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ft-3racha · 9 months

Note

Yunho, size kink, lots of hands pls 🤪, with a lot of fluff, lovely aftercare

new necklace (ft. jeong yunho)

pairing: jeong yunho (ateez) x gn reader

warnings: smut!!!(minors dni!); established relationship, clear d/s dynamics, bigdick!dom!yunho x curious!sub!reader, hands (🤪), size kink (heavy), degrading, praise, fingering (reader rec), choking, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl), breeding kink, creampie, multiple orgasms (reader rec), a little teeny tiny angsty bc of problems regarding their sex life, ending with fluff and aftercare bc yunho is a gentle giant at heart <3

author‘s note: your wish is my command! how could i not write this ask??? as soon as i read this, the gears in my head started spinning and produced this piece. enjoy. :))

wc: 3,6k (oops-)

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„i‘m cumming, baby.“

i know, you thought to yourself, before your boyfriend pulled himself out of you to release himself on your lower back. as always. yours and yunho‘s relationship was absolutely beautiful, and so was the sex. the only problem: it was always the same. he made you cum with his hands, then you guys fucked until you came a second time before he chased his own release, which always resulted in him unloading on your back, kissing you on your forehead and getting a towel to clean up the mess he produced.

it was good, but you sure as hell missed something. you always had the feeling that yunho was holding himself back, for whatever reason that may be; he just absolutely didn‘t look like the vanilla kind of guy he was trying to be. or so you were hoping deep down.

a couple of days, and a shopping spree online later, you find yourself in your shared bedroom, the parcel on your bed opened up and it‘s containments already on your body. as you look into the mirror, you admire the white silky robe against your skin, hiding your nude body from unwanted eyes; actually, any eyes other than your boyfriends were unwanted. together with that beautiful shining piece of fabric you ordered another thing adorning your lower half: it was a beautiful bottom piece completely made out of white lace. that color was chosen on purpose, because it made you look the most innocent; what you were planning was far from that though. just a few minutes prior you had taken some sultry pictures of yourself posing in your new undergarments, not even thinking a second before sending them straight to yunho. it didn‘t take him longer than five minutes to reply with a casual „i‘m at work, love“. well, no shit, that was kind of the whole point. your answer was a question, straight to the point with a little bit of attitude: „what are you gonna do about it?“.

silence. all that followed was unanswered, mysterious and unsatisfying silence. you were hoping that yunho would understand what you were trying to do, that you wanted to tease him and rile him up with your bratty behaviorism. but he unknowingly ended all potential fun and experimental games before they had even begun. you threw your phone to the side, exhaling heavily while closing the robe with a knot in the front. the rest of the day was spent with chores as you tried your best to get your mind off of the disappointment that was spread all throughout your being. the sun was close to being set, and you just finished wiping down the kitchen, when you heard your phone go off. nonchalantly, you went to check it, and you did a double take when you openend the message you received. it was from yunho.

„wait for me in the bedroom in that outfit. on your knees. be home in 15.“

speechless. absolutely no words were leaving your mouth, but more so roaming in your mind as heat spread through your entire body. you did exactly as yunho requested you to do, his message making it sound as if you had no other choice but to obey to him. exactly how you wanted it to be.

14 minutes and 52 seconds later you heard the front door open and lock back up. normally it took him about 20 minutes to get home from work, you figured he went a little over the speed limit for the perfect reason. if he were to get a ticket, you would definitely forgive him. and while you were doing as he asked, yunho came through the door, his heartbeat pounding in his ears and his thoughts going wild. nevertheless, he calmly took off his jacket, hung it up neatly and placed his bag down in it‘s designated spot before taking off his shoes as well. a deep breath left his plump lips, the exhaled air hot and heavy; with slow and heavy steps he made his way towards the bedroom, cuffing the sleeves of his white button up and pushing them up to his elbows in the meantime. it was exciting to him, almost as if he was a predator on the hunt, because he could only imagine what the current scenario did to you; how it made your breath hitch in your throat with every single step that was taken, how a shiver ran down your spine at the thought of what he was going to do to you, how excited you were about not knowing what was going to happen.

yunho slowly opened the door, and what he saw kicked all the air out of his lungs. you looked so stunning, so ready for him to destroy you: perfectly sat on your knees in front of the bed, your robe untied, the white lace still adorning your lower body. your gaze faced towards the ground, palms neatly sat on your legs. so good for him, and him only. the door closed, but you didn‘t dare to lift your eyes. yunho stepped closer and came to a halt right in front of you, yet all you could see was his feet and the beginning of his black slacks that were covering his beautiful long legs from your desperate view.

„beautiful“, was the first word that left him, and it made a chill creep up your entire being at how deliciously deep his voice was. „did you do all of this for me?“ you nodded, his presence so domineering that it took away your ability to speak. you knew he wasn’t as vanilla as he was pretending to be. „you should use your words when asked a question, sweetheart.“ sweetheart. you considered yourself lucky to be sat in this very moment, otherwise your knees would‘ve given out. wanting to please him in every way possible, you slowly lift your gaze and almost inaudibly answered: „yes, i did. all for you.“ „good baby.“ a needy whine escaped your throat at the praise, not used to yunho being as vocal as he turned out to be. his dark eyes raked over your submissive form; glossy and half-lidded, irisis almost eaten up by enlarged pupils. he slowly made his way over to the bed and sat down on the edge, instructing you to get up and sit on his lap. you do as you‘re told without another word, finding yourself on him only seconds later. his big hand cradled the side of your face, the calloused pad of his thumb slowly pulling at your bottom lip, it snapping back in place immediately after he let go. „kiss me, please“, you begged him, overwhelmed with the feeling of him surrounding you entirely. „you sound so fucking pretty when you beg“, is all he said before giving in to your request, his lips engulfing yours in a kiss so passionate it made you throb with need. it was all tongue and teeth, desparation visible on both sides. but it might‘ve just been the best kiss you‘ve ever shared. you felt him everywhere, long fingers digging into your scalp, slightly pulling your head to the side as his lips traced your neck, wet kisses spreading all over it. „my god, you are so stunning“, he spoke lowly into your ear, earning a moan from you in response, „can you feel what you are doing to me?“ indeed. as soon as he said that, you could feel how hard he was inside of his pants, his cock trying to break free while poking at your center. experimentally, you started rolling your hips, to which yunho responded with an almost animalistic sound escaping his throat. „so desperate“, he mumbled, his hand itching its way from your scalp to the front of your throat, „want me to choke you, baby?“ „god, please“, was all you could say, the thought of his hand around your neck causing you to involuntarily clench around nothing. you’ve always had a thing for his hand, and yunho knew; he saw your little glances here and there, but never said a word. it was cute, almost naively sweet even, how something so normal to him could rile you up so easily still, even after having been together for awhile now. he had never asked to choke you before, but feeling those slender fingers expertly applying pressure on the spots where your charotid artery lays had you crying out his name, your thoughts revolving around nothing but him while your hips ground into him with more pressure in search of any kind of friction. „look at you“, he almost growled, hazy eyes scanning you with a smirk on his deviously handsome face, „all it takes is my hand around your neck and you start acting like a desperate little whore?“ the name had you internally screaming, the combination of praising and degrading words tumbling out of him hitting you just right.

next thing you know his hand leaves your neck and you find yourself on your back, the white robe having been cascaded in the process. „are you gonna be a good slut for me, hm? you gonna behave?“, yunho asked, his dominant frame hanging over you as his big hand lays on your inner thigh. „i promise“, you answered so fast it was almost pathetic, „i‘ll be so good. just want your cock inside of me, please.“ „i have to stretch you out first, baby. don‘t think your tight little hole can handle it without.“ and he was right. there was a reason to the beginning of your usually bland sex routine: he had to make you cum with his hands first to help you relax, to help you adjust to him easier, because he was a sight for sore eyes. he always stood tall, not only having been blessed in height but also in size. thats why, even after many times of sharing the bed with him, you find yourself still not used to his impressive length. slowly testing the waters, you reply: „give me your fingers then, so i‘ll be able to take your big cock.“ he groaned, and you added a very obvious size kink to your mental notes; you had suspected it for a while after having been asked if „it will even fit“ and being reminded of „how tight you are“ a couple of times before. yunho pulled down your panties almost in a hurry, attaching his fingers to you as soon as the lace left your body and hit the floor. finally. „inside, please“, was all you were able to say, mind foggy with the need of him filling you up. and he did just that, his pointer and middle finger breaking past your entrance and into you, deliciously stretching you out. both of you moaned at the feeling, yunho finally realizing how badly you really needed him after feeling your wetness trickle down his hand, and you because you almost came from him just inserting two fingers. the chokehold this man had on you in this very moment was absolutely driving you crazy. „always so fucking ready for me, shit“. he cursed before driving his long digits into you with force, hitting the spot that made your toes curl and your hairs stand at the back of your neck. your hands flew to his back, clinging to the thin material of his dress shirt. the fact that he was doing your fully naked form fully dressed drove you insane, the humiliating feeling adding to your pleasure. his name left your lips like a prayer, as if he was the only thing that mattered in this world, and for you, he was.

the way your orgasm approached so quickly left you shocked, not even being able to warn him before it happened, and you swore to yourself in that very moment that you never came that incredibly hard because of just his hands; in fact, you probably never came that hard in your entire life. he helped you calm down, softly stroking your thigh to soothe you and help you calm down from your orgasm, letting his gentleness peak through for just a second, checking in and making sure you were okay before all of it left again in the blink of an eye. his newfound duality was crazy, but crazy attractive indeed. relishing in your post-orgasmic state, you barely realized that yunho had gotten up, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and leaving it to mingle alongside your panties on the floor, his slacks and boxers joining just a minute later. as he hovered back above you, you saw him in all his glory, the tip of his long cock leaking precum, and you couldn‘t help your hand finding his shaft, stroking him slowly. „so big“, you state softly, doe eyes finding his, „it‘ll stretch me out so nice, will hurt so good.“ „fuck“, he cursed, tip prodding at your abused hole, „i‘m gonna fill you up so good, and you‘ll take it all.“ with that, you felt him slowly fill you up, and you nodded alongside that burning feeling you loved so much. „look at how you swallow my cock, greedy little slut can never get enough of it, isn‘t that right?“ his pelvis met yours as his tip kissed your spot with the right amount of force, making you see stars in the process. „yes yunho, feels s‘ good.“ you couldn’t even form coherent sentences anymore, already too fucked out from him just entering. he bottomed out slowly, barely having left you before pushing all the way back in with a little more strength. you arched your back and clawed at his, moans and whimpers leaving you, and that‘s all it took for him to finally let go. his cock rammed into you hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoed from the walls. it was as if the english language had left you completely, barely understandable mumbling and cries of pleasure being the only things leaving your mouth alongside his name. „shit angel“, yunho panted above you, your nails raked down his back at the nickname, marking him up, „you feel so fucking tight around my big cock. tell me, who do you belong to?“ „you“, you answered immediately without a second thought. „i bet nobody could ever make you feel the same.“ „never“, you reassured, causing him to speed up even more, „y’ make me feel so fucking good. cock‘s so big, can feel it in my tummy.“ as those words left your mouth you felt that familiar feeling built up again. yunho must‘ve felt it too, probably because you kept clenching around him, because he leaned down, lowly whispering in your ear: „cum for me, now.“ and you did, your second orgasm of the night not washing over you, but rather hitting you like a brick. your vision turned blurry as your whole body tensed up, thighs spasming and hole clenching around yunho to the point where he had to still completely to ensure he didn‘t spill, wanting to relish in the feeling of your heat just a little longer.

he helped you again, gently stroking your hips, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you slowly came back to this planet. you feared it was over, were scared that it would be the same as always from now on, but you were met with a stern gaze again as soon as he realized you were good still. „on all fours, ass up.“ that was a new one. usually sticking to just missionary, you were surprised when you found yourself with your face pressed into the pillow and your back arched, ass up in the air. yunho stood behind you on his knees, his cock now glistening in a mixture of your fluids. „hands behind your back“, he instructed as you gave him your hands to hold behind youf back with one of his giant ones, the other one used to guide his cock back into you. the new angle made you moan, mentally cursing yourself for not suggesting this position sooner, because fucking hell, did it feel fantastic. he could reach even deeper, making you feel fuller than ever before. now you could really feel him rearrange your guts. he wasted no time. snapping his hips into yours at a ruthless pace, no mercy to be found. „you feel so fucking good“, he praised, „my good little whore. all mine.“ this man and his filthy mouth will be the death of you. „so full“, you whimper. „yeah? gonna fill you up even more.“ the moan that escaped you after that statement could put pornstars out of business. „you‘d like that, huh? want me to pump your tight little hole full of my cum?“ all you could do was nod in response, the thought occupying your mind completely. breeding you was never a topic of discussion; it has been a silent agreement from the get go for him to pull out, eventhough the thought of him filling you up had crossed your mind multiple times beforehand, and not once did you mind it. not at all. so you nodded again, clenching around him before answering with a desperate tone: „please fill me, use me. i can take it all.“ you didn‘t think it was possible, but after that he sped up even more, not only chasing your third orgasm of the night but his own as well. he pulled you up by your neck, your back colliding with his chest as his big hand wrapped around your throat again, choking you from behind while relentlessly pounding into you. you could feel your orgasm approaching again, hearing him mumble some more praise into your ear, always mixed with those delicious derogatory words. „my good little slut, so ready to take my cum. gon‘ give it to you, just a little more.“ his thrusts got sloppier after that, not once going down in roughness as they did. „yunho, i‘m-“, was all you managed to stutter out, before your third and final orgasm hit you like a truck, your whole body clenching and tensing up in yunhos arms. and as he felt you clench and pulse around his cock, yunho‘s orgasm hit him as well, causing him to spill his seee inside of you. it felt good, almost animalistic; as if he was marking you up from within, and you loved every second of it.

all that was heard after was both of your heavy breathings in the heavier air. yunho slowly lowered you onto the bed, caressing your hair while you snuggled up to his chest. the room probably reeked of sweat and sex, but you couldn‘t care less. „you did so great, my love“, yunho spoke up after taking a minute to breathe, „so incredible for me. i love you so much.“ „i love you too“, you smiled up at him, before laughing lightly, „you fucking animal.“ he laughed, his cheeks coating themselves in redness. „i always felt like you were holding back“, you stated, to which he just nodded. „i did, yeah. didn‘t wanna scare you away.“ you could (metaphorically) hit him in the head for not just speaking up about his desires, but neither did you, so you chose not to scold him for that. instead, your heart swell at the fact that he didn‘t wanna scare you, and you lifted your head, slowly entangling your lips in a sweet kiss.

a couple of minutes of you guys reflecting on your session and cuddling in bed passed by, before yunho got up to run a bath for the both of you; your sore muscles couldn‘t thank him more. he came back seconds later with a wet towel, the water running in the background. „is it okay if i clean you, or do you wanna do that yourself?“, he asked cautiously, and you appreciated his thoughtfulness, especially in moments like these. „you can do it. thank you, love“, you answered as he slowly spread your sore legs to clean up the mess both of you produced. once he finished that up, he picked up the clothes from the floor, tossed them in the washer alongside the towel and got you some water and snacks for you to hydrate and gain back some energy. and as you laid in your warm bath yunho sat behind you, massaging your shoulders skillfully. „that feels really nice. thank you for preparing all of this, i really appreciate it.“ you letting him know that made his head spin and his belly fuzzy. „no worries, beautiful. thank you for letting me take control of your body and making you feel good. it means a lot, and it‘s not something i take lighthearted“, he replied and you blushed. yunho always let you know that he appreciates your body, but hearing him say it after such an intense session was extra special. „i trust you“, was all you said, before letting your head fall on his chest, his arms snaking around your waist and connecting with your hands in the front of your body. „how about we lay in here for a bit more, then we wash up, get into something comfortable and i order our favorite while you pick out a comforting movie?“, yunho asks with a soothing voice, playing with your fingers absentmindedly. you nodded in response, a shy smile grazing your features, before you guys get back into conversation about nothing particular, sharing love confessions, laughter and mindless kisses surrounded by bubbles and sweet lavender air.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #jeong yunho #jeong yunho x reader #yunho x reader #jeong yunho smut #yunho smut #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #ateez x reader #kpop smut #ft-3racha‘s ask

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alphajocklover · 22 days

Text

Genie Glory the Game

(A [Very Late] Trade with @bigwishes. I hope you like it!) 43 followers. Rich Donaldson, also known as TF2Twink on Twitch, had 43 followers.Rich had been streaming for over 3 years now and only had 43 followers. 43 measly followers. It made him feel pathetic. It made him feel like he was useless. Yet at the same time, Rich was incredibly grateful for every one of those followers.

Rich Donaldson had wanted to become a gaming streamer since he was a kid. It hadn’t really been a real thing until he was a teen, and most people thought he was crazy for thinking he could make money that way. Some people doubted it was a real job, some thought it was too competitive, some thought it was just a dumb idea in general. No matter what the reason, everyone in Rich’s life agreed that Rich wasn’t going to make it as a streamer. Especially his hyper religious, video game hating parents. Still Rich refused to give up. He knew it would be hard, maybe impossible, but he was passionate and felt like he had to follow his dream. That was what everyone in the movies did after all. Rich moved out, cut contact with his parents, went into debt buying the best streaming gear he could… and immediately regretted it. Rich didn’t mind losing contact with his parents. They had never been the most loving people, so he hadn’t really lost much. Except things weren’t working out like they did in the movies. Rich wasn’t making it, and worse than that he wasn’t getting any better at streaming. He was good at the games, so he knew that wasn’t the issue. The issue was… he was incredibly, painfully, horribly shy. Rich didn’t have the confidence that a streamer needed. He could barely get a word out during the stream without starting to awkwardly ramble, and even when he did he came off as awkward and weird. He wasn’t just unconfident, he was a downright nervous wreck. Still he didn’t give up. He couldn’t after everything he had thrown away to get this chance… all the sleepless nights working part time jobs to stay above water… he was in too deep. So he kept going “Hey chat! S-so t-today…” Rich took a deep breath, trying his best not to ramble “T-today I’m going to be playing a new game. I-it’s not very well known, but i-it looked cool and I’ve heard a lot of people are playing it… S-so let's get into ‘Genie Glory the Game!” Rich said, trying to be excited. Barely anyone was watching, and it was getting hard to pretend he wasn’t incredibly depressed, but he kept smiling. Genie Glory was a pretty simple game with a simple premise that had been baffling gamers for months. It was a pretty simple idea based on a classic scenario. You play a random guy who has discovered a genie’s lamp and now has 3 wishes. You make a wish by typing it into the computer, and the genie grants the wish, but usually in some twisted way that is accompanied by a pixelated animation of the player's fate. The goal is to get through all 3 wishes alive. What made the game so popular was that no one had beat it yet. Whatever AI the game used was incredibly clever and strangely creative, and to make it even more difficult, the game only allowed you to play it once. Popular streamers, actually geniuses, and even philosophers hadn’t been able to beat the game, so Rich knew beating it would make him famous.

“Ok chat. I-it’s time for our first wish… And I’m taking suggestions…” Rich said. Rich wanted to beat the game, but… he wasn’t sure how to beat this game, so he’d take all the help he could get. A few suggestions actually came across the screen ‘BasedBro69: Wish for your muscles to grow!’

‘GenieGay33: No way, that's the way to open ended! The Genie will make him grow until he pops or something’

‘MissTaken27: That's such a basic idea. Might as well ask him to wish to be a frat boy or something.’

Rich laughed at this. He knew most of his followers' usernames by heart, but BasedBro69 was new. Still the conversation he had started was kind of funny, and he figured… why not? “Ok then, why not! Lets make me a frat boy!” He said, snickering as he typed in his computer. He tried to be as specific as possible to avoid the spell being twisted “‘I wish I was an attractive, stereotypical frat boy.”

Rich laughed as he watched the pixelated version of himself grow muscular, his clothing changing to a tank top and backwards cap. He watched as the other version of him rushed a frat. Rich was certain something would go wrong, afterall he knew from first hand experience that hazing could get fucking intense, but surprisingly his character survived and got through the first wish without any incident. Rich grinned widely. Most people never even made it through the first wish, but he, a relative nobody, had managed! He stood up straighter as he watched people start to flood into the stream. He checked the chat happily. ‘GenieMan33: He actually made it with that wish? I’ll never understand this game, but good for you!’ ‘MisterRichD27: Kind of an ironic wish considering you are a frat boy. No offense.’ ‘BasedBro69: I fucking knew that would work bro! You can do this!’

Rich blushed slightly at MisterRichD27’s comment, and his flirty name. While he didn’t tend to think of himself that way, he was technically a frat boy. He had joined one after heading to college in the hopes of finding some friends. His frat brothers could be… kind of obnoxious, and very stereotypical, but they had helped him come out of his shell somewhat and even get in shape. He was still fairly shy, but he never would have gotten this far in college or with his streaming if it wasn’t for them. He chuckled at the chat, slightly embarrassed “I’ll admit, that was a weird wish, but hey, it worked so who cares!” Rich said cheerily “Ok, so what's the next wish going to be? I’m trusting you on this chat!” Rich said with what he hoped was a charming wink. ‘GenieMan33: Maybe something basic like money? That doesn’t usually work but you seem to be on a hot streak.’

‘BasedBro69: No way bro. He only gets to play once. Wish for something like fucking confidence or something. Something fun!’

‘MisterRichD27: IDK, Basedbro69 was right last time. Maybe you should wish for confidence?’ Rich shrugged. He could think up even more ways that this could go wrong, but this game had never seemed to work on logic in any of the videos he watched to prepare for this. So with a grin, he typed in his second wish “I wish I had the kind of cocky confidence that ladies love.” he said with a chuckle. He hoped it would be obvious that it was a joke, since his Twitch username, FortnightOtter44, made it obvious he was gay. He watched as the little version of him grew a big head, quite literally. Rich was worried this was leading to some type of game over, but his head deflated, his muscles grew, and a bunch of pixelated girls in bikinis ran up to the pixelated him. Rich grinned wide and tried not to cuss in celebration, not wanting to get demonetized (again). He had fucking done it! He fucking got past wish 2! He smirked as he watched the chat explode as more people tuned in ‘GenieStud33: Fuck yeah! RDH fucking did it! Knew you had it in you bro!’

‘MissRichD27: RDH is the best gamer ever! And the hottest! DM me!’

BasedBro69: HELL YEAH! You can do this bro!’ Rich, known as RDH to his fans, or RichDaHunk on Twitch, smirked, as he saw the comments roll in. He fucking knew he could get this game. He may not have been the most popular streamer on twitch, but he was a fucking good gamer and a total stud. He flexed his biceps, getting the chat riled up again in a frenzy of lust and admiration. Rich didn’t bother to look at the chat this time. He gave a smarmy, cocky smirk at the camera “I know what to put in next bros. I’m gonna wish for something fucking inevitable.” he said cockily.

He quickly typed in “I wish I was the most popular gaming streamer on Twitch”, and watched with a practiced cool confidence as the pixelated version of him gained millions of followers. The chat exploded with awe and wonder as what Rich had always known was going to happen, happened. He had won the game. He flexed his muscles for the stream, celebrating with his 43 million followers. He didn’t understand why they were all shocked. He was the coolest, hottest, douchiest gamer on twitch. Of course he fucking won!

#muscle growth tf #muscle tf #jock tf #jock transformation #jockification #streamer tf #nerd to jock #reality change #douchebag tf #bigwishes

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bxyp · 9 months

Note

Could you maybe do something with a ftm reader who has a lot of scars and tattoos especially on his back and like Ghost sees him shirtless for the first time? Without Ghost knowing your trans? And it just being fluff and a little bit of angst?

If you don't feel comfortable doing this its okay!!

Sincerely: a very cool person

His priority is your well-being, not some scars you have.

Summary: You have been shot, and Ghost, as your comrade, helps you treat the wound. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x FTM Reader

warnings: SWF content, "Ghost" '22, transphobia is mentioned, post-surgery scars are described, military, soldier! reader, blood, wounds were mentioned, reader gets shot.

word count: 592

Being transgender in the military wasn't easy. Sneaking into the shower right after everyone had left to just take a shower, just without anyone knowing. Just to make sure no one judges or looks weird. It wasn't easy in the army. The service here was even harder…

Being wounded in the line of duty was not unusual, even the best soldier could receive a scratch. And even now you are leaning against some old tree in East Asia. Things never go according to plan, that's part of the job.

Eyes barely open, this job is not for the weak. That's why you clench your teeth while Ghost starts pulling you out of your gear to put bandages on your gunshot wound on shoulder. Of course you wish you could do it by yourself but right now you priority was to not get infection.

"Keep your eyes open, soldier." Ghost’s harsh tone didn’t let you relax even for a second, which was probably for the best. He didn't pay much attention to your tattoos or scars, figuring he could take a closer look at them once he stitched you up.

You feel his gloved hands slowly pour the alcohol onto your shoulder. Sharp pain simply drowned out all your thoughts. Every cell of your body felt like it was on fire. "Fuck! Be gentle, I’m bleeding.” You spat as soon as you unclenched your teeth. Everything hurt so much, your mind could barely focus on one thought.

"I'm well aware of that." He said that once he found the nearest piece of cloth to cover the bleeding, he would help you get to your feet and get to the nearest evacuation site.

He picked up the radio and said something, but you could barely hear what. Only thing you got was that he said that you had been shot and you both needed to evacuate as soon as possible. He probably said something else, but your head hurt, along with that damn shoulder that felt like it was being cut off, slowly, piece by piece. His skillful hands quickly tightened some fabric on your shoulder. And without giving you time to come to your senses, he picked you up, throwing your good arm over his shoulder. “The evacuation helicopter will be there in a few minutes. Get back on your feet."

You both slowly walked towards the place Ghost lead you to. Only now did you remember that he probably saw your scars… Those top surgery scars that you covered with everything you could. Those scars that you hid. These white lines are right under your pecs. You worked hard to make them hard to see. But neither cream nor some beaty products could remove them. A constant reminder of who you were born…

Anxiety rise in you, your stomach became a tight knot. You're afraid that he saw the scars that you tried to hide. “So, about what you saw…” You were afraid he might tell someone. The military was not the most acceptable place. Here you will have to fight not only on the battlefield, but also earn your place among others.

“I don’t care who you are, lad. My job is to keep you alive, not to pry into your personal life.” His words can be harsh and cold. But you don't see any condemnation here. He considers you his equal. Ghost wasn't the nicest person, but he wasn't an asshole who treated you differently just because you weren't like him.

The rescue helicopter was visible in the distance…

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𝔑𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥. ℑ'𝔪 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 ℑ'𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔞 𝔣𝔩𝔲𝔣𝔣 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔣𝔦𝔱 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔱'𝔰 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯.

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sanzaibian · 3 months

Text

I look at my watch, it’s already 3 PM. He is one hour late, although I feel that he’s not as much late as he is not coming.

I sigh, and go back to the locker room. I wanted to surprise him by waiting in the lobby shirtless, but after so much time loitering and being told off multiple times by the staff, I guess I must cut my losses. I knew that he wasn’t all that fussed about me wish for a second date in the gym, even if he seems to be a health nut, but still, ghosting me like that really hurts…

As I walk next to the mirrors in the locker room, I look at my body.

Honestly, with a body like that, guys should be drooling and yearning to be my boyfriend ! Yet, when I go on Grindr to find dates, I can only find people who will take me for a quick fuck, and never agree to anything further along… And this is why, no matter how fat my muscles are, how much hair is dusted on my body, how symmetric my face is, or just… how conventionally attractive to a gay audience I may be, I find myself waiting for a whole hour for a prince charming who will never come.

With a disappointed face, I walk towards my locker. By now, it’s no use to try and squeeze in an actual workout in addition to that whole hour full of variants of nothing – not that I really want to work out at all. However, as I reach my locker, I suddenly notice Ilham standing there in gym clothes, that he has presumably just put on.

I guess you can call him a friend ? In the barest of sense ? We do talk sometimes, only the bare minimum, but he’s always the one who leads the conversation… Well, you can’t fault me he’s so ridiculously hot without even trying, it makes me feel self-conscious even when I look how I look ! And, as if on queue, he notices my gloomy expression, and immediately confronts me about it.

“Hey Vítor ! Good workout ? Why do you look so sad like that ?” He asks, way too energetic for the situation. - Ah, it’s nothing, I had a gym date, but I was ghosted…” I answer succinctly. I don’t want to dwell on it too much. - Oh…” I can almost see the gears turning in his head, as he tries to makes sense of what I say, before he gets it. “Oh ! I’m so sorry, bro ! What a bitch to abandon you like this ! Ya know, I know a few girls I could hook you up with, I’m sure they wouldn’t do that ! - I’m sorry, girls won’t do.” I smile at his answer. “Once again, I’m gay ! - Sorry bro, I forgot again ! I swear I can make up to you !” He apologies.

He’s Azerbaijani, and due to how homosexuality is seen over there, he has a really hard time conceiving of masculine gay people. But he tries, and that’s by far the most important.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry ! But I won’t hold you up too much, especially since I already butchered my workout by waiting for him.” I urge him, as I do want to come home sooner than later. - Oh, too bad… then see you next time, bro ! Have a good afternoon ! - Have a good workout !”

He smiles to me while I wave him goodbye, visibly trying to empathize with me, before leaving the locker room in a small trot. This is how far our “friendship” goes, just simple courtesy when we see each other in the gym, which isn’t often since I don’t have a lot of time to go in the first place, and nothing beyond. I could likely try to deepen our relationship, but I feel we don’t actually have much in common, since he’s much more of a social butterfly than I’ll ever be, no matter how eager he may seem to get to know me, with all of these allusions of making me meet people or inviting me to parties.

Finally reaching my locker, I open it and find inside all my regular clothes, my phone and my other belongings, as expected. However, I also find a small piece of paper inside.

Curious, I examine it, and notice that there are actually stuff written on it. Handwritten. A secret message ? In the gym ? That’s weird…

It reads :

“You with no name and no house, do not forget who you are.”

I try to find a signature of any kind, but I do not find anything but this… warning ? poem ? I don’t really know what it’s supposed to be…

But whatever it is, it doesn’t seem to have much substance. I guess it’s not that important for me to take further notice of.

I stick the piece of paper inside my bag and take my clothes. I’m happy to have thought of taking two sets of clothing, since with loitering this long in the lobby, the staff needs to see me leaving, even if it originally was in order to have something to wear for the after-workout date. So I change, I stock everything in my bag, and leave the gym, bidding farewell to the staff at the same time.

Once I’m out of the gym, I look around to find somewhere secluded enough. I wouldn’t want to do anything in public, after all. So I walk around a bit, until I find a public bathhouse, in which I enter, since it is perfect for what I’m about to do.

See, I have quite a big secret… or rather, you know the secret, but you don’t know why it is a secret…

Suddenly, my muscles start mellowing out, my abs fading, while the rest seem to deflate. My pecs start retreating inside my body while my shoulders narrow, losing at the same time all the muscle mass making them fuse into my neck. My v-line disappears, my calves and my arms thin out, and I’m losing mass all round. At the same time, the light dusting of hair on my torso starts thinning out, just like my big beard, losing loads of length until only a few short hairs on my lip and on my chin remain. My hair also grows wildly, covering my forehead in messy coiled hair, losing any order it may have had. And as both of these processes come to an end, I lose a few centimeters of height, while my face rearranges to become more square, my facial features arrange themselves in a less symmetrical way, until it all becomes… well… not a model’s face, just a normal guy’s face.

Here is the secret : the guy that was in the gym wasn’t the real Vítor Nunes. This is the real Vítor Nunes. Just a normal guy, a bit skinny-fat, a bit twinky, a bit nerdy, but most of all an unremarkable guy. And that normal unremarkable guy gets out of his big clothes to go into his small clothes, complete with jeans and a red t-shirt. When everything is secure, I go back out to the street to head to the cafe I go to every time after the gym.

I think I owe you an explanation.

The way I look right now is the way I always looked – well, minus aging. However, one day, about a year ago if my memory serves me right, I suddenly gained the ability to transform. I still don’t know what caused it, but all of a sudden, when I concentrate, I can change my body to reflect what I have in mind.

Of course, I’m gay, so my first instinct when I discovered this gift was to give myself big muscles, and so they magically grew. God, I loved it, it was so exciting to see my muscles swell in the mirror, it’s really a one-of-a-kind experience ! However, this is also when I learned of the limits of this power : it’s actually really uncomfortable to maintain another form for too long, especially when it’s quite far from my normal form. If you have that experience, it’s a bit like when you are in high heels, everything starts to become tricky to do (don’t ask me how I know that). That’s why when I tried to become a woman, it was so uncomfortable I could barely remain like that for a few seconds before I made my boobs go away. Therefore, while I have access to a very hot persona, I can’t maintain it forever, meaning it’s not actually that useful aside from some kind of party trick.

However, the temptation was always too strong.

I used to be a virgin, both in sex and in romance, and the dream of prince charming was a reoccurring one, especially for someone as lonely as I am. However, with this power, I could spend some time in another body, in a body in which I could look like god amongst men. And so, the Vítor Nunes you saw, the one well-thought out to be as attractive for gay men as I could think of, was born. And it’s using his body that I lost my virginity in what could be its own sub-story.

But it never went beyond that, a quick one-night stand, even though I looked very hot and not very picky. I don’t even know what I am doing wrong ! Like, sure, when I’m on dates, the other guy always wants to directly fuck, but still ! Suddenly, someone hails me.

“Hey ! Vítor ! You hear me ?”

I’m jerked out of my thoughts, and quickly cobble an answer.

“Oh, er… hey, Satoshi ! I… didn’t notice you here ! - Well, I noticed.” He answers me, dryly.

He’s always been quite dry with me, and I don’t know why. We go to the same university, and are in the same curriculum in writing, although most of our classes reflect our different paths throughout this degree. So we talked in the few classes we had in common, but nothing more, really. I guess he’s the closest person I could classify as a “friend”, and even that is a stretch. Recently, though, he’s been acting quite weirdly. I know that he’s started attending the gym, and he’s also bleached his hair. I wonder if he is trying to impress someone or what...

“What are you doing in this part of town ?” He asks me. - Oh, I… I was just at the gym, I want to be healthier, you see…” I half-lie, hoping he will be convinced. - I see…” He looks at me, squinting. He doesn’t seem convinced. “Well, what matters is that you become the real you. Now, I’m sorry, but I need to go. Bye.”

What ? What was he mumbling ? I look at him as he continues his way opposite to where I’m heading. He seems to be in quite the hurry, I wonder where he’s heading… Recently, he hasn’t got a lot of time, I always find him almost avoiding talking to people, and always disappearing once class is dismissed. Is gym this much of a time-eater or does he also have something I don’t know of ? … N-not that it interests me this much, of course, that’s his own private life !

Ugh… To save myself from my own thoughts, I enter the cafe and go at the back of the file. When I’m finally at the counter, I go to order, before the woman behind the counter, Sandra, recognizes me. I’m a regular at this cafe, after all.

“Hey Vítor, I didn’t expect you this early ! - Yeah, I had something to do with someone, but he never showed up.” I once again lie by omission, though I admittedly give her a more accurate picture. - Oh, I’m so sorry for you !” She brings her hand on her mouth to empathize with me. She’s always been very expressive. “But speaking of people not showing up, I’m guessing you want an americano, like usual ? - Yes ?” I answer, unsure where she’s heading with this. - Well that’s great ! Because a kind soul actually bought you one !”

Smiling, she gives me an already prepared americano, to which a piece of paper is attached, that I take with a confused look.

“And… to whom I owe the honor ?” In ask her. - Well, that person asked to remain anonymous ! But they told me that you should be able to piece together who they are thanks to this piece of paper I attached !” She answers, radiating in glee. Yeah, she also loves drama. - Okay… well, give them my thanks if you see them, I guess…”

I wave her goodbye and take place at an outside table. Another piece of paper ? It must be a coincidence, the consequences of it not being are way too scary for me to dwell on too much. Yet, when I read it, these consequences seem more and more like reality…

“For you really have a beautiful self, especially when you show your true face.”

It’s the same handwriting as the note I found at the gym ! Plus, when putting the two pieces of paper, it really does seem to be directly talking about my transformations… But who is it, and what do they want from me ? How did they find out about my secret ? And why this sudden… flirty tone ?

I sigh, and quickly drink my coffee. Due to the fact that it has already been prepared, it means that it’s a bit colder than usual, meaning it’s easier to drink. Wait… if it’s barely colder than usual… does this mean that the one having ordered it was here barely a few minutes ago ? But if it’s so, then how could they have slipped another piece of paper inside my locker ?

The caffeine starts hitting my brain, making me mull over the facts and imagine who could be the one to deliver these notes. Whoever they are, they seem to know my routine, since they knew that I would go to this cafe after the gym. It means that it’s very likely someone I know, or at least someone whose face I have already seen. They also have been witness to one of my transformations somehow, so they’ve likely hung out at the gym… or been one of my earlier dates perhaps ?

Everything is confusing, I just cannot find a way to make sense of all of that ! And… what will happen now that my secret is revealed ? Am I suddenly going to become a lab rat, as my weird condition is revealed to all ? Am I going to have to perform weird or even illegal tasks to stave off outing of my power ? Am I going to be recruited by a criminal organization in order to perform heists as an unknown person ?

Looking at my empty cup, I understand I’ve now gone too far in my thoughts. I’m likely not going to be coerced by a criminal ringleader to commit crimes. That’s ridiculous.

I dispose of my cup and head home. I’ve seen enough today, and I really need an actual break. So I take the bus, a few connecting ones until I’m finally back where I live. Before entering, I quickly go to check if there’s anything in the mailbox. And as if on queue, there is, some random account statements and other official stuff… and another of those papers.

They know where I live ! Now I can actually be scared ! For sure they’re going to make me do crimes or intern me inside a research center, I know it ! Shaking, I take out the piece of paper, and read it. It is written with the same handwriting as the others, so it confirms the fact that they do know a lot about me, but… er… eh ? Here is what it says :

“You are always worthy of love, so never forget the above.”

Wait wait wait, from the beginning, the flirty was what it was all actually about ? It is a love declaration ? … I guess it does rule out the criminal possibility… So who could it be ?

Thinking about it… It can’t be Sandra at the cafe, her shift wouldn’t let her go in the gym when I was there, and she was the one saying that they bought the coffee and left me the message. It can’t be Satoshi, although he could have bought me coffee, he couldn’t put the message in my locker, since I didn’t see him entering the gym, and he was actually walking towards the gym when I saw him. Plus, he’s so dry with me I’d think he hates me before I’d think he loves me. It can’t be Ilham, although he could have put his message in my locker before I entered, he’s currently at the gym, so he couldn’t buy me coffee. Plus, to my knowledge, he’s straight, and he’s still learning English, so he couldn’t have written such a complicated “poem”.

And I didn’t see anyone else during my little trip, so it could literally be anyone else !

But wait… looking back at the three pieces of paper, of the sequence they put together… it reminds me of something… I open my door and quickly make my way to my computer. I need to check something. To check a certain creative writing homework I had in first year.

And finding it… yes. I was correct. This is directly taken from it. The homework we did in duo back in first year of college. It’s weird… is it… really him ?

I close back up my computer, put down all of my stuff while continuing to mull over this revelation. But all of my thinking leads me to one conclusion and one only : I need to call him. So I take out my phone and do just that.

“Hello, Vítor ? Why do you call me ?” He asks, picking up almost immediately after me calling. - I just wanted to ask… do you remember our creative homework, back in first year ? - Yeah, I do, of course I do. - And… have you recently used it for anything ?”

I hear a sigh. Of course I was right.

“So you understood that it was me. I think we both have things to say to each other, so let us meet. - I guess we do.”

And so I go back out of my house, back to where it all started. Back to the gym. I walk for a bit, take a few buses, and when I’ve finally arrived, none other than Satoshi was waiting for me in front of the gym.

“Hello again, Satoshi.” I hail him. “So, you said we had to discuss ? - Yes. Let me be clear at first : I know that you have a muscular alter-ego that you can become. I don’t know why, or how, but I know you do. - How… did you know ?” I ask, a bit anxious, while he smiles at my question. - Well, you see… since the beginning of the year, you’ve been quite absent, and it made me quite worried.” He began recounting, feeling in his way of speaking way more personal and warm. “Honestly, while at first I thought to myself that you can have your own life, and that I shouldn’t interfere with it, your presence started to feel… missing.”

Huh, I didn’t know that I turned him down this much when I discovered my power. I thought that everything was just going as usual, only talking while in public transports and all… Yeah, I guess since I started going to the gym to get hookups, I changed my route after class, meaning that it overlapped less… I didn’t consider that…

“So, one day, I decided to follow you. Discreetly, of course, until you went to that gym. I… I didn’t know why you would go in there, but following you, I saw you entering a changing room… and out left a muscular man. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that it was you. - So this is how you understood that I had powers… - Yes. But this is not the end of my tale. Because I then thought of why I cared so much about you not being available. It wasn’t the first time someone would more or less abandon me out of the blue like that, but it was the first time I was this agitated. Especially because our relationship wasn’t that deep, all things considered. This lead me to the conclusion that I… er... want to spend more time with you, and made me realize that… in truth… er…” He blushes, suddenly trailing off and having a hard time to articulate clearly. “That… that I’m in love with you.”

Although I expected it, I still blush. He’s so straightforward ! And… it’s so unexpected, all things considered ! I guess I still had in mind the possibility that he was just trying to hype me up, somehow ?

“And what really angers me most,” He continues “is that you are overt there trying to be as ‘masculine’, as ‘beautiful’ or anything else to woo people, even though you’re already great the way you are ! And how you sabotage yourself by catering to this image of yourself you invented, going to the gym and all…”

I don’t know what to say. I guess I’ve been really focused in being as much of a gym rat as I could, else my cover would be ridiculous…

“Is it like that ?” I can finally manage. “That people don’t bye the muscular self I have ? - No. I- I don’t think that’s it. It’s more that you do it too well, so they don’t see you as anything more than a gym rat. I guess it all feels wrong and not personal, because it’s not you ! You’re forcing yourself to be someone you’re not ! B-but… since I have the privilege of knowing who you really are… I want to say that the real you is more. It’s beautiful, and warrants love…” He says, blushing even more. - H-how are you saying this with a straight face…” I answer, smiling, while being swept by the wave of awkwardness he radiates. - I’m not… But I really want to tell you what things really are. Because you deserve it.” He takes a large inspiration. “So. Do you want to go out with me ?”

By now, I fully knew what was coming.

And I know my answer.

“Yes, I do.”

“Hey, I’m home !” I announce, coming back home.

However, I do not find any answer to my call, even though Satoshi is supposed to come to my house this evening. He’s likely not there yet, I’m sure taken by his work, meaning that it’s going to be at least a small while until he makes it here.

I smirk. I know what to do to him. He will hate that, but it will be way too fun an opportunity to pass up. So I go to my room, completely undress, and take out some of the special clothes I still have stashed in the corner of my cupboard. In particular, I take out a very big par of jeans, the kind that would usually never fit me.

Then, all of a sudden, I feel my muscles tense up. They’re pulsating, getting progressively bigger and bigger. My pecs are the most noticeable of all of them, rounding up and sagging down in big globes attached to my torso, but everything else gains in mass. My shoulders crack as they’re pushing apart, muscles growing between them and my neck, and a light dusting of black hair starts appearing on them. They descend all over my body, on my torso, beneath my armpits, in my crotch, and on my legs. My crotch also embiggens, the hose hiding inside taking more and more place, while on the rear side my ass cheeks firm up, and gets bigger just like the pecs upstairs.

As it all happens, my face also itches, as the little hairs that are on it start growing, elongating my face at the same time. These hair grow all over my chin into a long beard, while on my lip they only grow denser. At the same time, my face rearranges to become more conventionally attractive, more symmetrical, and my hair starts shortening a bit, and becoming more well-kept.

As the last few details of my transformation arrange themselves, I put the large jeans on, not even bothering to put on underwear before that. Yup, that’s very sexy alright, he’s gonna hate that ! And so my muscular self takes place in the living room, waiting for his beloved to come.

Because this time, I know my prince charming will come.

================================================

Hey ! A story (that was again hard to write) for the last few hours of Pride Month, if it's even still on in your part of the world ! ^^'

I hope we in the TF community can recognize all the colors of the rainbow and all the letters of the acronym, including bi (and similar identities) and trans people ! And I also hope that we can all help to build, each to our ability, a better and more tolerant world (especially in the face of the rise of hateful ideologies around the world, yes I'm quivering at the results of my elections ^^')

So yeah, happy pride, everyone !

#male transformation #male tf #jock tf #nerd tf #gay tf #muscle loss #muscle drain #transformation #tf story #gay story #gay male story #queer romance #happy pride !

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fics-and-quotes-andthelike · 5 months

Text

What Happens in the Shadows

Title: What Happens in the Shadows

Pairing: Alastor x reader

Word Count: ~5,155

In which Mimzy has suspicions about Alastor’s feelings towards the reader, and plans to use them to her advantage.

A/N: Part 4 of my Never and Always series

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING (attempted assault), angst, fluff

Mimzy was a lot of things. She was loud, she was brash, she was showy, and she was bold. She was also, however, good at picking up a scent. Whether it was a good deal to be made, money to be earned, or an advantage to be won, Mimzy was there.

This usually led to one of two things.

One, she would get too confident, pushing herself into a corner when the tables inevitably turned against her, leaving her scrambling to the closest ally she had as a defense.

The second option was much more rare, when she would take her time, allowing herself to gather enough facts to truly know a demon’s weaknesses before pouncing and closing a deal. Though it didn’t happen often, those that did manage to fall under Mimzy’s control were there for eternity, serving and slaving away as she ever so slowly gathered more power.

Mimzy was ever so hungry for power, after all, even if she was bad at obtaining it.

Which is why, when she witnessed the small spectacle at her club between her dear friend Alastor and a lowly sinner who had done nothing but dance with a woman, the gears in her head had started to turn.

She had never mentioned the incident to anyone else, of course. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that the Radio Demon would have her head if she so much as breathed a word of it.

But he couldn’t stop her from thinking. He couldn’t stop her from watching. He couldn’t stop her from noticing. And he most definitely couldn’t stop her from coming.

~~~

“Ya think ya boyfriend would let mine go if you asked nicely?”

You flushed and looked away. “Alastor is not my boyfriend.”

Angel Dust winked over at you. “Uh-huh, sure. Whateva ya say, dollface.”

“He’s not,” you insisted. “We’re just friends.”

From his place behind the hotel bar, Husk put down the cup he was cleaning and looked up at you. “You and Angel are ‘just friends’. You and me? Just friends. You and Alastor?” He shook his head, picking up a new cup as he looked over at you with an expression of vague concern. “You’re more than that.”

“Ha!” Angel said as he pointed over at Husk in triumph.

You could feel embarrassment pooling into your stomach. “You’re both wrong. Al doesn’t-” you struggled to find the words. “Al doesn’t like anyone that way,” you said hesitantly. “And I know for a fact that he doesn’t like me that way. He just feels responsible for me now, that’s all.”

Husk huffed lightly, his eyes narrowing. “Alastor’s never felt responsible for anyone in his life. Not for the souls he’s collected, and definitely not for a sinner that doesn’t owe him any more than the dirt on her shoes.”

You looked away. “I do owe him,” you muttered. “He saved my life.”

Angel laughed forcefully. “That was his choice, toots. You don’t owe him nothin’, ya hear me?” He glanced over at you, his expression bordering on desperation as he searched your eyes.

Maybe you didn’t agree, but it wouldn’t do anybody any good to have Angel and Husk worrying over you with each passing moment while you stubbornly believed that Alastor was a good man who had earned your trust long ago.

So instead, you nodded, smiling softly. “I know.”

Angel nodded firmly, but the concern in his eyes was still overwhelmingly present.

You couldn’t blame him, of course, but you wished with all of your undead heart that the three most important people in your life would just get along. Not that it would ever happen while Alastor held Husk’s soul.

You let out a long exhale before you clapped your hands together and smiled over at the hotel’s bartender. “Alright, enough of that.”

Angel Dust’s expression relaxed as he turned to Husk as well. “She’s right. Pour me a drink.”

Husk returned your grin with one of his own, pouring the three of you a glass and sliding yours over.

The three of you sat in silence for a moment, staring down at your drinks as you thought. You couldn’t say exactly what was going on in Husk and Angel’s heads, but you knew that you personally were thinking about a specific radio-themed Overlord.

You hadn’t seen Alastor since the two of you had danced together in your bedroom a few days prior. It made sense that you hadn’t seen him the day after, of course. It was your day with Angel, and Alastor would love nothing less than to get involved in your makeover session.

The days after that though, were different. Normally, you’d at least catch a glimpse of the demon before he left the hotel to run his radio show or do whatever else Overlords did in their free time. If you weren’t able to catch him before he left, he would always drop by the hotel a little later on, even if just for a moment. But no matter what, he would always stop by your room at the end of the day, and the two of you would just talk.

But now, you hadn’t seen or heard from Alastor in days. You weren’t worried, per say. You knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself. You did miss him, though, and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t looking forward to your next evening conversation.

You drummed your hands lightly on the counter before shifting off of your barstool. It wasn’t likely that Alastor had finally stopped by, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. “I think I’m going to turn in for the night.”

Angel Dust quirked an eyebrow at you playfully. “Sure thing, toots. Just goin’ to bed, nothin’ to do with Smiles at all, right?”

You blushed and turned away, walking towards the staircase leading up to your room. “Goodnight.”

“Have fun,” Angel called up after you as you climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway to your room as quickly as possible.

You breathed a deep sigh of relief when you were able to reach your bedroom without any more comments from Angel. Though, that was probably courtesy of Husk. You made a mental note to thank him in the morning.

You closed your door behind you and leaned against it with a sigh.

Something flitted across your vision. You jerked back.

The object popped up in front of you, causing you to bite back a scream before you recognized it as Alastor’s shadow.

You huffed in annoyance and pushed away from your door, walking around the shadow and making your way to your bed before plopping yourself down. “That was absolutely unnecessary,” you said.

The shadow only smiled, quickly weaving its way over to sit beside you. It took your hand and raised it, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

You blushed. “Fine, I forgive you,” you said with a giggle.

The shadow’s smile broadened, using its other hand to gently put its claws to your throat as your laughter slowed.

“Not that I don’t love to see you,” you said as your eyes took a quick scan of your room. “But where’s Alastor?” The shadow made a small noise before reaching back and pulling a note off of your nightstand. It turned your hand over to place the folded piece of paper in your palm.

You pulled your hand back and opened the note, your eyes skimming over it as you tried to keep your heart from sinking.

It was a short note, and straight to the point. Alastor wouldn’t be coming back to the hotel that night due to some unfinished business with gaining new territory. He didn’t know when he’d be back. He wished you a good night.

You folded the note again and placed it in between yourself and the shadow. “It’s alright,” you said, forcing a smile on your face. “I understand.”

But the shadow’s smile had lessened significantly, and it stared at you almost expectantly.

“I’m fine, really,” you insisted. “I know he’s busy. I’m just glad he’s okay.”

The shadow looked unconvinced. But, you noticed with disappointment, its eyes had started to flicker back to your window.

“You need to go,” you said. It wasn’t a question.

The shadow looked back at you regretfully.

You reached out and placed your hands on its cheeks, lowering its head until your foreheads touched. “I’ll be okay,” you said quietly. “I promise.”

You released it and moved back.

The shadow caught your hands and pulled you back in, pressing a kiss to each of your palms before pressing them to its chest where its beating heart would have been. It gave you one last long look before it released you and melted back into the shadows, disappearing out your window.

You stared after it for a moment. Part of you wished that it had been Alastor who had come into your room and kissed your palms goodnight. The other, less selfish part of you knew that he had done the best that he could, and you appreciated it more than words could say.

“Don’t worry, he’s always like this,” a voice said from the other side of your room.

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you spun around, searching for its source.

Mimzy stepped forward from the shadows and gave you a sickening smile. “It doesn't mean he doesn't care about you.”

“What are you doing here?” you blurted without thinking. Your hands clutched your bed sheets as she approached you as casually as you would approach a friend in public. But you weren’t in public. And you most definitely weren’t friends.

“Oh, don’t give me that, doll,” Mimzy said with a wave of her hand. “I’ve been dying to see you ever since Al brought you to my club.”

“Why?” you asked before pressing your lips together. It wouldn’t do you any good to antagonize her, you knew. But you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. “What do you want from me?”

A small voice in the back of your head wondered how she had managed to slink into the shadows and avoid Alastor’s. Shadows were part of his domain, after all. Shouldn’t he have sensed her?

Mimzy’s smile changed into something more sinister. “I don’t want anything from you, doll. You’re a sweet little thing, but-” she looked you up and down with a note of disdain. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t make me much revenue.”

You felt an anger flare up inside of you. You stood, crossing your arms and pasting what you hoped was a firm expression on your face. “If you don’t want anything from me, why go out of your way to sneak into my room?”

The club owner’s smile only grew. “Relax, sugar, I’m not here to trick you into services. I’m here to talk about ol’ Alastor.”

You tried to hide the surprise and fear that shot through your core. “What about him?”

“Well,” Mimzy said with nonchalance as she began to stroll through your bedroom, poking at your belongings. “We both know that he tends to keep to himself. Not many friends, but loads of enemies, am I right? But he’s really just a sweetheart, that’s why we’ve been friends for years now.”

You blinked. “Alright.”

“But,” Mimzy continued, her voice oddly sweet. “I noticed the other night that he’s taken a bit of a shine to you.”

You dropped your arms and shook your head. “That’s not true. Alastor and I-”

Mimzy waved a hand dismissively. “Now, I’m not one to stir up unnecessary drama. But Al’s my friend, so I’ve been a bit worried about him since then.” She turned to look at you, her eyes boring intently into yours. “He’s an Overlord, you know. Lots of enemies. If any of them find out about you, think about what it’ll do to his reputation. Or worse,” she said, her eyes widening dramatically as she placed her hands on her cheeks. “His power.”

You flinched.

If you were being honest, the very same thought had crossed your mind more than once. Every time you went out with Alastor, even for a brief moment, you worried about being seen with him. You worried what it would do for his image.

He had been quick to ease your concerns, reassuring you that nobody would dare cross him, even if he were to be seen with you.

Even so, you had noticed that he was careful to never touch you, and rarely ever look at you, when the two of you were in public.

But, it seemed, despite all of his precautions, that your night together at Mimzy’s might have started something that you had feared from the very beginning.

You swallowed heavily, meeting Mimzy’s gaze as you repeated the same words that Alastor had said to you, time and time again. “Nobody would dare cross the Radio Demon.”

Mimzy nodded enthusiastically in agreement. “Of course they wouldn’t, sugar. But they might mess with you. And if Al cares about you half as much as I think he does, well, that’ll be enough to ruin everything that he’s ever worked for.”

You bit your lip with worry. You were never quite as good as Alastor when it came to hiding your emotions. “So why did you come to me?”

The demoness shrugged. “I knew Al would never listen if I told him that you were bad for him.”

You winced.

“But,” she continued, “I thought maybe you could convince him.”

An alarm bell began to ring in the back of your mind. “Convince him of what?” you asked wearily.

“To keep his distance from you,” Mimzy said, a little too quickly for your liking. “The longer you stick around, the more he gets attached. And the more he gets attached, well…” she smiled, her teeth sharp and her eyes dark. “The more likely it is that our old friend gets tossed out of commission.”

Your gaze hardened. “You want me to stay away from Al? Fat chance.”

Mimzy laughed, the sound forced and brittle. “Not at all, sugar. I won’t be the one who ripped the two of you apart.” She began walking towards your bedroom door. “In fact, I think you two are adorable together. But, you see, it’s not just Alastor I’m looking out for. I’ve gotta take care of myself, too,” she said as she turned to face you.

You recoiled at the sight of her hardened eyes and cruel expression.

Your bedroom door opened, revealing two large demons that closed the door behind them, blocking your exit. You whirled around as another demon entered through your window, cutting off your only other means of escape.

“Mimzy-” you began.

“Don’t you worry, doll. They can’t exactly kill you again, can they?” she giggled. “They’ll just rough you up a little so that Alastor can finally come to his senses.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked as panic began to set in.

“Let me explain it in simple terms for you, hun. I need you to help me break Alastor and get him away from you. Whether or not you help me willingly is completely up to you,” she said with a shrug.

“If Al does care about me,” you said desperately, “then it won’t do any good for you to hurt me. This is just going to make things worse for him. It’ll make him angry. He’ll lash out.”

Mimzy’s eerie grin only grew in size. “Oh, I’m counting on it, sugar. I can’t exactly gain more territory with the Radio Demon breathing down everyone’s neck. If I can get to him through you, he’ll be too upset to think straight.” She chuckled. “If I’m lucky, he’ll be the cause of his own downfall. With him out of the way, things can be the way they’re meant to be.”

The three demons surrounding you came closer.

“Mimzy,” you gasped. “Please, don’t do this. Alastor’s one of your oldest friends, he doesn’t deserve this.”

The club owner tilted her head in consideration. “Well, I suppose I can make an exception.” Her teeth flashed. “If you were willing to cut a deal with me.”

The demons grew closer still.

You could feel your resolve faltering. One measly deal to get out of this mess didn’t sound too bad. But as you looked back over at Mimzy, her eyes flashing and her smile turning into a snarl, the voice in your head that screamed out to protect Alastor came to the forefront of your mind with full force. Any deal that you made with Mimzy would only be used to hurt Alastor, and you would never forget how you had met him in the first place.

He had saved you once. You weren’t going to make him save you again.

You straightened and stared straight into Mimzy’s eyes. “I hope you get what’s coming to you,” you spat.

The sinner shrugged. “Whatever you say, doll. Have fun, fellas!”

You heard your door open and close as the demons drew nearer, blocking your view.

A deep fear spread throughout your body, starting in your chest and working its way out. You could scream, but you were almost certain that Mimzy had found a way to mute the sounds from your room to the rest of the hotel. Nobody was coming to save you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and braced yourself as a feeling of regret shot through your heart. You had never thanked Husk for having your back. You had never finished your makeover with Anthony. You had never told your friends how much they had helped you, and how much you appreciated them.

You had never told Alastor that you loved him.

You let out a sob. You cursed yourself for crying.

A hand grabbed your arm roughly, your eyes flying open in horror. But before the demon could do so much as pull you closer, a shadow swept through your window and across the room, knocking the other two demons away from you. The third demon tightened his grip on your arm, but it was already much too late.

The lights in your room began to flicker as a new shadow entered your room. It grew in size, becoming more and more solid until it finally took the shape of one of the most feared Overlords in Hell.

“I do believe,” Alastor said to the last standing demon as his antlers began to grow and his eyes began to flicker. “You have something that belongs to me.”

You didn’t wait to hear the demon’s response before you shut your eyes and turned away. You knew what came next, and though you had yet to argue with Alastor over his methods, you had no wish to see them for yourself.

The demon’s hand was ripped from your arm. Even without your sight, you were able to hear the screams of all three intruders as Alastor and his shadow punished them a mere feet away from you.

You sank down onto the ground, keeping your eyes closed as you pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your head in your arms. The tears that had begun to flow earlier suddenly returned with a vengeance, making their way down your cheeks as you sobbed violently.

You’re safe. You’re safe. Al is here now. You’re safe, you thought to yourself as you pulled your knees in tighter.

But another, horrible voice spoke up as you cried. He wasn’t able to see Mimzy, it said. Why wasn’t he able to see Mimzy? If this happens again, will he know? Will he miss it?

Can he save me?

You gasped and whipped your head up when a gentle hand brushed your arm.

Alastor was staring right back at you, kneeling on your floor. His smile was tense and close-lipped, his expression concerned. “It’s only me, mon chere.”

You glanced behind him and noticed vaguely that Mimzy’s three demons were nowhere to be seen.

Your chest began to hitch as you tried to hold your tears back. “I’m so sorry, Al,” you said, hating the way your voice broke. “I should have been able to defend myself, I’m so sorry.” The tears began again, your body slumping forward as you began to weep.

A pair of arms caught you and gathered your body closer until you were resting against a warm chest.

Al’s shadow, you thought to yourself as you nuzzled closer.

One of its arms wrapped around your back, holding you close, while its other hand grasped one of yours and pressed it to its chest. It held you tightly, allowing you to cry and hiccup into its shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there before your sobs became whimpers, and your whimpers became hiccups. You weren’t sure how long it held you before you were able to breathe properly.

The hand holding yours released you gently, coming up to wipe your tears away from your face.

You finally opened your swollen eyes, already regretting having been found in such a vulnerable state.

You came face to face with Alastor’s shadow. Holding Alastor’s staff.

Standing across the room.

You gasped and pulled back violently, causing yourself to fall out of Alastor’s lap and onto your floor.

The Overlord didn’t react, instead watching you with an expressionless smile on his face.

“I thought you were your shadow,” you stammered. “I didn’t realize-”

“I do hope you aren’t going to apologize for reacting to the given situation, my dear,” Alastor said as he tilted his head at you. He sounded, much to your surprise, mildly annoyed.

You froze. “Are you mad at me?”

A flash of irritation appeared in the Overlord’s eyes as his teeth gleamed. “We’ve now spent a notable amount of time together. I do hope you know me a bit better than that.” His voice held a note of challenge.

You sniffed and brought your knees to your chest once again without a response.

Alastor’s eyes softened and his smile eased at the sight of your trembling form. He sighed, the sound revealing an internal exhaustion that he would never admit to out loud. “I assure you, mon chere, my anger does not lie with you.”

You nodded, looking away.

Silence. Deep silence.

But you couldn’t avoid the upcoming conversation forever.

“People have seen us together, Al,” you finally said, your throat raw. You looked up at him. “People who want to take your power.”

You didn’t miss the way the demon’s smile tensed.

“I won’t be the reason that you lose everything you’ve built so far,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “You deserve more than what I can give you.”

Alastor stood abruptly, climbing gracefully to his feet before offering you one of his clawed hands and pulling you up beside him.

He released you and grasped your chin in between his fingers, tilting your head up to face him.

“Any demon who hopes to steal my power is going to find themselves sorely disappointed, my dear, regardless of whether or not your presence is noticed.” His eyes hardened. “I am more than capable of holding on to what I’ve gained.”

“You couldn’t sense Mimzy,” you blurted, regretting the words as they left your lips, but unable to stop them. “You didn’t realize she was there until-” you swallowed. “What if it happens again, but this time they come for you?” You hated how desperate you sounded. “What if they hurt you, Al?”

The Overlord tilted his head. His smile twitched and his grip only strengthened as he looked down at you with something resembling regret. “I do admit that both myself and my shadow were a bit distracted during its visit, and I do apologize for not preventing this whole ordeal before it ever began.”

“That’s not what I meant-” you started weakly.

Alastor’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Though I can promise you that such a thing will never happen again, mon chere. Not while I still stand.”

You didn’t respond. Not because you doubted his ability to take care of you, of course. But because you didn’t want this added responsibility to prevent him from taking care of himself.

“I do hope,” the demon continued, the static in his voice suddenly disappearing as he searched your gaze. “That you haven’t finally begun to doubt me.”

You shook your head as well as you were able to with his fingers still clutching your jaw. “No,” you whispered. “Never.”

And in a rare display of courage, you reached out, placing your hands gently on either side of the Radio Demon’s face as he released your jaw. You pulled him down until your foreheads met. “Never,” you repeated, your voice firm. “And if you really aren’t worried, and you want me to stay, then I will.” You pulled back to look into his eyes. “I’ll stay with you. Always.”

Alastor’s hands reached up and settled on top of yours as his eyes bore into you. “That’s quite the commitment, my dear,” he said. There was something strange in his voice, something that sounded almost like uncertainty, almost like tension, almost like fear.

Your grip on his face tightened as you looked up at him. “I mean it, Al. I’ll stay with you, if you’ll have me. If you’re sure.”

Now, there were a great many things that Alastor would never do. He’d never make a deal that he wasn’t in control of. He’d never submit to the Vees. He’d never tell Charlie the real reason that he was in her hotel.

He’d never tell you that he loved you.

But, he found as he stared into your eyes, he would absolutely give up everything that he’d ever built if it meant that he got to keep you.

“I don’t intend to lose anything, my dear. Least of all you.”

You blushed, maintaining eye contact as a gentle smile took the place of your previous frown.

Alastor leaned forward. You followed his lead, expecting to press your forehead to his, when he surprised you by placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You pulled back and smiled up at him before pulling him down to place your own kiss on his cheek.

Maybe Mimzy was right. Maybe you were something of a danger to the Radio Demon. But you’d be double-damned if you were going to give up on him so easily.

“Now,” Alastor said, his eyes flashing dangerously as he released you and stepped back. His shadow surged forward, returning Alastor’s staff to its rightful owner and standing behind its master with a chilling grin.

Alastor faced you, his smile gentle and his eyes hard as the static returned to his voice with full force. “Would you care to give me the name of the foolish soul who tried to harm what was mine?”

~~~

Nobody had seen or heard from Mimzy in days.

Three new screams had joined the Radio Demon’s broadcast.

You’d been too afraid to leave the hotel for a few days.

Alastor had begun checking your room every night before leaving you alone.

Nobody else at the hotel knew what had happened to you. Not even Angel and Husk.

You gained back your courage in the following weeks with help from Alastor.

The two of you had grown closer than ever.

Nobody had seen or heard from Mimzy in weeks.

~~~

You leaned back against your bed’s headboard, watching as Alastor had his shadow sweep through your room once again.

“I’m fine, Al,” you said, trying to contain your laughter. “Really. Nobody else is going to get in. There’s locks on the windows, and your room is close enough to be able to hear if something goes wrong.”

Alastor hummed in acknowledgement, though his eyes continued to roam around your room until he was satisfied.

He turned to you with a grin. “I’m only protecting what is mine, mon cœur.” He turned to your door, walking away from you with his shadow following close behind. “I do expect to see you bright and early in the morning for a short stroll.”

It was your turn to hum in agreement.

You were more than thrilled with the offer, of course, but you felt a sense of unease that threatened to keep you up all night. You didn’t doubt Alastor’s abilities, of course, but you worried about what might happen to him if he was attacked while he was momentarily distracted with keeping you safe.

Alastor’s hand reached towards your doorknob. “I bid you a good night, my dear.”

“Will you stay with me tonight?” you blurted before you could lose your courage.

Alastor froze in place, his hand hovering. His shadow, however, was much more reactive. It leapt up in excitement and made its way back over to your bed, jumping in beside you and nuzzling its head against your cheek.

You giggled and pulled away, allowing the shadow to slowly run a clawed hand from the base of your throat up to your chin before looking back over at its owner.

He had turned to look at you, a fond expression on his face as he watched the interaction.

“Only if you want to, of course,” you said hurriedly as your smile began to slip. “I don’t mean to pressure you.”

Alastor waved a hand dismissively before he made his way over to you. “You couldn’t pressure me if you tried, my dear.”

Your heart soared as you moved over, giving him enough room to not have to even brush against you during the night.

The Overlord climbed into your bed easily, settling against your headboard before looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. “I do hope you weren’t expecting me to sleep.”

You smiled. “Not at all.” You began to shuffle around to get comfortable and to avoid looking into his eyes when you said, “I just feel safer when you’re here, that’s all.”

The last words of your sentence had hardly left your lips before Alastor’s shadow finally moved from its place on your other side. You laughed as it nudged you over before wrapping its arms around you and pulling your back to its chest, giving you a sense of security that you had never found with anyone else.

You closed your eyes and nuzzled in, allowing yourself to be swept away in a wave of comfort and exhaustion. “Goodnight, Al,” you murmured as you drifted away. “Thank you. For everything.”

You fell asleep before you could hear his response.

So you didn’t see his eyes soften. You didn’t see him reach out and grasp one of your hands in his own. You didn’t see him lean down and press a soft kiss to your temple. You didn’t hear his last words before he began to doze as well.

“Thank you, mon cœur.”

A/N 2: I really hope you guys enjoyed this one!! This is an ongoing series, so let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

I’d also like to continue writing for Hazbin Hotel, so send me requests and let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any those as well :))

Taglist: @severusminerva @anh4125 @midorichoco @rapturenyx @maybememoriesx @martinys-world @axellovesalastor @mo-0-o @looking1016 @saturn-alone @sirens-and-moonflowers

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simping-for-joe · 9 months

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Cause Everything I want, is Everything that's Here

Leon Kennedy X Wife Reader

Leon returns home after a mission, thankful to return home to his wife and daughter.

(Title taken from the song “This is where I belong” by Bryan Adams)

A/N: Yes, the song is from the horse movie. I just listened to it again recently and literally couldn’t help but think of RE 6 Leon. Like the relief he feels to say he has a family and a home he can always return to and always feel love. Also, I’m a sucker for domestic Leon.

Leon sighs out softly as he walks off the helicopter, the bags under his eyes heavy. He doesn’t really pay attention to other agents around him. Just focused on getting out his gear, to head home. It’s been almost a month since he’s been home. He didn’t want to waste any more time waiting around here or even talking to anyone. Not even the president could get him to stay at the DSO headquarters for a moment longer. Hunngian promised him she’d handle anything, which he greatly appreciated. He just wanted to get to where he wished to be the most.

As he drives his car, he can clearly see the wedding ring on his finger reflect the street lights. A small smile forms on his lips, he can imagine your shock and surprise when he just shows up. It was one of the few reasons he didn’t always mind these long missions, and then he thought how excited and happy your daughter would be. How she’ll jump up and hug him tightly. He can’t fight the smile that forms on his face as he thinks about it. Finally, he pulls into the driveway with only one other car parked there. He gets out and he watches as his breath is visible in the cold air. Snow having fallen recently, there were remnants that the snow had been disturbed in the front yard. He smiles to himself as he notices two snow angels of different sizes. He walks the short path to the front door, pulling his keys from his jacket pocket. As he does he notices lights on in the house, he secretly hopes he isn’t too late for dinner.

“Baby, make sure your hands are clean.” You tell your daughter gently.

“Okay, mommy!” She calls and rushes back past you. Her blond hair is everywhere as she dashes by. She looked a lot like Leon and acted like him too. The only thing that didn’t look like him was her eyes, she had your eyes. You’re setting up the plates for dinner, putting down two plates. You feel some sadness at not being able to set a third plate. When you suddenly hear a squeal. You rush to see what is going on, to make sure your daughter is okay.

“Daddy!” You look to see Leon grab his daughter from the floor.

“My munchkin!” He calls out joyfully as he picks her up, her giggles never stopping.

“I missed you!” She says brightly as he holds her.

“Oh, I missed you too! More than you could ever imagine!” He blows air on her stomach making her laugh more. You’re practically frozen there as you look at Leon, his smile as bright as your daughter’s.

“Mommy look!” Your daughter calls as you finally start to walk closer. Leon puts your daughter down and is quiet for a moment before you hug him tightly.

“I missed you…” You say simply but so much more is said. Your arms are tight around him. So much you want to say but your daughter is here. I’m so glad you’re alive, I’m so happy you came back to me, I don’t ever want you to leave again.

“I know…” He replies softly hugging you back as tight as he can. His face buried in your neck and hair, taking in everything that is you. Small tears well up in your eyes but you quickly brush them away and smile.

“Come on… we were just getting ready to have dinner.” You tell him that with a bright smile, that reminds him. He’s home.

You quickly set another spot for him, and he listens with a smile as your daughter explains her day. Her feet kick under the table and her smile never fades as her dad is home.

You originally meant to make sundaes to distract your daughter from her father's absence, but now they were a celebration of his return home. Your own fond smile never leaves your lips even as your daughter gets ice cream all over her face. Leon only finds it amusing and kisses her cheek.

After cleaning up and making sure no one has any ice cream anywhere. You head to your daughter's room.

"Goodnight sweetie..." Leon kisses your daughter's forehead gently.

"Daddy... are you going to be here tomorrow..?" She asks in a tired tone, looking up at him. Some part of Leon's heart broke when his daughter asked him that question. You could see it in his blue eyes.

"There is nowhere I'd rather be... than here with you and your mom." He says softly. "Just know... even if I have to go, I'll always return..." Your daughter nods, to which she receives another kiss from Leon.

"Goodnight baby..." You add, tucking her in a bit tighter and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Love you..." You add on softly.

It's quiet for a moment in your shared bedroom. Before you hug Leon tightly again. As if you're floating in the sea, and he's your only life raft. Confirmation that he's here, and present. Leon not needing an explanation just hugs you back just as tight.

"I will always come home..." He assures you hugging you a bit tighter. Holding part of his entire world in his arms.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #no use of y/n #x reader #fanfic #x female reader #x wife reader #hurt/comfort #some angst #domestic fluff

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st4vk1nmybra1n · 2 months

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I love you, don't act so surprised?!

cont: Model!Gojo x GN!reader, sweet sweet gojo and his silly thoughts!! Wc: 1.5k.

Lovestruck. A little stupid, admittedly. Not charming, and surely not as cool. That's how Gojo Satoru would describe himself in the presence of the only person who can tolerate his ideas, sometimes even surpassing his stupidity to give him a reality check and shut him up. Like really quickly. To the point where he feels embarrassed for himself. And he never feels embarrassed about his beautiful brain and its beautiful thoughts. He knows everything about him is beautiful. I mean– he's a model for a reason, you know?

You were sort of an enigma. You weren't his manager, but sometimes he wishes he could just have you be his manager because you were just that good at making him seem like a saint. He faintly thinks it must be because of those really expensive media training classes his dad paid for. The one that he, you, and suguru had taken. Not like he really paid attention then. Oh well! He has a pretty face, why should he hold back his words? Though he'd definitely argue you'd make a better model. You had the media training, the professionalism, the skill, the knowledge (about a lot of things. Some things, more than the other. But you were smart!), and you definitely had the looks!

You were gorgeous. Drop dead gorgeous. You had the right features. No matter what anyone else thinks, he's sure he could probably capture your beauty with a camera. He's no photographer or whatever, but even he knows you can look good under any circumstances. Whenever he watches back his interviews and any and every video of him on the internet (which he does because he knows he's hot. That's it.), you always seem to capture his eyes. You're not even the main focus of the videos in most cases. You appear briefly, fixing his hair or telling him to straighten up a bit more. Or maybe the camera pans to you when you're behind the scenes, grinning at the camera as you make a cheeky remark about him. He thinks you look.. a little too good when you're feeling sly..

You have your own job and life going on, but it's so heavily ingrained in his head that his days can't pass without you in them. It's like the day's exhaustion washes away when he shows up at your doorstep after a long day of shooting. Or when you show up in the morning with waffles for breakfast, first thing in the morning when you know he has a big shoot coming up. He just loves you– or well– spending time with you (???), nothing more. Yeah, for sure!

Most people feel nervous in his presence. He knows he exudes an energy of confidence and self assurity. It may sound egotistical but it's simply a truth, a fact everyone knows. He's not surprised when people stammer and stumble over their words when talking to him, or when their eyes wander over him. He knows it's only natural for them. It's something he doesn't pay much mind to, it just makes him feel even more satisfied. Whenever he'll crack a joke, they'll crack a smile, laugh with their cheeks tinted. It almost feels as though he's entertaining them. Don't get him wrong, he loves being ogled at, but he needs entertainment too! Then there's people who look at him in such a way where he can see the gears of creativity churning in their heads. All the ways they could film him, all the angles they could use to photograph him to bring out his best (which is also something that's just him existing), all the ways they could draw him or paint him. He's observant like that, he sees it all.

But for you, Shoko, and Suguru, it's different. His friends don't have that look of wonder or nervousness when they look at him. They're all used to it, he knows. After spending so many years together, it's clear that's the case. Suguru himself was into photography, though not as much to pursue it as more than a hobby. Suguru often did capture photos of satoru. But he didn't care to skirt around the subject when he felt satoru was doing something he hadn't envisioned. He would tell satoru straight up to pose again, and 'leave out the sass this time'. His friends won't hesitate to shut him up if he says something stupid, maybe even whack him against the back of his head. They don't care to sugarcoat their words, or to conceal the fact that they'll laugh in his face if he does something that they think is stupid. And he likes that! It's something he especially likes about you. That when he cracks a joke, you'll double down with something funnier that'll send everyone into another 10 minute laughing fit. He likes it when he asks if you could pass him something, and you answer 'no' with the straightest face ever, as you hand him the mentioned object. He likes when he asks you a dumb question, you answer with something even dumber. Sometimes to add to the joke, sometimes to humble his stupidity.

Oh, and he loves when he's taking a video and he calls you over, you'll look up at the mention of your name, and instinctively smile as you see his camera. He loves it when you give him and Suguru ideas on their next photoshoot, demonstrating Satoru's potential poses with a dramatic face, sometimes breaking out into a cheeky grin as you tried imitating satoru. He loves when you get sassy and cheeky, he loves it when you know you've caught him slacking, your knowing and sly grin making him feel even more heated than he could imagine. He probably mentioned that earlier, too. He loves way too many things about you. Next thing you know, he probably loves you! But that's not true.. definitely not!

He's also a liar. He does love you. A lot. A recent revelation. Shamefully, he thinks the way that most people get nervous around him is oddly reminiscent of how he is around you. Except, he's not boring and dull. If anything, he makes the funniest jokes ever! His eager eyes are always finding your frame everytime he cracks a joke, just to see you burst out laughing at him. He's made himself the butt of the joke more times than he can count, just to see you give him a sarcastic and satire response, or even better– when you laugh at him. Maybe it's a twisted feeling, to feel joy from such a thing. But he really could handle doing anything if it meant seeing you smile at him.

"You've been locked up here for an hour. Do you wanna start getting ready for our photoshoot or do you wanna continue to stare at that photo frame of you and your.. family." Suguru's voice interrupts his thoughts, his brow raised at his friend as he looks over at Satoru, who had been staring at a picture of you, him, and your cinnamoroll plushie and his digimon plushie.

Satoru remembers that day. It was after Suguru had finished taking pictures of him, and you'd been sitting just watching, with his treasured plushie in your hand, while your own cinnamoroll plushie was also seated on your lap. "Let's get a photo of the whole family. Satoru and I, and our two sons!" You chimed in, rushing into the frame as you leaned in against Satoru. You both took a sequence of photos, ranging from bright grins on your faces, to your faces completely serious, like a true family portrait. And then later on his birthday, you gifted him a large frame of the photo (alongside other gifts, of course), which he put up in his bedroom, without even having to put much thought into it.

"Are you gonna confess? Stop staring at that frame and do something about it." Suguru chided, clicking his tongue.

"Give me a break! I only just realized like.. 2 weeks ago. I need time to process everything!" He responded to Suguru, tone whiney and dramatic.

"2 weeks too late, maybe. We all noticed like, 2 years ago. You're late to the party. Do something about it before I do something about it." Suguru threatened loosely, placing his hands on his hips.

"Ey! You can't do that! Mine. Mine only." Satoru gasped in offense, brows furrowed as he crossed his arms, lips forming into a pout.

"I meant I'd air out your business, not ask them out, you idiot!" Suguru sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Oh. Oh! That's good for him, Satoru thinks. He plans on telling you, sooner or later. But sometimes, he just likes to stare at you and admire what you have already. But he knows he can't risk it. You're more gorgeous than he is, and that's saying something. He knows there's a chance someone may come in and sweep you off your feet, and he would never allow someone as beautiful as you to end up with someone who isn't him. It's simple logic, really. An ethereal person such as you, only deserves someone who's as breathtaking as you. Not to toot his own horn, but he's pretty sure he's the only one who fits that criteria. It's just meant to be! You and him. He's known it deep down inside all along. He wouldn't have it any other way, of course.

side note: i just wanna add that i almost LOST the ENTIRE fic and cried for 10 mins before i eventually found out how to restore it! so i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did <3333

#gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #fluff #jujustu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x you #i love him

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bad268 · 5 months

Note

Hii can I request a Paul Aron x reader? Maybe like they went to school together and she was known to keep to herself but he finds out she drifts cars as a passion outside of school. Maybe a cute interaction after he watches her and he's with a couple friends too?

Drift to Survive (Paul Aron X Drifter! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/3

Requested: Clearly (haha I speedran this, but I learned a lot of shit about drifting <3) (Also, off-topic but LOOK AT HIS HAND)

Warnings: None

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1132

Summary: Drifter! reader decides it's time to share the infamous after-school activity.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

What had started as an after-school activity turned into a fully-fledged career after a while. You had started drifting back when you were younger. Your dad used to compete in Drift Masters (DM), and you had always been interested in it since he would take you to the rounds.

By the time you were 10, your dad was taking you out to open fields or empty tracks to drift, and when you reached 15, you started competing in lower levels. It was difficult managing a full-time career on top of finishing school, but it would be worth it in the end.

Somedays you wish you had told your school friends about your passion for drifting, but then you remember how critical people are of different interests. It was better to keep it on the down-low until you got better at least.

Well, to say you were getting better would be an understatement. You started competing in Formula Drift earlier this year, and you were dominating. You just found out that if you secured the championship, you would be offered a seat in DM.

Since there was a race for you this weekend, you decided to bite the bullet and invite a couple of your closest friends. They were racing in Formula 2 or Formula 3, and you knew they did not have a race that weekend. Surely, they were free.

You sent a quick text to the group chat that included Dino, Ollie, Jak, and your best friend, Paul. Maybe you wished Paul was more, but right now, your focus was on your career, especially since you just graduated and were moving up in the world. That was something you could pursue another day.

They all accepted immediately, intrigued at the prospect. They did not really attend a race where placement did not matter, so they were interested to learn about it. Also, they did not think it was something you were interested in. You were just so quiet. They did not expect you to be interested in their type of racing, let alone a more dangerous branch of it.

The day of the event came, and you were feeling more confident than ever. You had done a few practice runs with your dad again, and he was confident you would get that DM seat. Your friends arrived at your room early that morning since you all agreed to carpool together.

You all loaded in the car. You drove. It was after much debate from the guys, saying they were the racing drivers, but you rebuttled with how Ollie could not pass his driver’s license test. Plus, it was your car that your dad drove over for you. You did not plan on letting any of them take your car.

Paul sat in the front, Jak and Ollie took the window seats, and Dino sat in the middle despite him saying he was too tall for it. Granted, he was the shortest of the three, so his argument was invalid.

You let Dino have control over the music, so he would shut up. Thankfully, he did have good taste in music. You made it to the track in no time, and you drove around to the back where drivers and the teams would park. The boys looked at you funny as you showed the garage passes to security, but no one asked anything until you parked.

“You never told us,” Paul started as he climbed out of the car and followed you toward the boot. You were grabbing out a bag that had some of your essentials like team merch, hat, and snacks. All of your racing gear was already with the team. Paul closed the boot for you after you grabbed the bag out. “Where are we sitting?”

“You guys are sitting in the garage,” You answered as you locked the car after Ollie, Dino, and Jak clambered out of the car just in time to hear your answer. They all gaped at you before Dino made a connection.

“Wait, where will you be?’

“In the car,” You said simply as you handed them the badges and walked down toward the entrance. They all stood in shock for a minute before running to catch up. You led them around before parting off to your garage. Ollie, Dino, and Jak decided they wanted to explore a bit more, but Paul said he wanted to stick with you. Plus, he really wanted to look at your car.

Call him a nerd, but all cars are interesting to him.

You did just that. It did not take him long to realize that you were the “amazing”, “talented”, and “once-in-a-generation” driver that everyone talked about. You used an alias while driving, so he never made the connection before. You showed him your car, let him sit in it, and showed him your special helmet. Since this event was so special, you did a specialty helmet based on your dad’s helmet. If you could secure your DM seat with your dad’s helmet, it would have come full circle since he was the one to help you get there.

“Wow, this is incredible! I never knew you did this,” Paul said in awe as you explained a few more things in your driver's room while getting ready to get in the car. “It suits you though.”

“Thanks, Paul,” You laughed at that. “No one ever asks what I do outside of school, so I never said anything.”

“Well, now I’m gonna make it my mission to learn everything about you,” Paul said in a soft tone as he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you into his body. He used one of his hands to do up the zipper and velcro of your race suit before resting his hand against the side of your neck, “If you’ll let me, that is?”

“I’d always let you in, Paul,” You whispered back as you slowly leaned in to press your lips against his. It did not last long as one of your managers knocked on the door, telling you it was time to get in the car. Reluctantly, you pulled away from him as you pulled your balaclava on and grabbed your helmet. “That’s my cue. Time to drift to survive. You better be watching from the garage. I need all of the energy I can get.”

“I manifesting that win for you,” Paul laughed as he followed you out to the car. As soon as you were situated in your seat, he leaned in one last time to give you a last piece of motivation, “You’ve got all of us behind you, just breathe, and you’ll do great as always. I’ll be waiting for you at the finish line to take you out for victory drinks.”

~~~~~

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abiiors · 7 months

Text

promises to keep // matty healy x reader

valentine's week - day 4: promises to keep

a/n: four times he keeps his promises and the one time he doesn't. that's it, that's the fic. cw: a whole lot of teenage yearning, mentions of high school bullying. worm??? wc: 4.8k

matty’s ten when she first barrels into his life like a little storm cloud.

they’re both at his mum’s overly fancy christmas party—matty’s fuming the whole time, wrinkling his nose in disgust at everything because he’s ten and quite frankly a little shit. his mum wants him inside, being a good boy for the guests.

his gran wants him to serenade them with old frank sinatra songs.

and matty just wants to go outside and play in the snow. it’s a rare white christmas—the snow doesn’t usually stick until late january but this year it’s thick and powdery and so fluffy white that he constantly keeps running to the windows to press his little face against them.

the party’s boring! everywhere he looks there are grown ups laughing at grown up jokes that he has no interest in, so matty takes his chance and sneaks away again, running to his preferred window. when he turns the corner, someone’s already there, pressing their face against the window just like he had.

matty realises it’s a girl. she looks about his age, maybe a bit younger, but he’s never seen her before. on the one hand, she’s the first (and perhaps the only) person at the party who’s his age. on the other hand, she’s a girl.

when his footsteps falter, she turns to look at him.

“who are you?” she asks, nose turned up like she owns the place. matty’s eyes narrow.

“who are you?” and then his eyes move to the palm of her hand that’s cupping something, something that looks suspiciously like a— “is that a snake?”

he screeches and she scrambles to shush him.

“he’s not a snake! he’s a worm,” she snaps back quickly. “and can you not be so loud? i don’t need my mum to know.”

“why not?”

“oh,” her cheeks redden and she shields the worm away with her other hand, almost protective. matty wants to smile. “well, my mum says bug can’t come with us to parties.”

“bug? i thought you said he was a worm.”

she rolls her eyes like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. then she presents the wriggly thing in front of him, beaming and proud. “his name is bug, silly!”

“bug the worm?” matty drawls. he can’t tell if he’s impressed or not but the worm certainly looks interesting.

“yeah!” she grins. matty notices her front two teeth are missing. “anyway mum says bug can’t come with us to parties but i didn’t wanna leave him alone at christmas. that’s just mean.”

matty nods. the logic checks out. before he can say anything though she sighs like all the burden of the world is on her shoulders. “i wish we could go outside though. i really wanna play in the snow.”

matty contemplates an idea—he wants to go out in the snow, and so does she. and now that there’s someone else to keep him company, someone who could maybe even be a partner-in-crime, his whole face lights up.

“let’s go then!”

“but—”

“can you sneak out or not?”

she looks absolutely scandalised at the suggestion. the worm raises its head and matty wonders what it’s thinking, if it wants to go outside too.

“come on!” he whines, “i’m sure bug will love the snow too.”

he can almost see the gears in her head turning then. she looks around them, neck craning to see if there are any adults in sight, ready to catch them and tattle on them.

“i promise you won’t get in trouble,” he declares and extends his pinkie at her. he tries to look as serious and solemn as possible. she eyes him skeptically for a moment, narrowing her eyes and staring him down. then a mischievous glint enters her eyes, and with a determined nod, she hooks her pinkie around his.

they quietly slip away to the back door. matty leads the way, occasionally checking over his shoulder for any adults. behind him she grins with palpable excitement. the door opens with a little creek and cool air blows in.

they both shiver and then burst into a fit of giggles.

they scamper into the snowy yard, trying not to laugh so loud and alert their parents but matty can’t help but gloat about having successfully snuck out. his excitement is infectious though because she joins him too, making snow angels and throwing snowballs at the back of his head.

she even sets bug down, and matty watches fascinated by the way the worm wriggles through the cold fluff.

all in all they get five minutes of absolute bliss before he hears his mum’s voice, calling out for him. matty pales.

“my mum!” he winces and instinctively steps in front of her. “go, go, go!” he almost snaps at her.

“go where?”

“i don’t know, hide or something!” his voice thins and matty almost pushes her behind a big tree in the yard. “i promised i won’t let you get into trouble, didn’t i!”

she’s about to say something but he shushes her again, pulling her to the tree so she’s hidden behind it.

“i’ll keep the back door open for you,” he whispers and then makes a run for it.

by the time his mum catches him, looking sheepish and suspiciously damp, matty’s already inside. the door’s almost closed behind him and he wilts unders his mum’s disapproving gaze.

“matthew…” she sighs. “what did we talk about?”

“i know, i know…” he drags his feet and follows her inside with a grumpy pout on his face. minutes later the girl sneaks back inside, absolutely undetected.

bug the worm scurries away into the night, makes a run for freedom, but like the snow, their friendship sticks. and so does the name “bug”.

matty's thirteen when he finds her sniffling in the abandoned girl’s bathroom on the third floor. he’s technically not allowed there but that’s never stopped him before. besides, he knows that’s where she would be if he can’t find her anywhere else.

“bug?” he calls out tentatively and waits for a response. she sniffles quietly and matty frowns. “you okay in there? can i come in?”

a beat goes by and then she responds with a wobbly “sure.”

when he finally finds her huddled in a cubicle, face red and splotchy, his frown deepens.

“what’s wrong.”

she turns her face away and loudly blows her nose into some toilet paper. “you won’t get it.”

matty makes a face at her. “is it about a boy?”

she whips her head at him and gives him an absolutely withering glare. matty tries not to squirm under it but she looks just about done with him and so he sighs and raises his hands in surrender. “i’m sorry, alright? will you please tell me what’s wrong?”

the apology softens her a little but she still looks as devastated as ever. her knees are bunched up to her chest, and she puts her head on them, mumbling something indecipherable.

“what was that?” he asks and strains his ears more.

“i got my period!” she snaps and matty’s mouth morphs into an ‘o’. as a teenager, the whole period topic is currently his least favourite. he remembers learning about it in biology, he remembers the mortification and the juvenile giggling and matty shudders. well, almost shudders because another withering glare shuts him right up. like she’s daring him to make another stupid comment.

“oh.”

“yeah,” she sniffles and blows her nose once again. matty looks at her properly then, at her teary eyes and wobbling chin and all his disgust from a moment before fades into concern.

“are you…okay?” he asks softly, “do you need something?”

reluctantly, she nods and takes a deep breath before launching into the story.

“i though my stomach hurt because i ate something weird, you know? i didn’t-i didn’t know… i’ve never… it’s my first time,” she scrunches her eyes shut and matty pats her knee, kind of at a loss for words. “well i didn’t realise i’d stained my trousers until… until suzy chapman from year 8 pointed it out. she was so loud about it too.” her lips quiver again and she dissolves into a fresh round of tears.

matty sighs. “have you been to the nurse yet? for…i don’t know, whatever you need.”

she shakes her head. “i don’t wanna go out like this, everyone’s going to laugh at me.”

matty’s chest aches at how small her voice sounds. with a fresh round of concern he realises she must be in more pain. he doesn’t know much about periods really, but he knows how his mum can’t really do much for the first day or so every month. so matty shuffles next to her, their knees touching and thighs pressed together.

“how about i come with you?”

she shoots the idea down instantly. “i’m not leaving till school’s done for the day and everyone’s gone home.”

“bug, that’s four hours away!” his voice rises, tinged with incredulity but she just shakes her head and mumbles a “that’s fine.”

“no it’s not,” he declares. he’s never felt so much indignation in the thirteen years he’s been alive but matty is absolutely determined to make this right. “i promise you no one will make fun of you. they will have to deal with me first.”

she gives him a watery chuckle, more tears leaking that she wipes away quickly. “you’re a twig, matty. you can hardly fight.”

matty feels a warmth in his chest when he finally sees her crack a smile. “i’ll cover you,” he says, “come on, bug. it’s not that far away.”

she uhms and aahs a bit more, trying to make excuses but in the end matty manages to convince her. then he stands, brushes his trousers and extends his hand to her. it takes her another thirty seconds to swallow nervously, but in the end she takes his hand and pulls herself up.

she’s a bit taller than him, much to his annoyance, but for once matty keeps his mouth shut and motions for her to go ahead, protectively hovering behind her, blocking the stain with his body. he fiercely glares at anyone who so much as looks at her for more than a second. many of the boys in their year whoop at him, some girls roll their eyes but matty pays attention to none of it.

he sticks to following her around until they reach the nurse’s office. he’s actually quite proud of himself if he’s being honest.

she hesitates at the door, and matty squeezes her hand reassuringly. “go,” he says. “i’ll be right outside.”

the smile she gives him then is one he’s never seen before—it’s warm and adoring. she looks at him like he really matters. she looks at him like he’s something special. irreplaceable.

matty shakes his head, ignoring the silly thoughts, and stays put outside. just like he’s promised.

matty’s sixteen when the list first comes out. it’s a vile little thing—something none of his friends interact with, but the entitled, rich twats pass it around like it’s a designer strain of weed. by now the paper’s quite crumpled, unfolded and refolded several times by grubby hands eager to soak up the gossip and find new targets to bully.

the list makes its rounds and matty ignores it pointedly each time.

but his heart sinks when he overhears her name, followed by snickers. his breath catches in his throat when the boys pat each other on the back and shake each other’s hands, cementing some kind of a bet or a deal.

discomfort coils in his stomach and he pulls out his phone under the desk, shooting her a quick text.

haven’t seen you today

where are you

he waits for her to respond or even just to read it but she does none of those things. matty shakes his leg restlesly, waiting for the lesson to be over so he can go find her and make sure she’s alright. he’s been on edge since he heard her name being whispered and now he can’t shake the bad feeling that grips.

“oi!” someone behind him whispers, snapping him out of his thoughts. fingers tap on his shoulders and then he hears a rustle of paper. before he realises it, someone’s slides a piece of paper in his hands.

it’s even more torn than it was the last time matty saw it—matty almost doesn’t open it, but something catches his eye. his stomach roils, the lesson drags on as usual, and with shaky fingers matty unfolds the list.

his eyes skim it quickly—hottest arse, hottest tits, easiest fuck—all of it raises his disgust more and more, he’s about to crumple it into a ball and dump it in the bin when the last catagory catches his eye.

most fuckable virgin. and right in front of it, scrawled in the ugliest handwriting he’s ever seen is her name.

for a moment, everything falls silent. all he can hear is the sound of blood rushing in his ears, all he can focus on is the way his chest tightens and his vision tinges red.

then he crumples the list in a ball and shoves everything in his bag. he can hear the teacher falter mid-sentence but matty cannot care less right now. instead he slings his bag on his shoulder and storms out the class, ignoring all the shouts and warnings from the teacher. he knows his mum will get a call but that’s the last thing on his mind right now.

he pulls his phone out again once he’s far away enough.

bug?

you saw it didn’t you

again, there’s no response. he can’t even go to the third floor bathroom anymore. it’s been long fixed up and put back in use. so matty does the only thing he can think of. he waits until the bell rings, then he pulls george from chemistry, and adam and ross from history. he knows they will have his back no matter what, especially if he’s going to go pick a fight with the entitled, rich fucks.

i promise i’m going to take care of it

he sends one last text and turns his phone off. then he makes his way to the car park and waits for the bullies to come out.

the next time matty sees her, she’s absolutely seething with rage. seriously, trembling with rage doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“you could have been expelled!” she yells, pacing in his room, burning a path in his rug.

“i know.”

“do you? does george? adam and ross? i cannot believe you got them involved in this matty, seriously?”

“i knowww,” he says again, a bit louder this time but absolutely wilts when she glares his way.

“and you got yourself hurt!”

“mmm.”

“well?” she stops in front of him, hands on her hips, frown on her face and matty has no choice but to look up at her. he hates that her eyes are tinged pink, hates that they look puffy and that there are tear stains on her cheeks.

he hates knowing that the stupid piece of paper made her cry.

her eyes well up again and her lower lip wobbles. “your hands are bleeding,” she says softly and then marches to his bathroom to get the first aid kit out.

matty follows her like a lost puppy, mostly because he just wants to be sure she’s okay. but a tiny part of him worries that he’s crossed a line this time. that maybe he should have talked to her first before jumping harry and his gang of bullies in the car park.

if he’s being technical—they did win the fight. barely. and now he has a black eye, countless scratches and cuts, bleeding knuckles and a nasty, colourful bruise blooming on his ribs. it hurts every time he breathes but matty doesn’t pay it much mind.

“sit,” she points at the closed toilet seat and he obeys instantly.

he watches her put the kit down on the sink, wordlessly she grabs antiseptic, ointment, bandages and wipes and sets them out next to each other. she doesn't say anything for a moment, her focus solely on treating his injuries. matty can feel the thick, cloying tension in the room though and he’s too afraid to even clear his throat.

“i just wanted to make it right…” he whispers.

she shoots him a look that could cut glass, but she doesn't interrupt his feeble attempt at explanation.

“seriously, love. i didn’t think… i’m sorry.” her hand stills halfway through cleaning his knuckle and matty’s cheeks warm. love. that’s not something he’s called her before, definitely not when she’s standing right between his legs, holding his hand.

“‘s fine,” she whispers quickly and gets started on the next cut. “i just…worry about you.”

he pointedly ignores the way his chest feels then, the way his skin tingles. instead, he manages a small smile.

“so we’re good?”

“you’re an idiot,” she shakes her head and smiles. it’s barely there, just a twitch of her lips but matty feels his whole body light up in response. “yeah, matty. we’re good.”

“good,” he gives her a cheeky grin. “because you’re a bit of a shit nurse. bad bedside manners,” he teases and yelps when she pinches his arm.

matty’s eighteen when his music first feels like a real, serious thing. serious enough to drop out of a levels and take up music as a full time thing. serious enough that he’s been travelling around more and more—hanging around solely with george, ross, and adam. it’s been weeks since he’s properly seen her.

weeks since they’ve talked on the phone.

of course, matty knows she’ll be busy studying for exams. she’s so much smarter than he is, has so much potential in her. but he misses her, misses having her around him and scolding him lightly every time he does something impulsive.

mostly, he just misses hanging out with her.

you free? he texts, not really expecting a reply but seconds later three dots dance on the screen.

hi matty!

i will be in a bit. i’m out with mum rn. dress shopping for my birthday

inwardly, he winces. of course, her birthday’s coming up. not that he’d forgotten about about it but the days have started blurring together recently and he could have sworn it was still about a month until her birthday. not… he checks the date and curses. he certainly didn’t think it would be a week away.

the dots come back, dancing and dancing and dancing before they disappear. matty tries to think of something to say.

so when’s the big party? he types and then instantly deletes it. it’s lame, she’s never been one to have a giant birthday party. mostly she just wants to have a nice hangout with her friends and maybe go out to dinner. but she’s turning eighteen in a week and he wonders if this is the year she finally does it—throws a giant rager that is.

so…

her text comes through a minute later he gets so excited he almost drops his phone. cursing at himself, matty straightens and waits for the second text to come through.

we’re going out to dinner on saturday. nothing super fancy, just friends. i thought it’d be nice if you could come

you don’t have to of course

ik how busy you are

it’s fine if you can’t

forget i asked

the last four texts come in rapid fire succession and his frown deepens with each one of them. is that what she thinks of him now? that he won’t even have time for her on such an important day.

bug, he interrupts her text spree and smiles when the dots die down once again. i’ll be there. i promise

for the longest time, nothing happens—no dots, no texts. then almost like it took a lot of debating to send it, she sends two more texts.

can’t wait to see you :)

his face splits into a grin as he reads them. and then he stares at the heart for far longer than he cares to admit.

she squeals when she sees him that saturday, jumping up from her seat and engulfing him in a bear hug the moment he opens his arms. matty laughs and her scent fills his chest. they stay like that for a long time—until her friend’s are looking at them with varying degrees of interest, until he can gather his thoughts. until a server finally clears his throat and points out that they’re quite literally in the middle of the restaurant.

she blushes and takes his hand, pulling him to their table, and matty settles next to her, mostly just happy to see her beaming and excited.

“happy birthday, love,” he whispers the first chance he gets and her eyes widen slightly. she mumbles a quick thank you and then spears her pasta, avoiding his eyes.

throughout dinner, he can't help but steal glances at her. he watches the way her eyes light up when she talks about her plans for the future, about the university courses she's considering. he laughs along with her friends too, and before they know it, they’re scarfing down desserts before her friends hand her birthday gifts one by one.

matty waits patiently and saves his for last. instead he watches her open them with a look of pure adoration.

at last, he slides the neately wrapped gift in her direction and watches her look at it curiously.

“go on, then,” he smiles, “open it.”

he laughs when she tries to open it as neately as possible, trying not to rip the paper in the slightest just like she has for all the previous birthdays he’s celebrated with her.

the paper falls away and eyes widen about as much as the empty dessert plates in front of them.

“matty!” she gapes, “this is–this–”

“yeah?” he giggles at her reaction and her friends look on in interest.

“a camera! you got me a camera, holy shit!”

“i know,” he grins, immensely enjoying how tongue tied she is.

matty leans back in his chair, looking pleased with himself. “do you like it?”

her eyes shimmer with gratitude, and for a moment matty’s sure she’s gonna cry. then she launches herself at him again, this time wrapping him in a tight hug that lasts longer than before. and matty simply melts into her arms, buries her face into the crook of her neck and smiles at the warmth that spreads through his chest.

“i love it,” she whispers, “thank you, matty. i mean it. i love it so so much!”

they don’t pull away until one of her friends clears their throat and even then it’s almost impossible for him to let her go. but matty settles back and watches her pull it out. he laughs when she immediately points it at him and the shutter snaps.

“you’re cute,” she smiles and he wonders if it’s just a trick of the light or if her cheeks really do turn pink then.

matty’s twenty-one the night he offers her a job. well, it’s more of a summer gig and it’s more because he misses her so much that he can’t get anything right.

she’s busy with uni and he’s busy with music. but tonight’s a rare night, and they’re both a bit more than tipsy at some house party. that’s another surprise for him—the fact that she parties now. but he likes this side of her. she’s definitely gotten out of her shell more. become more confident in general and lately, every time he’s spoken to her, he’s felt this funny feeling in his chest for hours after.

“as the band’s official photographer?” she slurs and then giggles. “this is a world tour, is it?”

“shut up,” he flicks her nose and she scrunches it up adorably. “it’s eight cities in the uk. mostly as openers for other bands. come onnnnnn,” he whines and pouts hoping it would persuade her.

she presses her finger to her chin and makes a show of thinking hard. matty giggles and smoothes the crease between her brow but she swats him away.

“on one condition,” she giggles behind her hands. “since we will be around each other constantly for three weeks, sharing hotel rooms—” matty wags his eyebrows, “—and just be joined at the hip in general… you need to promise me something.”

“alright,” he leans forward, chin on his palm, looking at her with interest. the alcohol makes his head spin, her smile wipes it clean of any thoughts.

“promise me we won’t fall in love like a cheesy rom-com,” she presses her lips together and matty wrinkles his nose.

“if i was going to fall in love with you bug, it would have happened already.”

“uh-huh,” she arches an eyebrow and matty shakes his head.

“fine. no cliche rom-com stuff. no falling in love. now say yes… please?”

“fineee,” she makes a show of rolling her eyes but smiles at him fondly. “yes. i’ll be your photographer.”

the first night they share a hotel room, matty feels a pangs in his chest and his brain reminds him of the promise over and over again—no silly little rom-com cliche. they’re better than that. he knows it. but the next morning she wakes up in his arms, limbs tangled together, her hair tickling his face and he can’t help the way his heart skips a beat. she smiles at him sweetly, all sleepy and warm and so precious she might as well be made of glass, and matty’s chest aches like it has never before.

blink and two weeks melts away. he realises he’s been rather looking forward to coming “home” to her—to their shared hotel room that is. to warmth and music floating through her old laptop and her laughter. his whole body buzzes with an unfamiliar feeling whenever he looks at her—and lately that’s all he seems to be doing whenever she’s editing the day’s photos on her laptop, tongue poking out in concentration, eyebrows furrowed.

“c’mere”, he pleads when she briefly sets the laptop aside. she looks at him curiously, at the way he just sits on the bed, waiting for her but in the end she gets up and walks up to him to stand between his legs—something she’s done a million times before. yet this time his hands tremble by his sides and he has to resist the urge to place them on her waist.

“you’re pretty,” he says as a matter of fact. it is a fact after all and it earns him a gorgeous grin.

“yeah?”

“mm,” he hums and closes his eyes. to matty’s surprise, he feels fingers in his hair, combing through his curls, tugging gently at the ends. “and lately it’s been getting really difficult to not kiss you every time i look at you.”

it’s so bold that her fingers stop moving altogether and for a moment matty think’s he’s fucked up irrevocably, that there’s no going back now. but she’s so close, so enticing. and the next thing he knows, she lowering herself onto his lap, her face inches away from his.

she smiles at him, and softly caresses his cheek. once or twice her eyes even dip to his lips but he doesn’t dare breathe, or move really. he’s far too scared that even a little movement will shatter the magic holding them together.

“why haven’t you kissed me then?” she asks and that’s what breaks his restraint.

her lips are soft on his, so fucking perfect. electricity zings through him at the contact. she kisses him with such reckless abandon that it steals his breath away, makes his heart hammer against his ribcage. and then her fingers tangle themselves into his hair and if matty were to die of shock right now, he couldn’t think of a better way to go.

i love you he thinks to himself—something that just occurs to him then, hits him like a fucking train but he doesn’t pull back. if anything he kisses her harder and smiles when she gasps into his mouth.

i love you he thinks again, over and over and over until the thought spreads throughout his whole body. until he can’t help but giggle a little.

he’s utterly failed his promise, completely decimated it. but out of all the promises he’s kept, this is the one he doesn’t mind breaking.

lemme know what you think <33

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k2ntoss · 7 months

Note

"“On your knees.” While their fingers thread through your hair, guiding you onto the floor." with Jason? 😳

guess who fell sick FROM A KFC CHICKEN PIECE!!! i'm dying but anyways first one of the nighty-night!!! omg i just love writing this stuff with jay it's just hehehe :3 here we go, my dear anon, thanks for your request. adding vigilante!reader here bc my head has ideas.

"on your knees." while their fingers thread through your hair, guiding you onto the floor.

it was usual for you to steal kisses from jason's lips whenever you walked past him and everyone around had grown used to it, soft pecks followed by a pretty smile as you carried your gear after a mission or when you walked around the training arena. it wasn't weird anymore not even for bruce because he knew that you needed each other.

this time wasn't much different besides the fact that tim and damian were fighting right in front of jason at the time you had to pass by his side, carrying a couple of knives you stood next to him and nudged his side softly, a silent sing for him to lean down so you could reach and kiss him and he did, lips softly touching yours in a sweet motion that made his younger sibblings grunt at the missing attention because they sworn they needed his opinion.

"i bet you have better things in mind to do rather than getting involved on a new discussion with them" you murmur against his lips, a small smirk when you noticed your tease working on him even if it wasn't meant to at first.

"and i bet you've never been told you speak way too much, haven't ya?" jason asks cockily, standing straight once again and looking at you with his arms crossed over his chest and you can't help but chuckle when his eyes linger for a little more on your lips before he looks back at his brothers.

"all i hear is you're in love with me, todd" your words bring a scowl to damian's face and drag a tired sigh from tim, probably a little too over the loverbirds shit you always manage to pull out of jason when you're close. of course he's not always so sweet with you but you've pulled onto his more human side and that had helped jason to feel more worthy of a lot of stuff, because you've been there to teach him that not being perfect wasn't bad.

"i hate it when you're right." he chuckles and shakes his head, leaning in to drap an arm over your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your temple, looking over you and taking in your figure, the way the gray suit hugged your curves before getting lost under the waist of your cargo pants made your body look even more desireable and he just smirked to himself "i wish there was a way to shut your mouth at least for a while."

if you didn't knew him you would have thought he was pissed off by your comments but the undertone of tease and mischief on his words was clear for you and you understood his intentions, even clearer when you noticed jason's eyes wandering around the cave to make sure it was just the two of you there.

"well, maybe there is" you say, as if wondering the answer but jason is quick to grab your hand and pull you upstairs and between chuckles he makes his way to the library as he looked into any other room to make sure there wasn't a chance of being caught like two horny highschoolers, but that was the fun in this all.

"yeah? what would that be?" he asks once he finds a nice spot. that chair he always picks in between all the spaces around the manor because it's comfortable and because it is the first place he kissed you "does it has anything to do with that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around my dick?"

it takes jason almost nothing to change the tone of his voice, he sits on the big chair and pulls you closer by the waist to place you on his lap just so he can capture you lips in a new kiss, this time hungrier and harsher. his hands grip onto your hips as yours claw softly on his chest, kissing him back and letting his tongue intrude into your mouth when he deepens the contact of your lips.

"here? in broad daylight?" you ask him teasingly but jason knows you couldn't care less when your hips push against his making your body grind against his "if we get caught you know we won't hear the end of it, jason." and your boyfriend knows that's true but there isn't too many people to find you both and he is 50% sure he just locked the door but that's just details.

"i don't really care and i'm sure you don't care either" he says in a low tone, looking up at you as his hands trace the outline of your figure until he squeezes your breast playfully and leans in to kiss your jaw, nibbling on the zone as if he was tasting you for the first time ever and he just got adicted to the feeling of your flushed skin.

it takes a few more heated kisses, your hips grinding against him and the sound of your heavy breathing mixed with the noise of your clothes until he pulls away with a predatory smirk as he pushes your body from his.

"on your knees." jason's voice sounds hoarse and it drives shivers down your spine because his hand touches you in a soft way as his fingers threat through your hair as his other hand pushes you by the waist to get you off his lap, the hand that is still on your head is now guiding you slowly to the floor and making you kneel between his legs.

it's not hard to do as he wants and it's even easier to lean in closer and press a playful kiss on the bulge that you can spot under his pants, the action itself makes jason's eyes darken as your fingers work undoing his belt and the buttons of his jeans, pulling down slightly with a hint of urge just to lift his shirt a little, exposing his lower abdomen and kissing a trail until your lips reach the waist of his boxers.

"you look so pretty like that, princess," he practically growls as his hand brushes your hair out of your face, a smirk playing on his lips when your eager hands pull down his underwear as your eyes remain fixed on his.

"i don't know what i'll do if you keep looking at me like that, jay" you purr and he chuckles but the sound stops as soon as it starts when you grab his hardened dick on your hand and give him the first slow stroke as you lean in to wrap your lips around the swollen tip and at the feeling of having him in your mouth you hum.

"i think i know what you'll do" jason teases, letting out a deep groan when you bob your head up and down with your tongue tracing his shaft but what drives him crazy is the way you look at him through doe eyes and the ghost of a smile on your expression as you start moving with him in your mouth.

"that's it, ma," he growls as his eyes close and his head drops back, his hand finding its way to the back of your head where it grabs a handful of your hair "feels so good to have that pretty mouth of yours taking me so damn well, such a good girl."

the sight is amazing, the way he frowns when a deep raspy sound escapes his throat when he starts pushing your head down his dick, making you gag a little when he hits the back of your throat and keeps you held there making it hard to breath, he enjoys it.

the way your hands hold onto his thighs and how you look up at him with teary eyes, your cheeks red and the sloppy sounds his cock makes as he fucks your mouth slowly but harshly makes him feel his ego grow at each helpless moan you let out.

"think i'll shut you up by fucking your throat more often," he says, voice completely low and hoarse now that he controls the movements of your head and sets the pace on his own, getting off with the way you look with your chin full of your drool and his precum, a few tear trails now painting your cheeks.

it's right then when he pulls you away from his dick, stroking himself needily as he looks at you with a wide grin that lets you know what he wants to; you sit on your knees and your eyes follow the movements of his hand around himself and you can't seem to notice when you start to bounce a little in expectation.

"just look at you, how eager you look, ma" he mumbles, his voice struggled between sighs and growls as his hand moves fast when he is about to reach his climax "bouncing like a pretty bunny... open your mouth, love."

the way he speaks and the sinful scene mixed with the sweet pet names he calls you makes everything better. as soon as you part your lips, tongue sticking out jason moves a bit closer and places the tip of his cock over your tongue and a few second later his load is being spilled inside your mouth, a little of it staining your chin when he pulls away panting.

jason is unable to take his gaze away from you as you swallow what you just got and the tension builds up again on his body just with the sight of it, he tries to hold it back and cleans your chin with his thumb in a sweet caress then moving to search for something he could use to clean himself and also you but stops as soon as you take his hand and suck his digit clean.

"what? haven't you been taught not to waste?" you ask him teasingly and his control vanishes completely at your words.

"fucking hell, you're gonna have to come here because there's no way i'll be letting you go right now"

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luveline · 1 year

Note

could you write something with kisses before dinner where avery feels like she’s not your your steve’s favourite and she gets upset?

for you my love! dad!steve x pregnant!mom!you. 3.7k

Steve gives Bethie's hand a tug. "Come on, this way."

Bethie follows without complaint, her rain boots smacking the sidewalk with each step. Steve keeps checking to make sure the umbrella's covering her, though there's little need for his worrying when she's wearing her rain mac, a scarf, and a super thick sweater under her coat.

It's a very short walk to the door for Avery's classroom. She and the other first graders get called out one by one from a huge door that exits a cubby room. Steve stands where he always does, out of the way from most but close enough that Avery doesn't have to look far.

Steve hadn't always wanted kids. When he was sixteen, he thought that having children might be the worst thing in the world, not because he'd ever been around any kids that weren't worth loving, but because they acted like a sort of glue, sticking you to another person. But he got older, and he realised he wanted to be stuck, and then he realised there isn't any glue to children, they can't serve as an adhesive that binds you to someone. You either love your partner or you don't (of course, it's a little more complicated than that) and children are usually separate.

Steve met you. He loved you more than he ever loved another person. And then you had Avery, and Bethie, and Dove, and he somehow loved you more for it. It's immeasurable.

Steve loves you, and he loves his kids most of all. You wouldn't be offended, you feel the same —kids are a different kind of love.

It's why being out in the rain doesn't matter. Bethie's hand is warm where he covers it in his, and when she gives a little shiver he crouches down to rub her shoulders, knowing it doesn't help but wishing it did.

He's so excited to see Avery he can't describe it right, and it doesn't make any sense because he saw her seven hours ago at drop off when she kissed him goodbye and ran away to go play races with her friends. Since then, he's taken Bethie to her doctor’s check up, chased Dove around the house for a bath, put on a load of washing, made dinner preparations, done the dishes, all while acting as a willing serf for a moderately pregnant you on bed rest after a bout of high blood pressure. All of those anxieties and chores and exhaustions —he wouldn't have it any other way— and still he's geared up to see his oldest.

Avery usually runs out of the door like she's on springs, but today she's only walking. Steve groans as he stands up properly, beckoning for Avery to come and stand under the umbrella as he calls, "Hey, Avey-bear, where's your water bottle?"

She only has her lunch box.

"I think it's lost forever," she says, looking up at him with wide eyes.

He can't hug her with his hands full, but he gives her the best 'dad loves you' look that he can muster, his most adoring smile. "You think so? Don't worry, we'll fix it."

"It's not broken," she says.

"I just mean that we'll find it or I'll buy you another one." Avery holds her hand up. "Take your sisters, baby.”

"I wanna be under the umbrella," she whines.

Steve doesn't blame her. The rain is coming down heavier by the minute, and she doesn't have a nice sweater on like Beth. The weather wasn't as unpleasant this morning.

"You can hold it if you don't stab me in the eye," he says.

"Yes! Please please please," she says, accepting the umbrella he passes with a charmingly pleased smile.

They walk through the playground, the winding path to the parking lot and between cars. Steve picks Bethie up and carries her from the parking lot onward, worried she'll pull away. Avery tells him about her day without prompting, the umbrella jabbing him in the hips and stomach occasionally.

"We're making cards tomorrow for them, do you think the old people like cards?" she asks as they approach the car.

"I think they'll love your card."

Steve unlocks the doors and pulls Avery's open first. He takes the umbrella from her and she climbs into her car seat with a load of thunking and huffing. Steve didn't think it through, there's the umbrella to shake dry, car seat straps to click, and his arms are still full of Beth, who's been her usual quiet self the entire time.

"You okay, Beth?" he asks her.

"I'm cold," she murmurs.

Steve can't have that. He pushes the umbrella into the footwell by Avery's feet and water flecks the poor girl's jeans, but at least he has a hand free to click together her car seat strap. She lifts her head for a kiss and he doesn't recognise it until the door's shutting between them.

He winces and rushes to Bethie's side. "Sorry, babe," he says when he opens the door, putting Beth in her seat with ease. Avery pouts at him. "I'll give you a kiss when we get home, I'm sorry, my head's not screwed on tight enough right now. I'm just rushing to get back to mom."

Avery blows hair out of her face, annoyed.

The drive home is nice and slow. Steve's cargo is too important to rush and risk hydroplaning. Bethie's asleep by the time they get home as he hoped she would be, and Avery is itching for the bathroom. He lets her out first and she sprints away before he can get a kiss.

Steve scoops Bethie up and whacks his head on the car roof. He does it every single time he tries to get her out, and he stands there with the rain pounding his back, sucking air in through his teeth. "Sugar," he whispers.

He pulls Bethie securely to his chest, locks the car and climbs the short step into the house, head pounding. He's unsurprised and horrified to see you up in the kitchen making Avery a cup of juice, Dove propped on your baby bump like a perfectly sized seat.

"Not okay," he says, hands covering Bethie's ears as he closes the front door behind him. "Go sit down now. I'm not kidding. Right now."

"Steve–"

"Y/N," he says, real annoyance in his voice. He doesn't like bossing you around, doesn't like being a jerk, but you can't mess with bed rest, not so far along. It's not even the baby he's thinking about, it's you. "Go lay down, please."

You smile guiltily. "I'm feeling better."

Avery looks like she's the one who's had the telling off when you leave. She sips from her juice cup and won't meet his eyes, her sleeves dark with water. She has a bad habit of not rolling them up when she washes her hands, and Steve always sighs when he sees it.

Your home is oddly shaped. When you first walk in, you can see up the stairs to the right, and you can see straight down the hall to the kitchen, and you can also see into the living room to the left. The living room leads into the kitchen, too, which means there's double the baby gates.

Steve puts Bethie down on the big bean bag by the windows and finds you laying down on the L-shaped couch, Dove content where she sits by your hip. Your hands play with the thin blonde wisps of hair at her neck. The longer it grows the darker it becomes.

"Sorry for worrying you," you say, not looking at him. "I really do feel better."

"I'm glad you do, but you know it's not one of those things that works on feelings," Steve says. He rubs his forehead, and then he drops his hand against his thigh in defeat. "Sorry for being snappy. You freaked me out."

"I have to get up sometimes. To pee and stuff," you say. "Will you get Ave her juice? She wants Mapap."

"What? For what?" he asks.

Dove turns in her seat to look at Steve like she's surprised he's here. Then, in a startling turn of events, she babbles happily. "Daddy," she says, holding up her hands. "Home."

"I'm home," he agrees sweetly.

"Daddy," she says again.

Dove loves Steve, but she's always had a preference for her mom. When you're working, Dove is more than happy to spend her days in Steve's arms, in his lap, some days she's stuck to him like a leech, but you walk through the door and she's immediately team Mom. It makes sense, she must miss you while you're away. For the first time in a while, Dove's had to miss Steve instead.

He picks her up with a huge beaming smile and kisses her cheek, still chubby with baby fat. "You're happy to see me?" he asks against her skin.

"I think she has a tummy ache."

"Dove?" Steve asks, folding a curl behind Dove's ear.

"Avery." You grimace. "Are you sure I can't stand up? I feel fine."

"Don't get up." Steve gives Dove another kiss and says to her, "I love you, I'll be right back. Please still love me."

Dove curls into your chest when Steve puts her down in a way that says she certainly won't still love him when he returns, but she enjoyed the hug.

Steve almost trips in the doorway to the kitchen over a teddy bear. Avery eyes him reproachfully, her glass of juice a quarter filled.

"Mommy says you have a tummy ache. Let's get you some medicine, yeah?" Steve asks.

"It's okay."

"It stopped hurting?"

"No," Avery says, frowning. She looks to be on the sudden verge of tears as kids tend to be.

Steve attempts to rescue her. "Okay, baby. Come here," he says, holding out his arms. Avery puts her glass on the counter and walks into his arms, a sad sound squeezed from her as he carries her to the kitchen table. He sits her on a table mat, ducking to be the same height as her eyes, his hands finding a gentle home on her small shoulders. "What's the situation, honey? What kind of pain is it?"

"It feels weird," she says quietly.

"Throw up weird?" he asks, the most important port of call.

"No."

"You sure?" he asks.

Avery shakes her head. Steve doesn't think she'll throw up, but she looks so unhappy that he frowns at her, rubbing the nape of her neck. "What's the pain feel like?"

"Just hurts."

"Okay. I'll get you some Mapap, honey. What would make you feel better? A cuddle?" He leans forward to whisper, "Are you feeling gassy? Maybe you need a burp."

"No, dad," she says. She must be feeling awful, she doesn't laugh. Burps are always funny.

Steve grabs the Mapap from the fringe and tips it onto a spoon. "Here," he murmurs, passing her the last of her juice so she's ready to chase the odd taste of her medicine away.

Avery hesitates to open her mouth.

She has the same eyes as Steve, and right now they're filled with a look hasn't seen in his own for years. He's not sure what to make of it. She doesn't look sick, she looks sad, really sad, driving Steve to a new kind of panic.

"I'll take some with you," he says.

"Really?" she asks.

It's kids Mapap —he could drink the bottle and still have a backache afterward. "Yeah, really really. You want me to go first or second?"

She deliberates. "First."

Steve lifts the spoon of medicine to his nose. He knows he should pretend it's delicious, no big deal, but he sniffs it suspiciously, touching the tip of his tongue to it and wincing dramatically at the taste.

"I get a hug after this, right?" he asks.

Avery laughs. "Yeah, dad."

He raises his brows, as if to say, Well, in that case, and takes the medicine. It's a fake strawberry flavour and disgusting but he pretends it's only sort of bad.

Avery offers him her cup of juice as soon as he takes the spoon out. She's lovely.

Steve makes another cup of juice and another spoon of medicine. Avery takes it without any hesitation, going as far as to say, "It's not that bad."

Steve's thankful for the reprieve. He really hadn't been liking the way Avery looked like she was feeling. He scoops her up as though she weighs nothing (she grows like a bamboo shoot every summer, but Steve is strong) and carries her to the living room, where you're half asleep now and Dove's definitely not, her short fingers petting your neck.

"She's sleeping," Dove tells Steve factually as he sits.

Avery leans against Steve's chest.

"I'm not sleeping," you mumble, "just my Dove is being so nice to me."

"Well, not to make anyone jealous or anything, but Avery promised me a prime time kiss. Like, a huge one."

"No I didn't," Avery says, confused.

"Yes you did, don't be a meanie. I meant to give you one in the car, 'member?"

"Oh," Avery says, "right."

Steve gets his kisses and a great big cuddle, hugging his eldest baby as close as he can. The TV plays one of Dove's favourite movies and you fall asleep, snoring and drooling at once, dribbling from the corner of your mouth. It seeps into the cushion you've underneath you. Dove laughs and points it out to Steve and Avery. Avery's a sweetheart, so she wipes your drool away and pushes a fingertip into your lips until you close your mouth.

Dove climbs off of you and wanders over to Bethie. "Leave her alone, Dove," Steve warns.

Dove gives him a, Who, me? look and climbs onto the bean bag, to Steve's annoyance. Luckily, Dove's feeling nice, and she doesn't wake her sister. She lays down beside her and loosely holds her hand, and after half an hour, everyone's asleep besides Steve and Avery.

He can't help looking at you constantly, worried you're gonna get sick and he won't notice. He's worrying the same thing about Ave.

He's too obvious.

"Is mom okay?" Avery asks.

"Mom's okay. Are you worrying?" he asks.

"You're worrying," Avery says.

"I know mom's gonna be okay, I can promise you she's fine," he says. "But it's like you. You're not feeling very well and it makes me worry, but I know you'll be okay."

Avery doesn't say anything, rubbing her nose against his collar.

"Do you believe me?" he asks.

"About what?"

"About everything, I guess."

"Yeah," she says. Steve gives her shoulder a little pat.

"Okay, good. Mom is fine, and baby's fine, and we'll all be okay as long as she rests up. And your tummy stops hurting, duh."

Avery isn't cheered up by his doting, sweet tones. She stays flat as a pancake on his chest and doesn't move an inch for a while. Steve waits. He knows Avery like the back of his hand. She has something she wants to say, or tell him, or ask.

"Dad?" she whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Is it okay to be nobody's favourite?"

"What?"

Avery hides her face.

Steve encourages her back out again, gently carding through her hair. "What do you mean?" he asks.

Her bottom lip trembles. "Dove is mommy's favourite, and your favourite is Beth, so who's favourite am I?" she asks.

"You're my favourite," he says on automatic.

"But you can only have one," she says, glaring at him.

"That's not how this works, you're my girls. You're my daughters. You're all my favourites."

"You love Bethie most."

Steve wants to say, Of course I don't, how could you think that? He wants to say, Avery, don't be silly. He wants to say, That's not true, because it genuinely isn't.

"I'm so sorry," he says instead.

Avery sniffs. "Why?"

"Ave, I'm so sorry. That's not what you're supposed to think, I– honey, why do you think I love Bethie most?" he asks. "It's not true, I adore your sister, but I love you the same. I love you so much it made my heart actually get bigger," Steve says, rushing to explain it, wanting there to be no doubt. "When you were born, it was the best day of my life. The best day of my life."

"You and Beth are always snuggling," Avery says. Steve has to strain to hear her.

"Your sister loves hugs, and I love giving them to her," he agrees. "Do you wish we hugged more often?"

She nods. He nods back.

"Then we will. I promise."

"I want to be your favourite," she says.

"Avery," he sighs. "You are. It's hard to explain it, but I love you and Bethie and Dove and even the baby all the same."

Avery starts crying. Steve had known it was going to happen, and it still feels like a whack to the chest, flat-palmed.

"Is this why your tummy hurts?" he asks quietly.

"I want to be your favourite," she says again, cheeks shining with tears. "I want to be mom's favourite, it's not fair."

"You're my favourite singer," he says.

Avery frowns.

"You're my favourite singer. You're my favourite at putting her socks on. You're my favourite pancake maker, my favourite–"

"It's not the same," Avery says.

Steve takes her hands in his. "Yes it is! You're my favourite girl just like your sisters, but if that's not good enough, you're my favourite at so much other stuff, Ave. You have my favourite smile, and do my favourite dances. I'm really sorry you think you're no one's favourite," he says, aching. "I promise you, me and your mom love you so much it's weird."

"You promise?" she checks.

"I promise. Cross my heart."

Avery sniffles. Steve wipes her warm cheeks with the side of his hand, tucking her hair behind her ears. She's his mirror. If there's one thing Steve wanted, it was that she would never feel how he felt growing up.

"I can make it up to you, sweetheart, you tell me what it is that makes you upset and I can fix it. Will you tell me, please?"

Avery tells him in little fits and starts. It's nothing done maliciously, ever, but he can heartbreakingly see why Avery might have stacked all of these things together and started wondering what's wrong. Bethie gets super tired in the early evenings, and when she's tired she clings, hoarding Steve's affection for herself; Dove's young enough to be a handful, hoarding yours. There's the missed kiss in the car after school, and a hug that didn't include her at breakfast. A few days ago, you said to Dove, "Mom needs a kiss from her favourite girl." You had no idea Avery was awake, and you didn't mean it with even a drop of cruelty, but it doesn't matter. Avery took it to heart, and she's been upsetting herself with it ever since.

"Do you want to talk to mom?" he asks her, stroking her cheek with his knuckle.

"I don't know…"

"I can talk to her for you, if you want to. Or we can talk to her together. She'll be really sorry, honey, I promise. You know mommy doesn't have a mean bone in her body."

You wake up not too long after that, dragging yourself into a sluggish sleeping position, hand on your bump. "Woah, she's kicking me."

You look up to them with a huge smile, evidently excited to show them, hand already in the hem of your shirt and pulling up, but you notice their matching frowns and say, "What's wrong?"

Steve explains. Avery looks at your bump rather than your face as he does, barely reacting to his hand stroking her hair back.

"Oh," you say, pouting gently, eyebrows pinching together, "Avery, I didn't mean it like that. I didn't mean she's my only favourite, that's not–" You hold your hand out for her. "Sorry, baby. I've really upset you, haven't I?"

Avery squeezes her eyes closed and nods.

"I bet that was really sad, thinking you weren't our favourite girl," you murmur, voice imbued with apology, sympathy, and an overflowing measure of love.

"It's okay," Avery says.

"It wasn't just your fault," Steve says to you. "It was me too."

"Can I come and lie on you?" Avery asks.

Your eyes light with relief. "Yes, yeah. Don't kick my tummy, okay?" You pull Avery onto your front. She's cautious not to dig a knee into your bump but otherwise collapses boneless into your arms.

Parents make literally hundreds and thousands of mistakes just like kids do. Steve knows he hadn't meant to hurt Avery, but he did, and he feels overwhelmingly depressed about it. Being a dad is the only thing he's ever been good at. This is his biggest screw up to date.

You have your eyes closed, your face against Avery's pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. Blindly, you squeeze Steve's arm.

"I love you so much, Avery," you say. "Thanks for telling us how you're feeling. You're always brave."

"I'm not," Avery says. All the love and affection is finally getting to her. She sounds bashfully pleased rather than sad now, hugging your neck extra tight.

"You are!" You pull Steve toward you. "Dad knows. Isn't she just the best in the world?"

Steve covers her back with his arm. The youngest both snore unawares on the big bean bag, the TV flickering with the static at the end of the movie. He should've started dinner an hour ago, but he doesn't feel hungry.

"You're the nicest, strongest, kindest girl I've ever met," Steve says. He's laying it on thick, and every word is true.

"What about me?" you joke.

"You're fine."

"Dad!" Avery laughs, turning her head to smile at him reproachfully. "You can't say that, tell the truth!"

"You're joint first best," he corrects. He covers his mouth with his hand, whispering to Avery, "But you're the very very best, Ave."

Her eyes go soft, straight lashes kissing in the outer corners as she smiles. "Thanks, dad."

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backtotheshitshow · 8 months

Text

Wood & Words

Woodworker! James Potter x Princess! Reader.

Summary: Y/n was looking for the castle woodworker to make her some new thing but she might have found something else instead.

Warnings: i don’t know fluff? James has trouble reading in this one….its for the plot I promise.

Part2

James was on his way back from gathering wood from a nearby grove, his horse carrying the necessary gear to pull the massive logs back to the castle grounds.

As they trotted down the path through the fields, he looked about, taking in the scenery.

The grass around him was still damp from the last rain, but the sun was starting to warm the air to be comfortable and he enjoyed the feeling of being out and working.

He dismounted his horse as he arrived back at his wood shed, beginning to unload the logs from the cart.

There’s a small knock on the door of the shed.

“Excuse me. Um Mr Potter is it?” James hears from near by, causing him to stop what he was doing .

To his own surprise he turns to see the princess.

He quickly hid his surprise and nodded to her. He couldn't help sneaking a glance at her.

Her beauty was stunning, and just seeing her made his heart beat faster, a wave of heat running through him.

He smiled at her, his hazel eyes twinkling. He found himself staring at her, captivated by her presence.

"Yes, I'm James... Potter, your majesty." He answered her trying to not look to nervous.

He was very used to being left alone so the sudden visit was setting off his nerves a bit.

“Um how can I help you?” He asked.

“Ah yes… I’ve come to inquire about something.” She said stepping further into the wood shed towards James.

“Of course how can I be of servous?” He said wipping his hands on his pants and taking a few steps forward.

As he got closer she mentally noted that he was a lot more handsome than she thought he might be, despite the dirt that speckled his face and clothes.

“I’m aware that you often make things for the castle. Chairs and things. I was wondering if you would be able to make a few things for me?” She asked, holding her hands behind her back.

“I’ve brought a um…a list.” She pulled a folded piece of paper from her sleeves.

James looked down at the list that he was handed. As he looked at it, an awkward realization dawned on him.

The letters on the parchment swirled as they always did. As if his eyes refused to focus. An irritated look spread across his face.

“Is there something wrong Mr Potter?” She asked concerned.

He looked at her with a sheepish smile. “I’m not…I’m afraid I’m not very good with words your majesty.” He hands her back the list, avoiding her eye contact.

“Oh…” she seemed shocked by his response.

“I’m so very Mr Potter I…I did not mean to…” y/n cut herself off. “That’s alright. I was only hoping you could make me a new book stand, an easel and a stool, I doubt you need a list for that” She said a bit more confidently.

James smiled warmly as she apologised. Not being able to read wasn’t usually a problem. Most of his instructions came with pictures. And it’s not as if he couldn’t read at all, he knew basic words.

"Absolutely, Princess. I can make that for you. Do you have any specifications on what you want them to look like?”

“No. I’m sure whatever you make will suit perfectly fine.” She was quiet for a moment as she thought.

“Perhaps I can repay you for your service Mr Potter. You make the things I asked for and I can perhaps help you with your reading skills?”

James liked that she was being so kind, but the thought of anyone, let alone the princess helping him read made him feel less than adequate.

“There’s no need for that you majesty. This is my job after all, no need for repayment….” James says.

“Well I can still help either way. I’d love to get you some books perhaps.” Y/n offered with a smile.

James was getting irritated, he was trying to be nice but she kept pushing the subject. He didn’t wish to talk about his reading abilities anymore.

“Fogive me if I speak out of turn your majesty, but I don’t wish for you to teach like I am some small child. I have done perfectly fine in life so far with out it.” James says turns away putting some wood in a barrel.

Y/n felt saddened by his response. She hadn’t meant to upset him.

“I-I apologise Mr Potter I did not mean to offend you. I simply…..” she sighed, looking down.

“Very well thank you for taking on this task. I will return Friday next week. Will that be enough time?”

“Yes that should be more than enough time.” He said bluntly.

“Well thank you…um have a nice evening.” Y/n said leaving quietly.

James watched her leave. His heart was racing and his mind was racing even more, He was not sure, but he couldn't help feeling as though he’d disappointed her some how.

……

The following day y/n returned to the wood shed, knocking quietly as she had the day before.

“Mr Potter? Are you here?” She called.

James heard her voice as he was working on her book stand. He wasn't sure why she was here when they had agreed on next Friday, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't happy to see her and find out what she needed.

"Yes! I'm here! I'll be out in just a minute," he said, not wanting to keep her waiting much longer.

“No no take your time I’ve only come to drop off a small gift” y/n explained.

James walked towards her, face dirty and hair a mess, wipping his hands of sawdust with a rag.

James raised an eyebrow at the mention of a gift. He would not complain, but he could not understand why the Princess would want to give him anything, let alone a gift.

“A gift, your majesty?" he asked, still taking the time she offered him.

He was curious and, at the back of his mind, just a touch excited. It wasn't every day that a beautiful princess went out of her way to give him a gift.

“Ah yes….I know you said you didn’t want my help. I understand how you may have felt yesterday. I can see how it may be a bit of a sensitive topic for you. I found this at the markets today.” She placed a book entitled ‘Reading 101’ on his work bench.

“It’s not a childrens book. It’s more..mature then that I thought it might help.” She gave a quick smile.

James wasn’t sure what his reaction should be, he had said he didn’t want her help, but this gesture made it clear she wasn’t taking no for an answer and that oddly comforted him.

Y/n saw the unsure look on his face. “Please except it. I only wish to help.” She blurted out.

“Very well. Thank you.” James said. Moving back to his work.

“Oh…right yes. You’re welcome.” Y/n replied.

James took a glance over to her, he noticed a defeated look on her face. As she began exiting the wood shed he called out to her.

“Your majesty!”

Y/n turned around quickly.

“I mean it…thank you.” He said.

A beaming smile creeped its way onto her face. “Have a nice evening, James.” She said before disappearing.

—————

Hope you enjoy.

Feedback and suggestions are always helpful.💜

#james potter #james potter blurb #marauders #james potter imagine #James potter au #James potter x reader #James potter x y/n #marauders x y/n #marauders x reader

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1-49 · 10 months

Text

성찬 : Feeling every bit of this neon midnight that has filled my veins.

ᴘᴀʀɪɴɢ: jung sungchan × f!reader

❝ In which you catch the interest of a handsome stranger at the party, and he embarks on a night-long odyssey in order to validate this* awkward attraction, he strongly believes you both feel.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: romance, some fluff, suggestive; strangers to ? slowburn one-night stand kinda?

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 13k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: +18 i drag a lot in this sry. tiny bit of pinning; real tense and awkward energy; flirting; mixed signals; sungchan is messy; in a sense, he’s both confident yet appears doubtful and insecure at times. stolen kiss ups implied hot moments/dialogue lines. few magic scenes

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: no joke im obsessed with sungchan. this has also progressively made me grow more in love with him he’s so effortlessly lovley & funny, my introvert ass could never! the energy? the personality?? like, no broo stop! i envy him sm. his way with words too...

also any feedback, reblog, or support of any kind will be appreciated. tysm, and enjoy!

A fine night, or so you thought, a showcase of stars in the sky. And while you are admiring the display of lights, in the middle of your peace, you hear the echo of an intruder ──── the sound of someone demanding to get in.

Who would be so brave? Who is willing to leave a party in order to get to you?

U let it pull u closer to the stars, this stranger’s energy that shifts the gears in your head. A stubborn being! Can’t he have a bit of patience? What could possibly be so urgent? What could he possibly be looking to discuss? As far as you know, the rave is inside, not outside.

[22:22] You wish you could describe the magnetic pull you felt just moments ago.

[20:20] In keeping with the occasion, you took great care to make sure you felt and looked your best for your friend’s celebration. You chose a black outfit in accordance with the principle of seeking style through simple tones. Simple wide pants, a velvety sleeveless top, an open back, and some crystals hanging from your ears are enough elegancy to captivate someone. A desire for someone else’s eyes.

[22:23] Moreover, you are trying to make sense of the situation once you get to the balcony, relieved that no one is there to disturb your peace.

Sungchan’s intention, however, was never to make you uncomfortable.

[21:45] On the other end of the room, he had already skimmed everything and everyone, not because he was that type of character, but because he was bored and new to the scene, and his inner extrovert was urging him to go find someone to befriend as soon as possible.

The options were plentiful at the scene, and the liquor in his hand resolved through his system a little faster, making him less rational in his decision. That is how your presence from the other side of the room alone helped him—some mysterious, indescribable force drawing him in.

You…

Sungchan could not figure out why his gaze kept circling the room, passing from one person to the next but always returning to you. He rapidly became solely focused on you. The way you discuss something so profound with your friend makes him think it must be something so interesting and intriguing; the way it has you so invested in the matter undeniably gets him a little curious, secretly wishing to be in the same position your friend enjoys you. Simply put, the indulgence that you are in causes him to become greedy.

The way you smile now and then, the way your teeth graze your perfectly glazed lips, the way your earrings sway—there is just something about you that never ceases to attract his attention.

As a result, he does something about it.

You…

You notice his heated stare at you from afar and across the room—hell-bent, dense, and begging for you.

Sungchan does not immediately offer you a smile, nor does he try to be flirtatious in his gaze, but he absorbs you with such passion, concentration, and keenness that it honestly begins to make you feel super uneasy. You are having trouble reading him.

Thus, as you start to pay more and more attention to him, things start to gradually work in his favor. This also begins to fill you with an odd sense of thrill, and before you know it, you are champing at the bit.

That tummy twirl as the eye-string between you works like a live-wire. Sungchan, lazily propped against the wall, significantly taller than anyone, and with such a pretty yet tempting set of eyes, and with the intimacy you share with him, easily begins to excite and scare you at the same time.

He possesses a spark that straddles the line between danger and enchantment. And sometimes you try to casually shift your eyesight and abandon the site, but the response you get when you return your gaze, which you always do, is that of a wounded animal.

Such a ‘casual’ face that molds into a hot one, then softens and becomes dear in a matter of minutes that whatever you two exchange quickly involuntary culminates in your breaking. Seeing him with his brows tied and slightly pouting, needy and greedy as to why you would try to wonder and abandon him even for a little, is a sight that makes your tummy clench at nothing.

You wish you were strong enough to respond to his request, whatever it is—like holding his stare until your confidence crumbles and he subdues you, or holding his stare until he is truly bored of you and can move on to the next victim.

And, because you are unprepared for any of this and are getting gagged by the space that is gradually getting more packed, you decide to dip the party in order to get some fresh air flowing through your brain.

[22:22] You are leaning over the metal rail, trying to inhale all of the lost air from earlier, and for a brief moment, you feel yourself again, relieved that you are still holding on to that sliver of confidence you promised yourself before this event even began. But the way this complete stranger was erecting himself around you had almost brought everything you had sworn to a halt.

You consider the view from the balcony to be ‘perfectly splended.’ Neon lights make love and oppose the monotonous yet sparkling dark blue sky above you on a very cold December night.

You shiver as you realize you are skin-naked against the harshness of the cold air. It is icy cold, but you are trying to ignore it for the time being. To your advantage, you try to enjoy the solitude of being alone; the tranquility of falling snow is far more appealing than the warmth of the place inside.

True, the bitter cold could not scold you out of there, so someone else had to. You are irritated when you hear the glass door slide, but you do not turn back because you know this one, whoever it is, is coming for your peace.

A pair of hands approaches the rail, and in you sight of vision you notice the grip is somewhat firm, but you do not attempt to acknowledge this person’s presence. Not because you are cruel or ignorant, but because you simply do not feel like it right now. Someone disturbed your peace while you were seeking refuge; it is understandable to be agitated.

“Are you not freezing here?”

The ferocity with which this intruder delivers his words reveals that it is not only his hands that are strong but also his sweet, ’somewhat’ deep voice. It is enigmatic that you are not allowing yourself to be more selfish toward him; he craves your attention, and you provide it.

“I do not mind,” you say as you turn to face him and realize it is him.

“Obviously, your skin tells a different story,” he observes.

And who gave his eyes the go-ahead to roam your flesh? He is still an issue, and you can feel his gaze on you even as you try to fix yours on the scene in front of you.

Sungchan, on the other hand, is a little more confident, and from what he can tell, he still has an impact on you. Apart from the irregular breathing and chest rise, his only doubt is whether the way your skin is covered in goosebumps is due to him or the cold weather.

“I just needed a breath of fresh air. I am doing fine.”

“As you say,” he tries to give you the space you seek by shifting his gaze away from you. “Does not the cold bother you at all?”

“I suppose not. It is something I am used to.”

After a few minutes, you bring yourself to ask, breaking the little silence you two have built. Your feeble attempt at small talk, and, of course, regarding the host of the party because you can not think of anything interesting to say right now, it is as if he is taken over your mind and dumbed you down in the process.

“Are you related to Eunseok?”

“Oh,” he says, giving you his first smile, which is as bright as the light reflected off the lake’s surface and warmer and sweeter than a freshly baked apple pie. “Why? Do we look alike?” Honestly, a warm smile that could make the sun feel cold, and it is spilling out of the corners of his deep brown eyes.

Is there a length of time at which his smile should stop being your favorite sight?

Certainly, no, but—

“Oh, no, no,” you say, backtracking in your head to see if your question was stupid. Finally, you admit, “I am just trying to make small talk.”

“I am aware of that,” he smirks triumphantly, as if he has finally won you over, because being under someone’s influence causes one to doubt and second-guess their statements, and you are doing just that, which he finds absolutely adorable.

You clearly sulk at his victory. “So?”

As a result, his smile broadens even more.

“Eunseok? Eunseok is a friend. A very close one.”

“Ah, I see,” you exhale a sigh of relief. It is even stupid, strange, and awkward that you feel this way, but you do.

“And you? Who is Eunseok to you?”

“May I say, a friend from work? We volunteer together.”

“Mhm,” he hums softly. “Strange, he has never mentioned you.”

“How can you be so certain that he hasn’t when you don’t even know what my name is?” You retort.

You are met with silence. A complete one.

Perhaps he disliked the tone of your voice and the way you responded.

You are not sure what to make of the situation because seconds are turning into minutes and he has not said or asked anything else besides what you asked. You are worried and perplexed as to why you are still glued to being here when you could simply return inside and enter the warmth of the apartment, but you do not.

Why? What is it that keeps you here? Why are you staying out here in the cold with him?

Sungchan immediately abandons his pursuit of observing the city, the moon, and the thousand snowflakes falling from the sky when you finally turn your entire body his way. He is not interested in them anymore, if he ever was.

You unintentionally and unconsciously bring your hands together to hug yourself, not to express to him how cold you are but as a reaction to being out in the cold for too long and forgetting your coat inside.

Your earrings flutter in the breeze, teasingly brushing against your neck and shoulders as if they were windchimes, and you are the music for him.

The wind also tangles your hair as it blows through it. Messy in the sense that your ends sometimes stick to your lipgloss and you try to ignore it. Most of his attention, however, is drawn to your delecate collar bones. And you are not wearing a bra underneath that velvet piece of whatever it is you are wearing. So the hug and squeezing on your chest only highlight your prominently hardened, sensitive spots for him.

And whether all of this divine show you are putting on is for him or not, or if it is all unintentional, Sungchan will have to figure it out on his own.

Sure, for the time being, everything is so unintentional, and he is aware of it. Sungchan understands that the cold has a big influence on how you look right now—the allure of it all—but deep down, he still believes that he, to some extent, causes it, that the cold creeps and shivers that linger on your body are brought on by him, and that it is not just the cold night.

And when he sees you like this—the neon lights reflecting off of you, the countless soft flakes landing on your face, some nestling and making a home in your hair, the way your eyes invite, and the little stars beneath them—he realizes how much he has grown dependent on you in such a short period of time.

While the neon dyes around you, he is hooked on your messy appearance. Blurred illumination and twinkling stars in the distance, but you are the star, beaming with lust in a riot of colors, or so he believes.

“Here,” he says, undressing his overdyed denim jacket in the hopes of trapping you within it—within him.

He does not even give you a chance to object. So, “thank you,” you say softly, despite the fact that you are anything but calm at the moment. His warm hands have brushed up against your arms during the process, which is a legitimate reason for your emotions to become agitated. “I did not bring mine,” you add to be more convincing. “I did not think I would be out this long.”

Sungchan grins from behind you, enjoying the intimacy the action has brought. “It is okay,” he says, brushing down the length of your now-covered arms.

His voice, words, breath, and scent rush from your hair to your ears at the same time. They are far too intimidating, but he is so smooth that it is contradictory, forcing you to disintegrate slowly.

You are trying your hardest not to melt in his arms, but it is a difficult task. You close your eyes for a moment, cursing the thoughts that keep popping into your silly little brain, but this has been such a small gesture—a nice gesture by someone to cover someone. This is perfectly normal. This is not unusual. People frequently go out of their way to cover others who are cold. So everything is okay. This is completely fine. ‘It is fine,’ you tell yourself.

He lines up next to you once you have been wrapped in his scent.

“What is so funny?” you inquire, noticing traces of satisfaction on his face. The majority of them are smug, but it is the bite of his lips to suppress the smile and its reflection in his sweet eyes that perplexes you. He is soooo

“Nothing,” he flirts casually. His eyelid and nose bridge home these tiny, exquisite specks that wink at you, adding to his soft, angelic physiognomy. And this much is true: they are invisible to false gods, but when it comes to you, nobody is more capable of holding onto you than those moles.

“Hmph,” you murmur, cocking your brow. “All right,” you say, only increasing the smile between his bitten lips. Like this, Sungchan is quickly becoming someone who is difficult to be normal about—someone to yearn for.

Mid-eye-flirt, your eyes drop involuntarily, whether due to insecurity or not, but they do. They are on their way to examine his white cotton tee shirt, his broad chest and even longer shoulders, his venied and shivered ivory arms. His neckline too is begging for lips.

You consider his height and how your head would not even reach his shoulders if you were not wearing heels. Perhaps your high will be at his heart level, making it ideal for your ear to check on his heart palpitations. You have gotten so far in your delusion that you are wondering what it is like to kiss someone so tall.

“Sungchan,” he offers playfully, aware that he is destroying a fantasy you are creating in your head.

“Uh,” you remark. Is he reintroducing you to reality? You are extremely embarrassing. You clear your throat and respond with your name.

He begins to softly nod his head, his lips curving once more. The neon is intensifying him in the same way. He looks almost flamboyant against the soft, snowy backdrop that stretches far away.

And, should that be the case, does this signify that your two are now officially flirting?

Considering that the way he looks at you clearly has you sucked in. He wants to arouse your highs and make you fantasize about him even more. And, even if you think this is just another ‘barely even a’ fling, he is powerful and genuine, as well as strangely familiar and gently captivating.

The rest of the background fades away. You cannot feel the air or the ground beneath you; all you can feel is his gaze. Everything dissolves and energizes the ecstatic present, and your constantly rambling mind becomes thoughtless.

By the time he breaks the intimate, soul-crushing silence again, you know you are captivated by him and you no longer want this to be a fling. This is the first time you have failed at flirting. And you know you cannot be bailed out of what is to come. In fact, 8.2 seconds of eye contact is required for love at first sight to happen.

“Why are you here?” He asks casually, as if the minutes leading up to this point had not been too private. “Outside by yourself, I mean? You do not like it inside?”

Now that his jacket is covering you, he has more room to investigate you, which feels like a fair trade for information. Of course, you did not ask for his jacket, and it was he who rushed with it, which is, to say the least, compromising, but here you are.

“I do not know. Not really. All I needed was some fresh air. It became too suffocating in there all at once, so I had to flee.” Given that he was the reason you left the crowded room, your smile appears phony. “It has also been a long time since I had a night out. So many people and everything... Strangely, I like it here even better. Regardless of the cold.”

“Regardless of the cold?” He teases.

“Regardless of the cold,” you say firmly.

“Mhm. I see what you mean. I can say the same thing.”

“But it is you who is freezing in the cold right now,” you say, concerned.

“It doesn’t bother me.”

If only you knew that the cold does not reach him. Being here alone with you is almost everything he does not want to lose.

Unfortunately, such a situation can only last so long. The cold, like the undefined chamisty, will eventually find its way into someone’s bones. You two are complete strangers, neither here nor there, and the atmosphere quickly becomes tense once more. It is borderline hot, cold and awkward. You are both at a loss for what to do next.

And, despite the fact that Sungchan is overjoyed to have you here, spending your precious time on him out of anyone else you could possibly be with, which undoubtedly must mean something, he is aware that he wants more of you, but how does he get there?

Perhaps someone joining you two on the balcony for a smoke can help alleviate the awkwardness that has developed between you two? However, when two more men join you to smoke on the balcony, his only concern becomes protecting you.

For whatever ‘self’ reason, he does not want you to share this space with them. Behaving in a selfish manner, he offers, “Come on, let us go inside. It’s too cold.” Because of the high likelihood that you two will part ways again, even he does not understand his thought process, but his mouth and a strong desire not to share you with anyone may be faster than his brain.

You, on the other hand, naturally accept. As if you could choose. He was the one who offered you the warmth of his jacket, and he is the one who is now freezing in his tee for you. That makes you feel guilty, but not really because his jacket carried the scent that clouded your senses. You admit that whatever you had going on was nice while it lasted.

And you do not let go of his jacket until you are both inside and you are ready to give it back to him. Again, it is not like you want to let go of it. You really do not want to, but you must.

“Thank you for not letting me freeze out there,” you say softly, handing him the overdyed piece of clothing, the dying ember in your eyes almost to the point of yearning. Half hoping he cathes upon it, half believing it is best if he doesn’t. A conflict with yourself.

“You don’t have to thank me. I am glad I could assist.” And as he gently picks it up, he becomes hesitant, as if he does not want to because he will have nothing to bargain with you for.

Sungchan feels like he has already lost you to the mass of people around him, and he feels like he is coming down to being nobody to you again. So he drags on this moment, picking up his jacket, stretching the second as much as he can, and making sure his hands have brushed and touched you irrevocably.

Time passes and the tension dissipates.

[23:13] After an hour, you are still trying to keep up with your few coworkers, who appear to be planning to call it a night and leave. You do not have much of a choice but are thinking about following their decision because Sungchan has not made any further moves towards you.

Simultaneously, this is the point at which you wish things had gone differently, and you consider many different outcomes if the dice had been rolled differently.

What if Sungchan made his move twice—once when he discovered you in the entire room and was determined to have you, and again when he got close to you on the balcony—and this time he was waiting FOR YOU to prove your true intentions and finally admit you are interested in him?

Uh, just when you thought you were going to get away from him, you find yourself wishing for more of him.

However, after witnessing you and your friends bid farewell to Eunseok, Sungchan realizes that it is now or never: lose you or have you.

He dislikes trusting time and does not want to leave you in the future. To play the ‘if’ game. He wants you now, right now, in the present, and he will be damned if he does not tell you. As a result, he rushes to say his goodbyes, leaving you both on the same elevator.

[23:20] There is him, you, and three of your friends in the elevator, and while your friends are in the front and you are in the back, he makes sure to horn his way in to you. Fortunately for you, your friends are unaware of him and will not tease you, as no one has noticed your short romance tonight except the two strangers on the balcony. And they are also so lost in their heated debate, resulting in nothing but noise to fill the cramped four-wall space.

Even though the ride down is brief, you find yourself wishing it were longer because you cannot quite figure out Sungchan’s motifs. He is difficult to understand, in contrast to how he was at the start of the night when your gazes met across the room, when his intentions were banging on your heart’s door, eager to get in. You are not sure if the mystery he is leaving you is drawing you closer to him or making you more distant. You realize you do not want to lose him, and you tell yourself that there must be a reason he got in the same elevator with you, even if he does not say anything.

Sungchan’s fingers brush against yours at that precise moment, and he begins subtly playing, then slowly intertwining them with his, never compliantly taking your hand in his. The forbidden pleasure of the action takes the edge off—just him doing this, teasing you in front of your friends, teasing you so casually that he does not even address you. He is just doing this nervous dance as you turn to him, observing his side profile and looking for meaning in his actions, all while his gaze is fixed on the door in front of him.

So carefree, until the elevator stops and all of you exit, leaving him casually tagging behind.

And, once again, because he does not say, address, or ask you anything, and it was your friends who drove you here, it is only natural that you return to where you live with them.

Why hasn’t he asked you whether you want to stay or go with him yet? Is he leaving the door open for you to make the next big move? Is he unaware that you are not a pursuer? Why is he putting you in this awkward position where every thought and notion ends with him?

For better or worse, you decide to work on it, telling your friends that you have forgotten your phone at Eunseok’s and will head up to look for it. And all the while they insist on waiting on you, you persuade them to leave, that you will be fine calling a taxi and that they should not worry because you may have changed your mind and will stay a little longer at the party as well.

What a scumbag lie, but it works in the end. Getting rid of them was probably one of the worst decisions made in tonight’s series, and for what? You are not even sure why.

‘What are you doing?’ ‘What the f—is this?’ You curse under your breath, despite the fact that you appear cold on the outside but are all hot and bothered on the inside. As you make your way back to the elevator entrance, a few more curses escape your lips as you wait for your friends to leave. Once they have left, you retrace your steps, noticing Sungchan standing there, checking his phone.

“What do you want!?” The request comes out a little louder than you expected. But, in your defense, you are only as direct and blunt in your candor because of his mixed signals.

Sungchan, surprised, lifts his face away from the phone, and the screen noticeably lightens and strengthens his features, giving you tunnel vision with the darkness around you and forcing you to focus on his lips whether you like it or not.

To their benefit, he adds his low and deep tone, “What do you mean, what do I want?”

“Don’t—”

Sure, one way to do this is to be playful, deny, and mislead. And he is still doing a fantastic job of it. However, you can only take so much right now. The more he complicates things, the more you want him, and the more you want your answer, no matter how promiscuous the situation makes you appear.

“What were you doing inside messing with my fingers? Why take the same elevator? Why were you looking for a place to stay earlier at the bacony? Your cryptic cues are, to put it mildly, lame.”

“No, you are right,” he says with a smirk that would irritate even a god. “I am usually direct. Maybe I just wanted to take the long way around this time. And I was not doing anything. They just brushed naturally.”

“Sung—” you clench your teeth, trying to recall the rest of his name. “Sung—” but nothing comes to mind right now.

“Chan. SungChan,” he emphasizes. The satisfaction of seeing you lag when you probably want to throw hands with him is clearly visible on his face, and he is powerless to stop it. “What meaning did you find in them? I mean… our fingers touching? Many people will take nothing away from it and will most likely dismiss it.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “You can’t be serious? If you have a question, why just not ask me?”

“I already have. What meaning do you give us?” He speaks slowly, but with assurance and fixation. He is aware of the confidence he is currently displaying, so he might as well make it more lethal. “What do you want me to ask?”

He would rather you express yourself. You! And, despite the fact that he already has a decent idea of your feelings and desires, he wants you to be more explicit about them. That is why he persists in pressuring you to give in to him. To hook you. To persuade you to ask questions. To convince you that you, too, need him. It is almost as if he is subtly switching roles. And it is he who is being chased this time.

“Oh, it has become what I want now? you mutter. “I cannot believe it.” Turning around, you plan to start walking away from him. You are done with his nonsense.

But Sungchan’s long arm easily reaches out and firmly grasps your wrist. You pause for a moment, unsure whether you should turn back and acknowledge him, but you do. You cannot help but be annoyed because he will not ask you the question you know he wants to ask. He does not. In fact, he dragged on every opportunity he could have asked you tonight, and it is because of him that you lost your drive back home, and it is because of him—and it—

Is his ego that big? And if he does play, why for so long? How did he turn this into you running after him, which is completely opposite of who he was and what he wanted at the start of the night? It is heinous.

But, once again, the two of you can only take so much in the cold weather.

His warmth, in contrast to the cold, spreads from your wrist up the length of your arm to your neck. Hot that feels oppressive but relieves the chill.

His cheeks are undeniably flushed, and the adorable tip of his nose is irritated red. Your jaws begin to twitch, and his lips follow suit. A cold breath begins to emerge from beneath your noses, and your bodies begin to shake as you begin to burn from within. Such unavoidable conflict lingers on your face, and for a brief moment, he feels sorry for having you freeze out here. Sungchan might have had his games going if it had been a warmer season, but that is not the case right now. Finally, he brings himself to put an end to it all.

“I will give you a ride. You must be freezing.”

“Give me a ride!?” You mock, attempting to shake your wrist free from his grip, but it has no effect. You are so fed up with him.

“You lost your ride home because of me, right? He says it with a cheeky grin, as if he is proud of himself, as if missing your ride because of him is such a big accomplishment. “It is only fair that I do something abo—” It is like rubbing salt into a wou—But-but his intentions are all pure!

“Oh, my god,” you say, disbelievingly looking up at the sky before returning your gaze to him. “You are such a jerk. I never would have guessed you were this bad.”

“Your place, or mine?”

“Your game is awful. I am not sure how many times I have to remind you of—”

“As long as it works.”

You bite your lower lip in frustration while rolling your eyes.

The game is bad, but there are not many alternatives. Your phone is still in your small bag, as it has always been, and your friends have gone. Returning to the party or freezing to death are neither of the options that appeal to you. As a result, you end up in his car as the least bad option.

To put it mildly, the ride to his place is quiet; his grip on the steering wheel appears to be steady and relaxed, whereas you are a fucking mess. You desperately hope you do not come across as such and that what is going on inside does not show on the outside, despite your earlier efforts and utmost failures. It is frustrating because you were the one who persuaded him to respond, and you were the one who stayed with him—without him even asking.

Therefore, everything that has happened up to this point has been an inaccurate reflection of who you are. You hope the circumstances did not boost his ego even more and make you a lesser version of yourself.

You divert your gaze away from the window by focusing on his side profile while he maintains his gaze on the road. Uh, infuriatingly beautiful! So, you decide, carelessly, to press the ‘imaginary’ pedal even harder, dazzling reality onto the fantasy, oblivious to the consequences and what if they worsen? And all they need is what you are about to say to escalate the situation.

“You do not strike me as the type, you know?”

“As the type to?”

Nervous, you rub your thighs. “The perplexing kind. To play games,” you pause. “Your smile is lovely, and your eyes are too sincere. You have the face and energy of someone who can play the cheeky extrovert in charge of the party atmosphere. Someone who is witty while remaining sweet. I think that your current self-presentation does not accurately reflect who you are. To be honest, I think you are terrible at pretending. You are so bad at it that you are losing at your own game.”

He remains unaffected, looking ahead at the road. “Then let us keep pretending. I can keep up the tough guy persona for you if you want.”

“It is not about what I want. Plus, you weren’t like that at first.”

He thrives on your somewhat nice compliment. “Was I someone sweet?”

“Shut up,” you repeat, and neither of you says much else after that.

The bottom line is that he can be anything you need him to be. And you notice it the moment you both enter the elevator, your backs against the opposite walls, the gap between you closing but not closing completely. The silence is still, awkward and sexy.

In the literal sense, he is a walking contradiction. Why is he staring at you with his head pressed against the elvator’s metal, his stark jaw, neck exposed, and this dense ‘undressing’ look in his eyes, never losing his sweet smily charm in front of you? He is so good at it that you both despise and admire him. He both thrills and terrifies you.

You have to keep wondering how he manages to be both endearing and seductive. It is peak performance, and it must have taken him a while to get there. It makes you long for him in ways you never imagined possible.

The type to give you a backhug followed by a kiss on your hair while saying, ‘You are mine,’ and then easily transform it into a chokehold while whispering in your ear, ‘Mine!’

Someone you would consider kissing or biting. Someone you would consider walking hand in hand with only to have him act disrespectfully later, when you are in a safe place and it is just you and him. Someone who will kiss your temple and then invite you to sit in his lap.

You close your eyes at the culmination of your thoughts. You are certain he can sense your internal temperature, even if he is not touching you. He is touching you in ways you have not been touched before, and this time it turns into an elevator ride that seems to last forever and you wish it would end as soon as possible.

[23:48] Stepping into the hallway, you try to pick yourself up and carry on from where you melted. You insert the key into the keyhole of your door and invite him in, but you are really second-guessing yourself and questioning your actions. However, it is too late. It is too late because the moment you close the door behind you, you are trapped against the next wall.

Whether provoked or not, he begins sliding your coat down, his hands coming to grip on your shoulders.

Dazed and hurried, you search for some sense in his eyes but you cannot find any. This causes you to resent your hasty, ill-considered decisions, and you try to protest, but no words come out of your mouth. When did things begin to move at such a rapid and high rate?

Sungchan, fit and lean, towers above you, cornering you and putting you in a scary situation where your only way out is to scream. His overdye jacket rises with him as he raises his hands and rests them on each side of you on the wall. Your gaze shifts to his tiny waist as a tiny bit of his white tee peals away, revealing some of his hips.

You silently gulp at how quickly everything resolves. Your words and thoughts are both stuck deeper inside your mouth and will not form.

“Look at me,” he says, pointing out your excessive staring at the floor.

“I-I”

Naturally, you cannot go on because your words are failing you. Should the deep look in his eyes in the elevator forewarn you of what he is about to do?

So, in order to get you to look at him, his fingers grab the thin strap of your top, intending to yank and tear it. Of course he doesn’t, but his strategy proves to work instantly as soon as your eyes meet his.

You start to tremble under the complete hot mess of his deep browns, wondering what would happen if he continued the action. The only thing keeping you from being too exposed and naked for him is the velvet fabric that clings to your body. It gets so hot so fast that you are not sure how it is possible, all while your heart feels like it is about to leap out of your chest. Self-defense kicks in, and you raise your hand to your sternum to keep the material in place just in case.

“What exactly is going on?” You ask, stunned, caged by his hands on both sides of you, and already gone.

“You ask as if you haven’t already calculated the distance between our lips and guessed the flavor of my tongue,” he gruffly replies. “This is everything we both desired from the moment our gazes met across the room.” To make matters worse, he whispers, “Don’t deny it.”

A thought flashes through your mind, as sudden and powerful as a firework reaching the sky, because that is exactly what has been poisoning your mind. That is all you have been able to think about. What would it be like to kiss him? How would his lips taste? Is he the type to smile through the kiss, mocking you because you have given up?

“That—that is completely un—untrue,” you mumble, turning away from him and looking at the door. But your neck muscles work with you, and is the current exposed line meant to tease him even more?

Sungchan seizes the opportunity, moving in closer, pushing your legs apart, and resting his knee against the wall between them. His figure is far too intimidating, while his lazy smile and curious lips climb your provocative neck to your earshell with a bit of his gut feeling that this is where you break the most. “Do you already regret inviting me?”

His tone and breath are light and breezy, like soft sunlight peeking through the curtains at dawn, revealing a scent of freshness as they enter your little universe. They are, however, comfortably casual, which makes him attractively persistent at the very entrance of your ear. “I have already altered, if not ruined, your night,” his lips almost kissing under your ear. “We might as well give in to this absurd affection. What have we got to lose?”

And waiting for an answer, having reached this stage, his instincts and the part of his brain receptive to pain are already bracing themselves. He can feel them clenching in his gut as this two coming to three hour-stand-situation has blurred the lines between lovers, strangers with ‘potential’ benefits, and something resembling a budding romance.

As you keep staring at the door while pressed up against the wall, beneath his words, his high and his strength, completely at his mercy, your thoughts are also protesting against being so emotionally fiercely oppressed. They are getting out of hand, to be honest, as the dislike of not wanting to be clingy, the desire to not be subdued, or the fear of yet another heartbreak are no longer enough to keep these rising hopes in check.

“Tell me,” he demands softly. Soft-skilled, his hand turns your face to him without your permission. He has no concept of consent, and gently, with doe eyes, he thefts your emotions.

“Sung—Chan,” you scorn in a moan as he holds your jaw in his hands and demands that you see…

“You made an effort to remember my name. I am confident you will remember my face as well.”

“You have a pretty forgettable face,” you lie, maintaining your larger-than-life persona. You. make. him. smile.

One of those smiles...

‘FUCK!’

Sungchan’s lashes flatter above you, like venom attempting to doom you, as he catches you ‘dream walking’ between his teeth and his thumb, wishing he could push it past your lips and touch your tongue.

“Will you be able to forget a face you ruined?” He eventually asks.

In pain, you furrow your brows. You are at a loss for what to say in response to the nasty compliment-turn question. It is all on you. You were the one who started it. You are such a speck in comparison to him, having concluded that he is extroverted in every way possible.

“Yes or no?” The more he demands, the deeper his voice becomes. “Answer me,” he says, lowering his head so that his nose brushes against yours. As you watch him formulate his question, his eyes close. “Will you be able to forget someone who intruded on your night in a very honest attempt to—to”

His other hand, which is gripping your waist, tightens. A real physical touch that threatens to melt your left side as you become unconscious of how much your legs rub against his that is between yours. The star details in your eye makeup could be mistaken for tears.

“Seriously,” he says against your lips, his confidence slightly backtracking. “Did I ruin your night?” Adding flaws to himself when he is perfect, “I have been messy and—”

You succumb to his lingering words, losing your voice and forgetting how to breathe, and the closer he comes to you and presses his body against yours, the more sensitive he becomes to the situation. The more he craves it, the more he overthinks, questioning whether he is doing everything correctly. The more he does not want to lose you, the stronger his possessive feelings become.

Obsessed with the idea of making you his even for a single night and oblivious to the idea of consent, he does not waste a second longer and brings his lips to your exposed neck, causing a new wave of warmth to spread out.

You feel your body quiver and break out in a cold sweat. His desperate, awfully warm lips awaken your moans, allowing him to revel in how helpless and breakable you have become this late into the night. And as a reward for his patience, he gets these tasty little audible treats.

“Sungchan,” you mutter in a complete filmic daze, hot all over and clutching his jacket and pulling him even closer to you. “We-we”

He groans into your neck, a whiny protest that caresses your already electrified skin, because he is too far gone, too shallow in his tender need for you, and looking into your eyes now would be too humiliating. All the while, he has to keep his ‘irresistible’ guy impersonation in check, right?

As a result, you are the one who uses force to get him to stop. You give him one last look before pressing your lips against his. You cannot think of anything else but having him smear your gloss all over your face. But before you can even feel his lips violently unite with yours, he pulls back. It is barley a peck.

So, now, you are not sure if his provocative, melancholy expression is meant to delude you even more or if he is actually thinking. But what this giant really does is count to ten before unleashing his thrust that has been building for some hours.

His big hands seize your face again, but this time he tugs on your bottom lip first, retaining it between his teeth and claiming you before moving on. You realize that even the finest alcohol you have ever tasted has never been this potent. The softest, smoothest, and lightest silk you have ever touched does not compare to his hands on your face.

Sungchan’s sweet scent, taste, and shameless sighs overwhelm all of your senses, culminating in you ghasping in his mouth. In his struggle for dominance, his tongue is selfish, and his hand lands on your waist again and starts to pick up the material, exposing your skin to his touch.

His hand smoothly glides across your bare skin before groping you so hard that you bite him back, giving in to your wild side.

“Ouch!” he hisses, furrowing his brows. He takes a step back and completely releases you.

With him doing this, you finally recognize the coldness of the night for what it is because it hits you all at once, and not literally in the sense that the room is cold, but you feel extreme coldness in the distance he just created. You are aware that you and he are still at the entrance and have made no progress, but you are more concerned that you will be unable to continue due to his most recent halt, which you caused. Everything appeared to be going well; your lips had finally paired and become the same, but you had to go and ruin that.

His hand drops and grips the handle. But only if you knew this was your last chance to let him go—the last time he gains enough control to restrain himself. He hopes this is the last time you think clearly before realizing that if he stays, he will be unable to leave this place without leaving you ‘scarred’ in some way.

The kiss’s spontaneity and rapidity caught you both off guard, blanking your thoughts and leaving your minds so empty that neither of you knows whether staying or leaving is more rational.

In response, Sungchan’s hand presses lightly on the handl—

An aching “Stay!” escapes your used lips as you lose control through a clenched fist.

“Why do you need me here?” he wonders.

“I don’t know! I suppose I want to remember this kiss, but it was so brief and happened so quickly. It surprised me.”

“I thought you said I had a forgettable face. So, what good is remembering our kiss?”

‘Mean’ you think to yourself. And what better than to offer him a silly stay? “I have a wonderful bottle of wine waiting to be opened,” you remark as you pick up the coat from the floor and hang it up. “Oh, and you have to meet my fish. One of them looks exactly like you.”

His soft roused pink lips curve into a smile as the corners of his eyes crinkle. Something shifts in you when he laughs. It is as if your heart is swimming in honey. You want to drink it.

“How can a fish suddenly resemble me?”

“See?” you say as you lead him inside. “You are curious, aren’t you?”

“If you accept that we just made out, then fine.”

You return his sarcasm with wide eyes, noticing him softly poking the inside of his cheek and pouting his lips. He is flirting with you a little more confidently now that he has been officially invited into the heart of your privacy, which is your home, and is no longer considered the intruder.

[00:14] In the living room sits the stoic aquarium with his twin fish. The tank emits a cozy neon magenta blue in the middle of the dark room, creating a familiar color atmosphere to the one earlier at the balcony.

As you two get closer, each of you takes a position on each side of the tank. Sungchan appears to be ecstatic about the fact that you were speaking the truth, that you were housing fish at home, and that you were not lying.

“You weren’t lying,” he says automatically, astounded by the several small creatures flapping their tails gracefully. Each one is unique and divergent. They go about their business, going through their insignificant daily loop. Some even resort to randomly breaking out of the loop by lightly tapping their mouths on the glass.

“Can you spot yourself?” You crack the joke over the glass wall.

He investigates the situation further before declaring, “They are kissing,” his finger pointing to two fish at the tank’s very bottom, partially hidden by the green seaweeds.

“Oh,” you say as you tap the glass to scare them away and get them to stop, “they are not ‘in love’ with each other. Actually, fish are the opposite. They are fighting. I am guessing you assumed one of them was the one who resembled you,” you say, tiptoeing to catch a better glimpse of his face over the tank.

He, on the other hand, is not troubled in the same way. He is tall and imposing. “It wasn’t me if they weren’t kissing... Do fish not kiss?”

“Fish may rub against each other or press their bodies together, but this is not kissing, whereas fish who touch their lips or lock in a passionate kiss are most likely sparring or engaged in battle. When this occurs, they are attempting to injure each other, which can cause severe damage. So, thank you for noticing. I might have to take action on this.”

“But why?”

“Because if you have fish that are engaging in this behavior, you must separate them as soon as possible before they injure or—The-the consequences can be fatal, okay?”

“A kiss that can kill?” he muses, his eyes brightening as he becomes fascinated by the matter.

You sense his intent, as if he had not delivered such a kiss a few minutes ago. Even though it was brief, it served as both bait and, most importantly, a promise. That is, it could have been much worse had he not broken it. You have no doubt that he withheld his lethal kiss from you.

“Ugh,” you sigh, pointing a finger lovingly at him to correct his misbehavior. “Don’t look fascinated, as this is bad for my fish.”

He grins at your petty, silly threat.

Casually, as the fish swim in unison, unaffected by their monotonous routine, his eyes begin to reflect the contents of the salty tank. He is both close and far. The light enhances his face’s magical mystery, and you notice another tiny mole at the edge of his upper lip as he opens his mouth in delight. It is as if a top secret has been revealed, and you appear to be the lucky recipient. So tiny, yet celestial. Something simple but meaningful. How come you did not notice it sooner?

Since he is always attracting you so calmly, you eventually come to the conclusion that Sungchan is a true meance. There is a slow-burning beauty about him—a beauty that destroys peace. Soft brown, like the coffee that inks the back of your throat and leaves you asking for more as your mind begins to crack. There is always some bait for you to take—some feature or trait of his that he is constantly working on in order to get you to long. His eyes, his pretty hands, and his towering physique. His broad shoulders, his side profile, and his absolutely stunning nose.

However, his tiny mole is now attracting your attention back to his lips… And the truth is, the last time you thought about his lips... Well, you got them! Which, once more, is something you can have if you wish it.

He reverberates deep inside your innermost thoughts. ‘What about this killing kiss?’ ‘What about it? Just wh—’ You wish to know!

To clear your mind, you choose to pose a question. “Do you know about the soulmate theory? People say that moles are where your lover kissed you the most in your past life. Which indicates that you have—”

“I kissed a lot,” he cuts in.

“You have had a lot of kisses,” you point out.

“Then, what is more repulsive to you: me being frequently kissed or me being a promiscuous kisser?”

“How can I be the judge? You must have done a lot of kissing. That is all there is to it.”

“Alright. But I am curious. How would you kiss me if we had to do it all over again? If we had to take things slowly?”

“Wh—why are you asking?”

“Because everything up to this point has felt like a high that has caused me to act on impulse. But now that I am standing across from you, this calm and comfortable essence, the soothing sounds of this water tank... You. All of this balancing act of our energies seems to be helping to calm down all of that rush. I want to hold your hand and I want you to think I am cute.”

“Right!” you chuckle at him. “What exactly do you mean, Sungchan? Your eyes tell a very distinct—y-your your smile—” You pause for a moment to examine his sincerity, and you discover no flaws in his truth. “Wait, you ARE serious.”

Different shades of the same cyan and magenta spread across his face, each time so new yet so familiar. He rubs his chin, then runs his hand through his hair, ruffling it. “I am.”

The sweet, calming vibrations that he seems to be floating on top of blend with sensual and suggestive ones in a way that is beyond comprehension. How is it possible for someone to be both extremes at once? Sincerely, there is not a comb in the world that could possibly untangle your knotted feelings at this moment. You have had no idea how terribly screwed you are until this point.

Hence, your gaze returns to the fish, and you can tell by the sudden shift in the air that he is about to say something you wish he hadn’t. You make every effort to get him to stop. “But—”

“Look,” he wins over you; “your ability to completely eliminate my desire to socialize with anyone at a party in favor of creating tunnel vision speaks for itself.”

He takes a moment to think of what else to say. “And-And we haven’t even gotten to the laughs and the banter, the bad sarcasm, the conversations, or the warmest embrace... The next-day breakfast that culminates in a ridiculously serious spectacle of coffee making, which I thoroughly enjoy from the best seat in your kitchen while you wear my t-shirt, which fits you far better,”

“Sungch—”

“But that’s THE future. So, then, of course, if I am just a one time guy, I am not kidding when I ask what kind of kiss you want. If you are going to remember or take something from this night, it might as well be something worthwhile.”

At least you should not be held accountable for falling in love because Sungchan is beautiful with his carefully chosen words. And as the chemistry reaches its peak, you realize you can no longer resist it. You tiptoe a little more to get a better look at him without having to look through the glass. His eyes pierce you with a clarity you have not seen before, and you can feel him pulling you through the glass and water like a magnet.

You cannot put it into words, but something is there. A million thoughts, feelings, hopes, and dreams are exchanged without the use of a single word. You let the magnetism take over.

And so he smiles as you drown, or is that his coping mechanism for drowning into you as well?

Really, is there a length of time at which his smile should stop being your favorite sight?

Overcoming the rather tiresome governance of fear, you decide to speak in favor of your ‘lust-ings’, despite the fact that you never intended to spend the night with a guy, let alone invite and bring one home.

“If I had to imagine another kiss, it would be one that happened on the spur of the mome—”

In actuality, everything that has happened so far has happened spontaneously. Startled, he cutely leans over the glass tank, gripping the top edge with both hands. “Again!?”

“It seems to suit your personality, and for what it is worth, I think I like it. A kiss where we banter around because I cannot read your cues or antics, which leads to you being unable to take my sarcastic criticism, so you choose to silence me.”

“Is that how you define ‘cute’?”

Sweetly, you continue to enrage him. “You can’t even handle it right now, can you?”

Sungchan squints, attempting to determine if the patterns of the ‘kiss has already started’ are already there. He lets go of the tank’s glass, crosses his arms, and pouts some more before starting to pull his jacket down, giving the impression of, ‘Sure, it is on... And please, do proceed!’

Yet, refusing to take it off completely, his jacket dangles halfway down his arms. His collarbones and tee collar are in a power struggle. Numerous veins swarm his arms and biceps, screaming for your attention.

Again, something you have seen before, but is that supposed to make it easier for you to process? And how should you focus on everything at all, appropriately? And what should you do in response when he eventually decides to purposefully bite his lip in slow motion? His sheer beauty alone is giving you headaches, not to mention all of these other details.

To turn the conversation back on track, you give him a soft smile and continue to elaborate on what, in your opinion, is the ideal kiss.

“You want to stop me from talking because I step on so many of your nerves, and there is not much else you can do but kiss me. You want so bad to grab me and shake me, but all you manage to do is squeeze my face gently between your palms…” You make a small pause before you continue. “The seconds get progressively slower in microseconds as we stare at one another. I successfully count three of your moles while you complete a ten-count. With that, your excitement to punish me dies down. A new need emerges.”

“I imagine a kiss where you don’t even realize how tender your lips are pressed against mine. But then, I bet you don’t even realize how soft your lips are.” A unique sensuality is added to your voice as it becomes increasingly lower pitched while you speak. “Or-r are aware of the way the corners of your eyes crinkle when you shut them. It is just ughh—ANYWAY, a kiss where your annoyingly long eyelashes, of which I am very jealous, tickle my cheekbones, and my lipgloss leaves sparkles on your nose. You take hold of my hands and slowly raise me up, letting me step on your toes and offering one of those smiles that you have already given me… while you are ignorant of all these tiny, lovely things about yourself, Sungchan. Is that cute enough for you?”

Your last words cause him to tilt his head back slightly, look up at the ceiling, and take a deep breath. “You are safe as long as this wall of glass keeps us separate. But nothing about anything, not even how I will treat you if you decide to move, is guaranteed. I just know that I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Is that a threat?” You raise a brow.

“Assume anything you like,” he says indifferently. “It can be a threat if that is what you want it to be.”

“Hmph,” you razz him some more, “so you are going back to being the tough guy?” as you take the initial step away from the aquarium. “Might I suggest that ‘you do not seem like the type’? Did you forget, or what?”

“You don’t know me,” he at last asserts, embracing your challenge and making a step too.

As soon as there is nothing separating you two, dopamine levels peak.

“You do it so effortlessly, I bet.”

Sunghcan gives his lips a quick lick. “You have seen and felt it.”

You answer truthfully, “I have.”

With a notorious smile that matches his innermost feelings, he snatches you without warning and begins to drag you over the couch, which is located in a more central area of the room. His stature is so great that he carries you with your feet elevated, and your ‘let me down’ whine is met with his ‘UH HUH, you are going to have to tell me why you have invited me.’

When he finally gets you both there, he exhales and collapses back onto the couch, holding you in his arms. You are slightly leaning on him with your knees around his waist.

Quickly adjusting to the seat, Sungchan presents an offensive sight with his head resting on the couch. You are in a situation where you would like to know how to proceed, where to look, or what else to say, but all of those things have been done before. The only thing left to do is to give yourself entirely to him.

Sungchan goes right to work without much delay. His fingers gently dip on both sides of your waist before he applies more pressure.

There is a noticeable tremble in your voice. “W-what are y-you doing?” You manage to ask despite your heart thumping frantically in your throat and feeling like it is going to choke you from his intimidating appearance and the pressure of his hands on your ribs.

“Act my part?” He says this with such intensity that he cleverly slips one hand past your waist and runs along your backbone, taking advantage of some of the exposed skin on your back.

Feeling tense, your hands start to shake, and you are not sure where to put them other than where his head rests—at the back of the couch. Well, that seems like a safe choice, duh. Or should you touch him back in return? Should—

You truly are clueless, yet all your thoughts can be seen.

So, as you hover over him and look into his eyes, the last thing you hear is his seductive, whispery ‘Come,’ which invites you to close the distance and gives you total control over how to initiate this kiss. His hands press your body against his, and his mysterious, deep tone easily compels you.

As the heat of the moment engulfs you both, nobody says anything. It is what you two—especially him—had been looking forward to for hours. An earlier thought that was driving him crazy was picturing you exactly as you are in his arms right now, only to find that you are even better—even beautiful—and that your skin is hotter and softer than he had fantasized.

He suffers from the same consequences of ‘the closeness’ as you do. You can feel his heart hammering against his chest, trying to break free. His steady lashes are growing more disturbed, and his breathing is labored and drawn out. And when your warm lips finally touch his, his brain shuts down completely. Maybe he is just not used to things going slowly. You are killing him subtly now by doing that.

Actually, this whole night was just a slow, steady death. You can taste the sweetness in him even in his mouth, so you can be assured that even though he can be quick at times, there is an unquestionable sweetness to him. The sweetness that translates from the smile he lets out while kissing you.

Of course, he is skilled at this! He slowly extends his tongue after letting his hums seep into you and the kiss grows deeper.

The sound of the kiss developing into a passionate makeout accentuates the hair at the back of your head. You are completely absorbed by him, lost. And the moment you hear his first pant in your mouth, you scoop his face into your hands. He presses harder against your back as your hands burn from the heat of his cheeks.

You moan, hot yet weak and defenseless, ‘Sung—” polonged “chan,’ meaning to say something but never managing to.

“Mhmm-” As he fills your mouth with his tongue and spreads it farther in an attempt to find more space, the tender kiss seems to turn into something bold and invasive. It quickly descends into sloppy, steamy, wet kissing. A kiss that is actually so strong that it does not matter if you drool or think it is inappropriate.

He holds your waist with one arm while pressing you down onto him, applying pressure to your nape. His jeans quickly became unbearable to be in due to the slight movement causing friction.

Then he begins kissing your jaw. Further down, the dampness of his breath clings to your throat, making you lose consciousness. If it was just his lips the first time, now there are his tongue and teeth as well. He tampers with the strap of the top with his fingers before sliding it down your shoulder. His impatience is evident as his kisses travel down your chest. You are helpless to stop him from becoming needy in his attempts to torture you; all you can do is throw back your head and hope he stays that way the entire night.

In the moment’s trance, he lays you down and hovers over you in a fit of craving. The couch starts to screech because his weight and the pressure he puts on it are too much for it.

It is at this point that you realize how much you enjoy being placed in a vulnerable situation where you cannot think about leaving because of his arms. The more you watch him, the more attracted he becomes to you, because he can see your thought in the way you look at him. Both of you and him get turned on by it. You love how openly and compulsively possessive he is.

And… should you love it?

Just looking at him on top of everything makes you feel fucking aroused. Thoughts of how perverse his lip mole is are all over your head. His hair gets in the way of his dazed eyes, whose brown never stops being drenched in the aquarium’s neon blue.

If the neon fades from him, will everything end?

Feeling a bit annoyed by the question that keeps coming to mind, you find yourself embracing his torso and seeking the comfort of his weight on top of you, biting his shoulder in the process. His writhing gasps are to die for as your teeth and fingernails dig into his white shirt.

Your silent demands are met with Sungchan’s insistence that you look at him. Not to mention that it becomes harder to do that. He is not letting you look anywhere but at him, as his fingers start to lift your top and you feel them drawing damaging figures beneath your belly button, creating such an intensely carnal, gut-wrenching moment as your desires intensify. And there is this throbbing, hot, and silky feeling to your skin, which makes him want to torment you until you lose any control.

To do that, he grabs a tender spot on your thigh to further expose you and carve out more space for himself.

As far as clothes go, for a moment, you wish there was nothing at all between you and him. And as you shut your eyes to the idea, Sungchan plants a kiss under your ear, leaving a trail of smiles across your cheek. Oh, how well he reads you. Have faith—he shares your desire.

You too have, unconsciously, contributed to his shirt being half-rid. Squares make up most of his belly, and they end at the bottom of his low-rise jeans. Your fingers smuggle themselves against his most sensitive skin, just beneath the hem of his jeans.

His lips open up, and you try to learn the precise way he hurts by watching and absorbing every move he makes while his eyebrows tighten at your touch. If you push your hand a little further, what should you expect?

He is fiercely competitive, so he rolls his hips into you after becoming enthralled with your fleeting, tender touches.

You cover your eyes in embarrassment at this gesture, but his voice is already there, right in your ear. “Open your eyes.”

When you shake your head silently, refusing to give in, he grabs your hands and pins them over your head.

“Open up,” he insists. A honey-like voice turned sour. Sungchan is cruel and hard, with the strangest soft skin, a contradictory scent, and the ability to practically lick your face with his words—a lesson that teaches you to be both tough and tender as well. As a result, you gently release the held fear. Your eyes allow him to be with you without you having to say it out loud.

And although he is too shy to let it on or say it, the subsequent crushing of his hips into you speaks of ‘That is right, baby…’ The following one of ‘Nice and slow,’ and the one right after of ‘I’ll go again... and again... and—’

“Please, don’t—” you cry out.

His lips are blazing and red is blooming all over his cheeks, but still, Sungchan resists giving in to his shyness. As an alternative, he tightens his hold on your wrists. “Mhmm. Need words.”

“D-don’t—don’t let this end; it’s-it is just too fucking good.”

“Yeah?” He smiles, releasing your wrists, recognizing that he is actually far too touch-deprived and needs your hands on every part of his body. “You know it is true,” he whispers, stroking your lips with his thumb before your frustration overcomes you and you take in his colossal index and middle fingers in your mouth.

Yeah, you know it is true… You introduce them to your teeth and tongue before you begin to suck.

And is he really expected to be unaffected by that? When you devour him like that? He hurts for you to suck it so much that he is now in raw pain. No succulent sip should be missed. The taste must be unimaginable in many ways.

His mouth opens with a swear word. “As soon as I saw you, I knew you would find this irresistible.”

As you never really anticipated it this far, you are not sure if you feel the same. But here he is, and here you are, acting as the situation demands, so maybe he is right. Your reciprocal relationship is akin to an electric shockwave, meeting both your needs and your own desires in equal measure. The perfect balance... found in a stranger at a party…

Sungchan decides to reach your vulnerable center, soothing you with deep, heavy, lewd kisses. You have no idea what he needs or wants or if his body is adapting to yours, but you can bet that the ‘Fuck’ he sucks into your lips is real.

“Please,” you beg, raising your hands, only to have him slam them down once more while giving you a serious look as if you might have done him more harm than good. But in reality, you are so fragile under him that you steal his heart. Tears of sweat form at his temple, and you manage to free a hand to give him long, leisurely strokes as you brush his hair out of his eyes.

He says something incoherently like ‘sorry,’ leaning in to plant another kiss while entwining his palms with yours.

What is he sorry for?

Nothing about his behavior, not even this kiss, matches his hard, deep, grinding hips. The night’s apex remains unaffected, even though the jeans denim is impenetrable. You want to burst at the way he begins to ease up on you, circling back and forth, momentum building, building, holding your fingers intertwined while his other hand rests on your waist to keep you still while he slows down, which intensifies the pain you are experiencing.

Eventually, he looks down at you and stops whatever he is doing, breathing heavily as though he is just finished a mile. You both suffer from this entire action. Needs and thirst are put on hold by him. At last, he gathers his courage to say something, gazing at you through the same wounded eyes that were there when your attention strayed from his way earlier. “I have something to tell you.”

You reassure him, sensing a weight in his fast blinks, “You don’t have to say it.” He is even quicker to lean his cheek into your palm when you tickle under his chin to soothe him. The touchy-feely, seeking affection he displays pushes you to emphasize what you mean more. “It’s the way you look at me.”

“Isn’t it silly?” He muses with glassy brown eyes that are blown bigger than anyone’s ability to frighten him. “Love at first sight is not something I believe in. No one should, in my opinion.”

“Then, what makes you feel the need to tell me something?”

“I—” His speech falters as he struggles to form a complete sentence before sighing and collapsing next to you onto the overly small sofa.

“Don’t,” you say while squeezing yourself smaller to make more room for him. “Then don’t. You don’t have to say anything.”

“But I am not ready to end this evening,” he fusses, using his finger to tap both of your chests to show how close you two are, “which means I also don’t want what is going on in here to end.”

“I know,” you say with a smile as you take his hand in yours, study it, and then walk the inward lines as though determining whether the two of you have what it takes.

He watches you as you watch his hand; if there is anything he wants to hold onto forever, it is this. There is a certain cruciality to the moment. Despite not knowing if you two are a match, you both want this to continue. And so you say, "Nor do I."

“Seriously?” he asks, raising himself up on one elbow with a shocked expression.

You continue to feel and appreciate his hand, ignoring his question. The beauty of his hands is also astounding. “Would you say this is cute?” You mention his earlier observations about cuteness.

“You remembered.”

“I want to hold your hand and I want you to think I am cute.” You quote him, then tap twice on his nose. “Of course I remember, silly, but it is me holding your hand, not the opposite.”

With his lips heavily affected by all the heavy makeout, Sungchan pouts the biggest pout imaginable.

You draw parallels and say, “I swear, you look like my fish.”

He asks through his giggles, “Who kisses to kill?”

“Right…”

“And…” he is curious, “did it work?”

You sigh mockingly to mimic exhaustion. “A lot of death kisses, yes.”

His heavy arm presses your waist against his body while he tucks his head into your neck in response, seeking to stay.

For the rest of the night, Sunghcahn clings to you, making sure you realize that no one else can touch you or make you feel the way you do right now. Perhaps this is his greed getting the better of him when he realizes that you could have ended up this way with anyone at the party and that, should things change and you decide differently, you could be this way with someone else as early as next week.

His stomach turns at the thought. Your presence tonight brought to light a more beautiful side to the things that had seemed perfect before, completely changing his life. It seems he has a great deal left to accomplish and a lot more to prove… as an intruder.

Though as for tonight, it is as if two entirely distinct universes or two distinct parallel lines that had never intersected finally made contact with one another. You two are so in sync—the type of people sensitive to distance.

[An indefinite persistent dream.]

The best thing he could hope to hear next is, “Mark me yours.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

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