her.”

Yixing nodded and headed over to put in the order, but instead of stopping at the window, he went through the doors and all the way into the kitchen. Moments later, he was back and walking towards you. He stopped and thought for a second before bending down behind the counter. You heard rustling, as though he was looking for something. Finally, he popped back up with a look of conspiracy on his face. His eyes darted around, as though making sure the coast was clear, before shoving a small box across the bar to you.

Peering in the box, you saw a variety of packaged snacks: Lay’s chips, rice crackers, Pocky, Kit-Kats, cream wafers, pretzels, and many more snacks you’d never seen before. You furrowed your eyebrows, unsure of what was happening.

Having seen your confusion, Yixing leaned forward, to whisper. “I love junk food, but the brewmaster, Xiumin, is my gym partner and he’s very strict about food. I hide these here so I can eat them when he isn’t watching. You want one?”

Mesmerized at his closeness, you reached into the box and grabbed a snack, not caring which one you actually ended up with. You smiled, fingering the waxy material. “Well, then I appreciate you sharing your secret stash with me.”

“And you can’t tell Xiumin, okay?”

“Of course. I will guard your secret with my life.” You made a serious expression, thumping your hand over your chest in promise. It didn’t even matter that you had no idea who Xiumin was. You just liked the moment you were sharing.

The sound of a throat clearing made you jump and you looked up to see a short dark-haired man with glasses wearing a chef’s uniform. He held a white, to-go box, no doubt your hot dog bites. His gaze shifted between you and Yixing, almost like he knew something was up. “You better put that away before Xiumin comes in here and sees that.” He jerked his chin towards the box of contraband.

Yixing nodded, the box disappearing as though it had never been.

The chef placed your food on the counter and slid it towards you. “Here you are ma’am, have a wonderful night and thank you for stopping at The Black Sheep Bar and Bistro.”

Taking that as your cue to leave, you slipped on your coat and grabbed the box. Looking up, you locked eyes with Yixing. “Thanks, uh, for the recommendation,” you held up the box and your bag of snack, “ –and um, thank you for the chat.”

Yixing smiled warmly. “You’re welcome. Feel free to come back anytime. I’m always here.”

You nodded, feeling almost light-headed, before awkwardly stumbling out the door. Chanyeol bid you farewell, smiling slyly as you left, like he hadn’t just watched you stare at his bartender all night.

Outside, you leaned against the wall, fighting off an existential crisis. He wanted you to come back. To see you again. Had he been flirting? Or was he just being nice, the same as he was to all customers? Did he give special secret snacks to all the girls at the bar? You hoped he didn’t. You texted your roommate that you needed some “girl talk”, hoping she’d catch on that there was an emergency here.

Trudging up the stairs to your apartment, you let yourself in. And as expected, Jessica was waiting up with ice cream and an expectant expression. Handing off the takeout, you went to change your clothes, happy to get into some comfortable sweats.

“Hey, did you meet a guy or something?” Jessica shouted from the kitchen.

“Yeah, why?” you shouted back.

“Come take a look.”

You padded out to the kitchen, where Jessica was waiting with a gleeful expression.

Look!” she exclaimed, turning the open takeout container, so you could see the open lid. The open lid with numbers written on it. Numbers that looked suspiciously like a phone number.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” you asked.

“Yes!” Jessica squealed. “OMG spill, what happened? Because last time I heard from you you had mustard packets thrown in your face. This is SO much better than that!”

Jessica wouldn’t let you out of the room before you spilled all the dirty details. Not that there were any.

“This is JUST like what happened in the drama I’ve been watching!” Jessica said, stamping her feet in excitement. “You HAVE to text him.”

“And say what? ‘Hi, I’m the girl that you gave prohibited junk food to at the place of your employment that was staring at you all night because I think you’re hot?’ Besides, how do we know he even meant it for me?”

Jessica sighed. “Maybe because he wrote it on the back of your takeout container? Who else would it be for?”

“Okay, but what do I say?”

Jessica cracked her knuckles and patted you on the shoulder. “Thankfully, Big Sister Jessica is here, I don’t watch rom-coms for nothing.” She grabbed your phone and proceeded to type.

You peered at the screen over her shoulder. “ ‘Hi, it’s Chips Girl.’ That’s what you came up with? No, ‘Hi, it’s Chips Girl, thanks for tonight, what are you up to? Want to get married?’.”

“Nope, we’re giving an air of mystery, darling. He has to make the next move.”

Your phone buzzed in Jessica’s hand. Jessica squealed while you tried to remember to breathe. She handed you the phone, staring pointedly, as you read what was on the screen.

“Hi Chips Girl ;). I was hoping you’d get my message. I was wondering…if you wanted more chips…maybe tomorrow at 6:00 at the movie theater next to the bar?”

“He asked you on a date, OMG!” Jessica screeched, running into your room. “Come on, let’s go,” she called, “outfits don’t plan themselves.”

You sent off a quick “Yes, that sounds nice!” text, holding the phone to your chest.

Smiling to yourself, you thought perhaps this day hadn’t been bad at all. “Merry Christmas to me,” you whispered. A perfect present for a perfect Christmas.

~*~

I hope you enjoyed reading “Delivery”. I love writing food and restaurant themed fics for EXO because it just fits so well! Thanks for reading!

XOXO,

Emmy

#exo #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo lay #exo x reader #exo yixing #exo fiction

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bee-barnes-author · 4 months

Text

Writing Share Game

tagged by: @tabswrites

tagging: @johnna-oneal-trash-writer @jezwrites @milkhoney531 @violeaes

fuck it, here's the ENTIRE FIRST CHAPTER of my upcoming book, 'THE BEAST IN THE GLASS HOUSE'.

Anticipated release June 10 2025

Trigger Warnings: Misogyny, gore, body horror, graphic descriptions of murder and violence, abuse through controlling food, emotional abuse, emotional manipulation, allegorical rape, abuse of bodily autonomy, rape revenge.

Chapter 1

June

The first time I see you, I fall in love instantly. At the butcher's counter, ignorant to my stare at your back, you ask the clerk, “Can I get a pound and a half of ground beef? Ten percent fat, please.” I can’t pinpoint what it is about you exactly, but I can’t look away.

I’m not finished shopping, nowhere near, but when you take your cart to the cashier, I can’t help but follow along. There’s two couples and their full carts between us, giving me cover so I can watch you. You’re careless with your personal information, and say your phone number out loud instead of typing it into the pin pad. Thanks, in part, to my condition, I have a fantastic memory. This means I don’t need to scramble for a pen to write your number on the back of my hand.

I pay for the rosemary sprigs and half dozen eggs that are in my cart, and make my way to the parking lot. If you’re still here, I can catch your license plate tag, too, but I don’t want to make a fool of myself by rushing outside. A small part of my brain wonders why I’m so immediately connected to you. It’s not your looks that stole my breath away, though you aren’t lacking in that department by any means.

It’s something about your spirit. Something about the way your energy rolls off of you in waves, and crashes carelessly through others. I swallow down an eager, “Aha!” when I spot you in the parking lot, half folded into the trunk of a white Subaru. You deposit your armload of groceries, straighten, and close the trunk.

The way the sun glints off your hair stops me in my tracks. Then it hits me. You’re my mate. Oh. Of course you are. Finally. I’m on the older end of thirty. Until now, it felt like I would never find my perfect other half. I’m so stunned by the realization that I forget to note your plates as you drive by.

I know how that sounds, okay? It’s not like that—I’m not a freak with ill intent. I am simply a man in love, who has access to a wide variety of resources. One of those resources is a man named Mister Chance. He finds people for me. I don't ask how he does it; I don’t care either. All that matters is that he gets fast results and covers his tracks.

Instead of going back inside the grocery store to get the salmon filets I had originally planned on picking up, I go to my car. Once I’m home, I make two calls. One to Mister Chance and the other to a nearby sushi restaurant. I order a deconstructed sushi bowl with an extra serving of seaweed salad and a large side of fried calamari. My personal chef is off for the evening. I promised Elijah he could enjoy his date without interruption, and I intend to uphold my commitment.

Mister Chance is quick. Faster than the delivery boy on his moped. I’ve learned your name before I even have my chopsticks cracked open. Freya Moore. It sounds like an alias but Chance promises it’s God-given.

I have your address. The numbers dance across the computer screen as I stare. According to the map, you’re just over thirty minutes away by car. It takes every ounce of restraint I have to stop myself from going to your home right now. I want to discard my dinner and wait outside your window with a boombox like a love-struck idiot.

But I don’t. I eat my dinner and listen to Mister Chance tell me about you. You’re young, but that can’t be helped. Love is love and you’re, quite literally, my soulmate. Fortunately, twenty-two is a perfectly legal age for me to date publicly. I’ll learn to ignore the inevitable ribbing I’m to get from Elijah. Anyone seriously bothered by the age gap can fuck off, for all I care.

Sushi bowl in hand, I pace the length of my third-floor bedroom. My skin itches like it’s the night before the full moon. It’s been a long, long time since I had to battle for control over my instincts like this. I feel like a teenager again. Every nerve inside me screams at the distance between us. I need to be close to you.

My mind keeps rushing to catastrophic disasters that you could suffer while away from the safety I offer. Dozens of irrational scenarios that I can’t stop conjuring. Are you giving me an anxiety disorder, Freya? Is this what loving you feels like? I take a moment to pity your ex’s before I wish death upon them for touching you. No one will touch you but me from now on.

The only exception will be our children. A thrill sings down my spine at the thought. You will rebuild my pack. My perfect human mate. We’ll be the pride of the west coast again. An exemplary family that lycans across the nation will look up to.

My phone beeps. Mister Chance follows up our phone call with an email detailing everything we already discussed and much, much more. Including your work schedule, a digital clone of your phone so I can see everything you do on it as you do it, and access to your desktop computer if I want it. Hell, I can even sit in on your therapy appointments. I shoot a message to my assistant to let him know I won’t be in the office tomorrow.

I’ll be busy learning about you.

I finish dinner reading through medical files from your childhood. You had a suspicious amount of broken bones and emergency room visits all chalked up to youthful clumsiness. Apparently, you grew into your limbs and developed grace around fourteen because those visits stopped. Coincidentally, that was also around the time your father died from taking a nasty tumble down the stairs. They found no signs of foul play. Good for you.

For the moment, I set thoughts of you aside and go take a shower. I do my usual thorough routine, not skipping a step. I’m in no rush. Unless I’ve got a woman with me, I only take cold showers. Men like me, we run hot. Things get sweaty, so I take two showers a day to avoid stinking.

I crawl between my sheets with a smile on my face. Tomorrow, after breakfast, I’ll take a drive to see you.

Goodnight, darling.

***

The next day, blinking against the harsh morning sun even behind my sunglasses, I stand across the street from your place. There’s a Starbucks within eyeshot of your apartment building. I stop by for a black coffee. Of course I pay with cash. The timestamps on your bank statements imply that this is the place you get your morning brew when you’re in the mood for something more complex than black coffee and almond milk creamer.

You’re already two hours deep into your workday at the costume shop by the time I take my first sip. It’s not good but not bad either. I’ve just had better. My machine at home makes a much better cup.

I’m waiting for your roommate to leave while I read about her on my phone. Cindi Song—twenty-one, about to turn twenty-two in a few weeks—a full-time waitress in a full-time sports medicine program. A hard worker if ever there was one. I appreciate people with work ethics like Cindi’s. Her file mentions she’s in daily contact with her mother. Her mother also regularly sends you two small gifts she finds while online shopping.

I hear the barista's stomach digesting her breakfast. Gas bubbles in her gut. The sound travels like rocks through a tunnel, but I’m the only one that can hear it. Phlegm crackles in the throat of the old woman ordering her drink. The smell of the burned milk invades my nostrils and I take my not-good-not-bad cup of coffee with me to sit out in the sun. Ever since I saw you, my senses have heightened to a painful degree, like I’m subconsciously straining to find you at all times. I feel raw and on-edge. Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit about the mild noise inside the shop, but you’ve knocked me off balance.

Before long, Cindi opens the front door to your shared apartment. She’s in form-fitting athleisure wear with her big backpack protruding over both of her shoulders. She’s pulled her shiny black hair up into a high ponytail that bounces rhythmically as she jogs to her car.

I wait twenty minutes before I get up, toss my mostly full cup in the garbage, and jog off in the opposite direction that Cindi drove. A full block down, I cross the street, then make my way through the back of the complex to your unit. Casually, I walk to the sliding glass door on your patio and test the lock. It doesn’t budge. Good. At least you’re smart enough not to leave this unsecured.

It’s easy for me to grasp the handle with one hand, and grip the opposite edge of the glass with the other. Then all I have to do is lift it and wiggle it for a moment. I glance around as the lock pops open to make sure there aren’t any eyes on me. As far as I can tell, I’m in the clear, so I slip inside and slide the door shut behind me. Blinds and curtains closed, I’m left in a dark living room.

Even from out here, it’s easy to tell which room is yours. I recognize your scent from the dozens I came across at the grocery store yesterday. Your sweat smells like onions and musk. I love onions. Your room is tidy, but could still use a good dusting. I spy your bed pressed against the far wall. It’s dressed with a set of spring green sheets and a canary yellow blanket.

You have two pillows, and a giant stuffed husky dog resting at the top of the bed. Laundry detergent wafts up from the cotton sheets. It’s clear you washed your bedding in the past few days. I sit on the edge of your mattress and take the room in. You have two bookshelves. One is chock full of novels, mostly fantasies and thrillers. You’ve organized them by color. You stuffed the second bookcase with manga, and different gaming devices take up the remaining shelf.

In front of your window is your desktop computer. It’s a cheap gaming rig, but you have decent enough monitors that I don’t feel the immediate need to replace them. When you’re mine, you’ll have the best of everything. While I’m thinking of your shopping list, I decide to buy a sliding door lock and ship it to you under Mrs. Songs’ name.

I can’t do that until I have a key, though, so I head out of your room and into the kitchen to search the drawers. The website for your apartment complex stated they give one key per tenant over the age of eighteen, plus one to have as a spare before they charge for extras. I just hope you haven’t already gone through your free copy.

The universe must be thinking good thoughts about soulmates because I find it in the first drawer I open. Glued to the thick cardstock that was stamped with the apartment logo was the very key I wanted.

After I tuck my shiny new key into my pocket, I leave through the same sliding glass doors that granted me entry. With my keen eye for detail, I scan your home one last time to make certain I leave the inside of your apartment as close to the way I found it as possible. Speaking of your apartment, I hate it. As I leave, music pumps from your neighbors' unit, despite it being before noon on a weekday. Marijuana and tobacco smoke stink up the air. You’re surrounded by losers and dropouts. Useless members of society. As soon as I can, I’m moving you into my home. And if I can’t get you to move in with me, I’ll put you up in a penthouse downtown.

Never forget that your mate is a very wealthy man, my sweet girl. I won’t claim to be the wealthiest man in the world, but I know for a fact I’m quite high on that list. That much money gives me access to a frankly obscene level of influence over the world.

And yet my pack is weak.

We are fifteen men strong, but just that- we are only men; even among those chosen few, I’m the only born werewolf. I turned the rest of them over the course of the past decade as they proved their worth. It takes a spectacular amount of self control to turn someone. Vampires have it easy. All they have to do is share blood, stop the initiate’s heart however you please, then bury the corpse and wait for the fledgling vampire to rise in their own time.

Werewolves have a much harder time propagating our species. In order for me to turn a human into a lycanthrope, I must attack them. A single bite won’t do it. They have to be mauled so viciously that their immune systems crash, thus allowing the werewolf virus to infect them. Even then, it’s not guaranteed. The initiate must survive the fever and their injuries.

It’s better to allow the infection to spread over the course of a month, where it will grow to its ultimate form under the light of the full moon. This allows the initiate to adjust physically and mentally to their new bodies and new instincts. As the alpha of my pack, I take the month to bond with my new beta.

I bring them to my family’s estate in the mountains where we once had a very lucrative silver mine. Believe me, the irony is not lost on me. A family of werewolves that owns a silver mine? Ridiculous. Yet, own it we do. Of course, we had none of our kind down in the mine shafts themselves. We kept them above ground where they wouldn’t die of silver poisoning just by breathing the air.

The veins have dried up in the past thirty years, so now the property is used to contain newly turned wolves. Even though it’s only us out there for hundreds of miles, I don’t let my wolves run around, causing havoc. Until they’re under my control, and won’t lose themselves to their instincts, they stay in the mines on full moons.

If they don’t submit by the end of the first night, I break their will before the moon thins. I do not allow any wolf to deny my status. If they are in my pack, they bend to my whim. Loyalty is an utmost priority. If they can’t commit to the pack, I rip their hearts out. Fortunately, I’ve only ever lost one new wolf in such a manner. The fifteen other men I’ve turned so far have become integral to my way of life.

They’re all employees of mine. My driver, my private security team, my home chef, my doctor, my lawyer, and the two groundskeepers that stay year round on the mountain to manage the estate and keep the property in shape are in my pack.

Born werewolves like me are rare. Our mothers are humans, but come from lycan bloodlines. Meaning they carry the werewolf gene. Then, when combined with our werewolf father's genes, we born werewolves greet the world, kicking and screaming. You don’t seem to come from a lycan bloodline, but deep in my gut, I know you’ll provide me with lycan children.

A handful of blocks away from my destination, I pull a KN-95 mask out of its plastic wrap and stick it on my face. Then I put a plain dark blue baseball cap on. I tie it all together with a pair of thick wire-rim glasses.

As a werewolf, my eyesight is better than the best human's. The lenses are just for show. I don’t want you to recognize me later when I truly introduce myself. I want you to fall in love with a stranger who sweeps you off your feet and leaves you aching for more.

What can I say? I’m a romantic at heart.

I park my car outside of the business next to Costume Avenue. You’re visible through the front windows, even though you’re tucked towards the back of the shop. I have a clear line of sight. That must have been on purpose.

Half the reviews on Google are about you, so I don’t doubt that you’re a large draw for business. It makes sense your boss wants you to be easy for customers to find from the front door. Not many places have a full time historical customer on staff and your work is more than worth boasting over. For example, recently, an up-and-coming starlet wore one of your gowns to the Oscars after-party.

If you hadn't left so fast last night, perhaps we could have hit it off naturally. Your timing is off, is all. I have to admit, as impatient as I am to be with you, I appreciate the opportunity to learn about you. I didn’t become the rich and powerful man I am today by jumping the gun and rushing into things. In business and in love, I need to keep my wits.

I can’t wait too long, though. If I’m too slow to act on our soulmate bond, the possessive animal in my blood will lash out. I might wake up one day on your porch, naked as the day I was born, my wolf having brought us there to paw pathetically at your door while I was sleeping.

The double doors of the building are wide open to welcome in both customers and the cool late spring air. There aren’t any heads bobbing around inside aside from yours. You get up from your sewing chair to stretch and take a walk around the building, tidying shelves and racks as you pass them. You stand in the doorway to glance at the parking lot and your gaze passes over me as if I’m not even there. Good.

Your cell phone rings and you glance around for customers. Seeing none, you answer it. Your smile makes you look younger. “Hey! I can’t talk for long. I’m at work. What’s up?” I hear you say as a greeting to whoever is on the other end of the call.

A woman's voice says, “I’ll be quick. Shaun wants to know if I can cover his shift Saturday night, so I was hoping we could have girls' night Friday night instead?”

You tilt your head slightly in thought and make a wincing expression. “Saturday is two for one at the Forty-Five, though.”

“Please, Freya?” The woman wheedles, “I’ve been trying to get an in with Shaun for so long! This is my chance!”

You roll your eyes. “You cover his shift at least once a month.”

“But I can feel this time is different! I’m so close to getting into his study group I can taste it.”

You laugh, and it’s musical. “Okay, fine, but you’re buying the drinks.”

“Deal!” Your friend is grinning. I can hear it in her voice. “I’ll see you there at eight?”

“Friday night. Eight o’clock.” You agree, and the two of you exchange goodbyes before you hang up.

I’ve never been to The Forty-Five, but I’ve heard about it from my men. It’s supposed to be a respectable sort of place, and quite expensive, so I understand your hesitancy to agree to full priced drinks. You won’t have to worry about that, though. I’ll take care of you.

I start my car and drive back to my house. I think it’s time we meet face to face, and what better spot to fall in love than on the dancefloor?

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vanoincidence · 5 months

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Not the Right Banshee(s) Pt. 1 || Van, Jade, Max & Tina

TIMING: current. LOCATION: regan's apartment. PARTIES: @highoctanegem @vanoincidence & the terrible twins (max and tina). SUMMARY: jade is dropping van off after work, but what's waiting for both of them comes as a bit of a surprise. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

The apartment probably smelled like her, from the time they all packed mice together. The place probably had one minuscule teeny tiny bit of glass scattered somewhere from the time she exploded a glass of Sprite. There was probably a strand of bleached blonde waiting to be found. Jade doubted Van and Thea were too meticulous with their cleaning. So Jade couldn’t, she just couldn’t get herself to go up to that second floor. Even though Van had asked every night she’d brought her home from work. It would be fine, okay? Everybody who ever went through a gay girl breakup knew how intense everything felt at first. (Not that… they weren’t dating dating) (But…) And sure, her cats and blasting CRJ were the only things injecting dopamine into her system these days. But she’d be bouncing in no time! She was Jade. She did not mope.

She waved Van goodbye, watching her walk up to her apartment, refusing to go until she saw the lights turn on. And then, satisfied with her friend’s safety Jade lowered her face shield. She considered doing a round or two of deliveries and calling it a night. But something flashier caught her attention before she could find her phone: A lonely woman in the corner of the street. She looked a little lost, so of course, Jade had to be kind and helpful, cause maybe she could kickstart her rebound tour if she played her cards right. She lifted her shield again, hoping her eyes still sparkled, and flashed a confident grin. “A little late to be out at night, babe. Can I help you with anything?”

Regan Kavanagh was sloppy. It was the first thing Max learned about her, back when they were training together. She’d been so embarrassed for Regan. It was sad, really — to be activated at such an old age. Regan had been practically geriatric in human terms. Didn’t they only live a few decades? Max had tried to keep this in mind at first, had tried to cut Regan some slack, but… she was so sloppy. She’d proven as much in her childish escape from Saol Eile, and proven it all the more in the mess she’d left behind in this pathetic, human town. An apartment with her name on it, two children living inside. What did she expect to happen? How did she think this would end?

So, Max had been watching the apartment. There was so little room for error here. She was to prove herself, to bring pride to her mother, to prove that she was worthy of the gift Regan Kavanagh had tried to toss aside. The children in the apartment needed to die, but so did anyone else who knew about them. Killing them first could spark panic, lead to problems. It would be sloppy. And Max wasn’t sloppy.

There was a woman. She dropped off one of the apartment’s occupants sometimes. Max had done some digging the first night she saw her. People in this town were fond of social media, and this woman — Jade — was no different. And, like many Wicked’s Rest occupants, Regan Kavanagh was all over the woman’s blog. Fate, she couldn’t believe it. How was Regan this bad at something that should have been her birthright? Wasn’t she humiliated by it? She should thank Max for what she was about to do. She should be so grateful.

Max forced a smile onto her face as Jade approached. She wasn’t particularly good at it, but she’d learned to use her youth as an advantage. No one seemed to suspect young girls of anything. Foolish. “Aye, I’m a bit lost, actually,” Max replied, Irish lilt raising the words. “Maybe you can help me out. Mind if I borrow your phone?” She just needed Jade to get close enough to touch. Then, things could be over quickly. It was kind of her, really, to plan on doing this fast. Usually, Max preferred to play with her food. Maybe she’d ask Tina to incapacitate the two upstairs so they could take it slow with them.

Even if Regan hadn’t visited the apartment often (aside from when bringing mice inside), it still felt weird to live there without her in town. She should’ve gotten used to it by now– the way it felt more like the doctor’s home than her own, despite being void of any trace of her. Van was grateful, at least, that Jade hadn’t stopped taking her home at the very least. After waving her goodbye, she pushed through the door, kicking it to a close behind her.

“Um…” Her heartbeat picked up a tick and she flexed her fingers against the tote bag she still had pulled over her shoulder. “Are you…” Why had she been sitting in the dark? That was weird, too. “Who are you?” Van frowned, noticing that the woman was wearing shoes indoors. “Hey, that’s not very polite.”

She’d hated Regan forever. Regan was a bad banshee, and Regan was old, and that was stupid. Max thought so, and so Tina did too. She’d spent so much of their classes rolling her eyes, whispering to her sister and laughing. Both when Regan wasn’t looking and when she was sure that she was. To make matters worse, she’d ended up in some stupid human town in stupid Maine of all places. Didn’t she know that American humans were some of the worst there were?

There hadn’t been a moment’s hesitation when she and Max were offered the chance to come to the town. It was another chance to prove just how good she was, to help everyone back home, and to make her mother proud. Tina also wanted Max to be proud of her. Her sister was absolutely perfect, and once she’d forgotten the name of the bone in your little toe and her sister never would (what did it matter that she’d thought there was a special name). So when they’d found the apartment, where mice used to be, she’d been delighted. They could get rid of stupid tiny humans that Regan was apparently fond of, and be on their way. The very fact that Regan had moved the dead mice was unforgivable, and a reason to kill someone in return, and it wasn’t like human lives mattered. Besides, Tina wanted to look at the metatarsal bones in a human’s foot. It seemed like it’d be fun to do.

She’d broken into the apartment while her sister went off to find some lady named after a stone, and she’d ripped one of the pillows on one of the chairs apart when she’d first noticed that the mice weren’t there. Gods, she was going to murder Regan when she got her hands on the traitor. Still, Max was outside somewhere, and Tina sat herself down on one of their chairs, arms crossed, legs crossed, a grin covering her lips when the door opened. It was only one of the stupid tiny humans who borrowed the apartment from Regan, who’d somehow gotten Regan to care about them, like the failure she was.

And this human had the audacity to call her ‘not very polite’. Tina fought away the urge to break her neck right away. It was important to take your time, to have fun. “Van, oh my god!” She put on as falsely cheerful of a tone as she could, Irish lilt incredibly present. “I’ve been wanting to meet you! This is where I say bestie, isn’t it?”

Jade unbuckled her helmet, hanging it on one of the handles. It would be super rude to approach and not show her face. How else would the stranger know Jade was super friendly and super down to have fun? And look, she had to keep saying it, okay? It was the only way it’d start to feel true. And that was the only way she’d eventually move on. She had to move on. (The ring on her left hand signaled otherwise) (But…baby steps). Unfortunately for Jade, upon closer inspection this lost woman looked pretty young, actually, dashing all hopes she had of taking the first step towards getting over Regan. Oh well, too bad. She tried!

The Irish accent did something, okay? Her knees went a little weak. Regan didn’t even have a strong accent, but… but. She was in that ‘everything reminds me of her’ stage. (Which now included a broom with a white brush, a chicken wing, and Wednesdays). But that was totally different from moping, cause she did not mope. Back to what mattered, Jade wanted to be super helpful and nice to the young girl. She watched Barbie, she knew all about girl solidarity. There was less sway on her hips, now that gay thoughts were out of the way. “Yup, totes, hang on,” she reached inside her leather jacket, pulled out her phone, and handed it to the girl without wasting a moment. (And…Oh. Right. She should probably change her lockscreen too, if she was serious about moving on). “I’m Jade, by the way” she grinned, extending her hand, “and I can totally give you a ride if you have somewhere else to go. I was dropping off my friend”.

Max was all poised to grab the woman by the wrist and end the whole thing right then and there. A solid scream would do it, just one yell. But… she happened to glance down at the phone, to catch sight of the lockscreen and find Regan’s face staring back up at her. The very sight of it filled her with a rage she didn’t quite understand, made treacherous emotions swirl in her stupid chest. Because it wasn’t fair, was it? None of it was bloody fair.

Regan had no idea how lucky she’d been. In Saol Eile, she’d been treasured. She’d been a tool so often utilized, so much so that Max had often found herself envious in a way she’d never admit to. She was a better banshee than Regan was — a better banshee than Tina, too, though she felt less like bragging over that — and yet Regan had been desirable. A doctor, as if that wasn’t a shameful thing to be. So how was it fair that Regan could come here, to this stupid little town with these stupid little people, and find herself treasured all over again? How was it fair that some woman had Regan as her lockscreen on her phone in a way that was just as telling as it would have been to wear a locket with her photo around her throat? Max had known that Regan was a failure. But to this extent?

A swift death with a single scream didn’t seem right anymore. Max was angry, though she shouldn’t have been. Max was annoyed, though she was above such things. Max wanted to make this stranger hurt because Max wanted to make Regan hurt, because nothing about any of this was fair. Regan should have to pay for everything she’d done, for betraying a people who had only ever been looking out for her.

The banshee’s smile was sharp, and she turned the phone to face the woman, lockscreen like an accusation. “She’s pretty,” she commented. “Shame she’s such a disappointment, isn’t it?”

“How do you know my name?” Van stared at her, keys dangling between pinched fingers. She’d seen on tik tok how to use them as a weapon, but was it fucked up to use them on another woman? Then again, she had killed two women. She was not the good person she wanted to pretend to be. She was a woman killer, all things considered– though, she hoped this wouldn’t be another. She willed the anxiety to subside, to not create a black hole beneath the girl in the chair that would ultimately swallow her whole. “I only have like, two best friends. Maybe three, or four. I don’t know.” The number was growing, but something told her that this stranger didn’t actually care about that.

Van flattened her back against the door, sweat dotting the back of her neck as uncertainty made her stomach roll. She quickly grabbed her phone out of her pocket and texted Jade. Somebody is inside of Regan’s apartment. If this were anything like a horror movie, she’d look up from her phone and the girl would be standing in front of her with a knife or something. Van half expected it as she looked up from her home screen. “I um– do you– are you here for Thea? She doesn’t live here anymore.” Maybe this was all being blown out of proportion. Maybe the girl in the chair knew her because Thea actually had brought her over! Or, based on her accent, maybe this was a long lost cousin to Regan who was bringing her the postcards she had asked for!

“Why wouldn’t I know your name, Van. Van, but not like the car!” Tina’s voice rose to a pitch that she thought her mother would’ve been proud of. Except what mummy dearest would be most proud of would be if she could murder this girl and clean up Regan’s giant mess. Regan had always made messes, and yet back home, people had like, worshiped her. Which made no sense. Not when she’d become a banshee when she was so old and, on top of everything, and been a traitor. Which was why Tina knew she had to murder the little girl in Regan’s mouse-less apartment.

“Well, you could make that ‘or four’ into an ‘or five’ if you wanted to?” Tina bat her eyelashes before pushing herself up from the chair. “I’m here for you and Thea actually. Special double fun.” She began wandering around the apartment, turning on her heels every so often. “I wanted you both to show me fun together. Pretty please?” Her lips formed a perfect pout (she’d practiced, because apparently humans were easily swayed by this sort of thing). “I just wanted to have fun, and you’re so,” abhorrent, “like, totally gorgeous.” Her stomach turned at that, but she wouldn’t let that get to her. “So I think pretty people can have more fun than ugly people, right? Is that crass of me?”

Jade’s smile turned bittersweet, looking at the lock screen. “She’s my… we were…” Thanks to this stranger, at least she realized now, how weird it was to still have her picture there. And actually, her smile disappeared completely with the follow-up comment. Her gaze flickered to the girl. Rude? But also… familiar. “Um, she’s not a… why would you say that?” Jade didn’t particularly care, at this point. She’d decided to stall, cause the vibes were definitely not great anymore. Was it cause this girly had the nerve to insult her… Regan in a very specific way? Partly, but also, the accent, and the… slow heartbeat. And the fact that she’d been standing there the whole time while she and Van said goodbye. Fine, maybe she did have some of that slayer paranoia (Emilio might be proud).

Possibly the worst (or best, depending where you looked it from) timing of all time, her phone lit up with a notification, Regan’s face coming to life again. Van. What could Van be texting about so soon after going inside? Did she forget something in Jade’s delivery box? She could see the preview easily, even if the stranger still had her phone. Somebody is inside of Regan… she read. Well, not anymore, technically. She looked up to the second floor. Finishing the equation: The stranger, the accent, the insult, someone inside Regan’s… apartment. And sure, it could all be a giant misunderstanding they could laugh about later, but for now, for Van, she’ll think of worst-case scenarios. “Change of plans!” she said cheerfully, beaming at the stranger. “My friend wants me to stay. We’re getting pizza, watching a movie. So, maybe I’ll call you an Uber or something, yeah? Here let me…” She reached for her phone, attempting to get it back.

We were… Were what? Max could make some assumptions, of course, the kind that made disgust curl up like a living thing in her stomach. There was something else to it, too, something far uglier.

For a moment, she remembered being a child. Young enough to remain unactivated, scampering around with Tina and aware of the massive weight of duty on her back even if she’d had no way to comprehend the magnitude of it just yet. She remembered the boy she and her sister used to play with, the way she’d loved him. She and Tina argued once about which of them would marry him someday. It was a childish notion, a foolish one. She should have known better. She still remembered the way it felt when their mother plunged the blade into that boy’s chest, still remembered her first scream bubbling up from her throat and ripping out of her mouth.

Regan should have known better, too.

The only real shame to all this, Max thought, was that Regan couldn’t be here to witness it. She could have learned something from this, the same way Max and Tina had learned something from that worthless boy’s blood staining the grass. Maybe there was some way to pass along the lesson. Would Regan recognize Jade’s finger if Max brought it back to her? Or would an ear be a better option?

The phone in Max’s hand lit up, and she glanced down to the notification. Ah. So the child upstairs had met Tina. Max made a mental note to chastise her sister later for not taking the child’s phone first. Tina was lucky that Max already had Jade occupied; otherwise, things could have gotten far messier.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Max held the phone behind her back and out of reach with one hand. With the other, she pulled a long, thin knife from her pocket. “We’re only just starting to have fun, aren’t we? I’d hate for you to miss it. If you’re good, I’ll even take you to see Regan again.” Her eyes flickered down to Jade’s fingers, the sharp smile on her lips widening a little. “Parts of you, at least.”

Van winced at the increased pitch of the girl’s voice. Maybe she didn’t have a great memory, but Van felt like she remembered some things. Specifically girls, especially brunettes. She stared at the stranger, eager to match the face to a name she might have forgotten. Was this Diana’s friend? But then she’d mentioned Thea, and Thea had no idea Diana existed. If this were any less creepy then maybe Van would’ve fallen victim to the way the girl bat her lashes, but if there was one thing about Van, it was that she was perpetually anxious– always thinking that the person in front of her had ulterior motives. “I don’t…”

She looked down at her phone to see if there was any response from Jade, but there was nothing. Disappointed, she texted again, come back and give me an excuse to leave!!!! Van hoped that she’d get a reply. “That is kind of rude…” Van blinked at the girl, astonished by the way she didn’t seem to care about the implications of what she was saying. How could somebody be so rude? “I think I’m actually– you know, I’ll let um, I’ll let Thea know you came by? But I have to actually go back to work. My boss told me to come back.” She waved her now locked phone in front of her, reaching for the door knob. “Feel free to like, hang out!” She opened the door, making an attempt to slip through.

This human was so lame. Not even finishing sentences. Tina wondered which part of her would be best to bring back to Regan. A clavicle was always nice. It would involve a decent bit of work too, which was fun. Not that Tina was here to have fun, but if she just so happened to have fun amidst everything else, that was a more than alright coincidence.

“Why’s it rude if it’s true?” She batted her eyelashes at this useless waste of a child. She’d been close to a waste of a child, once. Though Tina firmly believed that she’d never been a waste. Her and Max’s mother had to have truly pleased Fate in order to be blessed with daughters, and so the little boy who they both fell in love with, whose freckles practically glowed in the sun, well, he had to die. Tina had nearly given herself a scar on her hand from her brief, stupid attempt to keep from screaming. She wanted to scream, though at first it had been more out of horror before it transformed into something beautiful.

“I don’t like liars.” She pouted. “Liars are awful, and what would Regan think if she knew that someone she loved,” Tina gagged, “was such a big baby of a liar?” Now Van was trying to slip through the door and Tina slammed it shut. “No. Nuh-uh. You’re not leaving. Well, you might, but by the time you leave you won’t be a-waare of it.” Her voice turned sing-song.

Ugh. Was there anything worse than someone absolutely killing the vibe? Well, her being killed, probably. (But it was a tight competition. Neck to neck). Jade sighed, letting the woman hold the phone away from her. Using her height to her advantage was a little rude too. The way she pulled a knife, though? Hot! Objectively speaking. Jade could still appreciate a slay. And right, the math. So this chick totally knew Regan then, but she didn’t exactly sound fond of her. Which was a total red flag. Who wouldn’t be fond of Regan?

Wait. Was that… a threat to her fingers? As if this couldn’t get any worse. That was definitely a line being crossed. “Nuh-huh. These make people very happy, how about we negotiate different parts… I love banshees, you see. There’s no need for this to be an unpleasant affair…” Jade trailed off, hiding whatever nerves she might be feeling in an easy smile. She wasn’t worried about herself. Pft. If things got worse, she had that iron dagger Regan gave her concealed somewhere. (And actually… had Regan known something like this would happen?). But if she was being threatened with a knife, she didn’t wanna picture the same being done to Van. Van, who easily freaked out. Van, who melted chairs, and opened portals that swallowed people. Well, actually. Maybe that was exactly what they needed. But it wasn’t worth the risk. The longer she stayed chatting with the stranger (she didn’t even give a name, so rude) the chances of Van getting hurt increased.

“Look, I’m not the type of girl who pulls a knife on a pretty girl without their consent…” Instead of backing away, Jade approached, her eyes fixed on the woman, paying no attention to the knife in front of her. She let it poke against her abdomen, relying a little too heavily on the power of being a captivating speaker while she got a hold of the pommel on her back. “Unless they lack a heartbeat, I guess, then…fair game. Hey! What I’m trying to say here…I really don’t wanna hurt you. Certified banshee lover. Two out of two banshees prefer me. But—” she drew her iron dagger swiftly, and with a precise movement, she pushed it against the woman’s collarbone. Just the right pressure not to stab (she was a woman of her word). It would surely sting like a bitch, though. Jade clawed the back of her neck, keeping her in place. “I really want my phone back, and to check on my friend, pretty please? I don’t want this to go any deeper,” she taunted, with another jab of the blade.

The fact that this woman even uttered the word banshee was proof enough of the depth of Regan’s failure. For a human to be able to recognize one of them on so few context clues was disgraceful, and Max felt a burning forest fire of anger simmering in her chest. How much had Regan told her? How many secrets had she whispered between bedsheets, betraying her people over and over again with soft touches and quiet declarations? Max hated her more in this moment than she’d ever hated anyone else before. She wanted to take Jade apart piece by piece in retribution, wanted to make sure Regan knew that she’d died in pain and suffering. She was not allowed to have say in whatever punishment Regan was handed by those in charge back in Ireland, but she could punish her with this. She could make sure Regan suffered through the people she’d clearly been foolish enough to allow herself to love.

(Would Regan feel as Max had all those years ago when her mother’s blade found its home in the throat of a boy she’d been sure she loved? She barely remembered the feeling now, had forced away all the negative emotions associated with it in order to focus instead on the joy of activation, but Regan clearly didn’t possess such skills. For Regan, this would hurt the way Max wanted it to. There was some joy to be found in that.)

Her anger only increased when a blade was pressed against her throat; a blade of iron, if the burn was anything to go by. Had Regan shared this secret, too? Max’s lip curled up in an expression of disgust at the thought. “The dramhaíl you met in this town lost their right to call themselves banshees the moment they began spreading secrets to things like you,” she said lowly, tilting her head back slightly. There was no fear reflected in her eyes. If Max died here, it would only be because Fate willed it to be so. But… something told her she’d be just fine.

Quickly, she plunged the knife in her hand forwards, jerking her head back and away from Jade’s blade in the same fluid motion. She aimed to incapacitate rather than kill; Jade’s insolence and Regan’s affection for her had come together to forfeit any right the woman might have had for a swift death.

The mention of Regan made all of this fall apart. All of her previous thoughts about who this girl was practically blew up in her face. Van stared at the brunette, wide-eyed. What did she know about Regan? Was it really the postcards? Had Regan told her grandma about Van wanting to kick her in the knee? Were these Regan’s sisters? Nieces? Were they mad that she had suggested such a thing? No! Regan wouldn’t be a narc, not like that. She would definitely keep all of that a secret, right? “I’m not a liar. I just don’t think you’re very nice, and I don’t like not-so-nice people.” Van practically hissed out the words as she tried to put space between herself and the brunette.

She slipped away from the door, stepping towards the table that now had mismatched chairs surrounding it. So much for the new chairs, they’d be destroyed anyway. “Something super bad is going to happen if you don’t leave.” Maybe something would swallow them both up. Would Regan be upset with her for killing a family member? Then again, Van didn’t even know if they actually were family. They didn’t look anything alike.

Regan must have cared about this child. Tina found herself bristling at the thought. Not that she’d wanted Regan to care about her (that would be bad, to have someone like that care for her). Still, the fact that Regan had found people to care about just made Tina all the angrier, all the more ready to end this child’s life and send evidence of that to Regan. Maybe she’d splurge and get a sparkly ribbon. That would probably surprise Regan, and not in a fun way. “I am nice. Or, well, I can be.” Tina shrugged, “if I’m given enough reason to be.” Which as of right now, she was pretty sure she hadn’t been.

“Something bad will happen if I do leave, though.” Tina pouted. Well, bad for her. Maybe good for this child, though she was fairly sure it was considered bad like, in general. At least that’s what Max and their mother and everyone else back in Saol Eile. “Besides, I want to have fun with you.” She hadn’t said the word banshee, but if she had, then Tina would’ve had half a mind to snap her neck right then and there, even if it would ruin some beautiful bones. “So, you’re totally not getting me out of here, leathcheann. I really wouldn’t push your luck if I were you. Fate has a way of taking things into its own hands.”

The blade pricked against her abs as it went in, and Jade had to swallow the grunt scratching her throat, unwilling to give the stranger the satisfaction of seeing her in pain. (First the threat to her fingers, now going for her abs. It just felt a little homophobic, didn’t it? What did she have against her?). And like, it was hardly the worst way she’d ever been stabbed, but maybe she should save those thoughts and comparisons for when she wasn’t in fight mode, and she could really look at the wound. Which now felt sticky and warm against her shirt. UGH. Another shirt ruined.

“I really wish you hadn’t done that,” she whined, feeling the strain as she tried taking a full breath. Not too bad, still super annoying. She brandished her own dagger, forced to move past the sting. Alright, Jade had manners, she didn’t want to hurt this lady, like… at all. It felt super unnecessary and wrong to harm banshees after collaborating so vigorously with two of them, but she started it, okay? Surely they would understand if they were here. (But they weren’t here, were they? They choose to leave. She chose to leave) The reminder of their absence was enough to spark fire behind Jade’s eyes, she lunged forward, tackling the stranger to the ground. She was never too good at physical combat but she always did love a good tackle. The few seconds where the opponent tried to grapple with the fact that someone half their size pushed them on their back was a super nice ego boost. This girly wasn’t even like, vampire strong so… all the more fun. Not as fun? The freaking knife, still jabbing inside, cause Jade had to hand it to her, girly had a stubborn grip (babies would be jealous). Jade did not waste those precious seconds taunting her like she would’ve any other time, though. She sank her dagger with brutal strength into the girl's shoulder, pinning her there for a moment. She was not the main problem.

Jade took full advantage of the adrenaline dump to get back on her feet and dash toward the apartment. Not a care in the world for her abdomen. (She was so gonna regret that. But, later) (What mattered now was Van). What if the intruder was more ruthless than the girl who tried to kill Jade? What if they didn’t enjoy a sassy little convo before getting down to it? There was no scream, that was good no? From either Van or the stranger, who Jade figured was another one of Regan’s extended family coming for a visit. (Also why were they here at all? Did they miss the memo that Regan and Siobhan were going back to Ireland? They were totally missing the welcome-back party). Jade didn’t make past the entrance before the sounds she dreaded to hear reached her ears: Commotion upstairs. Her heart raced against her chest, and her shallow breathing made it harder to calm it down. “VAN!?”

“I don’t think that’s true! Because somebody who is nice wouldn’t be making like, weird threats and stuff!” Van wasn’t exactly sure what this woman’s intentions were now that Regan had been brought into it. Didn’t the brunette know that Regan had left them for Ireland? Why was she here? What sense did that make? The whole postcards thing didn’t make sense either, because Regan was pretty adamant about Van not getting any, and it didn’t make sense to send somebody rude like the girl in front of her with them. Didn’t Regan know her better than that? Van didn’t like mean people! She’d been surrounded by mean people.

“You are like, super confusing!” Van put some distance between herself and the brunette, eager to find another exit. There wasn’t one, but maybe she could lock herself in a room and then the girl would grow bored, and–

She heard Jade’s voice from outside, desperate and terrified. It was unlike Jade to sound like either of those things, and Van bristled. Anxiety pulled like threads from her, rationalization collapsing upon itself as she finally understood that this was her in danger. “JADE!” Van echoed the older woman’s worry, throwing herself back towards the door. She grabbed the knob, yanking it open. Behind her, the floor of Regan’s apartment began to melt beneath the girl’s feet, and her own, too. She slipped, desperate to get out. Finally, the door was opened, and she pushed herself through, grabbing onto Jade’s arm as she shot out into the dusk.

She wished she had a dagger on her. Well, she did have one, but the child was jumping about too much for Tina to potentially waste a good throw. Not right now. She’d find the girl later and take care of it then. She just hoped that Max wouldn’t be too pissed off at her. “Maybe it’s not a threat! Also, maybe threats can be sexy and cool!” Tina shrieked, ensuring that this child would go away with at least the slightest bit of ringing in her ears.

“I’m not confusing.” Okay, another shriek. Just for fun. This trip was mission-based, but if she had some fun hurting humans who mattered to Regan in the meantime, then she got some extra benefit out of it all.

Except then there was another voice and Tina didn’t like that. She didn’t like that one eensy-weensy bit. Jade. That was the name of whoever was on the other side of the door, and that was also the name of the human who covered everything to do with Regan all over the internet. It was revolting. She jumped out quickly after the girl – after both of the humans – before they disappeared and Tina double-timed it down the steps until she was outside. Her face in a deep scowl, she stomped over to Max. “Where the heck did they go? Is fuath liom na idiots sin! We need to go find them and take care of this.”

There was a moment of bliss as her blade slid into the woman’s stomach, and Max’s eyes danced with the joy of it. There were few sensations she enjoyed more than this, save for that which came with the life leaving a person’s body. But there’d be time for that, too, wouldn’t there? She’d cut Jade up into such small bits, make her an unrecognizable collection of fingers and toes and teeth and hair. She’d bring it all back to Ireland in a Ziplock bag, present it to Regan with a smile on her face. Would Regan feel it before the plane landed? Did she love Jade enough to scream for her from across oceans, continents away? Max wanted Regan to feel it. She really did.

Perhaps it was these thoughts that distracted her enough for Jade to get something of an upper hand. The wretched little rat surged forward, slamming into her and knocking her back. Max kept hold of the knife all the while, giving it a vicious twist that was only half involuntary as her back hit the concrete. Then, there was the burning pain of an iron knife in her shoulder, and the weight on top of her vanished as Jade ran into the building. Max let out a scream, shaking the streetlamps and shattering the windows of the nearby buildings.

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. By the time Max got back to her feet, Jade and the child had vanished, and Tina was circling around to meet her outside. “You should have killed it,” Max snapped, gripping her bleeding shoulder. “Did you even draw blood? Ugh. It doesn’t matter. Come on. We can’t leave this job unfinished. But, Palatine? I’m killing Jade. You can take the infant. If you think you can handle it.”

Without leaving room to argue, Max grabbed her sister by the arm and pulled her forward. They had unfinished business to settle.

#para: not the right banshee(s)#para: jade #para: tina #para: max #wickedswriting

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