#its just easier than saying non-au

[soft-spooks]

this is for. a fic that will most likely never be written but i just love the idea of. character who is usually closed off no vulnerable emotions ever bejng soooo worried that the shell breaks

just the. something terrible happens and they run over and hold your face in their hands and wont let you go like what did she do to you are you okay come on lets go home

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Mr. (Not so) Perfectly Fine

AN: Not sure where this came from, but here we are. Maybe one day I'll write Josh in a non-toxic way lol. Also tagging Kai @lovelyhan because it's the law. I joked about writing a series of fics based on Taylor Swift songs. This fic isn't part of that idea. I just thought this title felt fitting (it's based off of a Taylor Swift song for anyone unaware).

Synopsis: Falling in love with Joshua was easy. It came to you easier than breathing. It's no wonder, then, that when he offers you a fraction of his affection after shattering your heart months ago, that you would grasp for it. Regardless of the consequences.

General tags and warnings: Joshua Hong x Fem! Reader, not super relevant to the plot but, this is a Non-Idol AU, exes to exes with benefits, elements of angst, Josh is emotionally constipated, Soonyoung and Seungkwan featuring as supportive but, tired friends, discussions around Reader having low self-esteem and being self-loathing at times, discussions around an unhealthy relationship and returning to it, alcohol and alcohol consumption, Seokmin featuring as a genuinely good guy who probably deserves better and discussions around jealousy and possessiveness on Josh's end.

Smut tags: mentions of throatfucking, mentions of piv sex with a condom (I know who am I?), mentions of a Daddy kink, it's implied that Josh is pretty self-centered (generally but, sexually more specifically) but, that does get remedied later, nipple play (f. receiving), Reader sucks on Josh's fingers, praise (f. receiving), implications of Reader being a bit of a masochist, Reader sits on Josh's face, overstimulation (f. receiving), pet names, dirty talk, begging, piv sex without a condom, marking (f. receiving), biting (f. receiving) and creampie.

Word count: 8514 (...I don't want to talk about it.)

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

The first time you found yourself at Joshua's doorstep was an innocuous Thursday evening. The sun had begun its descent on the horizon when you began the familiar route to his apartment building. You're not entirely sure what possessed you to knock on his front door, or what had possessed you to drive there to begin with. However, when he swung his door open, dressed in nothing but, a simple black shirt that clung a little too tightly to his broad chest and some grey sweats. Surprise colouring his handsome face, you knew it was too late to back away now.

To your shock, however, Josh had let you in without much question. Stepping aside wordlessly, you took the very obvious invitation. The sight of his living room was familiar in a way that churned the pit of your stomach. You weren't going to fall apart in his living room like the way you had when he broke up with you. You wouldn't allow yourself to. Wasn't it pathetic enough that you'd come grovelling back to him without much of a reason as to why? That you're likely about to have the most uncomfortable conversation that you've had in your entire life?

You're not sure what you'd expected from Joshua. He joined you on his couch, always too white for your liking but, didn't say anything. You weren't sure if he'd been waiting for you to explain why you're at his place after close to four months of next to zero contact.

Idiot. Of course he was.

"I," you start but, the words never seemed to find you. You focused on the pictures that decorated his wall. Choosing to look at anywhere that wasn't him at the risk of losing your already fickle train of thought. Pictures of him in suits with different friends and business partners. His work smile working overtime in all of them as he'd been showered with endless awards and promotions.

His work had always been the love of his life.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," were the first words he'd uttered to you in months. That had caused you to whip your head to face him. Reading Joshua was a skill you had never been able to master.

Master? You doubt you'd even be considered an amateur at it after a year of being with him.

His face betrayed little but, a barely there glimmer of understanding bled through that even you managed to catch. Understanding is an emotion you wouldn't typically associate with the someone like him. However, it flickers across his too handsome face nonetheless.

Perhaps you should've consulted an exorcist because before you know it, you're not sure what caused you to kiss him. You two have barely spoken, and there you were, gripping his shirt like a lifeline and kissing him on his stupid couch as the figures in his photographs act as spectators. You were going to apologise. You were going to erase him for good from your brain and dig a hole for yourself to crawl into.

But, then he'd kissed you back. His kiss, much like him, wasn't all passion and desperation. It was slow. Methodical. His soft lips refamiliarising themselves with your mouth once more gradually. As if he had all of the time in the world. Testing to see if this would be worth it. If you would be worth it.

Whatever he had been looking for during his exploration, he seemingly found because before you knew it, you found yourself amidst the sheets of his bed. Cool, navy blue sheets acting as a balm to your far too hot skin while his large hands mapped the expanse of your body. His heavy cock bruised the back of your throat before you found yourself arched for him with your face in one of his soft pillows and his long fingers in your hair. After months of no sex, specifically no sex with him, it took you a few long moments to adjust to the sting he provided.

From then, it was bliss.

His pillow muffling your whimpers and moans. Cries of 'Joshua' and 'Josh' and 'Daddy' were partially swallowed by the soft material. Your fingernails clawed at his sheets while he found relief in your body. His hips stuttered into you and filling the condom he had hurriedly put on, especially when the last title had hit his ears.

The two of you dressed in silence. The ruffling of your clothing and the sounds of the city all that you had to comfort you. When you stood on unsteady legs to leave, he hadn't walked you out. Not that you expected him to but, that didn't stop the sting from developing behind your eyes and your throat from growing tight.

Bliss was so, so easy to come back to. And come back, you did. You and Joshua still hadn't spoken all that much. Not putting any labels on... whatever tentative understanding the two of you had. You simply show up to his apartment, and he knows what you're here for. If you can't have him the way you want to, you'll have to settle for the way he needs you.

Two weeks.

Two weeks is the longest time you've gone without knocking on Joshua's front door. You can't help the guilt that twists up inside you and shreds your insides. However, you know rationally that you have nothing to feel guilty about. Joshua isn't your boyfriend anymore. He hasn't been for six months now. The two of you simply find solace in each other's bodies. It has just been easier with him than expending your time and energy on trying to meet anyone. Especially with how little energy and time you have as it with work all but, drowning you.

However, as Seungkwan has tried to sear into your brain, this isn't exactly healthy. Letting yourself fall into his bed and come apart underneath him for the past three months is likely in your top five unwisest decisions you've made in adulthood.

But god, it's just so easy.

"You know you deserve better," Seungkwan stresses to you for the likely millionth time. His typically kind face marred with a frown that does not suit him in the slightest. His glass of wine left completely untouched on your coffee table with his arms cross over his chest. Soonyoung nods, taking a sip of his own wine before speaking, "He's a dick. He's pretty much been using you since the two of you started dating."

"That's not true," you protest, your wine sloshing dangerous before you simmer down a little. "Joshua has his....issues but, I don't think it's fair to say all he does is use me. I mean, I'm the one who showed up to his door after us being broken up," you argue, "If anything this is a mutual using of each other."

"Except you're in love with him," Seungkwan deadpans. Soonyoung once again nods in agreement. Traitor.

"I'm not in love-"

You promptly stop talking when both men shoot you looks. Your face warms and you hide in your glass of wine. The liquid pleasantly heating your veins and acting as a phenomenal distraction from the gazes of your friends that are far, far too piercing.

"We're just here because we're worried," Soonyoung says softly and you can't bare to look into his eyes right now. You're too scared to see what you'll find in them. You're not sure what's worse. The pity or the frustration from the two of them.

"If it makes you two feel any better, I haven't gone to him in two weeks," you respond weakly. Despising the knot that builds in your throat and the tears that burn your eyes. You feel no better than when you were in university crying to them about shitty hookups and even shittier exes.

"That's a great start," Seungkwan responds sounding genuinely happy. Genuinely proud of you. His warm, larger hand grabbing yours and rubbing soothing circles into your skin. "Also, I'm sorry. I know you're an adult and I don't want to come across like I'm scolding you but, it's really hard watching you go back to him and break your heart all over again."

Oh, the guilt is back. Different but, present all the same. At this point, it's become an ever present companion for you.

"I'm sorry too. I know it's not fair for me to put the two of you through this either," you whisper in response. You don't think you're capable of speaking any louder right now.

"Hey now!" Soonyoung butts in, grabbing you both by your shoulders and crushing you to his chest. Seungkwan, to everyone's shock, only protests minimally, "What are friends for? Now both of you stop being so gloomy. We're here to get tipsy on cheap wine, inhale all the carbs we can and watch bad movies. Get it together."

The laugh that Soonyoung forces from you is foreign and a little rough around the edges but, it's one of the few you've managed in longer than you care to think about. And if you cling to him more fiercely than usual, he has the grace not to mention it.

It gets a little easier after that. You haven't found yourself knocking at Joshua's door for a good month now. Soonyoung seems ready to throw you a party over it and the same pity isn't as present in Seungkwan's gaze when the three of you find the time to catch up with each other.

Joshua never messages or calls you in the time you don't spend in his bed. You suppose you shouldn't be surprised. You're typically the one reaching out to him and making the journey to his apartment to experience a fraction of him. To bask in whatever he's willing to offer you.

You're not sure whether what you two have can be classed as affectionate. It was better than nothing, at least, you had supposed.

You still can't help the sparks of bitterness that fester in your system when you open up your chat with him. A simple 'Okay' from him being the last message in the conversation when you asked if you could come over. God, you were pathetic. Sad. Desperate.

Perhaps it's pettiness or spite or the resentment or maybe some part of you still wants his attention but, you send him a message before locking your phone for the night and turning away to face your windows. The voice in your head (that sounds suspiciously like Seungkwan) echoes that maybe that wasn't a good idea. Maybe allowing your anger to get the better of you wasn't wise. However, what's done is done. You just hope sleep finds you quicker than it has over the past two years.

You: I'm going on a date on Friday.

Seokmin is a nice guy.

No, calling him nice isn't fair or true to the man's character. Nice is vague. Meaningless. A platitude at best.

Ever since Soonyoung very heavy handedly sent you his number in the hopes that you'd focus your attention elsewhere, you two had been speaking borderline nonstop for a week now. Him regaling you with the less glamorous aspects of being an actor and you venting to him about a particular unruly classroom. You'd learned that he cried easily and had a weakness for anything dogs related. He'd learned that you love musicals and random historical facts.

It was the first time in a long time Joshua had barely crossed your mind. He still had but, it was an improvement. A week wasn't realistic enough to completely be clean of him but, you were taking steps. Seokmin definitely made it less difficult.

So, when Seokmin, nervousness rolling off of him in waves even over text, had asked you on a date, it was a no-brainer that you'd agree without much question. You deserve a pleasant night out. It also certainly doesn't hurt that Seokmin is an Adonis of a man.

You honestly don't remember the last time you were giddy over a date. Over a man. Butterflies kicking up in a storm in your stomach when you agonise over what you should wear. The temptation to cancel springing up more times than you count with every drag of your hangers and article of clothing that adds to pile accumulating on your bedroom floor. Fortunately, you find a dress in the back of your wardrobe that clings to you in a way that balances attractive and formal masterfully.

Seokmin is somehow even more attractive in person. All the pictures you came across during your search across his social media accounts do not even begin to do him justice. He's funnier too. His tales of disastrous productions and poor costume fittings prompting laughter out of you the likes of which mostly Soonyoung and Seungkwan are able to. Before you know it, it's already been three hours, and your mostly plates and glasses remain largely untouched.

"I had a great time," Seokmin starts once you two are outside. Whether it's the breeze or his proximity to you, goosebumps rise on your skin. It doesn't help that his cologne infiltrates your senses and muddles your mind further. The butterflies have chosen now to make a reappearance as well.

"Me too," you reply, your cheeks hurting from how hard you've been smiling all night and now isn't any different. Seokmin looks for all the world that he wants you to kiss him. Kind, brown eyes fliting down to your lips in a way you assume he hopes is subtle but, it's not. Terribly so. It's cute though. He's cute. However, you think you're going to take it slower this time around. As infatuating as he is, you know you're in no place to be kissing anyone.

Before you can bring up a different topic to help cut some of the tension weighing on your chest, your phone vibrates in your hand. Alerting you that your Uber has arrived.

"Looks like my ride is here," you tell him with a disappointed turn of your lips. For all your reservations, you really wouldn't have minded spending some more time with the man who would put the sun to shame.

"Have a safe ride home. Text me when you get home, okay?" And his blinding smile spreads across his handsome face once more. You've only known Seokmin for a short period but, it feels freeing to talk to someone whose feelings you don't need to attempt to decipher. They're there and clear as day on his face and in his words. Or maybe you're projecting. That's possible.

"Will do. Text me when you get home too, okay?" You reply, steeling your resolve before pulling him in for a hug. Hugs are fine. Safe. At least a safer option than kissing. Seokmin happily returns the gesture and heat that you haven't felt in some time begins to simmer in the very pit of your stomach when you feel how solid he is.

Now is not the time.

"Of course. It was nice getting to finally meet you in person. Hopefully we can see each other again," Oh. The butterflies certainly feel strongly about that.

Untangling yourself from his built frame is unpleasant, and a deeply irrational part of you wants to continue to cling to him. You opt to shove it down. "Hopefully," you respond with a coy smile, "I'd like that." And you truly would.

Seokmin watches you enter your Uber. He watches you until he can no longer see the car, and the gesture brings a smile to your face so wide that it feels a little foreign. If the driver hears your dreamy sigh, they choose not to comment on it. Thoughts of the actor with perhaps the brightest smile you've ever seen in your life fill your mind all the way to your apartment. Seokmin is still occupying your thoughts as you greet the on duty security and enter the, thankfully, empty elevator. More people don't need to see you practically levitating over this man. Over one date.

The smile that's been stinging your cheeks drops from your face when you notice a figure lingering at your front door. You can tell even from this distance that it's Joshua. Your steps grow more hurried, the clinking of your heels echoing through the empty hall. You suppose you're grateful that none of your neighbours are out. You're not entirely sure how this is going to go based on the anger bubbling up inside of you at the sight of your ex-boyfriend.

Joshua turns his head at the sound of your heels and he has the nerve to smile. To look relieved. You beat him to the punch for once instead of allowing the very tentative wall you've meticulously been building since the last time you found yourself in his too cool bed to crumble.

"What're you doing here?"

The bite in your voice takes even you by surprise but, you're too tired and a touch too fed up to really care about potentially offending him. Your arms crossing over your rapidly rising and falling chest as anger courses through your veins.

For all your inability to typically read him, the surprise on his face is clear as day. You don't think you've ever seen him look this unsure, a nervous hand carding through his short, dark hair. Oh. He must have cut it in the time you haven't found yourself on his doorstep.

"Hi uh," he stutters in a way deeply unlike him, "Can we talk inside?"

A voice that sounds very much like Seungkwan screams to send him away. To cuss him out where he stood in your hall and send him back to his sterile apartment that you never quite seemed to fit into.

However, you've never been good at saying no to him.

"Fine," you spit, walking to your front door and unlocking it while he stood by just hovering. Admitly, beneath the frustration and anger and annoyance at seeing him again after what has felt like ages, a miniscule part of you is curious why he's here.

Joshua walks in after you easily. The same way he used to when the two of you were together. The knowledge simultaneously dulls and sharpens the knife that twists in your gut but, you push it aside. Maybe an actual conversation is far overdue so, you can finally be free of him. Your coworker Wonwoo likes to joke that closure is just an invention of fiction but, just maybe this is your chance to find a fraction of it.

He shuts the door behind him while you turn on the lights. You want nothing more than to kick off your heels, pour yourself a glass of wine and regale Soonyoung and Seungkwan with all the details of your night. Joshua sure has a knack for ruining your plans.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" You ask once you've gathered all of courage. Leaning against the back of your couch, waiting for him to explain himself. Ignoring the way your throat burns seeing him in your home again.

"How was your date?" Are not the words you were expecting and they throw you utterly for a loop.

"What?" You blurt out sounding completely flabbergasted, "Is that why you're here? Fucking seriously?" The anger that's been simmer under the surface grows in ferocity once you begin to piece together why he's here. Why he's decided to reinsert himself into your life.

"You're here because you're fucking jealous?"

He has the nerve to look affronted by the assertion, "I'm not jealous-" he starts but, you're beyond frustrated and annoyed right now. Seungkwan would be proud.

"Joshua, please. Then why are you here? Why are you asking about my fucking date? Because you want an update on my life? You haven't reached out to me in fucking months!" You exclaim and you just hope you're not loud enough for any of your neighbours to hear. Though your concerns around that are minimal as the object of your anger walks towards you tentatively.

"I know," he sighs, continuing to run a tired hand through what you assume was his meticulously styled hair, "Honestly, I'm not sure why I'm here. I'm sorry. I just- I just miss you, I think."

Soonyoung has always been fond of calling Joshua an asshole over the course of your relationship and even after its end, but, in this moment, you realise Josh is not just an asshole, he's cruel.

His admission renders you speechless. You probably look comical just staring at him as his words sink into your brain.

'I just- I just miss you.'

He continues on his cruel streak, your carefully constructed walls falling to pieces with every syllable that leaves his full lips, "When you sent me that text, it just felt so awful. I felt awful and I think I realised just how much I missed you. Missed having you around. So I just got in my car and drove here," he breathes out, nearly tripping over his words in a rush to get them out, "I think I'm starting to understand why you came to my place all those months ago," he laughs with very little humour.

You think this is perhaps the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. More than your first date. The first time you told him you loved him. The first time you two slept together. All of those moments could not ever hope to hold a candle to the unadulterated emotions stirring in his doe eyes right now.

"You really suck, you know that?" You respond, the watery quality of your voice not going unnoticed, "Just when I thought I could let you go and move on, you just had to come back and do all of this. Say all of this," you mutter tiredly, shutting your eyes to just have a moment to yourself to think. To breathe.

The press of his forehead against your own is startling but, and you won't ever admit it to anyone else, comforting. It just feels so good to allow yourself to melt into him. The familiar scent of his too expensive cologne infiltrating your senses and muddling your brain further. Your hands grasp the front of his shirt, a shuddering breath leaving your lips.

"I know. I'm sorry," he whispers, and he's just so close, and you remember how easy it was to fall in love with him. How easy it is to continue to fall into him every chance you can.

So you do.

Everything, every voice that sounds like a friend screaming at you that this is a horrible, stupid idea, that you've been doing well, are all silenced when you press your lips to his in a kiss that is more hesitant than anything else. He kisses you back fiercer than you anticipate. Than you're used to from him. Swallowing your startled gasp like it's the first thing he's consumed in days and cupping your face with his large hands. His teeth nip at your bottom lip briefly when a whimper falls from your lips from how aggressive he's being.

"This is my favourite dress of yours," he mutters into your mouth between kisses, the tender way his thumbs brush your face juxtaposing with his desire to seemingly consume you whole, "I've always thought you looked gorgeous in it. So beautiful. Sexy," he continues, one of his hands drifting to palm at the thickest part of your exposed thigh. Arousal pools in the pit of your stomach. The fact that it's been months since you've been with him, been with anyone, fully hitting your body based on how quickly you find yourself becoming wet and your thighs rub against one another.

"My beautiful girl," he whispers, not giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth descends on you again. His hand kneading your thigh in a way that could be considered desperate if this was anyone other than Josh, shoving the material of your dress higher.

Once you remember you can touch him too, your hands find themselves in his now shorter hair, the inky locks filling the gaps between your fingers easily and the groan he presses into your lips worsens the ache you feel at the apex of your thighs. You want him. You don't think you'll ever stop wanting but, seeing him lose his composure for once has your panties sticking to you in a way that grows uncomfortable fast.

"Bedroom," you whisper, maybe part of you is worried that if either of you speak too loudly you'll burst this bubble you've found yourselves in. Josh just nods, tugging you to wobbly feet and pushing you towards your bedroom. His mouth never leaving yours while his hands touch and feel and grope and paw at every part of you they can reach. You try to not think too hard about how this reminds you of the first time he spent the night here and, how easily he seems to remember where your room is.

Fortunately, it doesn't take the two of you long to bump against your bedroom door. Fumbling with it longer than necessary while being lost in each other. A breathless giggle from you fills the quiet space when he curses while struggling to shut it behind him. Your laughter doesn't last long. His lips pressing scorching kisses to your throat as you settle onto your bed. It's like he can't even go a few seconds without touching you somehow. The thoughts prompts your heart to thunder in your chest.

"Can I take this off?" He asks against the hollow of your throat, impatiently tugging on the straps of your dress. You nod quickly, shuddering when he runs his teeth along your pulse and you feel him lightly grinding against your thigh.

"I want you to use your words, baby," baby. He really will be your demise. You can't remember the last time he called you that and, it only further fogs up your mind.

"Yes, Joshie, please," you whimper, your fingernails biting into the muscles of his biceps. The veins on his forearms coupled with the way the muscles flex is just so hot that it feels just the slightest bit unfair. Briefly, you wonder if he wore a short sleeve shirt because he knows how just a little bit stupid his arms make you.

He stills over you. His lidded eyes widening in surprise and, that forces you out of your lust-filled daze. He beats you to it before you can question his change of demeanour.

"You called me Joshie," is all he says in explanation at first, fingers ghosting over your shoulders. The barely there touch causing goosebumps to rise on your skin, "You haven't called me that since we broke up," he finishes and the raw emotion in his eyes renders you unable to respond for a few, long moments.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"It's okay. More than okay, actually," he cuts you off with a shake of his head, tossling his hair even more, "I didn't realise how much I missed hearing you call me that and Shua until now," he leans down, heavy eyes focusing on your well-kissed lips as his hands begin to slowly undress you, "Please keep calling me by those names."

The control he had slips out of his grasp as his hands tug down the straps of your form-fitting dress. While you'd much rather wind your arms around his broad and solid torso, you concede for these few minutes to help him undress you. Helping him free your arms from your straps before he tugs it off of your body in record time. Between how quickly you find yourself nearly naked and his words, you can't help yourself reaching for him and he happily complies. Nestling himself between your thighs properly while his hands squeeze your breasts over your bra.

"Shua," you whine into his mouth, your hips jolting up to his when you feel him pressed against you. Your hands tug him as close to you as humanly possible. Determined to fuse yourself to him and, based on the way his grip on you grows harsher, he doesn't seem to mind the idea all that much.

"God, I fucking missed you so much," he groans, nuzzling himself into your neck once more. Licking and kissing every millimetre of your skin he can, and every breath hitting you sends you further into madness. You suppose after months of not being touched, even his breath fanning against your skin is enough for goosebumps to rise to your skin and your thighs to clamp around his waist.

"Missed you too, Shua," you sigh, arching into him when his soft lips drift from your throat to sear kisses to the tops of your breasts. His hands reaching behind you to skillfully unclasp your bra and toss it somewhere onto your bedroom floor. Completely forgotten as he takes the opportunity to drink in the sight of your breasts moving with every greedy inhale and shuddering exhale you take.

"God, you're beautiful," he sighs in a way you'd almost describe as dreamy. His irises totally swallowed whole by his dilated pupils. The 'thank you' you intend to respond with is wiped from your mind when he latches onto one of your hardened nipples. His massive hand kneading your other breast to ensure it's not neglected. Your fingers weave into his hair, tugging on it with each tug of his plump lips and lick of tongue. His fingers tugging on your nipple enough to make you gasp from the embers of pain.

"Always so responsive," he chuckles throatily against your skin, pinching your nipple to prove his point. His eyes glinting at the way you moan and grind against his prominent length.

"Stop teasing," you whine, pouting at him. You're taken aback by the way his eyes soften considerably. Leaning up to press a heartbreaking gentle kiss to your more than likely bruised lips while his hand drifts towards your thighs. Swallowing your keens as his stupidly long fingers drag themselves over your panties. Coating them further in your wetness while you attempt to ground yourself by clawing at his broad shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he says and, based on the way he speaks, you're not entirely sure what he what he's apologising for.

His fingers shove your panties to the side and touch your slick folds directly before you're left with your thoughts for too long. "Joshie," you cry into him with every barely there brush of his digits. Your hips bucking into him when they circle your clit before continuing their leisure stroke of you.

"You're so fucking wet already," he groans, returning to your breasts to litter them with much harsher kisses. His fingers shallowly dipping into your entrance but never giving you the satisfaction you so deeply need. "All of this just from some kissing and playing with your tits, baby?" He asks, glancing up at you like you could realistically answer with his long fingers touching you and his breath fanning across your breasts. The amusement in his tone prickling your cheeks in embarrassment, more of your wetness leaking out of you and onto him.

"Or maybe you just get this wet for me." He muses out loud with a grin that's too smug for your liking. "Don't roll your eyes at me like that," he chuckles. However, the lightheartedness of the moment is cut short when he brings the hand that's been toying with your pussy up for you to see.

"I mean, it is true though. Isn't it?" He poses with a glance to gauge your reaction as his fingers spread, your arousal webbing them. You wouldn't be surprised if you were radiating enough heat from your face to rival the sun.

"Shua, that's embarrassing," you whine, avoiding his intense gaze, choosing instead to focus on an imaginary spot over his shoulder.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, baby," he mutters, resting his slick fingers on your bottom lip and focusing on them fully, "If anything, I'm flattered," he finishes with another arrogant uptick of his lips. It doesn't take much nudging for you to part your lips and for him to push his digits into his mouth. A quiet groan hitting your ears when you hum around them, your tongue licking up the taste of yourself eagerly.

"Fuck," he hisses, his thumb catching the drool that slips past your occupied mouth, "I should let you suck on my fingers more often. You look so pretty with them in your mouth," he mutters, grinding his hips against you as he memorises the sight of you gagging on his fingers and lapping at your essence. "Plus, I know how much you like them. You're not very subtle," he laughs, pulling them from your drooling lips and leaning away from you.

He doesn't give you much time to complain or miss his warmth over you, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your soiled panties and tugging on them so frantically you're worried that he'll rip them. Luckily, they remain intact and soon join the heap of your clothing strawn all over your bedroom floor.

You don't typically have the presence of mind and time to feel self-conscious when you've been with Joshua. Too preoccupied with shutting your brain off and enjoying whatever time with him he lets you have. However, the way he pauses and his eyes leisurely scan your body now tempts you to hide in your pillows. Your heart trying its utmost to burst out of your chest and your blood roaring in your veins all you can hear.

He doesn't leave you to spiral for much longer. Tugging off his shirt that costs more than you think a plain, blue shirt has any right to. Your walls clench hard when your eyes land on the expanses of muscle, skin and arms that are available for you to fully consume.

"I want you to sit on my face," he says and his words are laden with so much unflinching desire. His eyes reflecting the same emotions and, you didn't think it was plausible for you to get any wetter yet, here you are.

"Shua, you don't have to-"

"I want to," he cuts you off with an air of finality. His gaze holding your own and waiting to see if you'd push this.

"I was such a fucking selfish asshole," he huffs, dragging the hand not covered in your spit down his handsome face, "I'm sorry."

You soften at that. Reaching for his hand and lacing your fingers with his, "It's okay."

"It's not," he argues, squeezing your hand before letting it go and settling beside you, "You deserve better than me, you know."

"I've been told," you respond dryly, trying your utmost to keep the images of your friends out of your mind. Basking in the warmth of his body.

"I'll make it up to you. Every chance I can. I promise I'll make it up to you. So, come here," he says as though his words don't close up your throat and cause your heart to hammer against your chest. When he looks at you like that, how could you ever dream of denying him?

Joshua's eyes never leave yours the entire time you move to settle yourself on his handsome face. The look in his eyes makes you feel like you're being set alight from the inside out, only finding a brief reprieve when his focus shifts from your face to your pussy. Large hands palming your thighs while his eyes drink you in.

"Come here," he commands, pulling you towards him. The strength in his hold causes your walls to flutter but, he doesn't force you. Giving you the chance to settle down on his face at your own pace. It doesn't take you much more prompting to do so. Carefully straddling him to make sure he can still breathe and that you're not smothering him. Joshua, however, doesn't care for your concerns. Firmly pulling you down onto him and latching onto your clit like a man starved. Not allowing you a moment to catch your breath. Long fingers biting into your ass as he guides you along his face.

"Shua," you cry, steadying yourself on your headboard while he continues to eager lap at your clit. Your thighs quiver around his head with every suck and lick he gives you, his hold helping you along his tongue. If you could find the strength to crack open your eyes, you would've noticed him watching you. His cock twitching in his boxers with every shuddering exhale and moan from your bruised lips.

The knot in the pit of your stomach tightens faster than you anticipate. Perhaps it's not being touched by anyone for so long or, perhaps it's simply Joshua that has your orgasm building up so quickly. From the way he groans into your drenched folds and his fingers dig into your so harshly that you wouldn't be surprised to find imprints on your ass later, he doesn't. If anything, your fragile state just motivates him. The vibrations from all of his own sounds of pleasure coupled with his unrelenting tongue made it so you really never stood a chance.

He continues to lap at you through one of your most intense orgasms. The grip you have on your headboard bites into your skin but, you can't bring yourselves to care when your walls spasm continously and your vision darkens around the edges. Overwhelmed tears spilling from you and streaking overheated face.

"Joshie," you whimper, your hips attempting to jolt away from him but, his strength is unrelenting. Keeping you firmly situated on his face while his focus shifts lower. A shudder running down your spine and goosebumps once again prickling your skin when he chooses to lap up your wetness directly from the source. The prods of his tongue and brushes of his nose on your clit make your stomach feels as though its tangled in a series of complicated knots.

The tears continue to fall freely as the overstimulation settles itself into your very bones. Your second release hits you like a runaway train. Your choked moans and cries of his name echoing so prominently throughout your bedroom, you're a little worried your neighbours might hear you. Joshua doesn't seem to care all that much. Cursing into your twitching entrance as more of your wetness seeps out of you and onto his awaiting tongue.

His hold on you eases up significantly after that, and with the near nonexistent energy you have and on still shaking thighs, you move off of him. Gracelessly plopping yourself down next to him in an attempt to regain sensation below your waist and come back from whatever dimension his mouth sent you to.

"Are you okay?"

Cracking a tired eye open to meet his heavy but, slightly concerned eyes proves to be a mistake. His hair is a complete and utter mess. Sticking up in every which direction in a way that just endearing him to you. However, the flush to his cheeks and sheen of your juices on the bottom half of his face quickly diminish any less carnal feelings you felt bubbling up for him. Despite nearly blacking out from how hard you came. Twice. Your body still opts to betray you. Your walls clenching around nothing at his dishevelled state and the outline clear as day in his dress pants.

"Yeah," you manage to croak out, cringing at the scratchy quality of your voice.

"Good," he mutters before kissing you. It's much gentler this time around. His tongue still snaking its way into your mouth and, the taste of yourself on it is enough for you to pull him closer to you. Tugging on his hair with every press of his plush lips and nip on your bottom lip. You're reminded that he's very much still hard and hasn't cum when the weight of him rests against your thigh. Just the idea of his cock pulls a wanton whine from you, which he happily swallows.

"Want you," you pant against him, trying your best not to allow yourself to completely lose yourself in his swirling, brown eyes.

"You have me, baby," he responds with more meaning than your fuzzy brain can process right now. His thumb caressing your cheek while he plants quick but, gentle kisses to your lips.

"No," you say, reaching one of your hands between your bodies and cupping him over his pants. He groans against you, his hips jerking against your hand, "I want you, Joshie," you emphasise with a squeeze of his girthy, long cock.

"I wanted tonight to be about you," the drop in octave of his voice only adds to the fresh wave of wetness leaking out of your pulsing hole. "Well, I want to feel you inside of me. That makes it still about me, doesn't it?"

You would laugh at the strangled 'fuck' that leaves his lips if you weren't at your wit's end right now. His kiss is much more aggressive this time around. Barely giving you any time or room to breathe or think while his hands fumble with the buttons and zipper of his pants. Tugging them and his boxers off at record speed and tossing them unceremoniously to join the mess on your bedroom floor. His lips remain attached to yours the entire time. Determined to make you think of nothing but, him.

You moan into each other when his bare cock drags along your drenched folds. His hips shallowly thrusting along you until he's slick with your wetness and his pre-cum. Every nudge of his fat head on your hypersensitive clit causes your lashes to flutter and your hips to meet him in his shallow movements.

"Shua, please," you whimper out when he drifts to kiss and lick your throat once again. His hips never ceasing their movements while his hands occupy themselves with your breasts. Tugging on your nipples while he nips into every bit of your skin his teeth can reach.

"You drive me fucking crazy," he groans, pulling away from you. He doesn't go too far. Gripping himself in his large hand and watching the way he runs along your slit. Drinking in the way you mewl and arch into him, chasing him for every bit of sensation he offers. "Your pussy's so pretty, baby. You'll look even better with my cock spliting you open, yeah?" He breathes, blown out pupils watching your face when he teases your fluttering entrance.

"Yes, yes, Joshie please. Please, just fuck me. I need it, I need you."

That prompts an especially harsh thrust against you, but he still doesn't sink into you, and you think you may just burst into tears from frustration. You'd forgotten his fondness for teasing and pushing you as close as possible to insanity.

"You really want me to fuck you that badly, baby?" The smirk on his face is equal parts irritating and attractive, "You'll even let me fuck you without a condom? My poor, desperate baby," he coos. Shifting his attention away from your face momentarily to watch the way his length teases your hole, his head just barely pushing into you.

"Fuck," you whimpers, gripping your poor sheets for dear life, "Yes, Joshie. Yes, I want you to fuck me raw. Please please pleas-" you choke on a moan when he slowly starts to sink into you. Your head kicks back and whimpers flow freely from your lips with every centimetre of himself he pushes into you. You probably should have let him stretch you out on his long, thick fingers because it takes you a great deal of adjusting to grow accustomed to his cock. His hands scorch your hips and shake with restraint. Determined to allow you ample room to get used to the feeling of him before he really starts to move.

It's difficult to know who moans the loudest when he's finally fully sheathed inside of you. The last time the two of you had forgone condoms was when you were still dating so, the feeling him completely bare sends your mind and body into a tailspin. Your fingernails digging into his back harder than you mean to but, it's not like you can help it when you can feel his cock molding you around him and kissing the deepest parts of you and, he hasn't even moved yet. Joshua, for his part, isn't fairing much better than you. Panting into the space between your neck and shoulder as he attempts to gather his bearings while your walls sporadically clench and unclench around him. It's a little embarrassing how close he already feels but, when your warm, wet walls cling to him, he doesn't think he can be faulted too much.

"Joshie, you ca-can move," you manage to utter with everything within you. Reaching for him and cupping his beautiful face in your hands. You don't want to examine the look in his eyes too closely right now. You don't think your heart can take it, and you fear you'll cry for an entire reason entirely if you do.

He nods. His first thrust is barely a movement at all, calling it shallow would be generous. However, after what has felt like a lifetime without any friction, that miniscule movement is still enough to set off sparks in the base of your spine and a gasp to be punched straight from your already struggling lungs. "I missed you," he grunts into your neck, the slight pain from where he runs over the bruises forming there with his mouth only causing you to clamp down even more around his thick cock.

"Missed you so fucking much. Only thought about you the whole time," he pants while he picks up his speed significantly, his hands keeping you in place while he sets the pace. Glancing up at you to watch the way your face twists with every drag of himself along your sinful walls and bite of your sensitive neck. "Did you miss me? Did you think of me? Think of this cock, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you cry out, trying to fill your greedy, burning lungs with any air you can while you lose yourself in pleasure, in him, "I only ever thought of you, Shua. Missed y-you so much," you moan because it's true. It was so hard staying away from him. From not running to your car and knocking on his door at concerning hours of the night. And now, as he fucks you to tears on his cock, you wonder why you even stayed away from him. From the look he gives you now that makes you feel like you're burning and, from the way his large hands that splay across your hips, you don't know why you ever thought of never seeing him again.

Your respective sounds of pleasure coupled with the obscene sounds of him thrusting into you ring out throughout your room. Bleary eyes drinking in the way his biceps flex and the sheen of sweat that's built up on his tan skin. Inky hair sticking to his damp forehead as he watches himself sink into you over and over and over again. Catching your lidded gaze and leaning down to kiss you, one of his hands cupping your jaw. Drifting downwards to ghost along your throat but, not applying pressure. Still, the thought itself is enough for you to keen against him and tightening around his cock.

"I love you."

Now that catches you totally off guard. Your eyes widening and your blood roaring in your ears. You blink up at him, your lips parting as your brain tries to process his words.

"Joshie," you sigh, lacing your fingers behind his neck and kissing the corner of his lips, "I love you too. I'll always love you," you whisper, not wanting to scare him away and feeling far too much far too quickly that you don't think you could speak louder even if you wanted to.

"Fuck," he grits out, pressing your thighs against your chest and tugging you into another searing, messy lip lock. It's more teeth and spit than an actual kiss but, you're not complaining. "You're mine, right? That other guy could never make you feel the way I do, right baby?" He groans against your mouth. You weren't expecting him to bring up Seokmin now of all times, while his cock bullies the sensitive parts of your walls and you're pretty sure another orgasm is building.

"Joshie-"

"I want you to say it," he mutters, his hand slotting itself between your sweaty, scorching bodies until his fingers find your clit. Not allowing you a chance to adjust, rubbing quick circles into while he continues to split you open on his cock, "that you're mine. That he'd never make you feel this way. Feel this good."

"I'm y-yours, Joshie," you whimper, his body keeping you in place so you have no choice but to allow yourself to be fucked dumb by him. That all too familiar knot tightening and tightening with every brush and stroke, "I'm yours. Always yours. Only yours," you cry out when he bites down on your neck.

You feel him cum before the warning tumbles out of his mouth. His cock pushed into you as deeply as it'll go and it throbs. It throbs and keeps throbbing with every rope of his cum that fills your waiting walls. Drawn out moans burned into your skin while his fingers clumsy continue to rub into you. It's no surprise then, with his warm cum already beginning to leak out of you, that your third orgasm hits you. This one isn't as intense as the previous two but, it does still causes you to squirm underneath him. Slick walls spasming around his softening cock while your combined orgasms trickle out of you and onto your poor sheets.

"Shua, my thighs hurt," you wheeze, tapping his arm. He mutters a tired 'sorry' before slowly pulling out of you and getting off of you. He does take a long moment to sear the image of his cum dribbling out of you into his mind. Shaking his head, he lies down beside you and tugs you to his broad chest. Cuddling with Joshua joins the litany of activities and behaviours you're not used to from him. However, he's so warm and you're so, so tired. It's just so easy to allow yourself to be lulled to sleep by his heartbeat and his hand playing with your hair. It doesn't take long for him to join you in the land of slumber after your eyes flutter shut.

Seokmin💛: Hey, just wanted to let you know I got home! I really did have a great time. I hope we can go out on another date soon :)

Feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

[undercoverpena]

the book of love

frankie morales x f!reader (bookshop!au)

summary: wiping the back of his hand across his forehead, he looks at you. “I need a book.” “You… you need a book?” 

wordcount: 4k an: written solely for @wildemaven who has continuously been kind, and wonderful and let me ramble incessantly to her. i heart you. warnings: soft!frankie, meet cute, bookshop meet cute. romance. sweetness. kissing in a closed bookshop vibes.

Wednesday's don't usually bring strangers.

It brings boringness and drawn-out hours until you can lock the door and hope for a better day.

It's why he caught your eye the moment he walked in. 

Tall, handsome—cap pulled down—and his hands tucked into his pockets like he’s not sure what he’s doing. He’s broad, shoulders raised to his ears, and his spine so impossibly straight you wonder if he’s purposefully trying to make himself more on edge. 

Chewing the top of your pen, you observe him shuffle his cap again, trying to tuck himself away between tall shelving. Slowly suspecting it's not to hide his face, but rather to blend in. 

Escape.

He’d have been able to if he didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. 

Everyone (local and just in the perimeter) knows this place. It’s the privilege of being around for decades. Having once belonged to your Aunt, and now to you. A place that had felt magical when you’d run around in pirate costumes and capes, words being read to you. Now, it was magical for other reasons. 

The shop was as much part of the town as the town was a part of you. A place you had once frequented in the holidays, before weekends when you could drive. Now, it was your everything. Your workplace, your business—your home. 

It’s why the shop practically screams to you when someone new enters its door.   

An anomaly in the usual.

Sometimes, there were a few. Inconsequential travellers, those who needed a book for their kid as they went from A to B, and sometimes a soul who needed a map to keep them from being lost. There have even been a handful of those looking to entertain themselves while they passed the time. 

There was a book for everyone.

A sentiment that has been instilled in you from the moment your aunt first let you stock shelves and earn pocket money. It’s why you give him several minutes alone, letting him wander, all aimless and without reason—worn leather boots sounding in the silence usually smothered by the radio (if the speakers hadn’t conked out this morning). 

It would be easier to focus on ordering, scanning down the new releases and ticking off the repeats.

Naturally, you chose the more difficult option—staring off, eyes landing on him, taking in how his features are prominent yet soft. His lips twist in confusion as he scans random shelves—a finger sliding over the spine before his eyes drop back to the tired wooden floor, moving to a new section. 

You tap your pen once, twice, thrice before you abandon it—casting it somewhere close to the register as you move from around the counter. Your hands clutching, tugging at the ends of your tee, pulling it down appropriately as you round a bookshelf and find yourself in front of him. 

And god, is he pretty. 

“Y’need a hand… sir?” 

It drops from your lips effortlessly. All well-practised from the dozen or so times you say it. But, it comes out squeakier than usual, higher pitched, all thrown off by the way his eyes swallow you whole, and his lips rise at the last addition to the sentence. 

“That obvious?” 

You smile—politely. Stemming back anything more, smothering the soft thudding of your heart against your ribs. “Well. You’re not from around here.” 

His lips tug further up on one side, the threat of a dimple set to show—a small laugh threatening to spill and spread across his features. It’s the fact he stares that allows you to continue doing so, to keep watching the way his eyes drink you in—both of you standing awkwardly in the non-fiction section of the tranquil and empty store. 

Whatever he wants to say, he chews on it. 

His hand pushes the bill of his worn hat up, scratching at his hairline, glimpses of curls gracing the top of his forehead before they’re hidden away once again. 

“How’d you know?” 

Shrugging, you adjust your stance. “Only bookshop in this town for decades, and you don’t know the layout.” 

“Maybe I like wandering around aimlessly.” 

It’s your turn to laugh. Louder than his—braver. “No. No, you don’t, but that’s cute. What’re you after?” 

“Something to keep my hands busy.” 

You blink back the comment on your tongue—the insinuation—trying not to glance down at the hand hanging at his side. The one so large, all thick-fingered and just dormant. 

Swallowing, you nod, absently pretending to think up a solution as you bite the inside of your cheek. “You thinking DIY, vehicle fixing or home renos?” 

“Not vehicles,” he says quickly—almost too quickly. 

“Alright, let’s see if DIY has something for you.”

It does. 

Your hands slide over spines as you read the titles until one hand envelopes yours—cocooning around yours on the edge of a book. 

That one. 

He said it much lower, eyes laser-locked on yours. 

When he’s paid, he lingers at the counter. Your mind still reeling from the warmth of his hand, the spark it sent up your wrist, to your shoulder and down your spine. 

It isn’t until he whispers a shy thanks, heading to the door before cautiously closing it behind him does your brain think of anything but his hands. Then it’s his smile—soft, almost lazily sent through the glass.  

A part of you, which is only bold when the moment has passed, wishes you’d said something more. Got his name, flirted. Hell, even made him linger for another ten minutes to see if you could get him to laugh like he did at the shelves. 

Unfortunately, you have to swallow it. 

Because it’s rare to see a stranger return, even if they say they’re happy with the service. Most of the time, the town is a stop for them—a way to rest before continuing on their way. 

Unlike with those before him, you rarely remember their faces—just a rough account of the book they bought. 

Him, you remember. If you could draw, you’d be able to sketch how his veins stood out on the back of his hand when he took the book from you. The shape of his eyes and the swirls of gold mixed with the shades of brown when he’d adjusted his cap. 

You linger in it, the memory of how your skin felt under his gaze, allowing yourself secret seconds of wishful thinking when he walks in. 

So much so, you blink. 

Fingers pinching the skin at your wrist—unsure if it’s a mirage or real. Bearing down in the skin, until it begins to more than hurt.

He’s here—the mysterious hat-wearing DIYer. 

It takes you by such surprise, you almost drop the gum from your tongue. Your mind emptying of all the practised moments in your heads—the ones where you’d only had the chance to see him again in a make-believe world. 

This isn’t make-believe. It’s real. 

Words, so usually able to sprout, vanish. Crumble. Turning into ash in the depths of your mind—new ones struggling to form as heat rises in your cheeks. 

It’s quick to dawn on you how out of practice you are, how irregular it is. Good-looking men (you’d almost flirted with) don’t tend to return to the shop. They don’t hover in the space between the shelves and your register. 

But he is. 

Standing. All nearly six-foot of him, staring at you like you’re the only thing that could quench a drought. 

“Twice in one month?” 

“What can I say?” he says, scratching the back of his neck, knocking his hat ever so slightly—allowing peppered-brown curls to show. “You sell good books.” 

“I sell the same books as other shops, but thank you….”

“Francisco—Frankie. I’m Frankie.” 

It flutters out: a smile. Letting it hang on your face, blissfully breathing, the two of you lost in the centre of acoustic music crackling through your somewhat fixed speaker. 

“So, Francisco, what you looking for today? Still wanting to keep your hands busy?”

The look he sends you makes your ears and cheek burn. Worsening more so as he doesn’t tear his eyes away from you, a reply sitting on the edge of his tongue—likely trapped behind his teeth. 

You’re holding your breath. For what, you’re not sure. A response. Something. 

Almost filling the silence with a throat clear, a rap of your knuckles, a tap of your nails, but the bell for the door chimes instead, your eyes ripping from him to the familiar face of Miss Fell from the coffee shop. 

He promises to come back in the future, but promises are so easy to break, that you don’t hold on to them. 

It’s why it’s harder to control when you see him in the doorway, your lips already curling, eyes studying every inch of him as he strolls over—cap positioned as usual, faded yellow-ish jacket, a similar overtly-washed tee and denim jeans. 

Eyes lock with his through the space in the romance section—ironic, if you say so yourself—your arms full of hardbacks, shoulders burning, near screaming. 

You only focus on the tension, how it thickens, breathes. It crawls out from the walls and thrums to the beat of whatever is playing on the local station. You need it for restocking—the more uptempo beats aiding your mission of ferrying books from one side to the other.  

Frankie’s eyes travel to them, the boxes half-open behind the counter and the trolley you’ve abandoned—the one which had been squealing in protest across the floor, working against you rather than with you. 

“Hi.”

“Hey, hermosa.” 

It drips from his tongue as though he’s called you it before. Instead of trying it for the first time.

He's used your name, the one given freely; he's also used the nickname you'd handed him after a few more visits, the one friends and family call you.

Today, it seems he'd rather call you something which kisses the air with intention and makes your stomach flutter.

“You visit the town a lot for saying you don’t live here.” 

“I live in the next town over—so, just a short drive.” 

He says it casually, and you almost believe him if not for the fact you know the distance. 

“Well, something keeps making you repeatedly visit—lemme guess, it’s my book recommendation, isn’t it?”

It’s bold, maybe too much so. 

The words form and leave your tongue before you can even reconsider them. So sweet, far too rich—more daring than you’d usually let escape when working. 

It’s out there now, billowing in the space between you as he comes around the shelving, your hand pausing on the hardback's spine as you look up to find his stare. 

He’s smiling. 

Leaning his shoulder against the shelf, arms folded across his chest as his eyes burrow. 

“Partly.” 

You place the books, adjusting the shelving. “Only partly? Guess I need to step up my bookselling game if other things are getting you to come back.” 

He keeps his eyes on you, but there’s something there. It ripples, going against the beat of the tension—standing out like an ink stain on a plain white tee. 

“I’m… I’m going to meetings held out the town hall.” He mumbles, smile fading with each word, the confession gracing the air with so much softness it’s as though he’s hoping to cast it to you gently. “Got into some shit, but I’m getting clean now—was stupid… bad. Just wanted to… get a handle on it without everyone gossipin’ about it.” 

You nod, trying to find the balance between not staring and meeting his gaze. A careful balance is needed for such a confession that you’re not entirely sure you’re capable of achieving. 

“That’s… that’s really good, Francisco, that you’re wanting to, y’know put the work in.”

“Frankie,” he interrupts. 

As he has done every time you call him that. 

“Please call me Frankie, Hermosa.” 

It’s hard to hide that he makes your throat tighten, especially when he lets his new name for you fall so delicately from his tongue. 

A bouquet of warmth blooms in your chest, a sea of it crashing down and soaking you from head to toe.

“I just mean,” you murmur, watching him tilt his head to look at you, doing so with kind eyes and a warm smile. “I—I don’t judge you… we all make mistakes.” 

He smiles a little wider. “Thanks, Hermosa. I… I appreciate you saying that” 

“If you keep calling me beautiful, I’m gonna keep calling you Francisco.” 

“Well, what else can I call you when you look as pretty as you do?” 

Burn. You burn. 

Heat floods your cheeks, and you’re sure he must feel it. Purposefully casting your eyes to the side, turning to pick up more books from the floor. 

But his remain. Fixated. Intentional. Busy consuming and swallowing all the things around the two of you, until it's just the two of you that remain.

Not that you mind, care. You only see him.

The world around you both a little dimmer, the music a little quieter, as if everything is tuned into him. The man in the cap with the beautifully, stunning eyes.

“You keep flirting with me, and I’ll drop all my books.”

He wipes his hands on his jeans, gesturing to you to hand him some of the load. “Just so I can keep flirting.” 

“You don’t have to…”

He gestures again, more purposefully. 

Pursing your lips, you surrender. Seeing how much he wants to, allowing his fingers to brush down your forearms as he takes them and trying not to shiver under the intensity of it. 

It’s harder to ignore the spark, the one lit, running through you to light fireworks in your stomach that’ll explode in your bones, in your nerves—all over your goddamn body. 

“Francisco…”

“Hermosa.” 

If tension were a gas, there’d be no air to breathe.

All poison. No oxygen. You think you’d swallow it all the same, gallop it back to keep your eyes locked on his—feeling your ears burn similarly to your cheeks and chest. 

“They go in that space down there,” you say. “You might have to bend over, y’know, to get them to sit nicely.” 

He grins, wicked—daring. It’s accompanied by a lot of teeth and a wide smile. Pretty—handsome. 

“Should have let you do these ones, huh?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to let your brain run away with itself. Unsure if you can let yourself believe that something akin to a rom-com could currently happen to you. 

“Don’t think the sight would be as good as the one I have.”

His eyes cast up at you, a mischievous glint to them he immediately banishes. “Now, who’s flirting.” 

In time, you come to expect him. Only on a Wednesday, never another time. 

So much so, you don’t glance at the door longingly when the bell chimes. You don’t brace for the smile that blossoms when you spot him (irrespective of whether he’s brought you a coffee or a baked good). 

Today, unfortunately, isn’t a Wednesday. 

Just a regular, non-Francisco day that you wish would bleed into another. Having spent many times between his visits planning, plotting—full-blown award-winning speeches re-enacted for the next time you see him.  

There have been ones where you ask him to go for a coffee, ask whether he’d visit you on a day that isn’t a Wednesday. Getting tired of just waving him off, watching him shoot you a final smile as he headed to his truck. 

It’s stuck with you, that feeling. 

Knots inside, mangled together with other moments you replay and wish you could change when you should be sleeping. So many missed moments, shoulda-woulda-coulda, you don’t want him to be added to the pile. 

Today, more so. It always is after a heavier, slow and tiresome day—one which stifles all your usual happiness and excitement of being in a place you love. 

Dragging your feet, fingers flicking the lights off, you watch as the window spotlights extinguish the displays you’d worked on to keep busy. Moving to the door, fingers reaching to turn the sign, twist the lock—

He’s here.

All flushed cheeks, mouth open. 

Francisco’s hand clutches the handle, bending at the hip as he swallows mouthfuls of air—holding a finger up. 

One minute. 

He’s rushed—actually rushed to get here. 

Pulling on the handle, slowly letting the town air seep in as he slowly stands. 

“Hey?” 

“You… you shutting?” 

“I was about to.” 

Wiping the back of his hand across his forehead, he looks at you. “I need a book.”

“You… you need a book?” 

He nods, hands falling to his lower back, stretching. 

“Come on in then.” 

You have to give it to him. He pretends to glance at the shelves for several minutes before he pulls something from a stand without staring. His performance does allow you to close off your computer and tidy up around your desk before he places a book on your desk. 

“Woodworking?” 

He shrugs, adjusting the front of his cap, palm smoothing over his forehead as fingers tuck away his curls. “Considering it is all.” 

You nod, scanning it as it pops up on the till—your hand reaching for a bag as you feel his eyes sitting on you. They’re heavy—weighty. 

It makes you warm, standing under his stare. Something close to the sun, making you turn into it as a smile falls passively across your lips. 

“You know, one day, you’re gonna have to show me what you’ve been building with the number of books you’ve bought.” 

It’s an off-hand comment, a playful one.

It lands, but not in the way you’d hoped. 

His eyes searing, as though urging you to hear words he isn’t saying as you take the money from his extended hand. Words you would hear if he even whispered them due to the quietness—shop all closed and locked except for the two of you. 

You’d expected him to be playful, like last time—more jokes, having found more comfort. But, if anything, it was like the first time he’d walked in, hands stuffed in his pocket, shoulders close to his ears. 

He pauses, the brown bag lying on the counter and not in his fist, like usual. Your hand remains over the till, one note still in hand as you glance at him. 

“That everything?” 

“No.” 

It’s soft. 

More whispered than exclaimed. Yet, it makes your throat tighten—eyes fixate on him a little more intensely. Taking him in differently than you usually do. 

Usually, you linger over the way his nose slopes, how his eyes always have a twinkle in them—that a few wisps of hair poking out underneath the bill of his cap. That he wears earthy shades and smells of sea salt mixed with cedar, a mysterious scent that lingers even when he’s gone. 

Now, you focus on how his eyes are a little wider, soaking you in rich brown, wearing hesitancy across his broad shoulders and tight-lipped face. 

You say nothing, both not able to nor wanting to.  

“I… I want to kiss you.” 

It’s hard to ignore the way heat blooms across your cheeks, focussing on stuffing the note haphazardly in the drawer before you close it. Fingers resting, lingering on the metal seal as you swallow. “Didn’t realise my knowledge of books could be so endearing?” 

He smiles, but it’s full of nerves. 

Plastered to bring you some ease—you suppose—his hand lifting his cap a little higher. “Well, I’m not buying all these books because I’m still trying to keep my hands busy, Hermosa.”

“No?” 

“No,” he whispers. 

You don’t think. Your feet just begin moving, forcing you from behind the counter to the place beside him. You’re so close; you can see the way the last few spotlights over the counter are reflecting in his pupils—see the shadow of yourself in his darkening eyes. 

It’s your turn to be nervous, for trembling fingers to tease the edge of his open shirt, bristling under his gaze as you slowly lift your chin to—

You feel them, his lips. 

Chapped, but yet still soft, warm. Feeling them slide against yours in well-versed movements as though this isn’t the first time the two of you have done this. Something mushrooms in your chest expands out as you slide your tongue to taste it, lick it all away—all the nerves, the built-up anxiety. The two of you settle, falling into a steady rhythm that dances close to pent-up frustration. 

At some point, his cap falls to the floor, your fingers woven in his peppered curls as your back presses into the wooden counter. He’s precise, cautious—not pressing you too intently, allowing you room to leave, but not enough to get the idea he doesn’t want this. 

Doesn’t want you. 

He does. 

He shows it with his fingers, etching them across your hip. Hands, large and littered with callouses, wrap and pinch you over your clothes, telling stories you’re not listening to currently. 

Briefly, between soft, muted moans, do you think about how they’d feel on your bare skin. How his fingers would feel curled inside you, those eyes searing into you as he whispers that you’re doing so well—just like he did when he first heard about you running the place yourself. 

“Frankie…” 

It escapes, the nickname. 

The one he’s told you to use each time you call him Francisco. The one you think of when you’re alone, simmering and blistering on the tip of your tongue when your thin bed sheet covers your bare thighs. 

Then, Frankie pulls back—something flooding you that isn’t relief, but rather disappointment.

“Oh,” you mumble. “I’m… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean.…”

It trails off. Not sure what to apologise for, least of all when you don’t mean it. Swiping your tongue across your lower lip, tasting the mint of his gum and the coffee he’s tried to hide with it, loosening your fingers from his curls, dropping your arm until it hangs pointlessly beside you. 

But he doesn’t let go. 

Doesn’t step back. Thankfully. 

He just stares in utter bewilderment like he’s in a dream rather than reality. 

“I should have taken you for dinner.”

“What?” 

He swallows, blinking—coming back to. 

It happens more suddenly, him stepping back, scooping his cap from the ground and replacing it back like a crown upon his head.

He’s shy again—nervous. It radiates from him, flushing his cheeks more than the minute-ago make-out session the two of you just endured. 

“I was—fuck, I was supposed to ask you to go out for dinner before….”

“Before?” 

Tilting his head, his lips slope up into a cheek. “Before I groped you like some horny teen. You deserve better—more. You deserve more. A nice meal, a fucking conversation and….”

“I like pizza.” 

He pauses, blinking. “Y-yeah?”

Nodding, you smile. Rolling your lips until you’re biting down, unsure—suddenly shifting on the spot. “I can… I know a place—they deliver. We can, can just hang here or go upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” 

It grows into a grin, the smile you’d been trying to hold back. “Yeah, I live above the shop, Frankie.” 

And he’s in front of you again, resuming the minimal space the two of you had before. Both of his hands cup your cheeks, thumb brushing the skin—eyes burning into yours, no longer bubbling with nervousness. 

“Say it again.”

“Wha—“

“My name. Please, Hermosa.” 

Tilting your face ever so slightly, you lick your lips—his eyes watching how the tip of it does so. “Frankie.”

He groans, low—guttural, almost swallowed back but somehow escaping—before, in one swift movement, his lips are married back to yours. It’s different, more confident—dizzyingly so.

Your legs wobbling a little as the counter managed to support you, every other sense tuning into him and just him. Almost demanded so, by him. 

His teeth nip, pressing against you as you feel how hard he is against you, as one of his hands drops to your waist. Almost tempted to slide your hand over the zipper, to squeeze—to tease him even further—

“Ah, man, it’s closed.” 

The two of you pause, freezing. 

Eyes both glancing through one of the shelves at the door, the person hovering, waiting—as though expecting the shop to suddenly open as they arrived. You will them to leave, eyes clenching, until you slowly open one, then the other. 

Frankie doesn’t turn back at first, not until it’s truly silent—the two of you alone again. But, you remain cupping his cheek, the other on his arm—fingers barely fitting around his bicep that flexes as he turns his head. 

You can hear it, your heart pounding—worsening when his eyes lock with yours, dancing from one to the other. 

“I—“

“Do you want me to show you upstairs?” 

His hand slides from your waist, scratching the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t….”

“Oh. Yeah, okay, I get it—“

“I don’t want to just… fuck you, Hermosa.” 

Your lips clamp shut, throat tightening as you take a struggled breath. 

“You hear me? I want—“

“You want pizza, a tour and then….” you whisper, so soft it barely greets the air, watching him fill in the dots, the blanks. 

His cheeks flush, eyes narrowing before widening, making you smile wickedly. 

an: this was my first ever time writing for him, so pls be nice and lovely and kind. k thanks.

[stardustgates]

Trying to write for HSR SAGAU is so much harder than I thought, especially because I’m starting with the initial cutscenes and battles before choosing either Caelus or Stelle, and trying to figure out how Kafka and Silver Wolf would react to being suddenly aware of a higher entity hanging around them and controlling their bodies is so difficult in prose(?) form.

Anyway, some rules/extra info/thoughts I had for my own personal interpretation of a self aware star rail:

✧ It’s still a universe of its own, but for those who become aware of the player, it’s like realising you’re a picture in a picture book. The people and places still go on about their own ways and change with time, but suddenly there’s a metaphorical hole in reality that something beyond their comprehension is peeking through.

✧ The more time the player would spend with certain characters in their team, the easier it becomes for those characters to hear their voice. (E.G I Play with Caelus and Himeko with almost every fight, so they’d be able to hear pretty much anything I say after a week or so of playing with them non-stop.)

✧ The trailblazer is generally seen as not just a vessel for the stellaron but also the player, so a lot of characters and NPCs will offer really good rewards to them when the player is out quest-completing with them.

✧ The compartment that is ‘practically glued shut’ on the express, is used by the characters as a shrine to the player. The trailblazer spends the most time here when the player is offline, as they don’t have a room to themselves (yet!! Hoyoverse I’m counting on you!)

✧ Most characters start off confused and alarmed when first feeling the presence of the player but eventually come to idolise and worship that presence. The playable ones in particular being extremely obsessive over them and, as a result, the player’s trailblazer.

✧ March 7th, Dan Heng, and the trailblazer form a protection squad/Fanclub of sorts and eventually are seen as the de-facto representatives of the player. The make sure any visitors to the Astral Express know their place and don’t try to steal away too much of the player’s attention.

✧ Both Kafka and Silver Wolf are initially weary of the sudden feeling of being watched and controlled, even more so when the battles start and they feel their control of their own bodies ripped away from them. Naturally they are sceptical and distrusting, but the euphoria left from the surge of power this imperceivable entity (read: the player) gives them is borderline addictive and sways them into a more positive-leaning neutral standpoint by the end of the tutorial chapter.

✧ If you’re wondering why the characters talk so much when idling- or doing anything really- it’s because they’re trying to communicate with the player without setting off any alarm bells. They take it slowly and steadily, easing into their own true thoughts when they’re sure the player won’t panic at the sudden change in behaviours and mannerisms (read: So they can fight for their attention far more openly)

✧ This is most definitely going to be a yandere AU (I cannot escape my demons 😔)

That’s all I’ve got for now, I’m currently working on a really big piece for this SAGAU and it’s only just reached like 3k, and I’m not even half way done :) pain pickle

[paintedstories]

Apocalypse

♥ song of the story OWN MY MIND -maneskin

gif from @yonglixx ⚠: mentions of zombies: mentions of blood and death; mentions of Felix killing zombies; mentions of his family being dead(I'm sorry 🙏 its for the plot); mentions of readers family being dead(sorry again) ⚠: can be considered a fluff story if you don't mind the theme ⚠: Survivor Lee Felix x Survivor fem reader (she/her) ⚠: In this AU skz doesn't exist, meaning, that Felix doesn't know any of the members.

panting could be heard from the girl hidden in a long ago abandoned house.

"ahh, shit-" she breathed under her breath, exhausted from running, punching, and killing all day. She started searching carefully throughout the house, carefully to not make too much noise, walking and finding things that might be helpful. After putting all the things she found in the middle of the room, things such as cans of fruits and food, screwdrivers, knives, soap, and ladies' necessities, she decided to choose what she exactly needed and go on a run outside, maybe find some abandoned shops or hopefully a pharmacy, as she was in a new city.

while walking she stumbled across an alley and decided to go in it to rest, as she did not see or hear any of those horrifyingly disgusting creatures she sat down close to one of the big metal trash bins, fortunately for her, it did not smell that bad, as it has had not been used for at least 5 months. while she carefully opened one of the food cans she found, she suddenly heard something, or rather someone walking. Scared she rapidly put the can down and got up with her knife to kill who was coming next.

"hey- woah, woah, mate slow down, I'm peaceful!" he whisper shouted while putting his hands up making her put the knife down and look at him with a serious face. "I'm warning you if you try stealing from me, I won't hesitate to murder you," she said sternly while sitting down and starting to eat from the can. But he continued staying on guard next to her. "what are you doing?" she looked at him weirdly but he doesn't say anything, only smiles and sits next to her, after approximately 2 minutes the hands him the other half of the can that she didn't finish intentionally. "eat" she said not looking at him. "woh thanks!" he exclaimed and smiled brightly "didn't eat something non expired in ages haha" her face fell after hearing that. How, how, what happened here. she thought while slowly peeking to look at his shadowed dirty face. poor guy was all she could muster in her thoughts. "want more?" she looked at him while handing him another can, now with a different type of food. " no, no, I can't, it would be too much! I don't have anything in return!" he said while shaking his hands showing that he meant it. "No, really take it, I have more, found a house, 30 minutes away, very quiet no monsters, and it has a lot of food. maybe you would want to come with me, you know, two is better than one," she said while scratching her back of the neck.

"Really?- are you joking with me? because if not I'm coming!" he smiled while sitting up and holding his hand to her. As she took it, first time making skin-to-skin contact with the stranger she felt a spark in her heart and worms in her stomach, no she felt butterflies, she shacked her head gently and started to walk a little bit in front of him to lead the way.

On their way to the house, they chatted and found out that his name was Lee Felix, an Australian. They encountered 3 zombies too but decided to just run off, as it was night time and they wouldn't be seen.

Arrived at the house she shows him around, and he helps her to patch the broken windows and unnecessary rooms.

While searching for a good room Felix found a basement, the basement of the said house, deciding to investigate right then, as it was night and the zombies were mostly asleep and easier to kill. Big luck for them was that inside was only one, a guy, the owner of the house they declared. After y/n killed it and Felix helped by dragging it outside the house in front of the yard and throwing it on the fence, as protection from other fellow zombies, because if they smelled the blood of the said zombie on the fence they would pass the house and not get in even if heard any sounds from inside. Of course, it would smell bad but good thing that the smell didn't get too close to the house.

After rearranging the whole basement, meaning, getting all the things in the living room, then putting on a big bed for two inside the room, of course, cleaning it very well. They might have been in the apocalypse but to be clean still helps. good thing the basement was as big as the house, large enough to put some of the kitchen and bedroom furniture down, creating a little house, sadly inside the basement was only the installation for water, not the toilet too, so the bathroom remained inside the house. Not too big of a problem as the house looked like it never been touched by the filthy hands of those zombies.

"few, we're finally done!" Felix said happily while slumping on the bed."ey get your dirty butt off the bed, you need to change and shower....." she realized that the water from the bathroom didn't work anymore, only the one in the basement, the reason being that the installation was made so that water will work even without electricity, but that only in the basement. " haha shit, we got to wash with cold water" she sighed as she plopped next to the bed resting her back on the bed leg next to a now floor sitting Felix. "haha jokes on you, not washing with cold water" he laughed "then sleep on the floor"

hey, hey, hey! my cherry's hope you liked this story if you want part two ✌ tell me master list 📃 feel free to request your deepest desires!

[sangijazz]

Love Megabytes - a Lovebug AU Stanley x shadow!Narrator fanfic

Stanley swears he saw something crawl its way into the parable.

The Narrator says there is nothing to worry about. It is just a harmless virus.

---

note

Narrator uses it/its in this one folks

There is abuse of zalgo in this

slight tw: obsessive behavior, behavior altering virus,

-------

Chapter 1

"This is a story of a man named Stan- Stanley! What do you think you are doing?!" the Narrator asked infuriated, the avatar normally waits for it to finish the introduction before causing chaos.

The man in question was crouched under his desk, seeming very interested in something there.

Saw something. signed Stanley briefly before extending his arm to search further.

The Narrator frowned to itself - it didn't make sense, nothing was supposed to happen now. It absent-mindedly looked at the model of the room from all angles trying to find what had distracted its creation so much. Since Stanley didn't know what he was searching for neither did the dark being. 

"Nonsense, Stanley!" the shadow crossed its non-physical arms, projecting itself below the man, replacing his shadow. "Nothing has changed from last run. Now, chop chop, we have a story to get to." But it was ignored, there was nothing it hated more than being ignored. The Narrator mumbled to itself, something something stubbornness, narrative integrity, petulant.

The stretched fingers felt the wall carefully, Stanley had his brows knit together and the tip of his tongue out in concentration. 

"Will at least tell me what you saw, Stanley? What could be MORE interesting than my story?" pouted the British voice.

-ots of things- thought Stanley louder, I saw something crawl out of here. I'm trying to find from where.

  "Crawl? Here? Don't be ridiculous, Stanley!" the Narrator scoffed "I have no asset that could do that! The most similar to crawl an asset does is the baby and I have not seen something that big crawling here, Stanley!" 

Nothing pink? Small? asked the man, as he now explored the right corner of the 427 office. The other replied with a disagreeing shrug. Pink was a difficult color to harmonize with the Office.

A silent exclamation of triumph left Stanley as his fingertips brushed again something, he turned his head and squinted to see what he had found. 

A hole. Not larger than his ring finger. It seemed to go all the way through the wall, direct through the code. 

Stanley has never seen something like this, the Narrator was always very careful with the parable's code, knowing fully well that if it wasn't, the avatar would find a way to mess with it, probably breaking it beyond repair. 

Even if Stanley did in fact like some chaos, this was extremely odd and too dangerous for now so, Narrator? He called and showed his finding to the other. 

The Narrator moved its form to the wall indicated, its projected yellow square glasses close to the anomaly. 

"Oh, dear..." The shadow disappeared since it was easier to investigate this from the Narrator's office.

The vessel stood up, sat back in his chair, and started to fidget with his hands, nervous as he felt the other's anxiety. This was beyond the Narrator’s limited unlimited control of the parable and Stanley’s control by free will. 

The panicked mumblings of the dark creature echoed through the map as it searched for whatever could have done that. It appeared to have eaten its code to get inside, a small and not really important code but still not acceptable! 

In a room, in its office, somewhere not really physical, the Narrator went through its scripts with alarm. The walls were covered with monitors, some flicked between ten, hundred, thousand of angles of the parable, searching for others showed rows and rows of code, simple commands such as Object Chair; or as unreadable strings of zeros and ones, for untrained eyes, nothing seemed wrong but there were gaps where there shouldn’t be; each second that pasted more gaps appeared. A few papers cover some screen

It was eating the code. Multiplying. And eating more.

A virus.

The parable had a virus. 

A BLOODY VIRUS HAD MADE ITS WAY THROUGH THE NARRATOR’S CODE.

The shadow being was livid. 

How could something like this happen?! 

THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END

As the other panicked, Stanley made his way to the employee lounge not really knowing what to do. He sat on the ground with some pen and paper he snatched from some desk on the way. The problem seemed to be big from the not-so-subtle ramblings of the narrator, but Stanley didn’t have something to offer except to give the other peace.

The vessel wasn’t really an artist, only beginning to draw recently..? When the parable had begun. In the first 20 resets? Time got too tangled after so many runs. Anyway, it began as a way to piss off his companion, drawing dicks and other immature things on the walls with a marker from the meeting room. The entity had been so disgusted with the display of “childish and improper” - its words - behavior, it had berated the man until it couldn’t take anymore and reset.

Stanley didn’t repeat that for some resets, mainly then only snatching paper, pencils, and pens, and bringing them to the broom closet when he was overwhelmed or just need space. There he would try to sketch the closet’s items, the bucket (if he had brought them with him) or the simple shape of the Narrator’s shadow form, its somehow yellow square glasses, and Line™ tie, the dark shape of its hair that sometimes changed to new hairstyles, the ever-present headset that was likely just for show, the glasses too to think of it. 

The drawings in the start were lost after each reset, this made the avatar unhappy but understanding. However, after spending three hours redrawing his office, Stanley did ask the Narrator if there was a way to keep it.

 It was actually surprised by the request and by the fact that its creation was making art. It couldn’t really see what Stanley did in the broom closet, so it had just thought he was making “improper” drawings on the walls again. Stanley couldn’t really deny the assumption since it happened once in a while. 

Nevertheless, the Narrator was more than content to keep the drawing, and after he mentioned the lost ones, it swore to keep the ones Stanley want to keep. And after some thought the entity “”offhandedly”” suggested that the man didn’t need to hide to draw anymore.

After all that, they established a ritual, where every few resets, Stanley would make his way to the meeting room signing to the other his intentions. The Narrator would lay some materials on the big table for him and let him be. Sometimes the vessel would ask it “to stay”, where they would talk about the drawings or whatever new script the other was working on or just… stay quiet, each focused on their own thing and enjoying each other’s presence.

The walls of Stanley’s office began filling up with sketches, doodles, and portraits. At times one or other would disappear, and he had a tiny suspicion these end up wherever the Narrator’s office was. This made him feel fuzzy inside.

Now, he was trying to put the undescribable code he saw in that hole into paper. It has given the avatar a headache just to look at it, probably too much for him to understand. And Stanley didn’t really like to think he is just a 3D model controlled by lines of digits. He has already accepted he is trapped in this ever-repeating loop and will likely never get out, one hope-crushing realization at the time. This piece wouldn’t be exactly how he saw it but more like the feeling. 

The ramblings have slowly quieted to a low mumbling, almost like a nervous buzz. 

He dropped the pencil to sign: Narrator?,  using the name sign he rarely used, the sign for N, and the sign for Story.  

Nothing. It must not be paying attention.

Narrator? Thinking loud normally worked.

“Hum? Oh, Stanley, sorry for this. It appears we have hmm… a virus” the Narrator said with false disinterest leafing through papers “Nothing to worry about.” it cleaned its metaphorical throat “Ah! I see you have already occupied yourself, Stanley. Good, good…” its voice trembled a little, Stanley decided not to comment on it. 

Can I help?  

“I am afraid not, Stanley. Thanks to you, we already know the virus is here…” He smiled a little at the ceiling. “Now, don’t mind me. I will find it…”

Was it the pink thing I saw? I can keep a watch for it.

“Could be… I doubt this has a physical form but I will not mind if you do, Stanley.” the Narrator said absentmindedly probably already focusing on something else.

The avatar’s thumbs-up was not acknowledged or seen. He returned to his drawing.

Now, the perspective isn’t quite right… 

THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE NEVER THE END

This is bad…

No matter what the Narrator did, no matter how many pieces of this virus it erased and purged, this code-eating disease always came back.

Maybe it has a commanding core, sending orders and the storyteller was only killing its soldiers, not its commander. This was easy to conclude but the Narrator COULD NOT find where this blasphemous commander WAS.

It has searched bloody EVERYWHERE, every line of code, every corner of the map, and every page of its scripts. And the entity found NOTHING.

Was the ailment purposely hiding? It would be really strong, well-developed, and very very dangerous if so… 

Would the Narrator have to fully reset the game? Oh Lord, just the thought of that made its screens go fuzzy with interference. 

What if the virus was in the device?! Bloody hell, it could do nothing against that! 

How could the user contract such a virus? Probably in one of those filthy pornographic sites, humans seemed to love so much.

The sound of paper flipping was a lovely addition the being was really proud of, even if the papers weren’t exactly real, but now after spending the equivalent of HOURS going through them, over and over again, the little sound effect was stressing Narrator out, making some monitors blink in and out error screens. Or was it the missing code strings? This was all too overwhelming.

Should the Narrator stay with Stanley as he draws for a while to regain its composure? It would be in fact relaxing…

Flicking its glasses to a monitor which showed the man, the creature pondered.

Stanley was lying on the floor on his belly, feet up slowly rocking back and forth. He seemed really invested in his work. Lord bless the quiet moments they had together. The Narrator L̶͙̅͒Î̶͇̻K̸͕̈́E̵̺̹͆Ḑ̸̈ the way Stanley would smile whenever he was content with a sketch. It A̷͕͓͑́̓D̸̨͌͘O̴̘̟͈͌͝R̸͚̯̎͂͠E̵̺͋̓͘D̶̞̍ when the two of them would ping pong ideas for new scripts or drawings, even if it pretended to be skeptic of the vessel’s ideas while taking notes on the side. The way the man would fluster and hide his face with the paper when the shadow would compliment the work was one of the things it Ļ̶̡̪̭̤̟̹̥̪̟̝̪͎̖̬̻̿̀͐̾̇͐͘͜Ő̴̧̞̭̘̜͚̯͈̙̮͌̀̄V̷̧̧̘͕͍̰̰̖͎̭̻͍̻̘̰̖̠̮͆́̐̾̊̊̓͂̆̓͊̈́͝͝E̸̪̩̔͆̀̓̾̍̽̾D̵̘̺̜̪̬̼͍̘̰̲͖̦̾́͐́̍͌̇͋́͐̇͊̍̐͘͝ the most.

It Ļ̶̡̪̭̤̟̹̥̪̟̝̪͎̖̬̻̿̀͐̾̇͐͘͜Ő̴̧̞̭̘̜͚̯͈̙̮͌̀̄V̷̧̧̘͕͍̰̰̖͎̭̻͍̻̘̰̖̠̮͆́̐̾̊̊̓͂̆̓͊̈́͝͝E̸̪̩̔͆̀̓̾̍̽̾D̵̘̺̜̪̬̼͍̘̰̲͖̦̾́͐́̍͌̇͋́͐̇͊̍̐͘͝ when Stanley would take part of a story and seemed to be actually enjoying it. The feeling of joy and validation when Ṣ̶͑t̸̙̓a̵̗̋n̵͙̓l̵̞̂è̷̥y̸̛̱ would follow the narration without a hitch. The way Ṣ̶͑t̸̙̓a̵̗̋n̵͙̓l̵̞̂è̷̥y̸̛̱ would sign faster and bounce on his feet when he was excited. Even if it would never admit it out loud, the storyteller even Ļ̷̞̞͓̬̺̄́̂̔ ̸̦̲̄̋͗͂O̷͖͉̗͚͒͜͠ ̷̘̥̹̓̈́Ṽ̵͓͛ ̷̬͔͉͔̝̾̿Ë̶̼͎̤̳́̉͆̊́̕ ̸̟͔͖̉̅̊͝D̵̩̟͗̎̋̀ when the avatar would latch out at it, the disobedience ̷̼̈ẅ̵̙́a̵̙̐ŝ̴̲ ̴̯͆s̴͓͗o̸͔̓ ̴̮͘f̵͍̓u̴̟͊ņ̵̃ ̸̲̑t̵̛͉o̵̬͘ ̶̳͒d̷̲͐e̴͙͐a̵̜͆l̸̻̇ ̷̮̔w̴̛͔ḭ̷̈t̴̯̿ḧ̸̩ ̶̥̂

Ỉ̸͔t̴͝ͅ ̸̘͝Ḷ̵͗O̸̩̿V̶̧̾E̸͚͝D̴̟̓ ̵̛̲S̸̙̚t̷͈̓a̵̰̔ṋ̵̔l̵͓͠ḛ̸̒y̶͓̒'̶̙̎š̴͚ ̴̜̓l̷͙͐i̷̱̅ţ̶̋t̷̕ͅĺ̴͖ë̶̪́ ̸̼̃q̶̤̋ú̶̱ǐ̵̧r̴̪͒k̸̤͛ș̷͒.̷̠͝

I̶̧̙͓͙̝̓̃̂̌͗̒̽T̸̢̨̺̫͈̮͂ ̴̡͔̹̠̳̲̔͋͗́͛ͅL̴̜̦̲̟̻̐̾̈́͋̈́͠ ̴͎̙̦̞̰͒̋́O̶͇̙̮̤͔̅̽͘ͅ ̴̮̘̓V̵̨͚̟̉͑̉͊̚̕ ̵̢̗̖̩̀̾̑̕Ę̷̼͔̜͙̼̀̓͊́́̍ ̷͕̈̀͝D̴̠͚͇̳̠̊̉̊ ̸̢̘̞̳̝̅͑S̵͖͊͌͆͛̕͠͠T̵͙̩̲̞̩̞́̓̔̚̚ͅA̶̻̺̮̹̗̺̹̿̑N̸̛̥̜͚͙̤̈́̋̃͂̏́L̶͇̀̓͆̌É̴̖̘̉͐͋͝͝Ỷ̴̻̗̪̳͔͌͗̆̾͌͘ͅͅ

Į̸̻͚̲̹̘̘̪̖̎̑̅ͅT̶̢̤͛͋͆͒̀̾̕ ̶̡̼͕̺̰̞̼͇̰͗̉͗̓̀̌͊͋̕͘͝

Ẃ̵̰̝̟̬͒̆̐͋̃̒͒͐̚͝͠Â̷̢̢̲͉̻̳̠̖̝̣̗̒̊̽̂̈́͝N̸̳̠̦̞̮͇̞͈͒̈́̈́͂̔͑̋̍͘T̷̢̨̩͍͕̞̟̭̤̥̤̀̈͆̾͆̉͗͒͝ͅS̸̡̛̬̫̮̟̿̍̎̀͑̎͝

Š̸̡̤̳͊̋͆̍̃̀̌̄͠Ţ̶̳͈̺̝͉̯͓͚͉̈̌͆̇͝A̷̡̳͊̄̽̇̈́͊̚N̷̩̫̻͑́͝͠͝L̵̛͇̾̐͘Ë̵̟́̇̓̄̏Y̵͙͊̿̋̅̿̓͒̐͗̃͝

“Whaţ̷̤̅́ a̷͎͆͝ͅr̶͖̆͑G̴̱̒̔H̷̲̿-̸̩͚̅͊-” is happening? - was what the Narrator wanted to say before, the white, deafening, blinding PAIN, AGONIZING PAIN clawed its way through the entity's core and code. Every one and zero in it lighting as if being cutdestroyedburnedglitc̴̡͇̐h̶͍͠ ̷̣̫̒g̴̼͙̑l̸̞̼͊i̸̯̓ͅṭ̴̉c̸͈͚̃h̷͈̎ ̵̠̪̑̉Ė̵͈͇̇R̷̡͈̆̃R̴̡̺̕O̶͚̘͛̿Ŗ̸̕͜ ̷̭̬̂̒Ė̵̟Ř̶͉̣R̴͓͊̄Ő̵̳̫̉Ȓ̷͖̜̍ ̸͘͜͝

“¡̵̣͚̎¡̷͚͑ͅO̸̲̺͒͘Ḣ̵̩!̵͈̏!̶̰͝” exclaimed the Narrator because it could do nothing else.

[̸i̵n̸s̶t̷a̸l̶l̶.̷P̷r̴o̵g̷r̸a̵m̴:̸ ̵L̸0̵V̷3̶B̸U̵G̸.̶e̶x̵e̵;]̶

[Run.Program(L0V3BUG.exe);]

[Set.AdminTo(L0V3BUG.exe);]

The golden yellow of the room changed to bright lovesick pink drowning the distressing red blinking error screens. Squares to sappy hearts. New and l̸u̵s̵t̴f̴u̶l̷ code filled the holes left in the system. All monitors showed Stanley, still drawing, still oblivious, and looking so so delicious. 

“Well…This is… ǹ̴͖ ne̸͓͋ẅ̴ͅ.” the Narrator smiled, dark shadows forming sharp teeth.  

[ExecuteCommand(Reset);]

THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END

[to be continued]

----

this is a little snack i hope it will be an appetizer

if i actually continue writing this i will post it ao3

[danadaria]

ARE YOU EXPERIENCED? COMING SOON: November 18th!

For the @steddiebang 2023 we've been working really hard to share with you this amazing S3 AU with music lover Steve, who may discover having more than something in common with Eddie Munson.

Writer: @madaboutmunson, Beta: @house-of-chant, Art: @danadaria (dat me!)

You can read a preview here:

Steve shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and feels the crinkle of the fifty from his mom against his fingertips, and his eyes move to the record store. They were probably gonna be open for an hour or so longer. He turns to the store's glass front, has a final check over his appearance and ensures his uniform is buried deep in the depths of his backpack before taking a deep breath and walking over there. It's not like he hated this place or anything. It just felt like a betrayal to the town store that was slowly but surely crumbling into non-existence. The other factor was that all the people who worked here were school kids, apart from the manager. Cheap labour, he guesses, but it means he can never fully relax here. Can never fully let the music ring through his ears so it can guide him to his next pocket-sized plastic box of hidden treasure. Most of them were younger than him, though, so intimidating them was easy enough, though with the weather warming up, they were slowly catching on to how far King Steve had fallen, working just across the way. He tells them it's character-building, an experiment. He only told Robin that it was, in fact, a punishment. He stands outside for a moment. This place is so bright and garish. Neon lights ran all over it like some fake plastic poison spreading between what he loved most. He can already hear something blaring out of there and voices chattering loudly, contending with it. He puts on his headphones, carefully placing the band so it doesn't crease up his hair, and pushes play on his Walkman. His ears fill with Nina Simone, and he takes a much easier deep breath as he walks inside. I wish I knew how it would feel to be free. As the voice smoothly fills his ears like it had just broken through the dam of the day and swirls its way around his brain into what feels like every crease, he finally feels that special feeling. The tingle from under his cheekbone to his temples, and he can finally settle into himself a little more. Swaps tension for ease as his fingers dance over the music sections, flipping cassette cases or the large vinyl album artwork as he moves around the store. That is until he starts to hear the repetition of something unfortunate, and it pulls him out of his oasis of calm back into his old, reliable, tensed body and mask. His name. "Harrington!" The voice rings out, and as if to make a show of how annoying this all is, he slowly takes off his headphones and forcibly pushes stop on his walkman. "Yes?" He says through almost gritted teeth as he turns to the origin of the sound and finds himself met with a set of hopeful brown eyes, a mass of waves and curls, and an awkward smile. Eddie "The Freak" Munson. Steve's Eddie assessment: Loud Grating Obnoxious Non-conformist to the mainstream Conformist to the Heavy Metal scene "Good to see ya, man. How're things?" Eddie forces his smile wider, but it is strained. Steve rolls his eyes with a sigh, "Let's get this over with, Munson. How can I help you?" His hands land on his hips, pushing back his jacket a little to emphasise the inconvenience, but Eddie seems unperturbed, curiously; his smile grows toothy and genuine. "Well, that's quite an offer, but I was actually thinking about the other way around." Steve's eyes follow Eddie's ringed hand that comes into view and taps the name tag on his chest, "How can I help you, Harrington?" He drops his head to the side a little.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Gotta say your au mixed with the art style and such and amazing work in what we seen so far with the horror and some laughs it's just become a treat every time I saw new details (whenever you supplies them up, thanks for that)

I know you already disclosure that it's gonna be bad BAD TIMES for the puppets gang but does it have it's soft ad fluff times??

The shot were Frank ask Wally if they're dying will looking up for the ceiling hasn't leave my brain, such a raw emotional clear on them, I wonder when they were just the two of them for a while they cuddle or hold hands for comfort??

I just.i just want them to have small victories of comfort

of course it has fluff and comfort! a lot of it! having a nice blend of both makes the fluff feel sweeter & the hurt hit all the harder <3 i will now supply some (written (for now)) examples and tidbits. putting it under the cut cause it got kinda Long

Frank & Wally do become very affectionate with each other! ofc as soon as Frank woke Wally was like "ok im holding your hand everywhere we go, this is Non Negotiable". because its dark! he doesn't want Frank to stray too far or get lost! and it's easier to yank Frank outta harm's way if they're already holding hands. comfort factors into it later, when Frank starts initiating & Wally does it purely to make sure Frank is still there. but yeah they get Very comfortable with each other, to the point where when Eddie wakes up he asks Frank - misinterpreting the situation entirely - "if you'd rather have Wally than me, i understand." ofc Frank laughs his ass off bc uhhh no that is Not what their relationship is, Ed

~ similarly, (almost) everyone acclimates to Wally's need to be as close as possible at all feasible times. he's Very physically affectionate and has little to no regard for personal space or boundaries anymore. like, he'll listen when someone asks him to back off or somethn, but until then he does not give a fuck. and this rubs off on the others as they get used to it

and then there's OH WAIT IDK IF I'VE MENTIONED THIS YET but! Wally - during his main exploration phase - found the Welcome Home episode recordings! and he eventually figured out how to work a tv he found, so he added "watch an episode of me and my friends" into his Routine. when the others wake up, he includes them in this. is it horrifying for them at first? yeah. but they get used to it and find similar if not the same comfort and enjoyment in it that Wally does. like in This Scribble, Frank & Wally & Poppy & Howdy are all watching an episode, and are quoting the lines they've memorized. they all cuddle up on a couch together and watch their favorite show <3

& Wally also teaches them (as they wake up) how to repair and care for themselves / each other, sleeping or otherwise. picture a little sewing circle of Frank, Wally, and Poppy, with Poppy giving tips and guidance on how to improve. these sessions provide them with genuine smiles and sometimes even some laughs.

before Wally & Home's divorce, they'd pass much of the time with games! go-fish, charades, i spy, etc. one of their favorites was when Wally would toss a ball at Home's door, and Home would hit it back. additionally, whenever Wally discovered something new, he'd rush back to Home with it - either the information or the actual thing, if he could carry it. ex: when he'd find books or files, he'd bring them to Home and (quietly) read them aloud while resting against them

and just in general know that the Post Office is a place of safety. Wally has made sure it's secure. i like to imagine like... little craft sessions and impromptu dancing lessons and story sharing going on in there among the awake neighbors. they try to have fun despite it all

that's all i can recall for Act One's fluff tidbits rn, but trust me there is More. and also abundant angsty comfort. the downright painful stuff has to earn its existence yk yk this au is Not grimdark

[solarwonux]

Business Proposal || knj (7/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst,

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 5.8k

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

a/n: hello hello hellooooo, this one is more of a filler one to get everything started. Still, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. lmk your thoughts and if you want to be added to the tag list!

m.list || series m.list || wattpad

prev || next

10 years ago

The first time you ever met Kim Namjoon, the leaves were just beginning to change in color. The fall season was approaching. The greens of the summer were slowly fading into vibrant autumn hues. Replacing the obnoxious sticky heat, for humid and cooler winds. The leaves still hadn’t fallen, the foliage was at its peak and you were desperately trying to stay afloat. 

Somehow, you had gotten roped into a math class. Well, you weren’t necessarily roped into it. You were forced into it. It was part of the prerequisite requirements and because you had barely passed all of your Algebra exams in high school, you couldn’t plead the advisory board to accept those credits. They would’ve just laughed in your face and sent you away with a list of professors who specialized in the devil made subject. 

Now, you had hoped that college algebra was a bit easier, after three weeks of a summer intensive course you were proven wrong. You weren’t necessarily failing, but you weren’t passing either. Though, in a panic-induced state full of hope you had done the math - ironic, and came to the conclusion that if you didn’t pass the final exam, you wouldn’t be able to move onto part two of the class. 

If you had done things differently, you would’ve taken the classes at the start of your degree, just as your academic advisor had suggested. You didn’t and now you are two semesters away from a beautiful bachelors degree in arts. Achieving an impressive double major in Writing and Rhetoric and Journalism with a minor in International Communications, along with a tasteful three point nine GPA. 

You were almost there. You could savor it as you looked into master degree programs. The looming debt of your student loans was the least of your worries. At least for now. If you didn’t pass the stupid final exam, in one of the easiest math classes you could ever take in college. You would be growing a larger hole in your loan repayment agreement with the prestigious HYBE U. 

At this point you were desperate. Almost to the point in which you considered cheating. A blaspehmous thought that you only ever had in high school during science labs. Those gizmos computer stimulations were a quizlet file away, and the sweet taste of victory was even closer. 

Yet, quizlet wouldn’t work out in this scenario and finally you caved, putting away your pride for a little bit to admit that you needed help. 

A math tutor was the best option for you. Lots of college kids were desperate for another quick buck along with their less than promising part time jobs, while they struggled with juggling school in the process. You only hoped that the ad you posted on the HYBE U facebook group would workout, even if it had been a week ago and still hadn’t gotten any engagement. 

Maybe it was time to accept the truth, what’s one more extra semester. Sure, it interferes with your descriptive five year plan, but you could somehow modify it. Right?

Wrong? So very wrong. 

You needed a tutor quick. Probably in the next hour or so, because you refused to step foot in another math class again. Your life revolved around your rhetorical readings, feminist discoverings in Ancient Greece. You loved research, writing papers on things you found interesting, and developing a new perspective to already made discoveries. It was a rush. Not necessarily the writing part - it was tedious and sometimes you wondered why you even decided to pursue writing in the first place; but the sense of achievement and the ego boost you got when you typed the final sentence and the final period was euphoric. To then scroll through twenty plus pages of times new roman double spaced text that came from your brain, was a thrill. And one you would never achieve when it came to math. 

Ugh!

“You good there?” You knew that voice. It was all too familiar. You had spent countless hours sitting in a lecture hall with him telling you jokes and writing you notes retelling you the rumors he heard about your math professor.

So, maybe, your total inability to see patterns when it came to numbers wasn’t completely your fault. But the fault of the raven haired, toothy smile of the muscle bunny that you had befriended in both your science lab and college algebra courses.

You lift your head up to see Jungkook with his head cocked to the side. His right eye was a bit swollen due to the sty he had developed from scratching his eye too much with his dirty germy hands. So, he had to opt to wear his glasses, his right eye lens was a bit thicker than the left, making his eyes look a bit disproportionate. If you weren’t aware of how successful he was at getting around with both women and men you would’ve thought otherwise, due to his geeky look and fascination with RPG games. 

You groan, messing your hair with your silver ring cladded fingers. “No offense but math is the worst subject in this entire world. Why do we need it? I’m not going to use it to calculate the circumference of the can of beans I’m going to buy at the grocery store. Nor will I use the pythagorean theorem to measure the circumference of my pizza.” You rant, glancing at the time and closing your laptop. 

Your self study session was unsuccessful because all you did was refresh the facebook page hoping someone would take your twenty dollars an hour offer. 

Yes, you were incredibly desperate, even considering upping the price to appeal to more money hungry college students. 

“The fact that you’re using geometry terminology regarding a simple college algebra class tells me everything I need to know.” He grins, partially leaning his body to the side, resting his weight on the umbrella handle he was carrying. 

Fuck, you forgot it was going to rain today. 

Your day couldn’t get any worse. 

“Anyway, I’m guessing the tutor search isn’t working?”

“Bingo,” you snap your fingers at him before proceeding to gather the rest of your stuff. 

This was the part you dreaded the most. The agonizing walk to your math lecture. Honestly, if it weren’t for Jungkook consistently meeting up with you in the cafe that connected to the hallway in the math building to walk to class together. You would’ve probably never turned up after the first class. Hence why you’re not in a sinking boat. Just a partially sinking boat. 

Jungkook sighs, scratching the back of his head, watching you scoot out of the booth. He wishes he could offer you more help other than moral support and a few ‘You can do it,’  air punches. But between his computer science classes, and increasing doubt regarding his degree plaguing his mind, he’s found himself with zero free time.  

That’s when he remembers something. A small passing comment made on his way to bathroom last night as he was getting ready for bed. Maybe he does have a way to help you. His face lights up, alerting you. 

“What, why do you look like you’ve just seen a cheesecake on sale?” You adjust the strap of your leather bag, against your shoulder and make your way to his side, eyeing his umbrella. 

Would it be weird to ask him to walk you home after class? 

Shaking your head at the thought, a problem for later, you decide.

You shift your gaze to meet his. He’s biting the inside of his cheek and you’ve never been so desperate at knowing what goes on in that questionable head of his. He also never takes this long to say something. Once a thought pops into that head of his head, it's out in seconds because he’s afraid he might lose it. 

You can thank his ADHD for that one. 

“I think I might know someone who’s free on Tuesday and Thursday evenings that can probably help you out.” He squints, nodding his head, and you feel your mood turn right side up. 

You knew befriending Jungkook would end up benefiting you one day. Though, you do feel a little bit irritated, couldn’t he have told you this wonderful news, um, I don’t know a week ago as you two sat in this exact same booth, while he watched you make the stupid facebook post. 

You shove him a little, his umbrella buckling under his weight and he stumbles a bit, shock written all over his face. “What was that for?” He complains, taking a hold of his right arm in mock hurt. 

“You’ve seen me suffer and you’re now just telling me that you magically happen to know someone who can tutor me this entire time.” You huff, shoving past him, glancing at your phone screen for the time. Class was in five minutes, unfortunately.

“That’s not necessarily true.” He speaks from behind you, and you throw him a glare making him buckle under the pressure. The dramatics. He’s only been your friend for almost four weeks, but he’s already gotten used to you and he knows he’s hit a vein, and that you’re so stubborn any explanation wouldn’t work. It is always worth a try. 

“Okay maybe that’s true, but they’re pretty busy and I just assumed he would have a full schedule and no time to tutor you.” He explains, keeping up with your steps. The two of you arrive in front of the lecture hall with a minute to spare, you take it upon yourself to open the door, revealing the room full of stressed induced faces, quietly whispering to each other. 

You shake your head at Jungkook’s explanation, making your way to your usual seats. In the middle but on the outside for a quick escape if ever needed. “How do you even know this person? I thought you only had two friends.” You place your bag gently onto your desk and sit down. 

“Actually, including you, I have three friends.” 

“My friends don’t count either.” 

Jungkook rolls your eyes and slumps down next to you, spreading his legs wide, taking up all his leg room and part of yours. God, he was such a guy. 

“Do you want my help or not?” He says in feigned annoyance. 

You unzip your bag, fishing out your pencil and notebook, while he takes out his laptop. You could never understand how he was able to take math notes on a computer, but he was the self proclaimed computer genius. Well, his straight A’s in all of those freakishly hard classes were also proof, so, there must be a method to his madness. 

You sigh, setting your bag down in the empty seat next to you. “Fine, yes, please, my perfect Jungkook. I’m desperate, put me out of my misery.” You plead, hands clenched in front of you as the hushing of the students dies down, and the greeting of your Spanish accent written professor echoes throughout the class. It’s your cue to shut up and hopefully pay attention. 

“First, don’t ever say things like that.” Jungkook begins, leaning in closer to whisper, “it’s weird.” He says in disgust–the audacity. “Second, do you have plans after class?” He finishes leaning away and opening up a new blank document on his laptop. 

You shake your head at his question and click down on your mechanical pencil. You were determined to at least understand one thing in today’s lesson. Jungkook doesn’t answer, your professors voice booming throughout as he begins the lesson of the day, and you’re distracted in seconds by the light tap on your shoulder. 

You look over at your friend, his laptop screen turned in your direction so you can read the tiny invitation written in cosmic sans font. He’s a child. 

Come with me to Serendipity after class and thank me later :p

You look up at him rolling your eyes at the ending emoji. A child indeed. But you nod in agreement, you don’t know what or who is at Serendipity. Except for a solution. At least that is what you hope for because there’s a reason why you haven’t  stepped foot in there since childhood, despite Jungkook raving about it time and time again. The overpriced vanilla lattes is the main reason why. 

Yet, desperate times come along with desperate measures. And if you need to drop a couple more on your favorite caffeinated drink in order to pass math. Then so be it. 

Serendipity stood in between two worlds. It separated the lively college town from the perfect four person familial neighborhood. On weekday afternoons it was mostly frequented by college students who needed a change in scenery or remote workers with their bangs still in rollers and their eyes puffy from sleep. On Friday nights it was home to young adults grabbing dessert after a fulfilling dinner or a late caffeinated drink for a long night out. Tired office workers, likely forced to attend a company dinner, usually took up the long tables in the back wall of the first floor. 

Sunday’s were a favorite at Serendipity, young families would come from different parts of town to enjoy a late brunch. And morning runners would waltz in for a late caffeine kick before the strenuous work out around the lake that offered the cafe it’s  most famous view. 

Dionysus Lake.

Just as its name implies. The lake was a place for celebration, festivities, and madness. It’s where everything would happen for the first time. Your first fall, your first scrape. The graduation ground from a four wheeled bike to a two one. The first time you saw your crush outside of school. The first time you held hands with someone and the downfall of your first friendship with your childhood best friend—Sabrina. I was the breeding ground of impulsive decisions like getting drunk on the steps that led to the bank. With beer and soju you had gotten because you paid a broke college student scrambling in between odd jobs to buy them for you. The breeding ground of many triple dog dares and the place in which you decided what your future would be like. 

It was a right of passage from childhood to teenagehood and finally adulthood. 

It’s where couples that beat the test of time go to enjoy their last moments of humanity. Both the cafe and the lake are full of nostalgia, and so famous that it now became a must see spot from people all over the city. With inflation and the influx of people both the cafe and the lake were places you and your family had started to frequent less, until eventually it was out of your minds completely and the longing for just a fleeting moment to visit before the chaos was gone.

That is until today. 

Everything had changed so much. The rustic decor was now replaced with a mixture of antiques and plants hanging from every possible surface. The windows were now floor to ceiling and they opened up to a very cooling outside patio, where you could enjoy the view of the famous lake. They had even expanded to a second floor, and added a rooftop with fiery lights and wooden tables. It basically looked nothing like what you had grown up with and more like a pinterest board of garden core had thrown up on it. 

It also had more menu options, and gone was your favorite blueberry and mint tea you and your mom would enjoy whenever your anxiety spiked to levels in which you could not control. Everything had been replaced with something more expensive and trendy. A complaint that had been surrounding the cafe for years by everyone who grew up inside the walls. Though you hadn’t really believed it until now because you were finally working up the courage to see it for yourself. And the one thing you can only really think about—apart from the overpriced vanilla latte you had just paid for—was how could a place so familiar feel so unfamiliar at the same time. 

“Hobi always gives me a discount when I come.” Jungkook throws into the wind while he plays with the white buzzer in his hand. 

Unlike you, Jungkook and his family—from what you have gathered—were regulars. As soon as he arrived every worker greeted him with a warm smile and a simple hand wave. Some had added a mention of seeing his mom earlier. And if you hadn’t been convinced, the barista with the high nose bridge, sporting the floral shirt, a bright yellow beanie and khaki pants had already inputted his order before Jungkook could mutter the words “iced americano with a splash of vanilla syrup please.” 

“I’m sorry who?” You move your head closer, eyeing the way his hands wrapped around the buzzer. Desperately hoping for it to ring because although it was almost three and you probably shouldn’t really be drinking any form of caffeine at this time. Your body desperately needs something to keep you alert. Especially now that you were meeting your classmate's brother for the first time. 

A brother who could possibly save you from failing your college algebra class. He had told you a little about him. Apparently, he wasn’t really his brother, but his mother remarried his father when Jungkook was young, so to make matters easier for everyone involved. He would just introduce him as his older brother. He called him Joon and he was currently working on his masters in philosophy. A real pretentious nerd if someone were to ask you. They lived together in an apartment just outside of the college town, and according to Jungkook, who you have noticed likes to input his opinion where it really doesn’t matter. He was still a virgin, because he lived and breathed philosophy like one of those weird philosophers from ancient times. The only thing he needed was a laurel crown and a toga. 

His words not yours. 

Basically he didn’t really do a very good job at painting a good image of his older brother. And you were already having some negative opinions regarding him because you have dealt with a handful of pretentious boys in many of your classes that you really didn’t feel like adding another one to the mix. But again, you’ll push your preconceived notions aside. This was for your four point zero GPA and your five year plan. One more insult to your psyche and intelligence wouldn’t hurt.

Right? 

“The one that rang us up. He gave you one too, vanilla lattes are usually seven and you only paid six.” He points out before jumping at the sound of the buzzer going off. “I’ll get it.” He smiles standing up faster than you can protest, and walking off to the pick up counter. 

It’s strange that the two of you became friends or clicked so well. And you like to think that it was mainly because you shared a few classes more than anything else. He was a little energizer bunny, a right arm sprinkled with a few tattoos and a scar right above his eyebrow where a piercing had been. You were not far from the opposite, but you did have a social battery that would often run out before the end of the day. You valued the quiet and apart from the many earrings decorating your ears and the hot pink peekaboo dye job you had your mom do. You were deathly scared of needles and didn’t look nearly as rebellious as Jungkook did, even with his stupid nerdy glasses. 

“Hobi gave us cookies, on the house.” Jungkook says as he sets down the tray in front of you. “I think he might want your number.” He adds with a nonchalant tone before taking up his previous seat and getting a head start at setting the table.  

You tilt your head in confusion as he pushes a plate with a matcha cookie your way. “You’re talking nonsense. I heard you ask for a chocolate chip cookie before you paid.” You roll your eyes, grabbing your tall glass of coffee. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, pushing the brown tray to the side. “I ordered a cookie but I didn’t order two.” He points to your cookie. “Plus he couldn’t take his eyes off you while you ordered.” He finishes and takes a long sip of his drink. He finishes with a refreshed ah and smacks his lips together in satisfaction. 

The drama. 

That’s probably another thing the two of you did have in common. You’re both dramatic in your own ways. Something the two of you discovered about each other two weeks into knowing one another. It was a long story that involved a stubbed toe and a papercut. One that wasn’t worth reminiscing about now because it added nothing to both of your lives. 

“I doubt that Kook, he’s just doing his job and he knows you.” You raise a finger at him and you take a long awaited sip of your coffee. 

Jungkook crosses his arms in front of you. “Okay then why did he ask me if you were single.” He adds in a matter of fact way. Cocking an eyebrow to prove his point. 

You narrow your eyes at him and kick him under the table. He recoils in pain, whispering explicits to not draw any more attention to the two of you. “You’re lying and I know you’re lying because I saw you order another cookie when you went to pick up our drinks.” You say leaning in closer so he can hear your whispering. 

Here’s the thing. Jungkook has been trying to set you up with every guy he deems is cute. You on the other hand are not interested, mostly because you’re still young with your whole life ahead of you. And right now the only thing that matters is your degree. 

What’s the rush?

He pouts, uncomfortably cradling his shin. “Fine, he didn’t give you a cookie on the house, but he did say you were cute. And he’s a nice guy. My brother is friends with him and he’s really funny.” 

You sigh, breaking a piece from your cookie. “I'm happy to hear that but you know that’s not a priority of mine now.” 

Jungkook rests his elbows onto the table and leans forward. “Have you ever heard of a work- life balance?” Because all you do is work and you should be out and partying. Your twenties are supposed to be full of fun.” 

“I do have fun, Jungkook.” You point out, putting the piece of cookie into your mouth before crossing your arms in annoyance. If you had a coin for every time someone in your life tried having this exact same conversation with you, then you’d probably be able to afford more of these over priced lattes. 

Jungkook sits back with his arms crossed, tonguing the inside of his cheek in suspicion. Sure, he’s only known you for a short amount of time, but every time he sees you around campus or meets up with you. You have your head buried in either a book or your fingers are flying across your laptop keyboard. He’s positive you don’t know how to have fun. 

“Fine name one instance in which you are not doing school work.” He challenges 

“My friends and I have board game nights every Wednesday and Sunday night.” 

Jungkook sits up a bit straighter, a look of shook written all over his face. “Wait, you actually have friends.” He says before lifting a hand to cover his mouth in disbelief. 

Before he can stop you, you kick his shin one more time and this time harder than the first time. This is exactly why you are surprised you’ve chosen to be friends with him. Sometimes he could get under your skin by just existing. 

“You know I have friends, Jungkook. You’ve hung out with them.” 

He doesn’t answer, instead he nods his head while he once again cradles his shin in pain. Maybe he crossed the line this time. He met Taehyung and Jimin more than once. And from what he was able to gather in the few times he’s hung out with the three of you. Is that Jimin might have a huge crush on you and Taehyung’s jokes aren’t nearly as funny as you make them out to be. Still, he thinks they’re cool. 

“Sorry I’m late, I missed my bus.” An unfamiliar voice speaks up and it makes the man in front of you sit up so straight you’re positive he’s going to break his back.

You raise a brow in confusion before turning your head to look towards the person who has the energizer bunny fix his posture and shut his mouth. 

The first thing you see is the flowy khaki pants, then his simple t-shirt topped with a blue and white checkered flannel. And finally your eyes land on his face, and the black framed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. His hair hides under a navy beanie and your mouth almost falls open in disbelief. 

Holy fuck, wait a second. This is the man Jungkook was describing. The nerd of a brother who could possibly still be a virgin and has his nose stuck in philosophy textbooks? Out goes your preconceived notions of the man in front of you and now you’re downright confused because this man was hot and reeked of chillaxed energy. He probably owns a few plants, and bike rides on the weekend and visits a few buddhist temples for the experience. 

Nobody says anything as the man—which you perceive is now Joon—slides into the spot next to Jungkook’s. He hasn’t really looked in your direction, except for the short glance he sent your way when he first appeared. 

Jungkook scoffs in annoyance as he scoots over making it a huge show like it’s inconvenient for him to move over. “This is Joon.” 

“Namjoon.” The older one corrects before he extends his hand for you to shake. You hesitate for a second before shaking it and telling him your name. 

He nods, retrieving his hand and sets it down on his lap. There’s a brief silence as he looks in between you and Jungkook probably trying to make sense of the situation himself because if you were being honest you’re still stunned yourself. Though you know Jungkook and his brother aren’t blood related you can’t help but feel like good genes simply run in the family somehow.

Namjoon shrugs once he’s silently done making his assumptions and sets his arms on the table, clasping his hands together. In an instant his face is replaced from a pleasing and welcoming one to one that screams he’s honestly here for business and not to fuck around. 

“Are you the one that Jungkook tells me needs help?” He questions, earning a jab from the younger one. He doesn’t react and instead keeps going. “Have to ask because he’s been trying to set me up on blind dates thanks to our mom, so if this is what this is then I’m sorry but I’m not interested.” He nods before leaning back. Joon, or Namjoon doesn’t let you respond before he stands up and walks towards the order counter. There you see him greet the same barista who you now know is Hobi thanks to Jungkook. 

You don’t linger on his figure before you turn to face Jungkook. Who looks mortified beyond belief and you can’t help but laugh because things are simply just making sense. All of Jungkook’s backhanded praises involving his brother made so much more sense. He did mention he was an asshole but you just assumed that was a simple sibling thing. No, he was most definitely right. And he fit more into the description you had once assumed before even meeting him, minus the typical nerd look you had conjured up with the brief descriptions Jungkook had provided. He was hot, and could probably crack your heart open into two, but he was exactly like those pretentious classmates you’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of encountering all throughout your degree. But for some reason you aren’t as bothered by it, because in a way it was hilarious. 

Jungkook whines, “He can’t even try to be nice for a little bit.” 

You throw your head back laughing even harder, while Jungkook continues to grumble underneath his breath in annoyance. You laugh until your stomach begins to hurt and until someone clears their throat making your giggles die down slowly. 

“Why is Hobi giving out free cookies?” He points out before setting his tray down and taking up the seat next to his brother again. To which Jungkook silently gestures to the cookies and you as if to prove his earlier point. Namjoon rolls his eyes at his brother's actions before turning to face you. 

“He also told me to give you his number but I told him that I didn’t know you and that if he wanted your number he should just ask you himself.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his dark liquid and making the same satisfied noise Jungkook had made earlier. 

Ah, maybe dramatics also run in the family. 

You stir the liquid of your latte with your straw. “Um thanks I guess.” You take a sip of your drink as he nods. 

The atmosphere is so awkward that you want the entire cafe to fall through a hole in the ground. The three of you are silent before Jungkook’s phone lights up and starts buzzing. He quickly grabs it and silences it before standing up. “Sorry, I have to go. I forgot I had this thing to do.” He says inconspicuously before grabbing his book bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

You scramble eyes going wide as he adjusts the straps and straightens his black long sleeve. “Wait where are you going? I thought we had plans after this.” 

Jungkook bites his lip, silencing his buzzing phone again when it goes off a second time. “Sorry Bun, I have to really go, it's important. I’ll see you at home Joon.” He salutes before basically running out of the cafe. 

“Typical.” Namjoon catches your attention and rolls his eyes. “I knew he had something planned when he asked me to meet him here last minute. I’m really sorry about him but I’m really not interested in dating right now.” He says before grabbing hold of his bag and going to stand up. 

Your body is filled with panic as you watch him. You do have a few choice words for the person that just ditched you with his brother. But this could be your last resort and you weren’t going to let him walk away. “Wait.” You extend your arm in his direction. He stops slipping on his bag and raises a brow at you in curiosity. 

“I actually do need help. I’m close to failing my college algebra course…well I will fail it if I don’t pass the final exam.” You begin to explain, finally grabbing his full attention as he stuffs his hands into the pocket of his pants. “Jungkook mentioned you could probably help out.” You bring down your hand, circling both of them around your watered down latte. “That’s why I’m here. I promise this isn’t a blind date or anything.” 

Namjoon nods, looking at the entrance before sitting down again, sighing, his shoulders relaxing instantly. And you’re once again met with the same nonchalant demeanor he had approached you and Jungkook. Once again things started to make sense, why he had made the switch so quickly. It was something he was probably so used to by now, but now as he adjusts himself in the seat in front of you. You can see that maybe he could not really be that bad. 

“In that case I can stay.” He grins, pushing his iced coffee to the side. “I should warn you I’m not the best when it comes to math but college algebra is easy so I can help you out.”

You let out a big sigh of relief and nod your head. “Thank you so much you don’t understand how much you’re already helping me out by agreeing.” 

Namjoon chuckles lightly before reaching into his side bag and taking out a plain black notebook with a pen. “In that case we should figure out our schedules.” He opens the notebook to a blank page and uncaps the pen. “Does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work for you?” He tilts his head in question. 

You nod rapidly. “That’s perfect for me.” 

He hums and writes down your name with the agreed days and times next to it. He closes it quickly and puts it in his bag. “Great, I'll see you next Tuesday.” 

That’s it? It was that easy? Then why the heck did it take such a long time for someone to respond to your Facebook post. Especially when you had increased the payment. 

Payment. Oh you had forgotten about it, and from

What it seems like so did Namjoon because he was already getting ready to go again. 

“Wait.” 

He stops, eyeing you in confusion but you decide to continue. “How much do you charge?” 

Namjoon opens his mouth and closes it quickly. He puts a pensive hand on his chin before snapping his fingers in front of him. “I think you’re the one Jungkook mentioned about studying writing.” 

“Writing and Rhetoric.” You correct before he can continue going. He nods in acknowledgment.

“Yeah, that’s what he said. I’m sure he mentioned what I was studying and if I’m being honest I hate revising my own writing. So, instead of paying me in money you can just revise my work in exchange for tutoring lessons.” He offers with a shrug. 

You would be a fool to not take up this magnificent offer, so quickly you agree, extending your hand for him to shake. He takes it and for a second you swear you feel your heart drop down to your belly from just his touch. But you brush it off quickly when he retrieves his hand. It’s probably just the caffeine anyway. 

“Great, it’s a pleasure doing business with you.” He smiles, and this time it is wide enough in which you can see his cute little dimples. “See you on Tuesday.” 

Before you can respond with the same statement he’s already rushing out of the cafe. Leaving you alone in the booth, with three unfinished iced coffees and cookies. 

You can’t really make out anything, just that this was probably the longest day of your life. And that unbeknownst to you, you can slightly feel the light crack in the corner of your heart. One that you will later on learn was the moment Namjoon had started to infiltrate it.

hope you liked it!

[tarithenurse]

The Bathhouse

Fandom: MCU (AU) Pairing/starring: Jotun!Loki x Fem!Jotun!reader Content: Non-gender-segregated bathhouse, a bit of fluff and pining, smut, a smidgen of female heat, loss of virginity, naivety, mostly some sort of smut (though not P-in-V...this time). A/N: So this is actually from something else I’m working on just for myself but it had vibes that I thought I could use for some fun with Loki. Betaed by the lovely TanteFrutsel-CreativeNurse!

The Bathhouse

It has been a long day and you’re tired but even so you sneak past your friends’ doors at the inn and make your way down the stairs where the innkeeper is sitting with his book. A sideways glance reveals that it’s a volume of “Tusk Love” which you’ve never heard of.

Out onto the street and past the darkening homes, you can’t help but clutch at the concealed daggers although you feel surprisingly at home here in Utgarde. It’s just...it’s a new place and recent events have grown deep roots. It doesn’t make it easier that you feel like a stranger in your own body what with the delicate changes of the heat.

Living as long as Jötunn do, nature has decided to play a cruel trick on the females and only allow them to be fertile once every century... the heat, as this period is called, lasts for at least half a year in which they have to deal with several physical changes.

Reaching the bathhouse, the place looks closed and you are dubious when you push on the door but it swings inwards, allowing you entry to the antechamber with the reception where a flustered matron stands, wringing her hands and with curlers in the hair as though she’s been roused from bed and barely had time to dress.

“I’m terribly sorry,” she snips, “but we’re closed.”

“I was told to come.”

Before you can give more of an explanation a voice comes from the beyond the arches where the springs are: “She’s here on my behest.”

You continue into the changing area with the woman trailing behind, complaining quietly.

“Now leave us, please.” Loki sounds bored but authoritative, stirring something in you. It could be his demeanour or his rank, either way the matron leaves, pointing at a stack of towels on her way out.

The changing room has a series of smaller cubicles for private disrobing as well as a low bench snaking through the area. On the one end closest to the bath is a bunch of familiar clothes folded neatly and with a set of daggers lying on top.

Undressing, you discard your own weapons too although a knot forms in the belly at the idea of being unarmed. Then you grab a towel and wrap it around your torso before proceeding past the archway.

There’s a lot more steam than during the daytime when you would normally visit as though the springs run hotter at night. The sulphuric scent mingles with that of sweet incense burning in a pot to the side. That wasn’t there last time. Loki is resting in his true form in the water at the far side of the pool, facing the entry directly, and he lifts a dripping and muscular arm to wave at the newcomer.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he admits.

And I’m not sure I should stay, you think. Still, you step forward, stepping into the bath wearing nothing but a short swath of fabric that you find entirely inadequate in spite of Jötunn traditions but at least it covers the most important bits. Loki isn’t shy to look, his red gaze travelling your form before meeting your own faintly glowing eyes and remaining there until you’re sat down, towel soaking up the water, making it cling to your body.

You sigh. The hot spring really lives up to its name. With eyes closed you dip down below the surface to wet your hair.

Upon resurfacing, you keep your eyes shut as you wipe the water from your face. “Now tell me...what brings me here?” you shrug blindly, unsure of what else to say but it turns out any more sentences probably wouldn’t have made it past your lips as the god cups your face with a hand and kisses your softly.

*SLAP*

It’s a knee-jerk reaction, caused more by bafflement than anger or fear and the moment your palm impacts with his cheek, you regrets it.

“Sorry!” you blurt simultaneously, leaving the other gaping.

You have rarely been the type that dreamed about kissing etc but this development is very far from anything you could have ever imagined. Shifting uncomfortably where you sit, you glance over at your friend and find that he has moved away and turned his back to you completely, fingers gripping the black tresses tightly.

“Please forgive me, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry,” he repeats under his breath.

As he mutters, you get up and slowly moves over, stretching out a hand to settle on his shoulder which makes him freeze under the touch. “No...I shouldn’t have...you just surprised me, is all.”

Turning and grabbing your hand as it falls, there’s a desperation in the god’s eyes that you don’t understand but you find nothing threatening there and so don’t back away when he closes the distance one careful step at a time.

He breathes heavily, hungrily. “I should leave.”

“Oh alright...but why?”

“It’s your...your scent...it changes when you’re in heat,” he grits out but stays put, still clutching your hand.

Holding your breath as if that could help, you consider everything you know about the nature of the heat you’re going through but you cannot recall anyone ever telling you about this effect.

“Does it...hurt you?” you ask naively.

A shiver passes through Loki from the top of his head and down, carrying with it your gaze which lands on something you have never seen before and you instinctively know that this is not meant for you to gaze upon. Snapping your eyes shut, warmth rising to your face, all the awkward lessons at school come rushing into your mind although they are coloured by something new now. Curiosity. Desire. Something within you is calling back, responding to the god’s desperation.

“No,” he chuckles darkly, “you’re are absolutely not hurting me...far from.”

“Then...is there anything I can do?”

“Tell me to leave.”

“And if I don’t?”

Loki closes his eyes for a second and shakes his head so slightly you almost miss it. When he opens them again he looks at you and asks,“Let me kiss you one last time?”

You have barely nodded before his mouth is upon you, stealing a kiss and your breath. Strong hands cup your face, tilting your head gently to allow him better access as his tongue sweeps the seam of your lips which automatically part.

After a second of flailing, you grab hold of him, pulling you closer together in spite of the prodding to your lower abdomen. You need the support or you would lose all sense of balance, of up and down...but soon enough your hands begin to wander, skating over his broad shoulders and down his back, teasing a new ripple to be released and pucker the blue skin under which his muscles bunch taut as if he’s restraining himself physically.

Then, just as sudden as he’d begun, Loki releases you and steps back several paces, leaving you with your arms stretched out before you, trying to reach him.

Something more than blood is coursing through your veins, throbbing at your core. You don’t quite understand it but you know one thing: you want more.

“[Y/N],” he gasps for breath, “this isn’t what I had planned.”

“I believe you.”

You move up to him once more and this time you’re the one to glide a hand around his neck, pulling him down for a new kiss which he gladly gives into for a moment before lifting his head up against your grip with a soft groan.

“Are you sure?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one to ask you that?” you mumble against his lips.

The strong Jotunn guides you to the edge of the pool, carefully removing the towel and lifting you up until you’re seated on the edge. “I could never regret you.” A perfect hand pushes against your sternum, slowly driving you onto your back while he slots his hips between your knees. “I know I cannot...but let me give you this instead...” Before you can ask what he means by that, he shushes you.

His grip is light enough that you could resist it when Loki pushes your legs apart, revealing your most intimates. Watching between the slopes of your breasts, you see him lick his lips before lowering himself to deliver a kitten lick to the sensitive folds.

You’ve never touched yourself there save for the practicality of cleaning. Nothing could have prepared you for the odd, delicate sensation of the increasingly dedicated strokes of the god’s tongue – sometimes broad, caressing all of your core at once, and sometimes pointed and directed to the bundle of nerves at the very front. It catches you off guard when your pelvis begins to rise on its own accord from the floor as an intensity builds within you. Loki grabs your hips, holding them in place and you can feel his smile against the puffy, lower lips.

“Loki, I...” you moan without really knowing what you want to say.

You’re on the verge of something new and you want him to bring you there despite the trepidation for this unknown.

Releasing your pearl with a soft pop, he smiles up at you with a glistening mouth. “It’s alright, I got you,” and with that he returns to the ministrations.

It comes as a rush, crashing through your body in waves until you’re a moaning and writhing mess. Fingers claw for anything to hold on to, finding only his hair as your back arches off the cool stone floor. Again and again you mewl his name.

Slowly, lapping at your core lazily, he helps bring you down from this new high until you can finally breathe evenly again.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, staring up at the ceiling while still quivering.

A strangled grunt from Loki makes you look for him: his fist is holding onto his shaft, pumping it and drawing your curiosity despite feeling abashed at that and what has just transpired.

“Please...touch your breasts for me,” Loki pleads and you obey without hesitation.

Testing at first, you quickly find that the nipples are overly sensitive, sending goosebumps down your body when you roll them between the fingers. You also cup the breasts fully, squeezing them and for the first time in your life admiring their form.

“Just like that,” he groans, hand moving more furiously.

A curiosity strikes you and you slip a hand between your legs, tracing the wetness there until you hone in on the clit which makes you shudder. Hesitantly at first but then with greater need, you begin to rub small circles onto the sensitive spot, encouraged by the words of praise that Loki showers you with until he suddenly growls your name and stutters, pearly white leaking between his fingers as his head falls back.

In that moment, he’s the most beautiful you’ve ever seen: fragile yet strong and so incredibly sensual with parted lips.

He sinks to his knees and you slip into the water in alarm, catching him in your arms and relishing in the nearness of him. It takes a moment before you realize that he’s talking to you, slurring his words slightly because his lips are pressed to your blue skin.

“...not what I planned. I wanted to court you first. To bring you to my favourite places or learn of yours, wine and dine...treat you like you deserve.”

You’re stunned at the revelation but manage to gather you wits. “There’s still time for that.”

Loki’s hands find your waist, thumbs running circles below the ribs and causing you to shiver especially when he adjusts the grip so he can graze the bottom of your breasts. Slowly but surely his attention is diverted, split between fondling them and your ass.

“For so long,” Loki confesses, “I’ve been admiring you from afar.” His fingers slide along your hipbone, tracing the vee until delving between your still slick folds, making you whimper.

He turns you around, sitting you between his legs so you can feel the half-erect cock against your back as you lean against his chest. Long arms cage you in, holding you securely but gently as he continues the circular movements you yourself had initiated earlier.

“I don’t have words to explain why I love you,” the god whispers hoarsely in your ear, “but please let me try to show you.”

You nod mutely, breath already uneven as heat pools in your core.

It takes little time before he has reignited the burning ecstasy within you and you tumble over this strange precipice once more, calling out his name on ragged puffs of air.

This time, Loki simply holds you as you descend from the high, rocking you gently and whispering sweet nothings to you that make your heart swell with the knowledge that he loves you.

[mistywaves98]

omg ur last fic was so yummy, can u do perv xiao next?

This ask is yummy imao

Perv! Roommate! Xiao x Reader

Modern College AU!

Minor writing writing! DNI if uncomfy!

¡Warnings!: perverted behavior, non consensual spying, stripping, Xiao forcing you into skimpy outfits, let me know if I missed anything!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Modern! Xiao is a gamer and no one can tell me other wise

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Pervy! Roommate! Xiao who gifted you a cute teddy bear for one of your birthdays. Unbeknownst to you though, there's a little camera hidden in one of its eyes. You have it at the perfect angle too, giving him a perfect view of your body whenever you change or just take of your clothes in general.

Pervy! Roommate! Xiao who orders the cutest (and most revealing) cosplays and demands you try them on for him. He has a sexy maid costume just for you, complete with cat ears and a tail!

Pervy! Roommate! Xiao who stalks you on every social media account you have. If you post pictures of yourself, he saves all of them on his phone and spends hours just watching them.

Pervy! Roommate! Xiao who forces you to play games with him. If you're willing though, that's fine <3 makes it easier for him, y'know?

Pervy! Roommate! Xiao who makes up a weird 'reward' system when you two are playing as well. You probably wouldn't have minded, but the rules are so one sided you have to object. If he wins you have to take off a piece of clothing, but if you win, you have to give him a kiss (in any place of your choice)?! 'What kind of system is that?!' You argue, but he dismisses you completely.

Pervy! Roommate! Xiao who unbelievably good at the game you swear he's using cheat codes. You're literally in your undergarments at this point. You do notice something about Xiao though. He seems less focused than he was since you started playing, he also seems to be sweating a lot.... and why is he shifting so much?

Pervy! Roommate! Xiao who can't hold himself back from staring at your pretty and half naked body next to his. You're just begging to be fucked right now. Eventually he just shuts the video game system down and pulls you onto his lap. You feel something hard pressing against you as he says that he has a bit of a problem. Would you be a dear and help him?

[pyeonghongrie]

the perfect pair

Summary: There’s always worse things you could take.

Characters/Pairing(s): Hongjoong x Reader

Genre: Angst

AUs/Trope Info: Non-Idol!AU, breaking up trope?

Word Count: 600 (flat number!!)

Warnings: none i think?

Rating: 16+

A/N: My Entry for the @cultofdionysusnet's autumn event! I’d Recommend listening to “the perfect pair” by beabadoobee

You ought to know that I think we're one and the same I don't think we could help it, no, I don't think we could help it

What is Bitter to Sweet other than its perfect half? A clashing union that was destined to change both of you to the point that neither of you know each other anymore. 

We don't talk much, guess 'cause nothing has changed And I'm not sure I like it, and I'm so tired of fighting

It was exhausting to sit in front of Hongjoong, quietly sipping your Mocha Latte while he looked everywhere in the cafe but you. Initially, the relationship was good, great even, but now, in the small space of the cafe, there seemed to be so much distance between the two of you.

If I told you, you'd know how to go and break my heart in two 'Cause I would anyways, we'd end up like always

He opened his mouth to speak, before quickly closing his lips to purse them. Opting to grip his cup of the same Mocha latte to take a quiet sip. The design on the latte swirled around the cup, bright foam mixing with the cocoa powder in a muddy mess, you couldn’t see what used to be drawn in the cup. 

You know me, you better show me that you could say it to my face 'Cause you know we're the same, there's worse things I can take

Still, it was easier to read than what was swirling in Hongjoong’s eyes, swirling with an emotion you’re not used to seeing on his face. He was always the expressive kind, something you used to like about him, but now, it just frustrates you. Too many emotions in competition, screaming for your attention but none of them come to the surface for you to understand.

I know you hate it when there's nothing to say I'm not quite sure we'd fix it, guess we're so used to it

The silence could only be described as comfortable, you think about the other times that both of you would sit at this exact same table, seemingly never running out of things to say, but now, the silence was deafening. Hongjoong furrows his eyebrows at this, glaring into his cup of muddy mocha in an attempt to think about what to say.

Wish I had known this from the beginning We'd find it hard to work out, why we have all this doubt

At this point, you think both of you just stayed in this relationship because you already spend too much on each other, time, money, and emotional energy. Too much was put into this relationship to just end it. There were no arguments, no fights, no disagreements, but there wasn’t any affection too. Both of you are doubting if this relationship should even work.

If I told you, you'd know how to go and break my heart in two 'Cause I would anyways, we'd end up like always

You and Hongjoong meet eyes for the first time in the day, looking at each other from across the small cafe table, each with a cup in hand. So words were spoken, you were only looking at each other’s eyes in search of something, anything, at this point. Even just a sliver of wanting to make this work.

But, there wasn’t.

Both of you knew what you had to do.

You know me, you better show me that you could say it to my face 'Cause you know we're the same, there's worse things I can take

“Let’s break up.”

Tags: @kwanisms, @yoonguurt, @shinestarhwaa, @stardragongalaxy, @wooyoungmybelovedhusband, @anyamaris, @dimpledsatan, @haosweater, @starlitmark, @seongwin, @midnxght-sky, @nebulousbookshelf, @piratequeen-queenofgames, @northerngalxy, @yourfatherlucifer, @twisted-tales-of-all, @seumiley

Network Tags: @/cultofdionysusnet, @wonderlandnet, @kflixnet

Strikethrough: couldn't tag

[yuyusuyu]

yuyusuyu's 100 followers milestone event!

thank you so, so much for 100 followers! as a thank you, i wanted to make an event wherein you can request a drabble with a lyric from a wave to earth or mitski song and any member of ateez!

rules: you may select one lyric from the list below and chose a member! every member only has 2 slots open, and i will not be adding more slots! be specific if you want me to write for a fem reader or gn reader! also include the specifics of how you want your request to be (include type of au, what scenarios you'd like, if it's fluff or angst, etc)! send your quest in my inbox! reqs will also be on first come first serve basis!

extra: i am willing to write suggestive scenes, but nothing smut (i cannot write smut! i'm sorry). updates for this will be slow (hopefully not too slow!) because a new semester will be starting! if you have any questions, please send an ask in my inbox!

WAVE TO EARTH LYRICS

(1) my small heart and the good things in it break and harden melt and fall away

(2) you always had me

(3) you are my sea, you are my sunshine

(4) my small heart, like small waves inside, break and push towards you

(5) i can't be your love

(6) if i could be by your side, i'll give you all my life, my seasons

(7) there are waves in your eyes

(8) when you spoke to me, the words are like a flowing star

MITSKI LYRICS

(9) lately, i've been crying like a tall child

(10) so please, hurry, leave me, i can't breathe please don't say you love me

(11) you're coming back, and it's the end of the world

(12) i just need a quiet place where i can scream how i love you

(13) if you would let me give you pinky promise kisses

(14) you tell me you love her, i give you a grin

(15) it would be a hundred times easier if we were young again

(16) someone who loves me better than you

HONGJOONG

slot one: closed! | slot two: closed!

SEONGHWA

slot one: closed! | slot two: closed!

YUNHO

slot one: closed! | slot two: closed!

YEOSANG

slot one: closed! | slot two: closed!

SAN

slot one: open! | slot two: closed!

MINGI

slot one: closed! | slot two: closed!

WOOYOUNG

slot one: closed! | slot two: closed!

JONGHO

slot one: closed! | slot two: closed!

requests !

01. yunho — i like you so, so much. . . "if you would let me give you pinky promise kisses" (situationship. angst to fluff. non idol au.)

02. mingi — wish to be with you. . . "i can't be your love" (angst with little comfort. college au.)

03. san — hey you! yeah, you! i like you!. . . "i just need a quiet place where i can scream how i love you" (fluff. little angst. college au.) ⇢˚⋆ COMING SOON!

04. seonghwa — time and time again, it's always been you. . . "you always had me" (non idol au. childhood friends to lovers. fluff. a tad bit of angst.) ⇢˚⋆ COMING SOON!

05. wooyoung — let me in once more. . . "if i could be by your side, i'll give you all my life, my seasons" (exes to lovers au. fluff. suggestive. a little angst.) ⇢˚⋆ COMING SOON!

06. yunho — love. . . "my small heart, and the good things in it, break and harden, melt and fall away" (idol au. childhood friends to lovers. fluff.) ⇢˚⋆ COMING SOON!

07. jongho — sunshine. . . "you are my sea, you are my sunshine" (hurt with comfort. fluff. non idol au.) ⇢˚⋆ COMING SOON!

08. hongjoong — wish it were me. . . "you tell me you love her, i give you a grin" (hanahaki au. college au. non idol au. angst. hurt/little comfort.) ⇢˚⋆ COMING SOON!

09. mingi — by your side. . . "if i could be by your side, i'll give you all my life, my seasons" (non idol au. hurt with comfort. angst. fluff.) ⇢˚⋆ COMING SOON!

10. san — i love you. . . "my small heart, like small waves inside, break and push towards you" (non idol au. established relationship. fluff.) ⇢˚⋆ COMING SOON!

11. yeosang — pretty eyes. . . "there are waves in your eyes" (non idol au. fluff. more than friends but not lovers.) ⇢˚⋆ COMING SOON!

12. hongjoong — the star and its moon. . . "so please, hurry, leave me, i can't breathe please don't say you love me" (idol au. angst with comfort. established relationship.) ⇢˚⋆ COMING SOON!

13. seonghwa — let it all out, i've got you. i'm here. . . "lately, i've been crying like a tall child" (non idol. angst with comfort. more than friends but not quite lovers.) ⇢˚⋆ COMING SOON!

14. jongho — if only. . . "it would be a hundred times easier if we were young again" (idol au. angst. right person wrong time.) ⇢˚⋆ COMING SOON!

15. yeosang — our end and beginning. . . "you're coming back, and it's the end of the world" (pirate au. angst. fluff.) ⇢˚⋆ COMING SOON!

16. wooyoung — a better and brighter love. . . "someone who loves me better than you" (non idol au. angst. fluff. f2l.) ⇢˚⋆ COMING SOON!

perma taglist: @asjkdk

[fortunatelyenchantingtaco]

I know Geto is like a big sore spote in the whole fandom and i might be a bit insane, but i do love his story specifically because i dont think there is a way to fix it

We are being shown that well, he got really depressed and went into self isolation. In most cases, the best course of action would be to remove him from distress and have time to heal. The issue is that Geto couldnt just leave — he believes he needs to kill curses, and to become stronger he needs to eat them which distresses him further, and if he leaves people will die, and he cant ignore that just to keep himself sane. For a man like him if he head a specific goal to become strong for, i dont think the eating process would have been such a big issue, but we have to have a big distinction that jujutsu sorcerer is, at the end of the day, a profession. You’re not a chosen superhero to save the world. Those growing up in clans may have a worse childhood, but growing up with understanding that yes curses exist its part of nature does make it easier to bear. Which is one of reason why Gojo, even while having all the trauma, didnt have such gripes with reasons or goals — this is a life he was born into.

Thinking of sorcery as more than a job makes you perceive yourself as more of a hero, and heroes are good and just and get recognition. Non sorcerers dont know about them. Geto fell into a trap of doing something for others and despairing. Its easier not to think about that shit when you’re naturally good at it, and you have fun — which is why Amanai situation and Gojo becoming stronger was so bad. Now he went on missions alone, which meant no company to distract him, and now it was no longer all fun shits and giggles, its a job full of tragedies. Considering Gojo was targeted since birth, we can assume he killed people before Toji, death is, unfortunately, familiar to him. Not for Geto — not seeing someone you care about die right before you, and certainly not being that close to death himself. He’s not longer the best at it, and its no longer fun, and he gets no recognition. Tobe precise, those are not bad thinks to want — we all want them. But if you dont get them here he would have been better to ya know. Find another job probably

Like the worst part about this whole thing is that some shit like that would have happened eventually one way or another, they’re not invincible. Childhood would eventually end, and in a way Geto spiraling is inevitable. The system is inherently flawed, and the issue they deal with is cruel. Some jobs are much more dangerous and have a detrimental effect on your mental health — its just that no one thought to give jujustu sorcerers some help, which is another problem. Adding the fact that he’s neither a saviour being thanked by everyone, or a strongest, yeah, he can’t figure out how to do this shit.

In AUs, I do think there are ways he could have handled it. Like if Gojo wasn’tin school, maybe he took his whole education with the clan? Or my au where he’s in a prison realm for centuries? Like yeah, sure, if Geto was the strongest, the only person here, i do think he would have probably felt invaluable. Youre great for your profession, you were born for it, why would you leave?

This may be projecting, but i do think his way of thinking about it is inherently flawed, a very slippery slope. People need a goal, a meaning, but looking for it outward is a sure way to get yourself into a slump, I went through this shit in a nasty manner when everything i did revolved around other people. Basing your decisions on what others would think is an easy way to pretend like its not your responsibility. This is why Gojo tells Megumi to be selfish and this is why during the entrance exams Yaga says that others wont appreciate your actions and you cant base your motivations off others.

Thats the ultimate tragedy, the fact that thinking like Geto did is ridiculously easy. You go into uni on the same course as your friend just to be with them and when something goes wrong your first thought would be that you did that for them, even thought its your life choices and decision. Yeah.

I have no conclusions for you, just some ramblings. I like my Geto mean and fucked up and insecure, makes him so real and relatable as a person.

[nonuggetshere]

Hi I figured out how to take a long screenshot

Some magic system worldbuilding + some vague Sealed Flower AU ideas

Transcript under read more because its probably bulrry as shit:

I will say that, for Soul specifically

You can cast spells with empty soul reserves but you'd be basically draining your life force, which is quite painful, easily exhausting and can lead to death if overused

Mortals can cast these spells but have to go about it a different way ans have to be quite careful lest it becomes dangerous, the most common method I'd to pull soul from the environment and different living things to not injure yourself. Overbloating on soul past your natural additonal reserves, which are practically non-existent for mortals, leads to horrifying results (cough cough soul sanctum). Because of how dangerous this type of spell casting is it was banned in Hallownest. The only reliable safe way to use this spell system for mortals is if somebody is born with naturally higher soul reserves (generally happens over generations when living in an area with high soul concentration), when preforming them in a soul-rich environment like the Whtie Palace or near a higher being or god (make sure you get permission or it might go badly for you)

Higher beings generally have higher reserves than mortals, allowing them to reliably use this method of spell casting, but they still need to be careful. Fully ascended gods very rarely ran out of their soul reserves and regenerate it far easier than others, so they can very safely use this method of spell casting.

The way soul regenerates for gods stacks up, so the more soul reserves one has the faster they regenerate, while when they ran out it takes quite a while to raise back up to a level where they can safely use spells (unless they use other ways, like pulling soul from environment and different living things, which PK is very much against so. Have fun being useless for a good while, boy)

Essence works a little different and is generally safer to use, but more difficult to master and practice and less abundant than soul (in the living/waking world)

Keeping his entire physical palace in the dream realm along with himself for so many years basically very slowly drained PK's soul reserves and he finally was forced to come back to the waking world lest he just die

So he's drained completely and can't heal with a spell since he'd be just hurting himself anyway - most likely even worse than he's currently hurt. It won't stop him from trying to heal *Flower* though (he has. So many wounds on his hands and arms from them lashing out to stop him)

[octoagentmiles]

octonauts ATLA au 🤲

Barnacles is an EXTREMELY powerful waterbender from the North Pole, with a strong love for icebending—he defaults to it most of the time. He can use all subforms of waterbending, but they're a bit harder.

Kwazii's the Avatar, but he's still a pirate AND he's a natural firebender, so he still has that "scary and dangerous" reputation. He's afraid of using his firebending, because he hates it. Barnacles is teaching him waterbending, and he's pretty good at it. So far he sucks at earthbending, and his airbending is okay, but if he gets worked up it can accidentally come out as fire... which, yeah.

Peso is an airbender, and the first one in his family. He's not very skilled at bending, and he can't fly very well, and sometimes wishes he was a waterbender, like Barnacles. That way he'd be "stronger", and could utilize its healing abilities. He has an epiphany later on in the middle of S3 that makes him realize how powerful he really is, and he learns to fly :)

Tweak is an earthbender, which she inherited from her dad (maybe*). Like Barnacles, she has a love and preference for a specific subtype—in her case it's metalbending. She's very good at it. It's how she builds GUPs so fast.

Shellington is a waterbender. He doesn't use it very much, mainly because he's Not Great at controlling it—so you'll either end up getting lightly spit on or completely drenched in a tsunami by accident.

Dashi is a non-bender (with water tribe ancestry), which puts her at a disadvantage during some missions. However! She has all of her skills from the Canon Universe, plus the extra adaptiveness seen in non-benders in ATLA (Sokka, Suki, etc).

Inkling is also a non-bender, but he has studied the elements and different bending techniques his whole life. He's Kwazii's Monk Gyatso but with less dying.

Octoagents! 👇

Calico Jack is Kwazii's Uncle Iroh. I needn't explain further. His main goal is to teach Kwazii to be less afraid of his firebending.

Natquik is a waterbender, who taught Barnacles everything he knows. He got his penchant for icebending from him. He pretty much invented it. He survived Antarctica by ✨ Becoming One With The Ice™ ✨. He doesn't just study icequakes, he can make them. He can probably spiritbend.

*I'm TORN between making Marsh be an earthbender or a waterbender. If he's an earthbender, then he can't metalbend like Tweak can, but he's still very strong. Like, scarily strong 👀. IF HE'S A WATERBENDER, then he's a swampbender, full stop.

Tracker is an airbender, mainly because of how he's clearly paralleling Peso's arc in AnB. He was the only airbender in his Polar Scouts troop, and he got picked on for it a bit—but Barnacles thought it was cool as heck, and that's how they became friends.

Do I need to explain Paani being a waterbender? No I do not. He's probably VERY powerful, but very chillax about it. He successfully freaks out everyone who witnesses him bend every time. He can part the seas like freaking Moses.

Pearl is a waterbender like Shellington; she's not super strong, but she has a LOT more control over it than he does. Peri will be a waterbender as well, but he hasn't unlocked it yet. He's trying very hard because he wants to be like his mum and uncle SO badly.

Min could easily be a bender of any kind and it would make sense, but I kinda wanna say she's a non-bender. Just cuz ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Earthbender Ryla. That's all. It makes it a lot easier to get out of caves when she's stuck. She's very casual about it. So casual, that most people either forget or don't even realize she's a bender until it comes up. Then they're like "oh yeah." as she literally moves mountains.

Airbender Pinto, who has no clue how to control it. Whenever he gets frustrated with himself, he accidentally creates small tornadoes. He can also fly! He likes to brag about it. a lot. mainly to Peso.

Waterbender Koshi, who hasn't discovered that about herself yet. She's in for a fun time when she figures it out. Remember how happy she was when she got her Octowatch? Yeah :) 10x that. I also imagine their family is full of late bloomers, but because of Dashi she has pretty low expectations for herself right now.