#oh i need this imprinted on my eyelids.

[karinasbaby]

mhm. (✿◠‿◠)

oh my god :( he’s so gorgeous and pretty and beautiful and stunning he’s literally glowing my cheeks hurt from smiling sm he’s so pretty :(

[forlix]

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 (besides myself)・l.f.

— you spend three years loving him, six months losing him, and four hours waiting for him to get the hell out of your house. but the human heart is more stubborn than you know.

words・5.4k

pairing・lee felix x gn!reader

genres・babysitter!au, girldad!lix, nobody look at me, toothrotting fluff, more angst than originally intended tbh, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, happy ending yayyy, non-linear storyline

warnings・cousin has a korean name and experiences one (1) minor head bump, mc is temporarily heartbroken and experiences one (1) breakdown

playlist・house song by searows・glad by tori kelly・let's pretend by del water gap・you were good to me by jeremy zucker

a/n・hiiii my loves, i'm so unbelievably excited to bring u my first contribution to my and @astraystayyh's collaboration, "winter falls" ♡ every time i write for our ray of sunshine i'm reminded of how thankful i am to love him. this fic ruined me. hope it does the same to you (smile)

I. everything

“One day,” you muttered to the toddler sitting on your shoulders, “you’ll experience something deeply, irreversibly humbling, and I’ll be there to witness your downfall.”

Byeol responded to this with an unbothered babble. She then gathered two handfuls of your hair and yanked using far too much force to be biologically possible.

You folded like a lawn chair. “Mother—!”

Oh, that word was not suitable for button-sized ears.

“—oh, my dear mother, why? Why me?”

Technically speaking, your aunt should’ve been the target of your lamentations, but all she did was produce the child presently steering you around the kitchen like you were her own personal bumper car. Your own mother was the one who volunteered you to watch said child during the first weekend of your winter break. Only for an hour until the babysitter arrives, she’d said (raising her voice, so as to be heard over your groaning).

You adored Byeol. She made scarily accurate chipmunk sounds and possessed an immobilizing fear of grapes. She bust out a dance move before she took her first steps. The girl could have you floored with laughter without being able to say more than three words at a time. Still, this was far from how you imagined onsetting your desperately-needed few weeks off. Not to mention it was now half past three; your shift should’ve ended two minutes ago.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Byeol emitted an excited onomatopoeia like a golden retriever detecting the mailman. Your reaction wasn’t too far off; you swiveled your head in the sound’s direction, sang out “coming!” in a delighted vibrato, and twirled into the foyer, your hands around Byeol’s ankles anchoring her in place.

You cracked open the door and found yourself face-to-face with Byeol’s babysitter. The freckles scattered across his high cheekbones and sloping nose seemed to you like they were imprinted by the sun itself. His hair was dark, falling just shy of pitch black, and long, ending an inch or so below pierced ears. A few misbehaving strands rested over his forehead but did little to obstruct your view of his eyes: profoundly brown and pointed at either end, like poinsettia petals.

He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You felt your skin warm, your heart flip. You opened your mouth. 

Then Byeol hit her head against the vertical edge of the front door, loud enough for it to echo.

The panic that seized you in that moment was truly unlike anything you’d experienced before. You caught one glimpse of the stranger’s expression (as mortified as you expected), and then you were seeing your own epitaph on the inside of your eyelids, engraved with the four words “Death by Furious Aunt.”

“Was that—?” The man sputtered, and his voice was rich and full and accented and just as breathtaking as the rest of him and holy fucking shit now was not the time.

“My fucking god,” you whispered, completely forgetting to watch your mouth. In a hurry, you swung Byeol off your shoulders and dropped to a knee. You leaned in close to examine her reddening forehead and cradled the plush of her cheek; she blinked at you a few times, fascinated by the sudden sight of your face again.

“You okay, Byeollie? That hurt a lot, didn’t it? I’m so, so sorr—”

Byeol started to laugh.

Not laugh as in those little chuckles she let out randomly, like there was something inherently amusing about the kitchen cupboard, but laugh as in a boisterous, resounding guffaw, like a great-uncle at a family gathering off one too many martinis.

This rendered you speechless for the second time in under a minute. Then, you lifted your other hand to cradle her other cheek, her face now sandwiched between your palms, and squeezed.

“I broke my cousin,” you whispered, your voice was so deathly serious that the man in the doorway had to stifle a laugh of his own.

His knee brushed against your shin as he sat down to your left, folding his legs into a criss-cross. You could discern notes of lavender and orange blossoms in the delicate cologne that clung to him, perforated the air and your mind both.

“Can I?” He asked.

“Please.”

Carefully, you shifted Byeol’s small frame towards him; the manner in which he accepted her was so smooth and practiced that there was no doubt in your mind you were watching a professional at work. He settled her on his right knee, then dipped his head to look her in the eye.

“Hi, princess,” he cooed with a dulcet smile. He curved his pointer finger, dusted it beneath her chin. “Why are you laughing, silly girl?”

Oh.

Oh.

You might just continue your lineage after all.

“Y/N-ie,” she answered, still tittering.

He looked to you with a slight tilt to his head, and you nodded affirmatively. He murmured a quiet ah. “What about Y/N-ie?”

Somehow you sensed that she was about to embarrass you and pinched the bridge of your nose—in preparation.

“P-pretty.” I knew it!

The man let out the laugh he’d been holding back since earlier and tapped on her button nose, lowered his voice to a whisper that he knew you could hear.

“I agree.” His eye glinted playfully, matching his tone. “And so are you.” The bashful, high-pitched giggle she responded with sounded eerily similar to your inner monologue.

The two of you spent a little longer on the floor of the foyer making sure Byeol was okay, and then the girl upped and made a mad dash for the kitchen while yelling something about a horse, and if that didn’t confirm that she was completely fine (albeit incredibly strange) you didn’t know what would. You found her rolling around the carpet in the room adjacent to the kitchen and left her to her own devices while you and her babysitter fixed up a small fruit plate for her afternoon snack. No grapes, of course.

He told you he usually went by Felix, but that his Korean name was probably easier for Byeol to pronounce, with its easier consonants and whatnot. You asked which name he preferred, and he said either or. He was a recent college graduate, a year older than you, who was determined to spend at least the next two years doing nothing but working out his future. He accepted the part-time babysitting position to pick up some light cash in the process.

“And ‘cause I’m good with kids,” he added, splitting apart a tangerine. “So I’ve been told.”

“Oh, you definitely are,” you said, plating a couple blueberries. “You melted her earlier.”

“She melted me. She’s so cute. And you’re so cute with her—I didn’t realize I was robbing someone of their job.”

You turned your head to regard the tot and let out a helpless laugh. Byeol tired of being a human lint roller a few minutes ago and had since moved on to staring aimlessly out the window.

“She doesn’t take me seriously, and I can’t stay mad at her,” you mused. “I would be a nightmare as her babysitter, trust me. She’s all yours.”

Felix held out two overturned handfuls of tangerine slices, to which you quickly moved the platter across the counter. He didn’t respond to your comments as he placed them on the outermost edge so that they looked like rays of sun emanating from a multicolored core. Adorable.

“Will you be around much, then?”

You made eye contact with him across the counter. On his perfect face was a teasing smirk and a subtle blush. Ah, you’d been mistaken, writing off his silence as concentration—he’d been contemplating how to best flirt with you.

“Y’know. In case I need any help teaching her cuss words,” he appended.

It was then your turn to flush a couple shades darker. “Please don’t tell her mom.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” He walked around the perimeter of the counter until he was directly in front of you; the lavender and orange blossoms returned. “On one condition.”

Not even one hour on the job and he was already trying to blackmail you? You respected it. “Which is?”

As he shifted some of his weight onto the counter, something too shifted in his smile, giving it a quality that was every bit as hopeful as it was gentle.

It was then, while Lee Felix was looking at you like that, all dilated pupils and long lashes, when you predicted that he would one day break your heart. You predicted you’d let him.

“Be around,” he said simply.

It wasn’t a question or a demand. In hindsight, you think it was more akin to a birthday wish, ill-fated the moment it hit the air.

II. has changed

Felix pulled Byeol’s hood up and over her ears, and you realized he was right about the winter coat getting too small for her—she looked like a bowling pin. You muffled your snort into your scarf.

“And what was the last rule again?” He asked, his breath puffing into the frigid afternoon in tiny clouds. Byeol sighed like she knew anything of the world’s woes.

“No barking at other kids,” came the sad reply, but a toothy smile spread across her face anyways when Felix nudged the underside of her chin. She loved when he did that.

“That’s my girl,” he hummed. “I believe in you.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you said, and the wounded look Felix shot you was like you’d just confessed to hating kittens. “Come on—she doesn’t have a good track record. I’m allowed to have my doubts.”

“I dunno what that means,” Byeol announced with admirable frankness, and then turned around and scurried down the porch stairs, scattering fun-sized footprints across the snowy streets.

As you braced yourself to follow her, Felix stopped you with a slip of his hand into the pocket of your puffer. His fingers first aligned with yours inside the insulated nylon, then chased the spaces in between. He leaned in close, placed a kiss on the apple of your cheek, another on the corner of your mouth. This brought a helpless smile to your face, too. He had a way of melting you and Byeol both.

“It’ll be fine,” he soothed. “A little barking never hurt anybody, baby.”

“Lix, last time somebody called animal control.”

“Ermm—a little barking never hurt most people.”

That winter, Byeol was four, and your relationship with Felix was about to turn two.

Funnily enough, you’d never figured out when your anniversary actually was. Felix wagered it was the day you met, as he knew he loved you the instant he saw you; you insisted it was months later, since it took both of you an entire winter break of open-ended flirting and informal dating to label yourselves for real. Imagine your horror when he showed up outside your college apartment on the last day of your fall semester, arms overflowing with flowers and gift bags brimming with your favorite things, the phrase “happy anniversary” on his lips three months before you perceived it to be. You’ve celebrated both days ever since.

You loved the ocean growing up. You didn’t get to visit it often, but when you did you would run up to the water’s very edge so that your toes dipped into the cold—and just stand there, observing, absorbing, until even the seam of your lips and the ends of your eyelashes were studded with crystals of seasalt. You found endless tranquility in its rhythmic whispers and unspeakable comfort in its oscillating waves, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Your fascination stemmed from the folktale your mother used to read to you before bed, about a sun goddess creating the earth. In the story, every component of nature was one of the sun’s beloved children. She allegedly loved them all, but you suspected the ocean was her favorite; it was obvious, the way she twinkled off its ebbing surface, the way every minuscule spot of light looked to you like a handprint of hers, left behind by eons of endless doting.

Felix reminded you of the ocean. Every day you grew more certain that you wanted to drown in him, to let his resonant voice and kind eyes sweep and keep you inside his depths. It was never salt that he pressed into your skin but warmth, stamped and sealed with caring hands and cautious lips. His deep whispers promised eternal love and temporary ecstasy and everything in between. You knew he would come back to you even if stranded in a different realm. And there was no questioning the goddess’ favoritism, either. The freckles on his face mirrored the sun’s very spots like an homage to his creator.

You didn’t love the ocean growing up, no. You had never loved before Felix.

The park was busy when the three of you arrived. Byeol and Felix recognized a few families as your aunt’s neighbors and hurried over to say hello. Your social butterflies. 

“I’ll be over there,” you called after them.

Felix stopped in his tracks, looked over his shoulder. It had started snowing lightly on your walk there, and snowflakes now sat atop his sable locks. He looked like a painting. “You okay?”

“Yes, yes.” You shooed them off. “Don’t worry about me. Go have fun.” 

With that, you withdrew to the sidelines, an unoccupied swingset adjacent to a baseball diamond covered in frost. 

Your baby cousin was brawny for her age, which you could’ve seen coming with how she was hauling at your hair two years ago, but even she couldn’t yet terrorize the playground without assistance. Who better to make her partner in crime than her favorite Bokkie? You couldn’t help but giggle as the two revolved around each other for the better part of an hour, Byeol’s smile colossal as she frolicked every which way, Felix’s smile worried but hopelessly endeared as he followed behind. He never let her leave his shadow. She never tried to.

It was there on those icy swings that you experienced a moment of strange clarity, like you’d broken the fourth wall of your own story. You could feel the winds of change blowing your hair across your shoulders. You were aware of time’s trickling from the gaps of your fingers like liquid mercury.

Your laughter dissipated to a bittersweet smile; your smile mellowed to dewy eyes. It seemed like just yesterday when Byeol was small enough to sit on your shoulders and Felix stepped into your kitchen for the first time. Now, she was scaling a rope ladder with the celerity of a crazed monkey while Felix hovered a wary hand by her waist. The muted sunlight caught on the silver rings he wore, particularly the thin, bright one on his middle finger. You had one just like it, adorning the same place. 

The last two years were the happiest of your life. Why couldn’t you remember where they went?

Lavender and orange blossoms announced your boyfriend’s arrival—that, and the sigh of fatigue that he expelled as he dropped into the swing next to you.

“I’m not cut out for this anymore.”

Byeol’s neighbor had temporarily relieved Felix of his post by taking her and his son to test out the seesaw, and you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town could hear her enthusiastic shrieking.

“You know how people walk their dogs?” You mused. “Some dogs walk their people. She’s one of them.”

For a moment, he could only stare in disbelief at the grin creeping across your face; then, he groaned in a way that could only mean you were right on the money. You gave his thigh a sympathetic pat.

“You’re whipped, my love. It’s okay.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, suddenly perking up. “Hey, no barking though.”

“Are we considering that a win nowadays?”

“Do you see animal control anywhere?”

“Good point.”

Felix monitored your expression during the quiet interval that ensued—saw through the melancholy curve of your lips, the pensive slant of your gaze. There was a red tinge to the whites of your eyes that hadn’t been there before.

You saw him reach for you in your periphery. His fingers brushed a lock of hair behind the shell of your ear, remained there for three slow heartbeats, and then lifted away.

“Angel,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”

You shook your head. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not.” Not even ten seconds after the last time, he reached for you again, now to take your hand and bring it to his lap. “You know it’s not.”

“It’s just that—”

Felix thumbed over the ridges of your knuckles, his touch so gentle that it could’ve unraveled a chrysalis; it certainly unraveled you. You took a stabilizing breath.

“I wish could recognize my own happiness in the moment,” you sighed, “not just in retrospect. That way, even when it comes to an end, I’d still be able to look back and say with confidence that I was happy once. I’d like that, I think.”

His brows knit together as he processed your words, and, the next thing you knew, he left his swing trembling in his sudden absence and his trenchcoat became a black blur in the cold air.

Felix rested his elbows atop your knees as he knelt in front of you, cradled your face in his hands. He was achingly beautiful always, but you truly felt your breath swiped from your lungs at the new proximity of his ethereal features: petal-shaped eyes, wind-bitten cheeks, coral cupid’s bow. A painting.

“That’s easy enough,” Felix hummed. “How do you feel right now?”

You had zero agency in the smile this brought to your face. You wrapped your hands around his wrists, your answer quick, thoughtless. “Happy.”

He pressed his lips to the space between your eyes. “And now?”

“Happier.”

He pressed his lips to the curve of your jaw. “What about now?” 

“Even happier.”

His gaze flickered to his final destination, but you beat him to it, sealing your mouth against his with urgency. The kiss that followed was so intensely loving that your head went fuzzy. How was it that you felt his adoration for you even in his pliant lips, his velvet tongue? You ran your fingers through the part of his hair. You loved when you could feel the locks flutter back into place afterwards.

“GET A ROOM!”

You and Felix pulled away from one another, wearing matching expressions of bewilderment. Byeol was approximately five Newtons away from soaring off into the stratosphere, her legs jostling around as she clung to her seat for dear life. It seemed your neighbor had a very aggressive way of seesaw-maneuvering. It seemed your cousin had a very aggressive vocabulary.

“Where did she learn—?” The two of you began in unison, then shot your heads back towards each other.

“It had to be you.”

“Outrageous—you’re the Australian here!”

“You cuss like one too!”

“Because of you!”

“So we’re just lying now?”

“Well, yes.”

Felix cracked a smile—and then the two of you were dying of laughter, his right eye squinting closed and your forehead thudding onto his shoulder. You hardly managed to get out your next words. “We have to do something about her vernacular, don’t we?”

“Oh, badly,” he replied. “Badly.”

After you expended your giggles, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, blissful, glowing. “Thank you, baby.”

“What for?”

“Being my happiness.”

He angled your face back to his and kissed you once more, whispering I love you like it wasn’t enough that it graced your ears; he needed it embossed upon your flesh in permanent ink.

Your intermingled breaths floated up into the air like flare signals over a capsizing boat. Here marks the time we were happiest.

III. (besides myself)

He’s blonde.

That’s the first thing you notice when you see your ex-boyfriend on your aunt’s porch: the slightly off-white color of his silky tresses, grown out longer than you’ve ever seen, pushed off his forehead and tucked behind his ears.

It’s not the only thing you notice, of course. His face has thinned ever so slightly, the shadows thrown over his features by the streetlights behind him particularly opaque. His outfit is glorious, expensive, with the black blazer and white dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, the pendant of a silver necklace resting between toned collarbones. His hands are almost overflowing with what must be gifts for your family. It’s impossible to discern all of them from this distance, but you know the bouquet of white poinsettias is for your mom, the batch of brownies doused in sprinkles and icing for Byeol.

But the hair is where your gaze returns, because tucked among the platinum strands are black roots: millimeters of the color you grew to adore, peeking out as if trying to catch a glimpse of you, too.

You’re so occupied with this game of “I spy” that you don’t notice the rampant footsteps coming up behind you. Your six-year-old cousin collides with the back of your leg head-on and nearly topples you like a bowling pin.

“Is it him?” She asks breathlessly.

You come this close to berating her as you steady yourself against the wall—what did I say about treating human beings like couch cushions? But you look down to see her chin resting on the side of your thigh, her eager eyes shining so brightly that she puts her own namesake to shame. Your scolding tirade dissolves on your tongue like popping candy.

You simply sigh instead. “Yes, but—”

“BOKKIE!” She shrieks, and Felix’s head snap upwards at the sound of her voice. His tender smile melts some of the frost laminating your heart.

You crack open the door, making eye contact with Felix for the first time in six months.

“Put everything down. Quickly,” you whisper, and he obeys right away, alarmed by the urgency in your voice. A wise choice.

The last present has hardly touched down upon the wooden planks when Byeol wriggles through the doorway and charges towards Felix like an angered toro. He swivels at her bright holler of his name, lowers himself to a squat just barely in time to catch her in his embrace. The delighted laugh that leaves his mouth as he staggers backwards sounds like the sun itself; you feel lost in orbit hearing it again.

“Bokkie,” Byeol murmurs, her voice muffled in the dip of his shoulder, by the tightening of her arms around his neck.

“Hi, princess.” He kisses her temple, presses his nose against her hair. “Whoa, you’ve grown strong, haven’t you?”

“She takes taekwondo classes now,” you hum from above, and the shock in his face asks the very question that your poignant smile confirms. Yes, because of you.

Felix pulls away, cocoons her cheeks with cherishing hands. “Is that true?”

She bobs her head. “I want to be like Bokkie.”

And his eyes go impossibly, terribly soft, like he’s gazing at the horizon itself. The sight twists the knife in your gut and yanks on your tangled heartstrings. It’s all because of you.

“And kick some ass!” Byeol adds, knocking you out of your sentimental spiral. You clap a defeated hand to your forehead. Felix falls over himself. So much for fixing her vernacular.

A few minutes later, Byeol is pirouetting towards the kitchen with a couple of Felix’s smaller presents in her arms, all too happy to be of help. You linger behind as Felix takes off his shoes, your cousin’s departure leaving the two of you alone in the dim foyer.

Felix straightens. The two of you come face to face. The air hangs so heavily with unspoken words that you half expect it to start dripping.

“Hi,” he says.

You nearly laugh at the cruelty of it. The man you were certain you’d grow old with greeting you like you’ve been forced to sit next to each other on the first day of school.

“Hi,” you answer. “You look—”

The two of you say this last part in unison; old habits die hard.

“—nice,” you finish.

“—beautiful,” Felix breathes, his eyes flicking off to the side abashedly.

Your throat constricts, pulse quickens. Says you. If he was a painting before, you think he’s a sculpture now, his perfection as tangible as if hand-chiseled by the greatest artists of old. As clear as the sun’s beloved sea. You can’t tell if it’s his stylist’s doing or simply a product of him growing into himself.

“Thank you,” you reply quietly. “And thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me. I didn’t think you would.”

“I didn’t do it for me.”

No part of you wants to see the subtle wince that crosses his face at your statement, so you turn your gaze to his jewelry-laden hands instead. 

For a split second, you swear you see the same promise ring settled in the same place on his middle finger. You realize what you’re really looking at only after blinking the phosphenes from your eyes: the thin tanline that it left behind. The realization fixes and destroys you all at once.

Then, Byeol starts wailing about Felix’s whereabouts like an actress hired to spare you from this very interaction.

“Her Highness beckons.” The smile you manage feels like drying cement. “Shall we?”

On your way to the kitchen, you notice the cologne emanating from his person smells only of citrus—no lavender. Its absence steadies you, deludes you into believing that it’s a stranger you’ve just let inside.

That illusion lasts for exactly three hours and forty-eight minutes.

It’s clear that the breakup has your family walking on eggshells, but it’s even clearer that their adoration for Felix has never wavered. You’ve never resigned yourself to the restroom so many times in one night, only to stand with your back against the door, unmoving, unfeeling, listening to the low thrum of his voice through the mahogany. Chatting comfortably with your aunt, bursting into laughter with Byeol, reminding you of the time you considered him family too. 

With every glance you toss your reflection, you discover new cracks in your composure. Has he noticed them yet?

After you come out of the restroom for the sixth time, you notice a light spilling from Byeol’s bedroom into the hallway. A low Australian accent graces your ears, followed closely by a tinkling giggle, and your body nudges you towards the sounds before your head can intervene.

You give your cousin’s door a feather-light nudge. It opens a few centimeters more and grants you vision of Byeol tucked into bed, Felix knelt at her side. Both of their faces are illuminated by the flaxen light of the nearby lamp.

Felix brushes her choppy bangs out of her eyes, a teasing smile on his lips. “Can I tell you a secret, princess?”

This wrests from her another fluttering laugh; you swear he’s the only person in the whole world who makes her shy. “Sure!”

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Promise.”

“Not even Snernard.”

“M’kay.”

“Or Bong.”

“M’kay.”

“Especially not Trash the chicken. I don’t trust him.”

“I know, I know, I won’t!” Byeol huffs, and Felix laughs at her outburst. You also snort into your sleeve, amused (and deeply perplexed) by your cousin’s plushie-naming conventions.

“Thank you,” he hums, and he lowers his voice enough that you don’t catch the next thing he says.

All you perceive is the way that Byeol reacts. She sits up straight in bed, resting her back against her pillow. Her features rearrange themselves slowly, awfully, like the spread of cherry-flavored cough syrup over one’s sore throat, into the furthest thing from her trademark too-big-for-her-face smile.

Your stomach plummets to your fucking ankle.

“Why?” Her voice sounds microscopic.

“Well, do you remember what Bokkie’s dream job is?”

Byeol considers for a moment. “Being a singer?”

“That’s right.” He runs a knuckle over the hill of her cheek, the action achingly familiar, immensely fond. “And I found a place where I can do that, but it’s very, very far away. I won’t be able to come home very often.”

The telltale signs appear as he speaks; the final word sets them into motion. A tear streaks down the side of Byeol’s face. It hardly leaves the corner of her eye before it’s being intercepted by a doting swipe of his thumb.

“No,” she replies.

“You've grown so much.” Another tear falls. He wipes away that one, too. “You’re growing so well.”

“No,” she repeats.

“You’ve stolen the light of every star in the sky already. The whole galaxy will be yours someday, sweetheart. I know it.”

“I don’t want it,” she whispers. “I want my Bokkie.”

His vision starts to blur also. “But you don’t need me anymore.”

“We do.”

You know the precise moment Felix’s heart pauses in his chest because it is when yours does too.

“We?” He repeats, and she nods.

“Your dream job is being a singer.” Now Byeol is the one to reach for Felix, her delicate hand cupping the curve of his cheek. Her fingers are too small to catch his tears, she tries anyways—

“But what is your dream?”

It becomes too much for you.

You turn around. A choked sob escapes from behind the hand you have sealed to your mouth, causing both heads inside Byeol’s room to whirl in your direction. You don’t care that you nearly break both of your ankles beelining up the stairs; you only care to get the fuck out of that hallway.

You topple into your room, close the door behind you, and crumble.

Your quivering hands find purchase around your folded legs; your eyes squeeze shut against your knees. Rivulets of tears cascade over your shuddering lips like ruptured barrels of wine, left in the cellars of your soul to age, to spoil.

You never wanted your grief to see the light of day. Pouring your regret over every sidewalk wouldn’t change the past. Splashing your heartache across every wall like the world’s most fucked-up mural wouldn’t alleviate the pain of losing him. He was the one who left, but you were the one who’d asked him to. Feeling, yearning, mourning. Those always seemed so futile.

But you’re not just crying in this moment, rocking back and forth on your bedroom floor; you’re bleeding, the wounds you never treated igniting all at once as if exposed to vinegar, leaving you writhing and gasping in their wake. How you wish they’d been able to heal sooner. Maybe then seeing Felix tonight wouldn’t have splintered your soul like dropped porcelain.

Your door clicks open. Your breath hitches in your throat with a quiet scratch. The gulp of oxygen you intake tastes of oranges.

Every night before you fall asleep, you still think of the last time you visited the sea. The cool sand chafing against your toes, the coarse winds slapping your hair against your face hard enough to sting. The weather was terrible (you neglected to check the forecast before making the drive), but when you stepped onto the embittered coastline, you took what felt like the first real breath of your young adulthood. The fog melded to your skin as if melting a blindfold away, showing you the world in its entirety.

You return to that beach when Felix pulls you into his chest, and there’s no fog this time. Just the faint smell of lavender and your ocean, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Feverishly, Felix presses his lips to your temple, the apple of your cheek, rests his forehead against yours. Brokenly, he utters, “it’s you.”

You can feel his shaking in every part of him: the tickling breath, the fluttering eyelashes, the unsteady hand that reaches into the pocket of his blazer. You graze your fingers over his jaw, an attempt to steady his careening heart, only to lose yours in the fray also when he produces a small red box of unmistakable dimensions.

“God, it’s you. It always has been, always will be. Anything can change except for this.” His voice disintegrates as he speaks. You disintegrate as you listen. “Everything has changed besides myself.”

Felix leans back in to pepper kisses across the expanse of your wet features, then brings himself to one fated knee. He flicks open the lid. You don’t even spare the ring a glance; you don’t doubt its perfection. All you care to look at is the love of your life, deliquesced to adoration and tearwater.

“Thank you for being around, my dream.” His soft smile tends to your scars like ambrosia. “Will you let me do the same?”

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© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!

[admirxation]

彡 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥

♡ 𝐬𝐮𝐦. Choso is losing his virginity to his loving girlfriend.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — afab!experienced!reader x virgin!choso kamo, modern au, established relationship (f/m), 18+ smut mdni, inexperience/experienced, virginity loss, making out, suggestive touching, grinding, dirty talk, protected sex, help putting a condom on, praise, slight lip biting, nipple play, riding, p in v, and orgasms.

It was another night where soft kisses were soon morphing into desperate interlocks, with Choso’s arms wrapping around your waist and drawing you closer; his desperate hands roaming down to squeeze and massage every curve and slope his fingertips traced over. He pressed you against his chest as your lips moved rhythmically against one another’s; arousal awakening in both of you as you were straddled on his hips with nothing on but your lace bra and panties set, and him in his boxers where your hot skin could connect and smooth against one another.

His kisses were passionate, hungry, and needy, with his soft moans vibrating against your rosebud lips; his tongue slipping into your mouth and separating the closure of your lips for entrance in the wake of his desperation and need for you. Your hands trickled up to cup his soft cheeks, caressing them gently as your careful fingertips gently squished into the flesh of them, feeling a heated pool within your core as you heard and felt him worship your soft, plump, and glossy lips that he just couldn’t help but simply adore.

You gently licked his bottom lip, softly sucking it before letting the tips of your teeth gently sink into the plush of his pinkened lips; hearing the hitch in his breath that just made that knot form within your stomach from the thrill of it all, feeling an electrical current run through the hot liquid pulsating through your veins.

He gasped breathlessly under your touch.

“Mm, you like that?” you teased with a tantalising smirk that was plastered on your face, watching his heavy eyelids flutter open to meet your gaze.

“Y-yeah, yeah, I love it, I love it so much when you do that,” he uttered with affection laced in the syllables.

Without further invitation, you gently took his bottom lip back, gently tugging it back towards you; feeling the vibration from his soft groan pour into your mouth.

“Oh, fuck~” he panted as his large hands squeezed your waist, his hips subconsciously bucking his tented boxers further against your clothed entrance, grinding slightly against the slit.

“Oh, you’re so sexy when you’re worked up like this, Choso,” you teased as you continued to grind on his prominent, tented, pants.

His breath hitched with the drop of his adam’s apple dancing lower as the groans continued to escape his lips with every curse and praise, muttering when you were rocking your hips and spelling your name out on his hips. You bit your lip when you felt his large imprint smooth over your cunt; his arousal becoming a catalyst to the wet patch that was already formed on your lace panties—you were both in such need of one another.

“F-fuck, that feels so good,” he whimpered through a quivering lip, his eyes trailing further down and watching as you moved against his member.

He wanted you so bad, he wanted to finally go all the way with you; just the thought alone of finally being able to go all the way was making his core tighten, soon accompanied by a pulsating heart-throbbing sensation ringing in his ears, and a red-hot temperature on his cheeks as blood pooled hot between you two, making a strawberry hue appear on his cheeks.

“Oh, don’t tease me like this.”

“Aw, don’t you like it?” you retorted with that playful attitude.

“Ngh, of course I do but—oh my god~”

His string of speech was soon stopped when he watched you take his pants off, seeing your eyes widen in pleasure as his erect cock sprung out against his stomach, and you dragged the fabric down his toned thighs.

There was a slow rise and fall of his chest as he, then, watched you take off your panties and revealed your bare skin to him, forcing muffled moans through chewed lips as he watched your glistening cunt hover over his length.

Your legs were pressed against his sides, your hands on his broad shoulders with his hands on the small of your back and pulling you closer—with no space between you two—and his eyes squeezing shut as he felt your wet folds against his prominent vein; both of you shuddering to the sensation.

“Ahh~ Oh fuck~” he muttered as the back of his head slowly fell back, his breathing becoming deeper and laboured at the delicate feel of your chest against his, feeling his thudding heartbeat against his chamber—touching him where your hearts were.

“Oh, do you like that baby, is that good for you?” you cooed through gentle whispers into the shell of his ear, continuing to ride your soaking slit against him as his precum was starting to dribble out from his reddened tip and ooze into the crevice of his abs.

“Mm, I wanna touch you more, please, please, please,” he pleaded through aroused whispers.

“Of course you can, no one’s stopping you.”

“I just… I’m sorry… I don’t wanna do anything wrong or make you uncomfortable.”

You smiled at him, picking up his chin to meet your gaze with your index and middle fingers tucked neatly under as you looked into his dilated pupils.

“You don’t need to be sorry; I’m your girlfriend… I want to be touched by you.”

“But… What if I do it all wrong, and you start to dislike me or maybe—” You had to cut off his rambles, that pretty head of his was always vulnerable to overthinking.

“Then I’ll teach you.” You kissed the tip of his nose. “If it makes you feel any better, I have never hated how you touch me… If anything, I wished you go further.”

He looked up at you with that bashful and sheepish smile, looking at you with so much love in that stare like his pupils were practically forming into heart shapes. He was lovestruck with you; obvious to how he looked at you through his heavy eyelids and a gaze so soft and full of appreciation as he took in your beautiful frame. To have someone, who he was desperately in love with, be his first was more than a dream come true—it was practically heaven to him.

“Can I,” his words trailed off as he unclasped your bra slowly, “do my favourite thing, please?”

“Of course you can, you don’t need to ask, I like seeing you happy,” you cooed with a smile.

He flung your bra across the room—leaving that for future you’s problem—and stared at your bare chest, letting out a soft groan before sticking his face between the valley between your breasts and peppering soft butterfly kisses over them.

“Oh~” you playfully moaned through a giggle.

He whispered endless compliments about how beautiful you were, and how much he adored you as his shaking hands grabbed onto the swell of your breasts, his thumbs circling your hard and sensitive nipples, giving them gentle pinches to coax out those sweet moans he would forever be obsessed with.

Your hands rubbed through the strands of his hair, his messy dark locks pocking out through the gaps of your fingers as you moaned to his touch, letting his tongue lap against your sensitive buds and making your head press against his soft hair. The smell of his shampoo filled your senses as the plush of your cheek pressed on the top of his head, that distinct scent of bourbon musk with lavender notes pressed into you, making you sigh contently through your sweet quivers.

“Mm, you enjoying yourself there, Choso?” you teased once again.

He released your now soaking wet nipple with a wet pop that filled the atmospheric sound circulating in the room: “Of course, I’m enjoying this… Who wouldn’t enjoy… all this?” he said the last two words breathlessly, as he got lost in his arousal and plunged his head back to suck harder, making you giggle and moan deeper and frequently as he brought dark and bruised hickies on your soft flesh.

“Um, baby…” you lowered your gaze at him as he spoke, “Can we… um… finally go all the way… I think I’m ready now.”

Your eyes widened in excitement; you had been waiting for this moment for what felt like ages. You had already lost your virginity, and had been waiting for when Choso would be ready; of course you never rushed him, but you were so desperate to finally be more intimate with him as your relationship progressed—and now was the moment.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to think you’re ready… I want you to be ready… I want this to be special for you.”

“I’m so sure… please, please, please, I want to touch you, to feel you… I just want you,” he whispered the last few words.

You gave him a sweet smile, before reaching over to the bedside table and showing him a condom, your fingers trailing over the imprinted circular shape as you felt his cock twitch underneath you in excitement.

“You want some help, or do you think you can put this on yourself, hm?”

“Can you, can you put it on for me… I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

“Of course, sweetheart, but there’s no need to be nervous.” You reassured him as you pushed up slightly, your thumb rubbing against his dribbled precum and watching the elicited gasp from his quivering lips, before rolling the condom over. “See, that wasn’t difficult, was it?”

“Mmm, yeah, looked easy,” he gave you a smile.

He watched as you straddled him once again, your thighs squeezing at the sides of him and pulling him closer as his muscular chest was right against your breasts; your heartbeats in perfect tandem as he looked into your pretty lustful eyes, rubbing your wet pussy along his shaft in a grinding motion that made him shake.

“Oh, please… I-if you keep doing that, I’ll, I’ll cum before I’m inside of you,” he pleaded out through a shaky grovelled tone of voice.

“You’re acting like that’s a bad thing, I’d take that as the biggest compliment,” you teased with a soft laugh, the warmth of your breath dancing against his neck.

“No… I want this to be perfect for both of us,” he looked up at you with those puppy dog eyes.

“It’s already perfect… since you’re here with me.” You cooed as you gave him a quick—but passionate—kiss, watching him breathe out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, I wanna feel you so bad.”

A burst of joy travelled through your body, giving him a sweet smile as you lifted your hips up and lined him up with your needy entrance; watching those eager eyes as the rise and fall of his chest quickened in anticipation—you loved how responsive he was.

As his stiff cock collided inside of your wet centre, pushing past into your tight walls, his breath bounced in toned rhythm as his adam’s apple dropped down as he gasped.

“Oh, my fucking god~” he gasped out with hazy and blurred dots clouding his vision as he finally felt what it was like to be inside of you; it felt like a warm sweet heaven, and he felt so stupid forever hesitating to go further with you when he felt his member slip in and out of your wet pussy.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head, twitching slightly as his arms wrapped around you, already starting to feel his precum paint your walls as he felt the vibration of your throat as you moaned and gasped.

“Oh fuck, Choso, baby, you feel so good!” your words became breathless the more you felt him inside of you, continuing to bounce as the fat of your thighs continued to slap against his, filling the room with lewd and wet sounds.

His breaths became heavier as his fingers pushed further into your waist, bucking his hips to match your rhythm as he desperately wanted to rut inside your aching cunt deeper and deeper.

It was his first time—with anyone—and he felt that pressure with the knowledge he was also with someone slightly experienced; it felt like a dream, perhaps an honour, to lose his virginity to someone he adored and was obsessed with, but he also still felt a certain pressure to keep up an appearance he thought you wanted out of him.

You continued to straddle your plush thighs at either side of his body, pushing up and down in a fluid motion as your fingers tangled in his dark locks; both of you panting in the rhythm of his cock hitting that sweet spot that made you already sing for him. You moaned and orgasmed in ecstasy, watching how his eyes fogged up in desire and obsession.

“Please, please tell me I’m doing good… Please, tell me that you feel good,” he pleaded with a shaky tone, “Just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it better.”

You stroked your fingers through his hair, biting your lip as you both harmoniously moved to his rutting and your rocking hips: “Oh Choso, don’t worry, you’re doing so, so well.” Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head as your peripheral came from sharpened clarity to blurred vision.

That flustered strawberry shade soon deepened as his shaky hands gripped the fat of your ass and gently squeezed it: “You can tell me if you need more… I’ll give you anything, I’m willing to learn.”

“Just… nngh… Just continue what you’re doing… you don’t realise how good you feel, ahhh~”

He was inexperienced but he was already in touch with your body and what you loved, obsessed with the sensation of how the tip of his cock kissed your cervix, the feeling trickling and coaxing out a plethora of orgasms and needy gasps for him.

“You’re so sexy, fuck,” he continued to gasp out, leaving kisses all over your chest and cleavage as he adored the way you looked as you bounced on his dick. “Mm, I’m sorry baby, but I think I might cum soon.”

You saw him squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to keep it in, wanting to make it perfect for you, but also wanting to be surrounded by your warmth and the way your walls spasmed around him in a tight clench—he didn’t want this moment to end.

“Don’t apologise, baby, just cum.”

He released a laboured and gasping breath before he released his thick load, not long after shuddering as he felt your release trickle down his covered cock; both of those knots and coils within your cores were now undone in an exhaustive and pleasurable release. Your hearts were pounding in perfect unison, the finality of this moment was beautiful and so needed.

“Thanks for trusting me to be your first time, Choso.”

“Of course… I’m so happy you were my first… and I want you to be my last, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You kissed the tip of his nose and watched that cute face scrunch up as he adored every part of you, both of you connected in mind, body, and soul.

taglist: @bratbby333 @styrofoamplat3s @wintrrxxo @sleazymac-n-cheesy -> if you want to be added please click here. If you want to be taken off the taglist just message me.

a/n: woooo more Choso content because I am obsessed with this man to no end, and no I am not embarrassed about it because you read it so you're in the same brainrot as me lmao. If you're interested I am taking requests for kinktober (and choso is a character I am going to write for it) so feel free to check my pinned post for more information on it, AND if you want something longer and personalised my commissions are open, which is also in my pinned post. Have a lovely day/evening *mwah mwah*

[politemenacephd]

Baby, its cold outside

Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader (+18)

You arrive home after walking through a storm, and Miguel offers to warm you up. Fluff 💗 Smut

‘Hey! Babe, I’m home!’

You instinctively called up as you slipped through the front door to your apartment.

Your hands were freezing. Outside this apartment a winter storm was raging at its fullest, and your hands were chilled to the bone. You’d foolishly forgotten your mittens, despite Miguel’s insistence, and had gone out with only a small scarf and coat.

Your head was damp, your hair soaked, and your shirt was so wet it was stuck to your skin. You could feel goosebumps on every inch of your body, a deep chill that ran through to the soul.

‘Ah, shit…’ you mumbled while stretching and clenching your fingers. They felt stiff, and rigid, almost like they were stuck in cement. You watched them clench and unclench a few more times before glancing around.

No one had replied.

For a moment you felt your heart sink, as the continued silence seemed to imply that Miguel must be out, but right as you were losing hope you heard the distinctive heavy steps of your favorite man plodding down the hallway.

‘Mi amor? Hey, there yo—oh, ay Dios mio- did you get caught in the storm?’

Miguel whipped from affectionately soft to concerned as he rounded the corner towards you. You could see his sweet smile faltering as you came into view, shivering and smiling as best you could.

‘No! No, I’m- it’s fine! It’s fine’ you insisted. You raised both hands instinctively as he approached, trying to play off how chilly you were, only to

Miguel paused about an inch from his body, his head tilted down to look at you. The floor was physically wet beneath your feet, as your coat dripped and your sodden hair hung about your wet forehead.

‘Oh, mi amor—come here.’ With a sympathetic sigh, Miguel drew you in to his chest.

‘No, no—Mig I don’t wanna get you wet—’

You squeaked as he pulled you in regardless, gripping you hard to his chest. His strong arms squeezed you tight as he ran his hands up and down your back, and he let your body soak his shirt through until a tiny little artistic imprint of your body was pressed into the fabric.

Despite your complaints, you melted in his grip, your eyelids fluttering. He felt so, so warm. He must have been taking a nap before you got home…

‘Mi amor… There, there. Pobrecito’ Miguel cooed softly. He let his thumb rub up your waist one or two more times before he finally pulled back, fixing you with his soft red gaze.

‘I’m not a baby, Mig’ you replied with a slight scoff.

‘No, no. Not a baby. A damn fool is what you are’ he said in his sternest voice, to which you rolled your eyes again.

‘Fool- what are you, my dad?’

‘Depends. Do you need a strong masculine figure to tell you what to do?’ Miguel teased, his voice getting a little lower as his lips tilted into a roguish, handsome smile. You snorted.

‘Oh my god- you’re so corny!’

‘Mhm. Okay, just- say that again, but without your teeth chattering this time.’

As Miguel spoke he lowered himself, letting his lips brush your forehead. He chased you as you tried to avoid his gaze.

‘Hey! Ven aquí, ven aquí!’ he chuckled.

‘Be nice or I’ll go back out in the rain!’ you insisted right back, only stopping your little circles when you realized you really were still shivering up a storm. Miguel took the opportunity to nab you, letting his strong, rough hands wrap around your waist.

‘Alright, enough. Come on. Let’s get you in bed before you get sick’ Miguel insisted, and without even waiting for a reply he lifted your body and threw it over his shoulder. To him you barely weighed as much as a cat, and he’d happily pick you up and throw you around all day if he could.

You squeaked as you hit his shoulder, and were left dangling over his back as he carried you confidently through the house. You flushed as you realized he’d also grabbed just a little bit of your ass as he walked. He considered that his payment for his chauffeur duties.

Miguel carried you to the bathroom and tenderly helped strip your clothes aside, even when they stuck to your skin like latex due to the rain. Your shirt came off with a wet pop after he physically had to tug it, and once naked you really felt the cold hitting you fully.

You were shivering as he turned on the hot water in the shower, and when he touched you he could feel the goosebumps. His eyes softened up even further, like a sad dog, and he tutted lightly as he lifted you into the shower next.

‘Podrecito’ he whispered in your ear once more.

He allowed his arms and shirt to get soaked as he helped warm you up beneath the water, turning the heat and pressure up until the thundering water felt like a warm, full-body hug over your skin. You sighed, audibly moaning as your skin tingled at the heat, and the heavy pulsing jets massaged your sore muscles into bliss.

He gave you a quick wash with the soap bar for good measure, ensuring you were soft and clean, once again taking a few special liberties.

A kiss on the wet cheek, a little too much time spent soaping up your thighs and chest and belly, a few soft squeezes as he washed it away. You’d shoot him a knowing glance and he’d coyly smile back, the lines in his chiseled face creasing as he’d shoot you a sly wink. Every time you’d just get flustered and look away once more, much to his delight.

Only once you were fully warmed to the bone did he lift you from the shower and wrap you up in his fluffy robe, one that caused you to get bundled up like a burrito. You stood around with floppy sleeves nearly twice your length and a hood covering your entire forehead as he chuckled at the sight.

‘You look good in that’ he murmured. ‘Oh, I wish I’d brought my phone. I’d love this as a picture, I’d make it my background.’

You could only stick your tongue out at him. ‘If you dare, I’ll get a picture of you snoring tonight and make that my phone background. I’ll make sure everyone sees it too. You won’t be Mr. Perfect and Flawless then, will you?’

Miguel chuckled again, a beautiful husky sound that made you shiver. ‘Aw, no, come on. I’m always Mr. Perfect and Flawless to you, mi amor, eh?’

As he leaned in you buckled and flushed. ‘… Yes, you are’ you admitted, and with a louder chuckle he scooped you up into his arms.

You were carried back to your shared bedroom in that fluffy robe. He didn’t even bother to put you down and take it off; he dumped you onto the soft, squeaky mattress and yanked the robe so that you rolled out of it, chuckling the whole time as you yelped with delighted surprise.

Your breath was catching as he clambered into the bed beside you. His weight caused you to bounce nearly an inch into the air, and the sight of him kneeling on the mattress to tear his shirt over his head made your heart nearly explode.

He was so goddamn beautiful.

With a yawn he stretched out his gorgeous, perfect pecs before sliding down beneath the sheets and dragging your body towards his own.

You were pulled beneath the duvet like hapless prey dragged beneath the waves by a shark, smothered in sheets and thick fabric, until at last you came to rest in a spooning position with Miguel utterly surrounding your body.

He mumbled soft little nothings into your ear as he nestled you against him. ‘That’s it, mi amor, shh, shh… Mi corazón, eres tan hermoso/a…’

The moment you got beneath the sheets you sighed.

The heat of his body began to penetrate your skin, leaving you with a light tingling sensation. You nestled right into the sweet heat of his chest, the softness of his rounded, hairy chest. All you could hear was his slow breathing as it stirred your hair, and the pounding of rain against the window.

‘Mi amor’ you mumbled back. ‘Mm… so, warm…’

You nestled in against his chest and allowed your eyes to flutter shut.

Miguel watched you resting in his grip. You looked tiny in his arms, as nearly anyone would with his impressive height. He’d always been insecure about his height, terrified of hurting people, but with you… With you, it felt… Good. He felt protective. He felt strong and stable.

‘That’s it. You rest up’ he murmured softly. ‘You rest up.’

You were still shivering a bit, even now, with a scattering of soft goosebumps on your upper arms and thighs, but Miguel was attentive.

Bit by bit his warmth reached you, permeating deep until it felt like a glow in your chest, and soon you were slowly drifting in and out of sleep. Miguel, too, felt his eyelids growing heavy, as you both bathed in the warmth.

You felt his abs and pecs against your spine and neck, slowly moving you with every tender breath. He felt your ribs moving beneath his huge hands as you sighed. The rain continued to pound outside, while inside, you forgot all memory of ever being cold at all.

You slowly drifted off together, slumbering lightly while the sun set behind the storm clouds.

It was while you were spooning beneath the sheets, tucked against each other in that sweet embrace, that you felt something gently nudging at your back. You shifted and blinked a little.

‘Mm…’

Then you felt it again, right up against your rear, and your eyelids fluttered open. You knew that feeling all too well.

His hefty bulge was straining beneath his loose pants, his member gently throbbing against your bare ass. Your body reacted so fast that it made you dizzy.

The moment you realized he was getting hard against you, your insides quivered. You felt your face burning, your muscles tensing and your core aching as it twisted. You tried to cover it up but it was painfully obvious that you’d noticed, as your hips shifted by an inch or so.

Miguel purred and pulled you closer. He was clearly still in the grip of a light sleep, probably dreaming something improper.

You’d intended to slowly pull away, letting him calm down on his own, but you didn’t want to wake him up. Plus… Oh, god it felt good. When you moved, and felt it throb against his loose pants, the tip twitching with need as it felt your warm rear squishing it.

‘Mm...’

Miguel let out a soft, sleepy moan, and he made another lazy thrust at your behind. His shaft was getting more erect with each throb, the tip pushing up and between your ass cheeks even with the thin fabric of his pants between you. You almost melted into a puddle.

‘Ah, yeah… Yeah…’

Miguel let out another soft, half-mumbled moan as his erection grew to full size. You felt it shifting between your folds as it got too big, lightly inching between your thighs until it was practically kissing your vaginal entrance.

‘Tan mojado/a, mi amor… me encanta…’ Miguel mumbled. He started moving ever so slightly, just sleepily rocking his hips as if searching for relief even in sleep, prodding his thick member at your sensitive folds. You squeaked.

You could feel how wet you already were, how tense you were, torn between what to do. You felt the fabric getting wetter and wetter each time it rubbed up against you.

You shifted a little and felt it throb for the millionth time, right on that sensitive spot, and unable to stop you moaned.

‘Miguel—’

You blurted his name in a desperate whimper, and suddenly Miguel grunted. You froze as you felt him shift, lazily moving himself an inch or so as he realized what had happened.

‘Ah… Sorry, can you- can you feel that?’ he whispered. You gave a shy little nod.

‘Ah, y-yeah.’

‘Ay, mierda— Disculpa, mi amor’ he mumbled again. He was nestled into your hair still, his arms wrapped right around your waist as he groaned softly. ‘I tried to—I can move back, if you want, I just… You feel so good.’

You felt it throb again as his thumb moved back and forth over the bare skin of your waist. You felt your clit throb in response, beating like a heart as your mind wandered into dreamy little fantasies about his cock and what you wished it would do.

‘Ah—no, no, it’s fine. I gotta stay, close to get warm, right?’ you said softly.

You were sure you heard him grunt. You could almost feel his curiosity, the silent way his mind was turning as he tried to judge if you were implying what he thought you were implying. You just stayed still.

‘… Do you…’

Miguel stayed still, and while his body language was gentle and patient, his cock was anything but. You felt that thick shaft straining again, letting out a slight pulse like a heartbeat against your rear. You felt his pants were slightly wet now. God, he was already leaking. He must REALLY like this.

You were a sleepy mess right now, but, you weren’t so sleepy that you wouldn’t maybe enjoy just a little dry humping from that beautiful man…

‘… Yeah’ you whispered desperately. ‘Yeah, it’s okay if you wanna keep going.’

‘You’re sleepy, mi amor’ Miguel whispered right into your ear, his full lips and strong nose brushing the side of your face. His features turned up into a tender mask of concern to hide his deep, primal, absolute determination to grind against you.

You just chuckled back, your sleepy lips parted into a sigh. He admired those same lips from above you. They were so soft… so plump. So cold. He’d do anything to bite them…

No, no. Miguel gently slapped himself internally for getting carried away.

‘It’s okay’ you repeated gently, and to prove it you gently squeezed your thighs, tightening the grip around his shaft. His eyes rolled back like he’d just seen heaven. God, you were so soft, so tight, so warm. Perfect little angel. He couldn’t stand it anymore.

His hips bucked of their own accord, moving back and forth, grinding into your clit, and you moaned. That sealed the deal.

Miguel pulled back just to wrestle his pants down, leaving them hung loose around his thighs. His fingers found your hips and squeezed, dragging you to him.

‘Shh… you can keep resting, and- stay warm, under the blankets, just… l-let me, relieve myself before I fucking explode’ Miguel rasped.

You lay back and let him gently hoist your leg up, his hips scooting over the sheets until he was perfectly lined up to press in. He tested the waters, kissing and breathing on your shoulder as he edged his member up, feeling the soft flesh give away, before—

‘Mm, yeah-‘

With a low, heavy grunt he let the whole shaft slide right in, stretching out and stuffing you until your breath caught. He barely gave you a minute to settle before he started pumping, just lazily bucking his shaft in and out by a single inch, letting that fat cock bulge in your belly.

‘Mm, mm- good, good, there you go. Lemme just… Yeah, lemme just feel you.’

Miguel’s gruff, husky words were warm as he breathed them against your bare shoulder, as were his sweet moans. He was a loud lover, even in this sleepy state, as were you.

You moaned for him, and you tugged on the sheets and bit your lip, huffing and tensing tight around his cock as he lazily pumped it.

He was taking his time too, almost massaging your cunt with it, moving idly back and forth for minutes upon minutes. He went until your clit was swollen, until your slick had pooled and was dripping down his balls onto the sheets, until you were almost blissfully dumb with pleasure.

He kept his face in your hair as he went, breathing in your scent. He fucked you until you were barely coherent, and without even really putting in any effort at all.

Every so often he’d decide he wanted you to cum, and he’d make sure you did. He’d lower his finger to gently circle your swollen clit, whispering in your ear that you were his, all his, his good little puta/o, so wet and soft and stupid for going out in the rain, needing to be punished, and in barely a minute you’d tip.

You came a few times as he moved, and each time he’d stop afterward to kiss you and stroke your hair and soothe your trembling, post-spasm body, but he’d never pull out. Never. He’d let you warm his cock before moving again, gently pulsing back and forth.

He’d go all night if he could, and you’d let him.

[hyeinism]

EUDAIMONIA . . . PARK JONGSEONG

✿ — i don’t need no diamonds, just your time ❜

⟢ established relationship au! && s.js x f!reader . . . how difficult could making french toast be, anyway? ( mentions of food, kissing ) ৲ 808wc

SUNLIGHT SPILLED through the translucent white curtains, filling your bedroom with dawn’s essence.

the invasive light disturbed your silent mind, causing your eyelids to quickly flutter open. you lied down still for a while, as soft breaths slowly escaped your blossomy lips.

there was no point in trying to sleep anymore; any ounce of languor had already left your system.

“jay—” you turned to your right, only to be met with cotton sheets, rather than your boyfriend, who you hoped to see. a confused, tired pout made its way onto your face, and you swiftly sat up, looking around the room for any sign of him, only to be met with nothing if not more confusion and disappointment.

eventually, you stepped out of bed and walked down the stairs, rubbing your groggy eyes throughout the process.

where could jay be? wasn’t today his free day?

you frowned at the thought. yesterday, jay had promised to spend all of today with you, so could he have really left now?

your worries were short lived, thankfully, as you saw a tall figure hurriedly bustling around in your kitchen.

you giggled. jay looked so focused on whatever he was doing, his attentiveness made your heart flutter.

“jay!” you ran up to the unsuspecting boy and briskly threw your legs around his waist while also latching onto his back, laughing as you did. jay jumped, shaken by your loudness.

“my gosh, sweetheart. you startled me.” jay uttered with a laugh, dramatically placing a hand over his chest, making the grin on your face stretch even wider at his silly antics.

he placed his hand around your thigh, helping you down off his back before turning to face you, eyebrow cocked slightly.

“you woke up so early today, hm?” jay’s gentle, caring smile left an imprint in your mind, how was it that he never failed to leave you in a trance? so much so that you’d almost forgotten to respond.

“oh, i just missed you.” you shrugged playfully, propping yourself up onto the marble counter; the coolness of the countertop against the warmth of your exposed thighs sent small shivers throughout your body.

“ah, i see.” jay mumbled, with a voice so deep yet still comforting. his mahogany eyes bore into your own, in a way that made your breath hitch and your head all hazy.

his coarsen palm moved towards your tangled hair, prudently patting down any strays that formed during your sleep.

the bread sizzling on the pan behind the both of you caused jay to return his attention back onto what he was initially doing.

“what’re you making?” an innocent expression sat on your face as you peered towards the stove.

“french toast,” jay flipped the bread on the pan, revealing the golden browned side which sizzled slightly. “for breakfast; it was supposed to be a surprise, but you decided to wake up early today of all days…” jay said, enunciating faux annoyance within his tone.

you scoffed playfully, shoving jay to the side before grabbing the panhandle with your left hand, then the spatula with your right.

“fine then! because i ruined your ‘surprise’, i’ll make us breakfast for today as a ‘forgive me please’ gift,” you beckon with the taller boy, who only glanced at you quizzically in response.

jay watched you fumble as you tried to cook, an endearing grin on his face while examining the way you blew your wispy hair out of your face and your tongue sticking out in concentration.

“let me help.” jay mumbled, his hand placed right atop yours as he took the pan back after watching you try to put salt on the toast, for reasons unbeknownst to him.

you watched in awe as jay’s skillful hands make something as easy as cooking french toast look so complex and intricate. before you knew it, he had finished his preparation.

“taste,” jay held a piece of toast up to your lips, watching closely for your opinion. you tilted your head and furrowed your brows as your eyes lit up, dazzled at the dulcet taste on your tongue.

“mm— this is really good!” you nodded enthusiastically and placed your hand on jay’s shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“oh, really?” jay placed two pieces of french toast on the ceramic plates. “i think it’s because my secret ingredient was love.” he stated matter-of-factly, making you cringe.

“you’re so corny, wow…” you squinted your eyes and sighed in disappointment at his joke, only to end up giggling and placing your head against jay’s.

after the end of that pleasant morning, you spent the rest of the day with jay, and you truly couldn’t decide what was sweeter: the french toast he had made for you, or the honeydew kisses he left on your lips. all you knew was that you definitely enjoyed both equally as much.

✶ . . . tysm for reading! 𓂃 back to the LIBRARY?! ୨୧ tags (taglist open): @a-dream-bookmark , @sainns

[desperate-daydream]

can I request Seth Clearwater x male reader

where male reader is Bella younger brother Seth age but he phases and becomes a shifter and nobody knows how or why Seth and male reader imprint on each other and just being cute and wholesome with each other but Jacob is giving male reader a hard time saying thing like Bella should have been to phase and if did she imprint on me and ECT but Seth put stop to that put Jacob in his place after he make male reader cry

🍎 Twilight

❀ Seth Clearwater x male (shifter) reader ⚣︎

A/N: thanks for the request and sorry for the long wait, I had a terrible writers block until today and then I just wrote the whole thing in one go XD, and I know ugh, self promo but I have a twilight story on Ao3 with the main being Bella’s twin and Jake imprinting on him (maybe some of you will like that too even if it’s not that similar to this story) (that’s also why it felt so weird to write Jake so mean XD I basically just finished a chapter from that story before writing this one, but I hope you like it)

tags/warnings: set in eclipse (aka the movie where Jake is kinda toxic), Jake is mean and has some issues, reader is Bella’s younger brother, also I wanted Bella to be a good sister, reader is a shifter and imprints on Seth

here‘s the link to the story on my Ao3:

so that’s what imprinting feels like

“What happened?!”, Bella came jumping out of her car. Jacob had called her as soon as possible when Paul and Embry had found you in the middle of the forest. You had been scared - not just because there had been two giant wolves in front of you but also because you had just shifted into one too. They had managed to calm you down enough until Sam arrived. He had brought spare clothes from one of their “emergency supplies” that you put on after shifting back. Then they guided you to Jacob’s place. They had thought it would be the best idea since you had technically also grown up together with Bella although now you didn’t really have anything to do with each other anymore. And he was able to call Bella who had rushed over as fast as possible when she had processed what Jake told her. While waiting the other four wolves had already told you the essentialities of being a shifter and basically destroyed your whole world-perception. 

As nice and caring as he had always been, Billy stayed by your side. You had gained a better relationship to Jacob’s dad than to Jacob himself. Especially since you still spent a little bit more time with your dad and therefore also Billy - even if it was just watching a game in your living room. 

Bella came straight to you, only sparring Jake a sideways glance as she was too focused on you. 

“Hey”, her voice was quiet and soft, “oh god, you’re shivering.” She placed her arms around you and pulled you closer. You hadn’t even noticed it until she said it. 

“Just a bit much right now.”

“I know. Let’s go home so you can rest a little, mh?” You nodded. 

“Wait, we still have so much to do now”, Jake said persistently, “You have to tell Charlie too. And what if he shifts again and hurts you?”

Bella now turned completely to him. “You can still do all of this tomorrow. He needs to sleep right now.” 

Jake wanted to start again: “But what if-”

“Jake, let it be for now.” 

That’s all she said before getting up with you and walking to her truck together. 

“How did this happen?”, she asked on the drive home.

“I don’t know.” You put up your legs and put your arms around them even though you felt way too warm. 

“I wasn’t feeling good and wanted to take a walk because it usually helps but then.. I don’t know.”

You big sister sighed and looked at you shortly before focusing back on the road. “Let’s worry about it tomorrow. It’s getting late and you seem tired.”

You only nodded while your eyelids already dropped. 

When you arrived you walked straight to your room and the moment your head touched your pillow you were gone. 

— 

“We’ll do it step for step”, you stood next to Sam who would teach you today how to control your shifting so you would hopefully not hurt anybody around you or yourself - not to mention keeping the secret of the pack. 

What he didn’t tell you then was that they’ve had a discussion just yesterday after Bella had picked you up whether or not they should officially include you in the pack since you were a new and special case. In the end they came to the conclusion that you would need and deserve the help and guide the others could give you. He also didn’t tell you that Jacob seemed a bit too disapproving of this new situation and that he guessed it had something to do with the thoughts he had heard from him that were once again centered on none other than your own sister. 

“Okay”, you nodded; also to convince yourself that everything would be okay. 

“Also, you’re not the only young member, don’t worry. Seth Clearwater, he is your age and has also shifted. You will meet him later at the fire.” 

You had already agreed to come when he and Billy had invited you and Bella to come. Bella had added another dimension to this whole situation when she had told you about the Cullens and the vampire that was going after her. She had calmed you a bit when she reassured that she was as good as always protected by either the vampire family of her boyfriend or the wolves. 

For the rest of the day you tried to shift on command and Sam and his fiancée Emily gave you a few tips on how to control your anger. 

Then you went to the fire where you saw your sister again who immediately asked you how it worked. You still stood a bit away from the others as you told her about your training when you heard a voice. It was directed at Jake so didn’t turn around until the person came to a halt at Jacob’s side.

“Hey man, I saved you some burgers but if you don’t hurry Paul will-” 

The boy stopped in the middle of his sentence when you turned around and your eyes met. Your first thought was: “Holy shit, he’s cute”. Your second one was: “So that’s what imprinting feels like”. And your third was once again: “Holy shit.”

Butterflies started fluttering in your stomach and the heat rose to your cheeks as you looked at the boy in front of you with wide eyes who still hadn’t closed his mouth. 

To your luck Sam and Emily were still next to you and immediately understood what was happening. Sam suppressed a chuckle and introduced you to each other.

“(Y/N), this is Seth, the boy I told you about today. Seth, this is our newest pack-member, (Y/N).”  

You saw his mouth form your name before he stuttered out a “hi”. 

You willed your body to move again and said “hi” back just as stuttery. 

“Uh-uhm..”, Seth started and was once again saved by Emily. “Why don’t we go to the others already.” 

You nodded and then followed the other boy your age closely. What you didn’t notice was the pissed expression that had appeared on Jacob’s face. All of you was focused on Seth.

You sat next to each other and soon the gossip made it’s round so soon after Billy was finished with telling the first legend everyone knew what just happened. 

Leah, who Seth had introduced as his older sister, looked at you with narrowed eyes but didn’t do anything else. 

Throughout the evening your hands had brushed together a few times which had sparked the fluttering in your stomach everytime. And you had probably inched even closer together after some time too. 

It was a bit awkward at first but it didn’t change the fact that you felt comfortable sitting next to him while listening and laughing with the others. 

You were sad when saying goodbye but then Seth gave you his number and asked you to meet up tomorrow which you had agreed to almost too enthusiastically to not be embarrassed. It didn’t help that Bella giggled the entire ride home about her baby-brother having a crush. 

“Naw, you grow up so fast.”

“Ughhhhhh, please stop.”

Bella laughed while pulling into their driveway: “Never, that’s my job as your sister.”

“You’re horrible”, you said drily while she just continued giggling. 

But then she changed the mood quickly. “You decided to tell dad tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.. Billy and Sam are gonna be there too to answer questions. I’m still not the best at wolf-knowledge.”

“Mhm, it’ll be okay, don’t worry too much. If you want I can be there too.”

You nodded and earned yourself a short side-hug from Bella before you went to your rooms. 

—

You were close to emotional exhaustion after the conversation with your dad but it had a good outcome. Afterwards Edward picked up Bella and you went to meet up with Seth. Sam and Billy were so nice to take you with them to the Black’s home from where you would go to Seth. 

Billy went inside while you waved at him and went to go. 

But shortly before you arrived someone came to stand in your way. It was Jacob. And he didn’t seem to want to talk to you in a friendly way. 

You still tried to be nice; he was like Bella’s best friend so you really didn’t want to make him dislike you more than he apparently already did. 

“Why?!” 

You were perplexed when he almost spat it at you. You also didn’t have a chance to respond; he just continued talking.

“Why was it YOU?! Why did YOU shift?! It should’ve been Bella if anyone else were to shift at all! But no! It was YOU! If it had been Bella then she could imprint on me! But it was you! It doesn’t even make sense! Why would nature want YOU to be one of us?! You’re unable to do anything! You’re weak! And now you’re just supposed to protect others?! To protect Bella?! Hah!”

His accusations that in the end didn’t even really make sense but still hurt carried on. You didn’t actually hear anymore what he said. You were about to cry and just wanted to coil into yourself but at the same time you had to suppress the anger rising in you. Your whole body shook from the exhausting try to hold yourself together. A few tears escaped your eyes and Jacob was still not done, probably just repeating himself by now but that didn’t change the fact that he was more than angry. 

“Jacob! Stop!”, before you could register anything else a person appeared between you and the other. You felt relief wash over you immediately when you saw that it was Seth. 

“How dare you scream at him like that! Accusing him of being the source of your stupid self-centered problems! How dare you make him cry! Don’t you ever even come too close to him again!” 

Jake seemed to want to say something more but Seth turned to you, took your hand into his and gently pulled you with him. You only noticed that you were still shaking when Seth stopped after arriving at a clearing and pulled you into his arms. You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing and Seth pulled you closer while you clutched his shirt in your hands. 

After you calmed down you whispered a “thank you” against his neck where you had hid your face. 

“Of course”, he whispered back, “nobody is allowed to talk to or about you like that. Nobody." His arms tightened around you again and you felt his face hide in your neck this time. You smiled when you noticed him taking a deep whiff of your scent and then place a kiss there.

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Truth be told, Jack doesn’t remember the eight seconds he spent on the bronco’s back.

If any moon-eyed fangirls come up to him and ask about it, he plans on giving the standard blanket responses, like all he heard was the roar of the crowd.

In actuality, all he has are fragments from right before the livestock hands pulled that gate. It’s hard to forget that kind of anticipation racing through his veins, the sawing sound of rope pinning his riding glove to the back of the horse as Jack grit his teeth, ordering Racer to pull it even tighter.

Everything else, like the sickening crack from his head slamming against Midnight Train’s spine that made the audience cringe in horror, was told to him second hand. 

The trainer who checked him out gave him a lot of medical jargon he wasn’t too familiar with, but Jack gathered the important stuff. No riding for three days, get plenty of rest, neither of which he has any intention of following. And of course, there was the whole spiel about concussions affecting memory.

Imprinted in his is the face of one of the pick-up men as Jack faded in and out of consciousness, stern and cool and steady. He can nearly still feel strong arms around him, keeping him from falling into the dirt of the arena, can still hear the New York accent reassuringly mutter, “I’ve got you… I’ve got you.”

So if Jack can’t stop thinking of the pick-up man who hauled his limp body from the horse into his lap, he’s chalking it up to brain damage. 

He’s been named Rookie of The Year for Bareback Riding—Jack Kelly can’t afford to be distracted by any potential flings. 

And still, every time he blinks, that face is waiting for him just behind his eyelids.

It’s the longest, most agonizing twenty-four hours before an opportunity to make a bad decision presents itself to Jack. He usually doesn’t make it that long. He also usually doesn’t go that long without visiting Dancer, but his body needed to recover after being thrown off that horse in the arena. 

The first thing that greets Jack when he enters the stables is the very same face that’s been stuck in his mind since yesterday. The pick-up man is reaching up, brushing the soft golden mane of the quarter horse that pulled Jack off the bronco.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he greets, drawing up his most charming first-impressions smile.

“In the stables?” asks the pick-up man. Not an ounce of his attention dedicated to brushing his horse’s long blond mane is redirected to Jack. “Pretty sure this is the least fancy place to meet someone.”

“It’s as good a place as any to thank you. For yesterday.”

“I assume you mean when you got your ass bucked off of Midnight Train and I dragged you out?”

Jack scoffs. He should probably be accosted, but he’s only more intrigued. “That would be correct,” he admits.

“No need to thank me, in that case. Just doing my job.”

“Be nice if I had a name to the face that saved my rawhide.”

“And it’d be nice if you checked your staff sheet maybe once before you rode.”

Jack blinks. “Pardon me,” he begins, leaning an elbow up against Dancer’s stable, “but have I offended you?”

“Not yet.” His head twitches in annoyance. “But you’re a rodeo man. You’re bound to eventually.”

Jack crosses his arms. “I’ve been nothing but a gentleman.”

The pick-up man pauses and sighs, finally rewarding Jack with a look in his direction. He pretends not to, but Jack catches the way his eyes quickly scan him up and down. “David. David Jacobs. Which you’d have known if you’d check your staff sheet. You haven’t even bothered to give me your name, because you assume everyone already knows it.”

“So you’re saying you haven’t heard of me.”

“Oh, I’ve heard all about you, Jack Kelly,” David answers, turning his attention back to the silky mane he’d been brushing.

Jack looks up at the horse in question—a beautiful quarter with an unusual coloring halfway between brown and straight up golden. He steals another glance at David, head turned up in an admiration that’s reserved for the sacred bond between man and horse, as ridiculous as Jack admits that sounds.

Still, it’s quite the sight. David is quite the sight, beams of the setting sun reflecting off his green eyes, the shadows accentuating the perfect combination of curves and angles on his face.

 “Gorgeous,” Jack finds himself muttering.

“Thanks,” David replies, completely missing where Jack’s compliment was directed. “Shimmer’s my pride and joy. If you should be thanking anyone, it’s her. She’s a bit of a social butterfly. Even broncs love her.” He turns his gaze to Which one’s yours?”

“The skittery one right next door.” Jack points out the appaloosa horse, Dancer, aptly named for the way she fidgets her feet when she’s excited.

David snorts. “Figures. Shimmer’s obsessed with her. I always catch them talking to each other ‘cross the stables.”

“Funny. I’m obsessed with you.”

David rolls his eyes. “Maybe you should be obsessed with brushing up your technique, and you won’t get your ass handed to you so often.”

“Ass handed to me? I made it to eight seconds.” He also ranked fourth in the semifinals. As a rookie. But he won’t bring that up right now.

“It’s going to take a lot more than eight seconds to impress me.”

“Let me take you out to dinner then, darlin’. Show you that I can go all night.”

“You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

Jack shrugs. “To be completely honest, I think I’m downright adorable, but that’s besides the point.”

He thinks he might see David’s mouth twitch when he returns his attention to Jack. “I don’t sleep with cowboys. Kind of a rule of mine.”

“Believe me, sweetheart, you spend a night with me and we won’t be doing any sleeping.” He chances hooking a finger under David’s chin and dragging his mouth dangerously close to his ear. It’s entirely too brazen and forward, but Jack doesn’t know any other way to be. “You think Broncos are the only thing I know how to ride?” he asks, grinning when he hears David swallow around a drying throat.

“You couldn’t keep me saddled if you tried,” David mutters back, and his breath against Jack’s cheek sends a shudder from his ear, through his spine, all the way down to his toes.

And then David shoves him. Hard. Sending Jack toppling over his own feet and sprawling out onto the ground with an incredible lack of grace.

“Like I said,” David calls back as he opens the gate to Shimmer’s stable and saddles her up. “Technique could use some fixing.”

The click of horse hooves trotting against cobblestone fading into the distance, Jack decides he’s unequivocally in love with David Jacobs.

[takami-takami]

Father.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. angst. hurt/comfort.

warnings— past abuse. substance use. trauma.

The parchment held in his gloved hands is yellowed, he notices. To the unfamiliar eye, the brown of the stain smudging black inked letters could be coffee, or perhaps tea.

To Keigo, the imprint of a splatter from cheap booze is unmistakable.

Beer, he assesses, flipping the letter once, twice. He watches the paper like a specimen under a microscope, with what— to the unfamiliar eye— looks like cold indifference. To the familiar, his face is drenched in what he could only describe as pity.

He holds it away from his face, the stink of cologne burning his senses.

Words spring off the page, clawing at his eyes. They were illegible long before the black ink began to run down the page with liquor. Words like "rehabilitate" and "did my time" and "still your father" and "hero" and "start over."

Words like "again".

And again, and again, and again.

Keigo sighs as he places it down onto the coffee table with care. He wouldn't want to wrinkle it any further than it already is.

He'll have to have a strict talking to with one of his handlers about yet another privacy leak. He shrugs off his coat as he stalks down his living room, reluctant to remove the barrier between his body and world outside him. Like a child, he chastises himself, walking toward the most stable part of his apartment.

Keigo doesn't understand why he pushes his bed against the wall that night, nor does he grasp exactly why he feels the need to pull his comforter over his ears and neck.

Everyone deserves a second chance, he thinks.

He shuts his eyes. He watches his values dance behind his eyelids, a picturesque show of gentler men in suits, of new beginnings. He thinks of Endeavor almost on instinct, as he does most times his father appears like a mirage in his memory.

There's a cognitive dissonance there that eludes him, between his firm belief in people's ability to change, and the arm's length he keeps between himself and his parents. He must have abandoned his mother, he believes. Through all the years Keigo spent saving others, a part of his spirit always looked upon her story with regret.

He shouldn't have to be the parent, but he could. He could if he tried harder.

But his father...

A single feather zooms toward the door of his bedroom, shutting and locking it. No one can get in the apartment to begin with, strictly reinforced for the protection of a pro hero by the HPSC; but he'd really feel a lot better with his bedroom door closed.

After tossing for fifty-three minutes and twenty-one seconds exactly, he huffs and pulls out his phone, scrolling down his contacts to the name surrounded with hearts.

C'mon... Pick up. Please.

It rings. He chews his nails.

"Hi, baby!"

Oh thank fucking God.

"H-Hey! Sweetheart, what's up?"

The phone goes silent for a moment. The pause makes Keigo's muscles clench.

"...Something's wrong, isnt it?"

He flops back against the pillow, running a single palm down his face and letting out a stuttered laugh.

"Woah! Took you, like, four seconds. That's a new record, babe. Feeling particularly perceptive, or was it that obvious?"

"It was that obvious," you answer, muffled through the speakers.

He smiles, pulling the covers down a bit while he fidgets with a loose string.

"Mm. Could you, um," he starts, glancing at the door as he sits up. "I know it's late, but could you... Swing by?"

His fidgeting gets worse, he notices. An intense expectation for someone to swat his hand down creeps forward from what appears to be nowhere.

"Baby... Of course," you croon. Your words crawl out from the speaker, cradling him in a swaddle of safety and promise. He lets out a breath.

"You've still got the key, right?"

"Always do, angel."

[moonlightazriel]

Son of the Darkness XXII /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Hidden for so long The court of shadows thrived, and things were great until the high lord's death, now the next in line should assume the crown of high lord of shadows, will he accept his duties?

Warnings: SMUT and honestly just fluff, these two deserve a break

Word Count: 3,2K

Notes: Welcome to the last chapter, it feels like my child is moving away for college and all i want to do is cry.

Son of the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Azriel threw his head back, his eyes shut as he growled, wings flaring as her tongue circled the tip of his cock. His member twitching as she sucked him in her mouth once again, drool leaking from the corners of her mouth, a shadow stroked her clit as she sat on her knees in between his legs. 

Too big, Azriel was too big, his cock hitting the back of her throat with each movement of her head. She moaned against him, the sound sending vibrations down his shaft, making him buck his hips, angling deeper inside her until she gagged around him. 

The phantom touch of his shadows on her swollen bud was sending her dangerously close to the edge. Her nails dug in the warm skin of his thighs, her walls clenched around nothing as she kept bobbing her head faster and faster. Azriel let out a moan, the sound absolutely pornographic, enough to make her cum. Her whole body shook violently, but the movement didn’t stop, she whimpered as the shadows moved as furiously as they were before. 

1 month, a whole month they were stuck in that cabin. A cabin in the middle of nowhere in the mountains, not a single soul near them for miles. Her screams vanished with the wind as Azriel claimed her on any surface possible. Nothing could stop the throbbing of her cunt and the burning desire that grew ever since she accepted that damned bond in the middle of the battle. 

She didn’t know much about it, so she didn’t expect that absolutely maddening feeling consuming her body, she was able to hide it perfectly, years of training and preparing to mask her emotions constantly. So she was able to hide how much she wanted to climb him and sink down on his cock and never get up again. 

When he dragged her there, she never felt so hot in her entire life, her whole body felt like a burning forge. They tore their clothes off and went to action right away. She had to give him the credit for all the stamina that male had. He never got tired and would keep sucking at her pussy like a starved man for hours. 

Azriel grabbed a handful of her hair, guiding her movements until his cock twitched, releasing hot jets of cum down her throat, to which she swallowed like it was the most heavenly thing she ever put in her mouth. He cupped her cheek, giving it a squeeze. 

“You should rest, my High Lady.” He suggested and her heavy eyelids told her everything she needed to know. So she sat on his lap, closing her eyes and listening to his heartbeat until she fell asleep. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

“Maybe we should go back.” Y/N breathed, her breasts bouncing as Azriel pounded inside her, his cock coated in her juices, a white ring at the base with how many times the two of them had come today. 

He was holding her ass in the air, her arms had given up and she was face pressed against the matters as he took her from behind. His balls slapped against her clit, making her whimper at how sensitive she felt. A loud smack sounded as he landed a slap on her cheek, the mark of his palm imprinted on her skin. 

“And share you with everyone else?” He replied, it took all of him to even muster a decent response, too lost on her sweet cunt to even think properly right now. 

“We h-have…. Oh Azriel, faster!” Her sentence was cut short as the orgasm washed over her, making her collapse on the bed, Azriel hovered over her, still moving his hips against her. Her walls clenched hard around him, making him grow closer to his own release. “We have duties.” She breathed. 

 He turned her around, planting sweet kisses all over her tired face until he was coming inside her, cum dripping from her aching core. He kept nestled inside her. “You’re right.” He tried to compose his breathing. “We can go back tomorrow. Let’s crown you.” He kissed her forehead. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

People ran around, the armies were back to the camp. The witches were back to their land, and finally the High Lord was back to his court. And with him, two big celebrations to be prepared. A mating ceremony and a High Lady coronation for his mate. 

Y/N shifted her weight from one foot to another in a nervous attempt to calm herself, the seamstress kept placing pin after pin, she had been closer to the end of a sword so many times, who would’ve thought that just a couple of pins would be  enough to make her sweat? The dress was a bit too big for her, but it was perfect and she hoped that Azriel would love the surprise. The dress his mother was supposed to use on her own coronation. 

“He’s going to love it.” Evanore's cheerful voice sounded and she looked at her friend, nervously biting her lip. 

“Do you think so?” She asked, still unsure. 

“Oh Mother, I don’t even remember the last time I saw you that nervous over a male.” Eva giggled, spinning around the room in a mermaid style black dress with diamonds adorning the centre of the dress and the side of her hip. 

“You know you can wear green, right?” Eva looked at her. 

“Everyone will be dressed in black, besides, it suits me.” She pressed her hands down the dress, admiring the pattern. 

Y/N looked at herself in the floor length mirror. Her dress was full, in a black shimmery fabric, with golden details along the corset piece that followed down to the fluff skirt. A pair of black gloves to match, she felt weird, but she enjoyed this new version of herself. Wiser, stronger and happier. 

“Your mom would be so proud of you.” Evanore blurted and she turned to her friend, tears starting to gather in the corner of her eyes. “You’re exactly what she fought so hard for you to become.” 

“Thank you.” She felt the need to say, reaching for her best friend’s hand. “For everything. I do believe that the Mother doesn’t not only make love mates, but she also makes friend mates. For years you have been my mate, my equal, my other half in everything. I can’t wait to see the great witch you’re going to be when you take over Sephiran one day.” Eva shook her head. 

“Hey, I already plan to cry a lot in two days, don’t get me emotional now please.” She wiped a tear that ran down her cheek. “I love you. Thank you for understanding and accepting me as I am, I couldn’t ask for a better friend. Blood is not required to make a family, and you’re my family, you’re my sister.” 

The two females stood in silence, watching each other for a while, their hands still intertwined. They had gone through so much, lost so much, but the future was brighter, better than the past, they had their whole lives to live, together they would always overcome anything.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

“Why are you awake so soon, my love?” Azriel asked, rubbing her back in a soothing motion. 

“I could ask you the same.” She turned to him, his fluffy hair splattered across his forehead. 

“Early training with Cassian and Rhys, to remember old times.” He shrugged. “Are you having doubts?” He asked. 

“No! Never.” She eagerly answered. “I just can’t wait to be yours officially. My soul claims for you.” Azriel chuckled, giving her a quick peck in the lips before getting up to have a shower. 

“I’ll see you tonight then, I'll be the one dressed in black.” Y/N scoffed at that.

“As everyone else, but I'll try to find you.” She winked and he threw a kiss in her direction disappearing into the bathroom. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙

“Ready to blow some steam off?” Rhysand asked, assuming a fighting instance, bare hands and three hours to spare freely before he had to attend his duties on his big day. 

“Born ready.” He replied, lunging for Cassian and defending a blow from Rhys, they moved around each other, in perfect synchrony, like they did ever since they won The Blood Rite. All the nervous thoughts of what was going to happen today vanished, he felt so free, the stress coming out of his body with every blow he landed on one of the two males. 

Azriel never expected much from life, all he ever wanted was to be a dutiful brother and a good Spymaster to Rhys, and if the Mother allowed, he wanted a mate. He never thought he would end up like this, sparring with his brother in his own manor, in his own city, in his own Court as a High Lord. So much has changed since that beautiful female came looking for him, and he was glad she did. 

He loved what he did in the Night Court, but this? Now he knows that this was what he was meant to do. Take care of his people, his mother’s people, he felt so connected to her here. It was like she was guiding every step he took. And having his mate by his side? He was sure that his mother would love Y/N like a daughter. 

Tears pricked the corner of his eyes and he let them run down freely, stopping mid fight to pull both Rhys and Cassian into a bear hug. The two males exchanged looks and hugged him back.

“Did we hit too hard, Azzy?” Cassian joked and the three males laughed.

“I’m just happy to have you two here. The two most important people on the most important day of my life.” Rhys squeezed his shoulder.

“You deserve it, brother. Everything that happened to you, it all led you here. Your happiness finally came.” Those violet eyes bore into his, helding tears of their own.

“Why are you two being so sensitive?” Cassian complained, but as the other two turned to him, a waterfall of tears fell from his eyes.“Seeing you this happy, it’s everything to me. I’m so proud of you.” He sniffed. “If she ever dares to hurt you, I'll kill her.” He warned with a fake serious expression.

“Well.” Azriel assumed a fight instance again, after all they still have one hour left. “You can try.”

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

Azriel hadn't seen her since they parted ways that morning, his body ached to be with her again. His brothers laughed, dressed in black attires, a glass of champagne in hands. A blonde fae male helped him with his coat, the dark fabric had some golden patterns swirling around just like his shadows. 

Speaking of them, the shadows have left him, he knew they were clinging by her side, protecting her, afraid that someone would happen and take her away from them. But Azriel would never lose anything again, let alone his mate. They were hers just as much they were his. 

“Cheers.” Cassian proposed. “To the second of us getting married.” The brothers touched their glasses together, taking a sip right after.

“Don’t take too long, I see a certain Archeron looking at you.” Rhys winked in his direction. 

“She needs time to adjust, I don't want her to feel pressured into anything.” Cassian spoke, his cheeks a bit red. 

“That’s very nice of you, Cass. But maybe you’re what she needs to accept this life, never quit showing her how much she matters to you, and that you accept her as she is.” Azriel knew what Nesta was going through, letting her lean on him was the best way to show her how much he cared, everyone needs someone to count. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He finished his glass of champagne. 

“As much trouble I have with her, I see that she’s just lost, she needs someone to pull her back to the surface.” Rhys advised too, the same gut feeling that he had about Y/N and Azriel being mates, he had now. He just wants his brothers to be happy.

“Thank you for the encouragement, but let’s focus on our future married man. Let’s get you married Az.” The fae had finished the final touches, Cassian pulled him by the shoulder, directing him towards the garden where the ceremony was going to happen. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

The soft melody of the corded instrument filled the open space, followed by the whispers quieting down. Azriel stood at the altar alone, the priestess behind him silently watched, everyone watched as she entered. As if she was carried by the music, she walked towards him, her black dress, with matching golden details, her long hair cascading in curls behind her back, tied back to reveal her beautiful face.

Little makeup covered her features, she never needed it anyway. Her scar was on full display, disappearing in between her breasts, so wonderful, a remark of how she overcame every bump in her path, how every little thing guided her there, to his arms. 

He couldn’t speak, too stoned by her beauty, to even think. His shadows pooled at her feet, making the hem of her dress look endless. She smiled at him, her eyes glued to his, as she was too scared to look around, like if she did she would wake up from a dream. 

Azriel extended a hand for her, which she took carefully, placing her warm fingers against his. He squeezed her hand and the two of them turned to the priestess. The music died down and the sound of the wind was the only thing they could hear. The female took a deep breath and opened her mouth.

“We’re here today to celebrate such a joyous occasion, a wedding and a coronation ceremony.” Y/N blinked, feeling her eyes heavy with tears already. “The Mother writes our destiny before we’re born, these two souls were destined to find each other since birth, no one could ever come in between fate.”

Azriel smiled, turning his face to admire her profile, a tear ran down her cheek and a shadow quickly shot up her face to wipe it away, making her giggle as the soft winds touched her skin. The priestess kept talking but all he could do was watch her, his eyes glued to her until they were commanded to turn to one another. Her eyes sparked with love, and his chest felt like it was over flooding. 

“Here.” The female offered them a dagger. Y/N took it, slicing Azriel’s palm and handed it to him so he could do the same with her. She held his hand, their fingers laced together. “As the blood merges together, so do their souls, forever intertwined as one. A bond sealed by blood cannot be broken, as blood cannot be separated once it mixes. The Mother and the Cauldron blessed this union.” 

With her free hand, Y/N reached for a piece of cheese bread, he did the same. And at the same time, they offered the food to one another, taking a bite as it was brought to their lips, the bond never felt so powerful, so strong as it did now. Sealed by both Illyrian and Court of Shadows traditions. 

“And now..” The priestess pointed behind them. Carrying a crown filled with cobalt stones, in a golden frame, Evanore walked the same path Y/N did in the beginning of the ceremony. The stones glowed as Y/N lowered her body, the crown resting on her head like it was always meant to be there.

“The council gives you their blessing.” Eva spoke, proud shining in her eyes as her friend rose again, the High Lady they deserved standing right in front of them. “All hail the High Lord and his High Lady.” The guests bowed their heads towards the couple. Cassian started to clap, being followed by the others as he did so. 

“You may kiss her.” The priestess urged, and Azriel more than happily did so, his hands circling her waist, pulling her towards his chest, one hand lifting to cup her cheek, and their eyes met, so full of love and adoration for one another, he wanted to cry. He kissed her, once, twice, until someone shouted that they should find a room, he was betting that Morrigan was the one who did it.

“I love you.” She breathed.

“And I love you.” He replied.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

He spun her around, he couldn’t get away from her, glued to her side all night. Her fluffy dress moved around, she looked so devastatingly beautiful in it.

“What a beautiful dress.” He complimented and she felt her cheeks getting hot.

“It was supposed to be your mother’s coronation dress.” She shyly told him. He stopped, other couples bumping on them as he stood still in the middle of the dancefloor. 

“I’m glad that you wore this tonight.” He kissed her once more. “I’m sure she would love you, and that she’s blessing us.” He looked to the bright stars that peppered the sky.

“They both are.” She replied, feeling her heart ache with how much she missed her mother. She knew that Azriel was everything her mother envisioned for her, a strong male who would never be afraid of being seen by her side. Someone who  would appreciate her every day and love her just as much. She had found the male of her dreams. 

“I’m so glad we have found each other, I don't think I'll ever want to be apart from you.” She giggled. “What will I do when you have to go to the war camps?”

“About that…” She started, forcing him to go back to dancing. “I was thinking that someone should be named general, with me being a cool High Lady now, I'll be busy. I won’t completely pull away from it, but maybe it’s time to take it easy.”

“If that’s what you want, I'm with you. But I don't mind having a High Lady/General as a mate, it’s kinda hot.” She giggled, hitting his chest with a hard punch.

“You’re a perv.” She spoke, her eyes glistening with mischief.

“I just don’t want you to think that you should quit it for me.” He stroked her cheek.

“I know, it was just a thought, we don’t have to think about it now.” He nodded.

“Yeah, we can think about that beautiful dress lying on the floor while I make love to you.” He whispered in her ear, making her blush.

“You have no manners. But I'm dying to skip to that part.” She winked and he smiled at her.

“We have our whole lives ahead of us, let’s just enjoy our day. My beautiful mate.” She nodded.

“Do you promise?” He looked at her.

“What?”

“That we have our whole lives together and nothing will tear us apart?” Her eyes were so filled with fear of being away from him that his heart almost broke in his chest.

“I promise.” All the doubt vanished away from her head, she trusted him with her heart. She leaned closer when a slower song started, resting her head against his chest, hearing his heart beating. What she didn’t know is that the only reason that heart was beating, was for her, she was what kept him alive, his whole world. And as long as she loved him, that heart would keep beating.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

Taglist: @allison-rosewood-maximoff @devilsfoodcake22 @fieldofdaisiies @valeridarkness @brekkershadowsinger @margssstuff @patdsinner33 @justdreamstars @dr4g0ngirl

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - In Trade - Mal de Mer

Mal de Mer on AO3

NSFW - Oral sex, oversensitivity, dirty talk.

Snippet:

Her voice comes huskier than she's heard it.  "And in trade?"

"What trade?"

"You never offer something for nothing. Not—not unless there's a catch."

"No catch." He eases her back onto the vanity. "Just a taste."

"Silco, I really can't..."

"Sssh. Just a taste, petal." His hands, parting her thighs, are as gentle as his voice. "You trust me, don't you?"

Her breath jitters. "...Yes."

She can see the effect of her words: the dark energy uncoiling in his body, making his good eyelid heavy, his prick stir. And Mel, her own body priming itself to a fever pitch, wonders if she's playing with fire—or ready to catch her death.

Then he's kissing her. Hungrily, yes. But with enough hot restraint to dizzy her. As if, after weeks of having her, a single night has unhinged him.

Or perhaps it's not the having, but the keeping. 

Keeping, and not letting go.

She lets him waltz her back against the wide sink. His body, crowding her, is a wall of sinew. A wall, and a door: somewhere she can slip in, and let the rest of the world, for a little while, slip away. He lifts her up against the basin, the marble a hard chill against her bare bottom. His palms, cupping her knees, coax her thighs apart. The kiss deepens: a slick suction, his teeth teasing her, her tongue curling against his.

Then he breaks the seal. She gasps—a little half-sob—as his mouth works its way down her body, tasting her flesh with unsparing relish.  Her bruises are a constellation of stars. He maps them, one by one, with lips and tongue, down between her thighs, where the throb is the headiest.

"Let's have a look," he breathes. "Open wide. There's my treasure."

His thumbs, spreading her carefully, reveal the swollen folds. Her breath escapes on a broken mewl. She's sore: a flush, like a bad sunburn, from the inside out. The wetness, though, is an endless pulse.

His touch is breathtakingly soft.

"My poor petal. Such a sweet little quim, and such a hard night."  The flat of his tongue, lapping the seam, draws a cry. "There. Is that better?"

"Silco…"

"Yes?" Another lick, slow and full and thorough. Mel's head falls back on a whimper. "Does it hurt?"

"No—I—oh—"

"Mmmm." His growl, reverberating through her flesh, is a liquid vibration. "Let me make it up to you, hm? I'd no business being so greedy last night. Taking this lovely cunt without mercy." His tongue tip, tracing circles, is a slick whisper. "No more of that. Only this. Only for you."

"Silco..."

"All day. All night. For however long it takes." Another lick, and Mel's hips, reflexively, roll to meet him. "That's it. Show me where you need it. Where's the ache?"

"Inside." Her voice wavers. "Deep."

"Deep, hm?" He suckles, openmouthed, and her thighs quiver, ankles crossing at his back. "Shall I kiss you there, too?"

"Yes, gods—"

"Sssh. Keep those legs open." His teeth close, with a tiny bite, on her inner thigh. "Let me make it better."

And, dark-eyed, he descends.

Mel's cry of rapture dissolves in the sunlight.

Last night, he'd been a man possessed with the need to lay claim. Today, in the golden glow, he is a man, laying his need at the altar.

He worships her: tongue curling deep; lips suckling wetly. The dark crown of his head, nestled between her thighs, imprints an indelible rhythm against her flesh. The pleasure is too saturated for Mel to bear. There is no climb; no climax. Only a continuous tide that rises, and swells, rises and swells.

She is his, and his alone, and her desire is the only language he speaks. The only thing, save for her unspooling cries, that is real.

"That's it," he breathes, eyes lifting to hers. "Let it out, petal."

She does. Threading her fingers into his hair, she lets it all go. The last vestiges of the empty space. The shame, the loss, the sorrow. The past: a distant island, receding from the horizon. Herself, laid bare, and breaking to the surface. Cresting, past her body, to the sea.

To the sun.

Gentleness, she learns, can cut the deepest of all. But also set the worst wound to rights.

Especially when it’s from a man who knows all the places where the ache resides.

[hoppingonjim]

ACTION ! - holland march + jackson healy x reader

summary: holland cannot resist but record you getting eaten out by mr healy.

cw: oral (f receiving), afab!reader, mention of thickness around thighs, recording, cuck?? idk holland likes watching you be a mess, 3some somewhat, aspects of dom&sub. dom!jackson healy. dom!holland march. sub!reader. mocking/degrading kink.

༺♡︎༻

his recording is driving you mad.

ever since his partner had been finding his way around your body with his tongue, he couldn't hit the stop button. for some reason, a reason he couldn't quite explain, it was incredibly sexy to watch you lose all control under someone else. especially jackson.

the brunette is forcing stars upon you with the way he thrusts his tongue in and out of your weeping pussy. with heavy eyelids you attempt to keep your gaze on the enforcer but it proves to be too difficult. lacking will-power, you allow your head to fall back. letting him have total control of over you. until soft fingers gripped your cheeks, imprinting on them before tugging your head to view jackson once again, “c'mon baby, don't you wanna watch what he's doing to you?”

aged fingers explore the gentleness of your thighs. clawing the supple skin and tugging, kneading the dough coarsely. the way you're rutting your hips like an animal in heat so desperately against his gaping mouth is enough for his cock to bulge against his jeans. aching to be touched.

keeping your eyes open for the working man is tough, but your real man eyes you as prey, ensuring your eyes don't close unless you're blinking. the sensations being thrown upon you are too much. with quivering legs and a weeping clit, you can feel your high wave close. the camera lingers in front of your face and hypnotizes you. the consistent flash kissing your irises only adds to the sudden sensations. jackson isn't letting up, his tongue reaching desperately for whatever he can. hopefully your g-spot. the thrusts he blows inside of your sopping slit are enough to already make you cum. but holland's above you, tauntingly peering down and devouring the helpless sight below him. licking his lips he encourages you to hold out longer. let jackson work some more of his magic.

except jackson's hands grow savage. nails dig into your hips and mark his terriorty on the thickness of your thighs. crescents littering your once chaste skin. the way his tongue abuses your clit suddenly is too much. it's all an overkill. your legs quiver as you let go, cumming hard and heavy for the muscle man beneath you.

“fuck, fuck yeah.. damn baby, keep fucking moaning oh fuck yeah, fuck you sound so pretty..” complementing his words is the slender movements of his fingers caressing your cheeks. his thumb moves to swipe the deserted strands of hair away from your dazzling eyes. like a hawk observing prey, narrowed eyes never fall from your sight. to him the melodic sounds pouring through your lips in the form of helpless cries. the mascara once twirling your lashes is suddenly clumping around the thin hairs. collecting around the waterline and smudging towards your undereye. there's no prettier sight in holland's eyes and he feels a need to point the camera obnoxiously into your face. your messy face.

lapping up all of your sweet cum, jackson pulls away with a hefty sigh, a curiosity twinkles in his eye as he stares at his associate, “so.. do i get to feel her for real now? i think she wants that, huh princess? you want that?” so badly you do. the man is strong, similar to your holland, but this one is rough. he's not suave. leather and brass share his stature, fighting over their own sections.

it's not completely your decision though. and that's the way you like it.

holland is only able to shake his head. within seconds he's ushering his, friend, out the door. towards the door. then out the door.

“think i want my girl to myself now jackson, uh buh bye .”

suddenly, hands fall down to his belt buckle. game on.

[yjano]

Who I am now?

Part 2.

Pairing: Jake x Mc.

Genre: Angst, comedy, dark romance.

Warnings: Strong language, angst scenes.

Words: 2.6k

Author's note: This story contains mature topics and is not fully related to the duskwood game. A different parallel with different personalities. Thank you everyone for following and liking this! Ily.♡

.

.

Mc focus.

.

I slowly lifted my heavy eyelids, feeling my head weighting down with pain and my mind unclear. I looked around my surroundings, widening my eyes upon seeing nothing but black. Just the sound of distant music playing in the background and the steady thrum of a vehicle meeting my senses. My breath turned into shallow pants, and feeling like passing out, I slowly parted my dry lips.

"Get me out!"

I began to kick hardly and repeatedly against a surface near my feet, getting louder and louder. Trying to ignore my steady breath I kicked the surface harder and harder.

"Let me out! You freak!"

And that was it. All of a sudden, the vehicle jerked to a halt, and I was harshly thrown against the wall or something similar as the music fainty playing in the background stopped completely. My chest racked with every breath I took, waiting for something to happen.

I heard the loud sound of key in a lock somewhere close to me, and before I could realize the part of the wall, I was leaning against rises. Yellow light of a streetlamp overhead streams in through the sudden gap, slightly stinging my eyes.

A sillouted figure loomed overhead, but I didn't care about who the figure was right now. All I needed at the moment was air and space. I felt relieved as soon as cool air hit my nostrils, inhaling sharply. I tried to sit up in that tiny compartment I was in.

"Oh you're up-" That sillouted person mused, his face and any distant features blocked off by the dark of the night and the glow of the street lamp behind the figure acting as a sort of halo.

I attempted to focus my eyes on the figure towering me.

Is this death?

Am in death's car boot? Am I going to hevean or hell?

I inhaled and exhaled like crazy. I can't die just yet...I can't die without meeting Jake.

"You can't take me to heaven yet!" I murmured without thinking and looked away, just now noticing the rim of the car's boot.

With shaky limbs and a blurred mind, I stepped on to the black tarmac road and without a backward glance to him, who was whining on the floor and cursing under his breath. Ignoring him I started to woozily wander down the empty road.

"Oh you're going nowhere but hel- fuck!" The figure yelped, suddenly dropping to the ground with a low groan. I used the foot, I had just used to kick him in the balls, to climb out of the boot.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled, half awake. Stepping over that guy who clutched his crotch and whined, staggering away from the open car boot.

My head hurt. I found myself holding my head, fingers digged into my forehead to somehow lessen the pain as I stumbled down the icy tarmac.

"Hey!" I slowly looked over my shoulder to see that guy lifting himself up from off the floor, a hand cupping his balls and the other hand gripping the sleek navy car to steady himself.

Finally I got to see a glimpse of him with the weak moonlight setting on his young features and highlighting his dark hair and the dark scowl imprinted on his face.

I dropped on to his side and hit the floor hard as I slipped into unconsciousness once again.

The next few hours rapidly transition from blurry to clear and back again. Some moments I was able to open my eyes wide and study surroundings before being submerged back into unconsciousness and other times I struggled to even lift my eyelids, they were being extremely drowsy and heavy.

The four hours that've passed, mainly consisted of waking up for a few seconds to look at my captor drive silently, eyeing the man's rigid back and clear expression before falling asleep again. Other times I woke up at the feeling of ice cold wind against my cheeks. I opened my eyes, realizing that the man was smoking with the windows of his car rolled completely down. One time, I clearly remember opening my eyes at the pressure of something pressing against my forehead. My eyes had fluttered open at the warm sensation coursing through forehead and noticed the man hovering above me and holding a heat pack in his hand.

"Awake? Finally, i thought you were dead."

I sit up in the back seat, feeling replenished and awake after the nap and looked out of the window. We were on the motorway. Humongous lorries and vans drive by with tiny cars flitting in between them, each vehicle minding their own business. Their red headlights are the only thing to indicate their presence in the pitch black darkness.

"Jesus, how much do you sleep?" I turned away from the back seat window at the sudden voice to realize my captor was watching me with raised eyebrows.

I couldn't recognise the man, because never in my life I have seen him. Several questions and emotions pile up inside me. But despite the overflowing thoughts,I only managed to stutter out a "Who are you?"

The man doesn't reply, and I find his quietness as a cue to carry on with the questions. "Who the hell are you? And why are we on the motorway?" The man looks away and doesn't reply once again.

"What are you going to do to me? My boyfriend will find you. I wasn't supposed to be here, but I know he will understand. So you better let me go." Anger started to build up inside my body when the man didn't reply again and instead rummaged through the glove compartment. I watched him with angered eyes as he rifles through empty cigarette boxes and finds something, pulling it out. It was a gun.

"Try to kill me and see what happens. You don't know Dan, he will get you and so will my boyfriend." I trailed off, and instead of crying or panicking, I was glaring at the man. I heard the man sigh, and before I could open my mouth, he did it first.

"Look-"

"If you want money, just say so, and I'll give you the amount you want!"

"You don't understand do you-"

"I'll give you my wallet, and everything just let me out."

"I can't go back on my mind made deal. listen-"

"Fuck you! Let me go!"

The man sighs and brings his gun to face my direction. "Stop speaking." He says sternly, and I immediately stopped noticing the black weapon hovering above my eyes.

"Okay, so-"

"I need to pee."

"Oh my fucking god."

Sighing, the man cocks his head at me scrutinizing every feature on my face with narrowed eyes, as if assessing if I really needed to pee. I squirmed under his gaze, growing more and more uncomfortable with the man's icy blue eyes on me.

Without saying a word further the man opens the driver's seat door and gets outs, slamming the door shut and walking around the front of the car to my side. I follow him with worried eyes, half expecting the man to drag me out of the car and throw me onto the motorway or something.

I watched the man yank the door open and take me by the upper arm, dragging me out of the car. I gulped down my saliva as the man pulled something out of his pocket. It was the rope. Without saying a thing the man tied my wrists together.

"We're going into the petrol station. You will pee, I'll buy snacks and all that crap, and then we'll come back to the car. Got it?" I don't indicate his agreement. It was so crazy to me how calm he was after kidnapping me. Urgent thoughts flit around my head as the man tugged me in the direction of a dingy building.

I have to get away from this guy. Fuck, I should've listened to Dan when we were doing those self-defense lessons, I shook my head in irritation.

I slowly studied the worn petrol station they were fast approaching. Red paint peeled off of the walls and the name of the station, which was once painted on proudly, was now scratched and vandalized with obscene graffiti. Litter was strewn across the cracked concrete and grime clung to every surface; it covered the actual gas machines, the ground, and even the windows.

Soon I noticed movement in the dirt-encased glass and find out that a tan male wearing a red uniform was watching us with bored eyes.

The man tugs me past the car and into the station, pushing the door open to sound the tinkle of the bell hanging from the leaky roof. I looked around in distaste at the racks displaying dated chocolate bars and half-torn packets of chips.

"Um, hey." The man calls out from behind the counter, raising his hand in a small wave. I quickly read the capitalized letters on the worker's name tag: Darkness.

"Hi." My captor says absent-mindedly as I roamed my eyes around the station's meager contents. Whilst the unknown man was distracted picking up several snacks, I attempted to grab Darkness's attention to communicate with him.

I looked over at him and urgently made a face at him, hoping that he would catch on.

Well, he would catch on obviously. I'm being dragged around by a fucking rope wrapped around my hands!

Darkness just looked at md weirdly.

"Um, is that girl okay?" He asked the yet-to-be-named man. "Yeah, she's totally fine." The man snorted. I frowned getting pissed at that guy and getting back to my senses I shook my head violently.

"Uh, are you sure? Cause she's tied up and getting dragged around like a puppy." Darkness asked confused, pointing a finger at my appearance.

"Ah, don't mind her. She's just that kinky." the man smirks evilly, distractedly taking a packet of salted potato chips. His words made me almost choke on air. Turning my gaze away I was holding myself from killing him myself.

Darkness nodded slowly.

"Okay then." He muttered under his breath, looking away. I could swear I heard him saying that he will post this on the forum.

"Oh, and is there a bathroom here?" The man asked casually. Darkness, who's still weirded out pointed to a grimier door. I scrunched my nose in disgust as my captor dragged me towards the toilet door.

The man swings the door open to reveal a musty dark bathroom, mold, and rot adorn the dark green walls and a rancid smell escapes from the stained toilet bowl. I felt like throwing up.

"There are no windows here, meaning no escape. I'll untie your hands but I'm waiting right outside so don't think about doing anything funny." the man warns quietly, face completely blank. I stayed stock still and silent as I waited for my arms to be completely free.

I suddenly pushed the man harshly away from myself into the wall, his expression lit up slightly, I turned around and ran away from the groaning male. Ignoring his curses behind me I ran to Darkness.

"Please! Please, call the police! Or my friends! Or fuck, call the fucking fbi!"

Darkness look up from the sports magazine he was flipping through, bored eyes searching for my frantic ones. "Uh, what?"

"Tell them Mc is kidnapped-" My words stopped in the middle of a sentence when a sudden crash comes from behind me.

"Shit, shit, please save me! I'm not kinky! I'm being kidnapped!"

Darkness finally decides to make a move and slowly reaches for the telephone. All of a sudden, the man emerges from behind multiple stacks of dusty newspapers and cocks his head upon seeing me.

There's a gun in his hand.

There's a fucking gun in his hand!

Oh my god, I should've just pissed and went along with the fucker. Without thinking twice I dropped on all fours and hidden behind rows of assorted bars of chocolate.

"Hello, police? There's two psychos in my petrol station-" I heard Darkness talk and mentally thanked the dude for doing it.

"Hey, Darkness right? I suggest you put the phone down." the man suggests lightly as he stops just a metre away from Darkness.

No no no, don't stop. You have to save me Darkness.

"I dunno where they came from. One's dressed in fancy dress and is super kinky." He murmured.

"I'm not kinky!" I yelled from somewhere in the room as I crawled around on the ground, adamant to not get shot by my captor.

"Alright darkness dude, put the phone down or I'll put a bullet through your face." I heard the man warn carefully.

"And there's this other dude who's carrying a gun and threatening to kill me."

"Darkness."

"Right now, one's crawling on the floor and the other one looks pretty angry, I think he's gonna-"

"I warned you." the man said simply before lifting his gun and aiming for Darkness's arm that held the phone.

Darkness yelps when a bullet hits his arm, his face creasing and his body doubling over at the pain.

I abruptly came to a stop behind a faded ice cream freezer and huddled beside the vibrating box, hyperventilating.

He shot him!

He fucking shot him!

I bring my nails to mouth, nervously bitting on my nails with rising tension. He killed darkness and now he's coming for me, he's coming for me-

My thoughts are interrupted by another series of shots. I raised my head slightly to see my captor, aim for all the security cameras in the place, and fire at them. Smoothly shattering them with his bullets.

My eyes flicker to the counter where Darkness yells multiple insults and curses as he grips his injured arm, screaming hysterically for an ambulance to be called.

The whole scene's so hectic - with Darkness screaming, cursing, and crying. The yet-to-be-named guy ignored Darkness and randomly fired bullets at all the cameras causing the devices to shatter into thousands of pieces and hit the floor with a small crash. I inhaled and exhaled like crazy.

The man clears his throat and lets the arm holding his gun, drop to his side.

"Alright Darkness, I already have a girl freaking out on me and I don't need another one. Chill, I just gave you a flesh wound you won't die or get a disease or have your arm amputated." the man said, nonchalantly as he hikes his jacket up so he could slide his gun underneath the waistband of his pants.

Darkness looks up in horror at the words 'die' and 'amputate' and hurriedly grabs the box of tissues on the counter and blots his wound with the yellowing tissue, yelping as he does so.

"We're going to be leaving now. Oh, and we'll take some snacks as well. Go ahead and call an ambulance after we leave." He mumbled loudly, grabbing a handful of snacks from the counter and flashing a dark smile at Darkness.

I am not leaving with you, you maniac. I thought inside and glared at him with narrowed eyes as I was hiding behind the freezer.

"Mc please get out from behind the ice cream section."

Fuck. I stayed quiet. Maybe he will leave then.

"Mc." the man calmly calls me out again. "Get out and follow me without throwing a fit or I'll give you a flesh wound for yourself. No doubt, Darkness here, have the police coming right for us and we need to leave. Right now."

I ball my fists with irritation at the choice I am given. I get up from where I'm crouching and stand up straight, brushing dust off of my dress. I tried to glare defiantly at my captor but got too nervous holding eye contact and instead stared hard at the half-melted ice creams in the broken freezer.

"Let's go, Mc." the man sighed annoyed "I suggest you follow me nicely and quietly." he instructs, rolling his eyes.

[ill-written-god]

T/M | 702 | f/nb human/angel | fantasy, horror elements i guess | continuation of 'curse', tentacles

Everything smelled of lavender, making her nauseous. She hated lavender. But she was dreaming, so she probably could change it, somehow. She tried thinking very hard about chocolate. Nothing happened. 

It’s an amalgamation of both her and Abe’s apartments. She’s looking for chocolate cake, so she steps into the kitchen. Abe is there, already cutting the brownies.

“Hi,” they say softly, hesitant. 

“Hey,” she answers, waddling through the fogginess of a dream. When she’s offered the cake, she bites in and some clarity comes over her senses.

“You said you’ll come," she says out loud to make the memory more tangible. Abe nods. 

“I don’t like invading your brain like that, but it’s the only way I can show you.”

They eye each other, Jade munching on her cake. She swallows.

“Well?”

Abe sighs, resigned.

Their skin peels off, strings of flesh forming the shape of feathers. Their whole body unravels, weaving itself back into a fleshy creature of uncountable wings, eyes and tendrils. 

Jade's eyes can’t wrap around the depth of the image in front of her, so she closes them, lights throbbing behind her eyelids. 

“This is me,” says Abe’s voice, echoing from everywhere around her.

“Is this what you were so scared of?” she asks, the sight still imprinted in her brain. “You look… right.”

“Did you not like the blond hair?” they ask, covering their nerves with amusement.

“Course I did,” she scoffs, opening her eyes again. It was easier to look already, and it probably would be with each time. “But this is more you.” She bites her lip, wiping away everything she thought about life up to this moment. “What happens now?”

“Nothing.” Abe shrugs with a soft movement of their feathers. “I’ll leave you alone, I just wanted-”

“Oh, don’t,” she rolls her eyes. “You’ve always been a drama queen. Just come here.” She spreads her arms and, albeit with a lot of hesitance, she gets a bundle of warm threads of life to embrace. After a moment, tendrils snake around her middle to hug her back.

“But we can’t kiss," Abe reminds her, almost whining. "If we do, I turn, and who knows what’ll happen to you.”

“You said melted eyeballs," she recalls.

“At the least.”

For a moment, she’s completely quiet. 

"What about other people?" she asks eventually.

"Only you will see me like this. For other people, I'll stay Abe, the local barista."

"That’s stupid," she frowns. 

"That's GOD for you," they shrug.

They stay quiet, just embracing each other and softly swaying to a song in their heads.

“Do I even need eyeballs?” she asks eventually.

“Baby…”

“What if we like… scoop them out?” 

“Lil, what the fuck?” They try to lean away from the hug, eyes moving to better see her, check if she's being serious, but she keeps holding them close. 

“I'm just considering our options!” she defends. “Can we kiss, like, here?”

“I don’t know, and I don't want to risk it.”

She hums in thought.

“But you're already in this form, so…”

“Not risking it, still.”

She huffs.

“What about sex?”

The tendrils around her flexed.

“Well, it’s safe, apparently. We can keep doing it.”

“Damn, GOD is perverted.”

Abe snorts. 

“But no, I mean here. In this form.”

Abe goes still, the tendrils around her tightening minutely.

“You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I am. What were you thinking, showing me tentacle porn?” she teases, and if the angel in front of her could blush, they would.

“Well…”

“Were you thinking about fucking me with all these?” she asks, caressing the tendrils that composed Abe, from wings to makeshift appendages to holding up the countless fiery eyes. “Would you let my eyes melt just to use me like this?” she follows, her eyebrows quirking teasingly. Abe squirms in her hold.

“No, of course not!” they protest, but her hold only tightens. 

"Just play along, baby. Ugh, this is the part when I would grab your pussy if I knew where to look."

Abe chokes out a startled laugh. 

“Oh, you’re serious about this.”

“How about you reach down and see for yourself?’

Abe does and then proceeds to show her all the fun parts of their true form. 

[even-if-in-another-time]

listen. okay. i haven’t edited this since 2:36 am last night and i am half convinced that i just blacked out because i only have a vague recollection of writing this and it’s just “OH GOD SOPHIE WITH GLASSES” leave me alone. also keefe is she/they according to my only-slightly-consciousness so take that as you will

(@synonymroll648 this is your fault and you should feel bad /j/lh)

keefe didn’t pay attention to the leaping crystal they grabbed, just that it was warm and comforting around her neck. they laughed quietly when they materialized under a blue-petaled tree, the lights of havenfield cutting through the night and thin fog from the ocean off the cliffs. that tracks. she dropped the home crystal edaline had insisted on giving her from her palm, it falling to rest under their shirt. it should have been fine, but she was just tired as fuck and her father wouldn’t stop making snide comments and it was so completely and utterly fine but they just didn’t have the energy to deal with the world tonight, and apparently this was the one corner of it that was bearable.

they didn’t have any hesitation anymore about letting herself in the back door. “it’s called a home crystal for a reason, love,” edaline had told her with a smile when she had apologized for the umpteenth time. they didn’t start crying, and anyone claiming otherwise was lying, and maybe she stopped apologizing so much after that.

the light was still on under sophie’s door, because of course it was, at 12 am on a school night. keefe pushed it open. “hey, dumbass,” she announced blindly into the room. “you should be asleep.” (keefe was glad that she wasn’t, and would not be admitting that to anyone.) sophie was sitting on the ground next to her desk, spine pressed against the glass of her window and a book propped up on her knees, brow furrowed. the pencil in her hand was pressed up against the bridge of gold-rimmed glasses, and she looked up and the corner of her mouth lifted, and something in keefe melted just a bit. they crossed the room, wordlessly pushing sophie’s book to the side to settle their head in her lap, fingers immediately moving to run through their hair, and she exhaled. shoulders leaving their rigid stance. inhaled. sophie’s room smelled like her, like vanilla and matcha and something warm.

“talk?” sophie’s voice was unbearably soft. keefe shook her head, temple pressing against her knee.

“just this.” they closed their eyes. “just you,” they mumbled.

sophie hummed in response, lopsided grin apparent in her voice.

keefe felt the spine of her book resting back on the crown of their head, the sound of her pencil scribbling intermittently against it, and keefe didn’t know how she was supposed to deal with this enormity inside of her chest, didn’t know if their ribcage was built to hold this much without shattering. sophie’s carpet was soft against their back. maybe cracked ribs are worth trading for this, she thought nonsensically. they let the world slip away, let it fall into the darkness behind her eyelids and the imprint of gold-rimmed glasses in it.

———

the light around keefe was warm when they opened their eyes. the world around them felt like sophie. she was distantly aware that thought made no sense, and distantly couldn’t give any less fucks. she lifted her head up, pushing something heavy off their forehead, laughing when she realized it was sophie’s book, and the world came back in little pieces. sophie was slumped against the window above them, glasses slipping down the slope of her nose, lashes casting a long shadow across her cheekbones from the lamp on on her desk. the clock by her bed read 2:17 a.m. keefe sat up.

“soph, love.” her voice was quiet and rough. “come on, you need to get to bed.” sophie mumbled something incomprehensible, squeaking as she curled in on herself, and for a moment keefe had the overwhelming urge to savor this moment, to paint sophie and her auburn lashes in ink and write her down over and over on every canvas they could find.

keefe relented and scooped up sophie’s boneless form in her arms, sliding off her glasses and pushing a strand of hair off her forehead. sophie’s brows furrowed, and she tried to protest with something about studying, even as she melted into keefe. she grinned and walked across the room to lay sophie down on her bed, pulling a blanket over her. they turned to switch the light off, then sophie’s arm reached out and tugged on her wrist until she climbed under the covers alongside her.

“c‘mere,” sophie mumbled, curling herself into keefe’s chest. her hair smelled like coconut.

“keefe?”

“mm?”

“i love you.”

keefe wanted to say so much, wanted to scream and cry and never let go of this softness, never give it up. instead, she just wrapped her arms tighter around sophie, pressing her lips against her forehead. a fine replacement.

“love you too, sophie. love you so much.” she inhaled. matcha, vanilla, coconut. exhaled. warmth.

cracked ribs were fair trade for this.

[arickaandherfictionalothers]

Harry is MY boyfriend; you don’t tell me who to love-!

(Part two)

(Aricka x Harry Hook. Aricka and the Hero Kids. Aricka and the Isle Kids. Aricka and Chad Charming.)

(The aftermath.)

(Note: in my Descendants canon Emma Swan is the teen daughter of Snow and David Charming, of the White Kingdom. Killian is the son of Will and Elizabeth Turner. )

Evie, Aricka and Harry stumbled into the room the Charming twins shared together (their mother had payed the school to allow them to be in the same dorm), and Mal magically locked the door behind them. Aricka was pulled onto her bed, which currently housed Chad, Uma, Gil, Aziz, and also now herself and Harry.

Harry pushed her so she was leaning against her twin; and he surprised everyone (excluding herself and Uma) by laying his head down on her shoulder, arms wound tightly as possible around her middle. She busied herself by running her fingers through his too perfectly gelled hair, mussing it up back to his usual style, noting that Chad was undoing her own perfect French braids- all twelve of them, symbolizing the hour her mother ran down the palace steps when she was still just a scullery maid- and detangling every knot and snarl he came across with a gentle hand.

Mal and Evie were warding the room, while Ben and Jay and Doug were discussing how to keep everyone in the room safe until the noise died down. Uma was doing the opposite of Chad and was braiding Gil’s hair, the golden curls easily manageable and braidable it seemed. Aziz was texting furiously- probably letting his awesome protective parents know that he and his friends and cousins were okay and all in one place.

Carlos, Lonnie, Audrey, Jane L, Jane C, Emma, and Killian were all on Chad’s bed, Carlos being wedged between Jane LaFae and Audrey, both girls asking if he was alright and seeming very protective of him.

Aricka’s stomach churned and she felt like she might cry. She was suddenly aware of a presence in front of her and she looked up to see Azalea hovering nearby, a worried look on xeir face. The look was enough to make her face crumble and the first few tears fall down her cheeks. “Oh- oh no,” she mumbled, “my- my makeup- it’s- I’m- oh no-!”

Harry immediately sat up, hands coming up to cup her face, thumbs wiping away the salty water slipping from her eyelids, as her shoulders began to shake. “Love, you’re not tainted, not dirty. Crying is natural and healthy and your body needs this release to move forward. Just let it happen. You’re safe here; everyone here loves you.”

“But my mascara- my eyeshadow- I’m dirty, Harry. Unclean. Gross….”

“You are absolutely not gross,” Evie says, tugging one of Aricka’s hands from Harry’s grip, “I cry all the time, am I dirty? Or unclean?”

“N-no-!” Aricka cried, face pale and eyes red rimmed. “Evie you’re beautiful and lovely and smart and kind and-!”

“Then so are you. Purely because you are an Auradon girl who never stops trying to be better and to understand.”

“I can’t- Chad- she said- she said-!”

“I got this,” Chad says, “excuse me a sec Harry.” The pirate moved over so Chad could take his spot. “Hey sis-a-roo. Sis. Sissy. Twinny. Look at me. I’m right there with you. I don’t think what our mother taught us was right. If we were gonna be rejected the second we showed a flaw or imperfection everyone would’ve already left but look up.” She shook her head. “Ariellllllll….” He sang. “Come on tiny. Teeny. Itsy-bitsy…. Starburst?” Nothing. “Butterfingers?” The name got her to finally look up at Chad only. “Look around us. Please?”

She glances around the room to see what Chad saw-

Everyone was still there. Watching her, granted, and yes that was humiliating all in itself but they-

They didn’t think she was loathsome for having runny makeup and nose. For having a torn skirt. For having a bright red slap imprint on her cheek.

“Chad…” she whispered. “You- they- I don’t understand-?”

“Oh, evil,” Mal says, “of course you knew how to comfort us about our crappy parents; you’ve got a crappy mom.” The purple haired demigoddess Fae suddenly marched over and wrapped the pale-blonde princess in a protective but careful embrace, “my mom used to do the same thing- act all flowery and sweet one minute and the next she was pulling the rug from underneath me.” Aricka was shaking again, face pressed firmly against Mal’s light purple jacket. “You’re une princesse guerrière, and I am going to be your fée protectrice.”

Aricka gulps and whispers, “You are ma reine des fées, Mal. Have been for a while. Ma reine dragon, as well.”

“She’s right about that, min modige kriger,” Uma says, wrapping herself around Chad, “while your perfect parents tried to take our voices- while my mother stole voices- Aricka, you GAVE us your voice. Gave us A voice. You spoke for us when we couldn’t or risk being sent back to the Isle.”

“U-Uma, I wish you had been born here; safe, wish we could’ve all been friends from the beginning,” Aricka croaked; and then Uma was hugging her, saying,

“That’s why you were our first chosen friend here. You never once saw us as different, you saw us as friends you just hadn’t truly met yet. You saw us as equals. You explained to us how you worked, how life here worked.”

“She’s right, meine Kriegerprinzessin,” Evie said, adding to everyone calling Aricka a warrior princess. “We chose you.”

“Since the moment we met you’ve been my compass, my treasure, mo chridhe, love, nobody is replacing you.”

“Chad; we didn’t forget you, you’re every bit as dear as your twin. You both helped us in different ways.” Then CHAD was crying and Aricka gripped her brother and then every VK and Hero Kid was in a giant cuddle heap.

“I- I can’t believe she hit me,” Aricka whispers. “She’s never hit me before-,”

“And if she knows what’s good for her she never will again,” Jay said, affirmed by Azalea.

“I’m going to make protection bracelets for you and Chad; if she tries anything you’ll just have to activate the beam and we can teleport to you or vice versa,” Mal swore.

“Same here princess, you and all the hero kids, you’re all getting some form of a protection charm,” Uma adds.

“I want one for Aricka Page,” Seb White suddenly spoke up. “She can handle herself but- it would make me feel better. Knowing we can find each other.”

“We can make that happen,” Azalea assured. “Everyone in this room has done so much to help us it’s the least we can do.”

“Indeed,” Evie says. “I will make sure that all of you get something of ours to ensure everyone knows you’re under our protection.”

“Hey-um-princess Aricka-?” Gil. Aricka wiggled up so she could see the blond pirate. “Those things you said back there- did you really mean that?”

Aricka and Chad don’t even glance at each other as they both move over to Gil, moving as two parts of the same brain almost. Aricka slowly reaches for Gil and then when he didn’t flinch or move away she wrapped her arms carefully around him, Chad doing the same. “Gilly…” she says. “You are the sunshine of this group. We need sunshine to thrive. We all love and need you, Sunny. Don’t doubt your place here. You try so hard; and you’re so Good. You just absorb everything good like a sponge, and you smile at the smallest pleasures. I’m proud to call you my friend. My sunshine. My Gil.”

“And you’re super strong and athletic,” Chad adds. “You’re going to be one of the best graduating Tourney players in Auradon. And one of the best swords and shields players. I bet you could even learn to be a super amazing chef, with all the recipes you’ve been working on.”

By now the “sunshine” of the group was crying too, and Aricka sent Uma a panicked apologetic glance, only for the teal-haired pirate to wave her on. “It’s okay Gil, they mean it,” Uma asserts. “Aricka and Chad only say what they mean. If they say you’re sunshine, they’re just affirming what we all think and know.”

“Oh wow…” Gilly said, glancing at the twin royals who looked so much like him- Aricka with her light blue eyes and pale blonde hair; Chad with his smile and curls and the similar facial structure. “Oh, wow… you really mean it- you meant it all-,”

Aricka was about to speak and assure him when the door opened-

And her dad walked in,

Then everything went chaotic once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

@astralshipper @rosieshipper @hyperionshipping @yeehawselfshipping @letsgofoletsgo @tsundere-selfship @sappy-secrets @rosepetalcharm @mariposalass

[midlevelmonstrosity]

the full, very unfinished, and VERY unedited draft of Clouds chapter 5

chapter title: Death No More

word count: 5020

reading over it now, the writing style is actually pretty good, but I heavily disagree with some of my choices in characterization, and also I like to think my sense of humor has improved a lot since 2021 (which was the last time I touched this draft)

warnings for pretty much all the usual things in BSD with the exception of graphic violence (didn't get around to writing anything actually violent because this was originally, you know. a crackfic). also this takes place during the Cannibalism Arc, so Spicy, if you somehow find this, maybe don't look. nothing happens to Kunikida in this chapter but there is a Kunikida pov in chapter 2 I think? don't remember honestly. also warning for mentions of disordered eating in Kenji's part

apologies again to the few Clouds fans out there for abandoning this

He drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair he was leaned back in. He could faintly hear the seconds ticking away in the corner of the room. Time was a strange concept, he thought. It was slow, and yet slipped by so quickly, and there was never quite enough of it. 

Red-orange imprints of light flashed across his eyelids. Each tick of the clock felt like a gunshot. 

"So," Ranpo said monotonously, face turned up to the ceiling. 

He was answered with near-silence. He could hear them breathing, of course. But existence wasn't a response, was it?

He sighed and opened his eyes, taking in the room around him. "We don't have enough chairs, do we?"

Beside him, Yosano shrugged with one shoulder, light reflecting off her blouse in a way that stabbed at his eyes. He closed them.

"They'll be here in a few minutes," he said, and returned to reclining, draping an arm across his face. 

Most of the time he was fine, really. He could go around and do things and not have to worry about how much of everything there was. And then there were times like this one, where everything became too much to even keep up the guise of the funny detective. Lights were too bright, colors too vivid, sounds too loud. One wrong move and he'd be stuck with a migraine for the next few hours, at least. Sensory hell, he called it. His very own hellscape, designed just for him! The universe knew him well, knew just what he liked and just what he didn't. There was a cruel sense of balance in that. 

Amid the quiet cacophony, he could just barely pick apart the sound of shuffling feet. "We need more chairs."

The distinct sound of chair legs sliding back. "I'll get them!"

Atsushi, always so eager to please. A multitude of thoughts slipped through his mind. No, not you. No, not now, this isn't the time. There are people in the hallway. Don't go out into the hallway. Not you. He didn't have the time to arrange them properly. "No hallway for you!" he found himself saying. Yelling, perhaps, he amended. Wow, his volume and tone modulation was really bad.

He heard a sound that, by now, he could identify as the kid pausing. "...what?"

The footsteps behind the wall grew louder, by way of the Doppler effect, or whatever. He wasn't a scientist. He didn't need to be. He prepared himself for the slam of the door, for the explosion of noise it would make as it hit the wall.

The slam never came.

Instead, the door quietly slid open. Slowly, one pair of footsteps made it into the room, followed by a raspy cough. "Oh." A pause, and then ominous whirring. "Jinko."

Ranpo adjusted himself in the chair. Where was popcorn when he needed it?

__________

He plunged his consciousness into the depths of his overcoat and wrenched control of it. In one fluid motion, he raised its tendrils and hurled the were-tiger into the wall.

The were-tiger managed to flip in midair and land adequately, skidding back until his heels met the wall, leaving long claw marks in the floor. "Akutagawa," he spat. "Still as violent as ever, huh?"

He strolled further into the room. "And you're exactly as pathetic as always, Jinko. What makes you think you have the right to speak?" Rashoumon twitched and writhed around him. 

The were-tiger let out a low growl. How fitting for an animal. "And what makes you think Dazai would appreciate you ruining a negotiation like this?"

His mind fell silent for a brief, eternal moment. A heaviness made itself present deep within him. He ignored it and straightened. Weak-heartedness had no place in someone like him. He hated to admit the were-tiger was right. 

A voice interrupted his thoughts, crashed through them and pierced into the deepest parts of his mind. "Can't believe you'd ruin my fun like this, Atsushi." Dazai. He forced himself to stay still and ignore the sudden nausea and lightheadedness arising in him. Rashoumon curled around him in a way that was almost protective. He let it. "But I guess you're right. No point in wrecking all chances of a truce." He could hear the smile in his voice. The were-tiger didn't look the least bit terrified. He almost wanted to shake him for his insolence, for his stupidity in not noticing the danger just across the room.

"Yes, of course," he found himself saying, mouth moving as if not even under his control. It felt as if a fog was slowly distancing him from himself.

He felt Dazai's cold gaze turn to him. He forced himself to suppress all traces of weakness, to stand as stoically as he could. Emotions were weak, and he could never allow himself to be weak again. "Where are the others?"

Others? What did he mean by that? The executives? Another group entirely? He allowed the fog inside him to consume him until he couldn't remember what it was like to be human. Much better, he thought. "The executives had to stay behind to deal with...a certain issue. They'll come once it's been dealt with." The Boss had been found, finally, lying in a dumpster in an alleyway not too far from the mafia's headquarters, bleeding out, delirious, and yelling incoherently at a stray cat at the end of the alleyway. Their time was running out, ticking away so, so quickly, and therefore anyone available was immediately dispatched to either help the Boss, investigate what happened, or, in his case, start dealing with the detectives while everyone else was indisposed. He was told he would be negotiating, but, like always, it wasn't true. He was needed to fight. Death was all he was good at, after all.

"And they sent you?" The words were more of a statement than a question.

"Yes." He made himself look at his former mentor.

Dazai hummed noncommittally. He felt as if he had already been dissected and laid out for inspection. "Interesting decision," he said, and Akutagawa could almost believe he hadn't planned the entire situation out. "Well, anyway, that's disappointing. I was hoping to torment Chuuya a little before we were completely out of time." The other detectives almost seemed to collectively wince at the reminder. "Could you do me a favor and remind him he's short every once in a while?" To say his grin was unsettling was an understatement.

Wouldn't that be insubordination? He shoved the thought away and said yes instead. Antagonizing Dazai was one of the worst mistakes a person could do in their lifetime. And he couldn't afford to make mistakes. He couldn't.

He was spared from his thoughts by a crash as Dazai was knocked face-first into the table. "TIME ISN'T LIKE YOUR BANDAGES, STOP WASTING IT!" He searched his mind for a name. Kunikida Doppo. That was who had dared attack Dazai. He stared in mute horror. He knew firsthand what it was like to suffer under Dazai, but it was four years since he was thrown aside and abandoned. What bloodbath would ensue now? Akutagawa could envision it perfectly, a wave of darkness rising in him and threatening to drown him. First he would deliver an incapacitating kick, then crush the fingers, then carve out lines of red in places no one would bother to look—

Dazai laughed. He blinked. Dazai...was laughing. He barely restrained himself from stumbling back. The blood drained out of every part of his body, and he felt an excruciating pressure start growing in his chest. He glanced around the room, at the detectives who looked exhausted and unconcerned with what was happening right next to them. The only times he had ever seen Dazai laugh was when he was about to deliver a punishment more cruel than any human being would be able to come up with. Was this the power of the Armed Detective Agency? Were they really so unbeatable so as to not show even a hint of fear in the face of the Demon Prodigy?

A strangled gasp escaped him and quickly turned into a cough that tore itself out of his lungs. "You okay over there?" the Agency doctor asked monotonously, suddenly looking at him. Her eyes almost seemed to pierce through him and see the useless mess he was, how his body malfunctioned and his very self was so intrinsically flawed that he could hardly be considered a person. 

He snapped up, wiping his mouth and pointedly ignoring the aching itch in his chest. He wasn't weak, he didn't need help, he didn't need anyone or anything, ever. "I'm fine," he spat, and struggled to suppress the next cough.

"Okay," she said, and turned away, clearly not believing him. "Whatever you say." He wanted to scratch that look off her face and beat her until she could see that he wasn't sickly and frail and weak. He may be completely useless, but he would never accept weakness. And, in that moment, he wanted to destroy everything around him until they understood that. 

He realized that Rashoumon was floating around him and forced it to stay down. 

Then he realized that Dazai was flying through the air and was unable to hold down the next round of coughs.

__________

He looked at the Boss's slumped figure in the car seat, still reeking a little of trash, rot, and the distinct smell of infection. They didn't have much time left. Ten hours, if he did the math right, which he did, of course. You can't exactly be a government experiment with the ability to manipulate gravity and not know at least something about how it worked.

He leaned back against the seat and turned his face up towards the ceiling. They had to make it. Had to. He didn't get this far in life just to lose to some greasy, edgelord-wannabe leader of a gang of emo war criminals lying semi-conscious, incapacitated, and restrained in the makeshift hospital of a group of pesky detectives. He laughed mirthlessly. The whole situation was almost funny. Here they were, on the verge of an all-out battle between at least three different organizations, with two important figures hours away from excruciating death due to a virus that ate them from inside, when the leader of the third group ended up being knocked out by a man-child with a can of beans because he decided he'd buy some dubiously fresh vegetables before plotting world domination in his gamer cave. No, it wasn't funny, it was absolutely hilarious, in the most tragic way possible. If this were a movie he'd be cackling with reckless abandon, but unfortunately it wasn't one, it was real, and he was stuck in the middle of it all with his Boss mumbling incoherently just to the left of him and almost everyone else in the Mafia scrambling to get to the Agency before Akutagawa either murdered someone or passed out and before Russian Ratatouille decided to make a break for it and start blowing up the world. He wasn't entirely convinced Dostoevsky was actually semi-conscious and not just pretending to be in order to attack in a moment of weakness, which made the time constraint even smaller, so much so that it felt like time itself was happily tying a noose around his neck.

Just thinking about nooses brought that bandage-waster to the forefront of his mind, which brought the whole incident at the office along with it. He pulled out his phone, already feeling the familiar wave of writhing, dark rage rising up deep within him to replace the annoying feeling of impending doom, and sent off a text he's been delaying for far too long.

why didn't you tell me that bandaged imbecile was out of the hospital? like we SPECIFICALLY AGREED UPON?

He felt the telltale signs of fury bubbling up towards the surface and shoved them back down with all his might. He set his phone down into his lap and closed his eyes, waiting for the onslaught of anger to calm before he ended up destroying everything in his vicinity. Though, Chuuya supposed it was better to have to deal with overpowering feelings of rage and traces of other emotions than be allowed to sit with his deep exhaustion in such a dire situation. After all, it was better to have the angry Mafia exec in a fight than a powerless, powerful barely-human who was so aware of how utterly estranged he was from the entirety of humanity that he wanted nothing more than to lie down and contemplate his own tragic existence. He'd rather be furious than empty. Not much could be done about the self-awareness, though. But it was fine. Chuuya would be fine.

Kouyou had told him, many times, that he used humor as a coping mechanism too much. She also told him that he broke too many phones, swore at his subordinates too much, and hid his problems behind a façade of a careless and hotheaded brute too much to not be concerning. He teetered on a narrow precipice between hating how well Kouyou saw through him and craving understanding and genuine connection with another person. Chuuya was a man of many faces, though, really, wasn't everyone?

"I'm gonna kill you, cat man," he heard Mori mutter quietly. He turned to face his Boss, who was staring blankly out the window. "Y'better watch out. 'Cause 'm gonna..." He turned away, not interested in hearing any more delirious ramblings. Here was yet another prime example of a man of many faces: a cruel military doctor, a calculating mafia boss with predatory tendencies, a regular man with questionable interests, a powerful man loyal to his cause, and a raving madman on the verge of death. What a deal.

His phone buzzed, and he found that he had received a reply.

thought it'd be funny lol

Soft-yet-jagged threads of a burning darkness shot through his entire body, raising his hairs with an unseen force and roiling deep inside somewhere adjacent to his chest, threatening to drown and blind him. He pressed his palms into his eyes hard enough to see stars and took a few deep breaths to salvage the torn pieces of himself from that dark and endless ocean. He could barely form a coherent thought. He grasped onto the first thing that floated up: the fact that he was in a car, then the subconscious realization that it would be highly inopportune to lose control here. As the seconds dragged on (time was running out, time was running out, time was running out), he gradually came back to himself with little reminders of who he was. He was Nakahara Chuuya, and he was who he made himself be. 

After a while, he opened his eyes and waited for his vision to stabilize and for the shifting colors to fade away. He picked up his phone again and willed the corruptive, corrosive flood back under the surface. He was going to stay diplomatic. He was.

  seriously.

The reply was nearly instantaneous. 

  yea lol

He typed a response. Deleted it. Typed another. Deleted it. Calmed himself down with thoughts of a cold metal rooftop under the setting sun. Typed a question.

  well did you at least publicly embarrass him like I asked?

  oh u have NO idea huh :D

  what's that supposed to mean.

A typing bubble appeared, then disappeared. He looked out the window to find that they were almost at the Detective Agency's office. He would've gotten there faster on his own, but he had to protect the Boss, who was, at the moment, incapacitated and vulnerable, hence the convoy.

After a few minutes, a response finally came.

  ill send u the sec camera recordings later

  they're WILD

He stared at his phone for a few seconds. He wasn't sure what to expect, but it seemed like his plan was proceeding well enough for the time being. 

  sounds intriguing.

He shut off his phone after sending the last message. They were around a minute away from their destination. He couldn't allow himself any more distractions from the severity of the situation. He brought up everything that has happened to the front of his mind and allowed himself to sink into it. 

It was time for the real fight to begin.

__________

Kenji was bored. He could sit still and do nothing for long periods of time, sure, but that didn't change the fact that he was just. So. Bored. Boredom was like an itch in his brain that he couldn't scratch no matter how much he tried, and it was almost agonizing.

He was tempted to start spinning on the stool again, but the last time he'd tried that—around thirty minutes ago—he'd ended up accidentally putting a dent in the corner of the cabinets with his foot, and had to drag the trash can over from the corner to cover it up. He'd tell Yosano-sensei about it later. 

His foot was bouncing again, he realized after noticing the rhythmic tapping noise coming from the floor. He told it to stop. As people in the village always told him, he had to stay still sometimes or else he'd scare away the animals. That, of course, never happened because all of the animals loved him, and he loved them back. 

Thinking about his love for animals only made him think about food, which in turn made him aware of how hungry he was. It was like a small burning pit in his stomach, twisting and turning like an unruly horse. He was used to it, though. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made to be strong.

He felt like he could eat a horse. Wait, no, that was bad. Horses weren't food.

Kenji sighed and spun around, slowly, to face what he was assigned here to watch: Fyodor Dostoevsky, a guy who seemed to be pretty mean by the looks of it, but also had a cool hat. Maybe if they were lucky he'd turn out to be like Nakahara-san, a little mean-looking and violent but ultimately kind and the coolest city person he'd ever seen. But, if the faces of the rest of the Agency were anything to go by, then he didn't think they would be that lucky. 

Dostoevsky wasn't really doing anything interesting, which was part of the reason why he was so bored. He mostly just slept, or half-slept, and on the rare occasion he opened his eyes they'd be dull and lifeless. "Rare occasion"...as if it hadn't only been two hours. Time was so different in the city. In his village, keeping track of time was much easier. Here, there was too much going on to really notice it passing, too much noise, too much action. It was fast and slow and here and then gone.

Kyouka-chan was here with him earlier, but she left without a word a while ago, and he decided not to pry. Prying was, as he had found out through experience, not very good.

Prying...he wondered what was in all of the cabinets Yosano-sensei had. He doubted there would be anything to eat. But he wouldn't look, because he shouldn't. 

Kenji sighed again and stood up. He ambled over to the curtain hanging from the ceiling, mostly held back by a strip of fabric of the same color so that observing the patient/prisoner would be easier. He looked up at the links it was hanging from. It was such a drab color, nothing at all like the countryside, with its vivid greens and yellows and blues, and the sounds of the animals and plants, and the smell of the food always on display in the market...

His stomach rumbled and sent tiny, sharp pangs through him. He didn't need the food yet, he had a job to do, and that was to stop Dostoevsky from escaping if anything happened. He couldn't eat when he was needed, he reminded himself. Food was a reward for a job well done.

The door quietly opened and closed. He recognized that faint, ghostlike presence and whirled around. "Kyouka-chan!"

Her hands were holding two crêpes, one in each hand. A growl started up in his stomach again. One of the crêpes had honey and lemon inside it, with a bit of powdered sugar on top of it all. To say his mouth wasn't watering would be a lie, and he hated lying. 

Kyouka briskly approached him, knife glinting at her waist. "Eat," she said, and handed him the honey and lemon one. His favorite. 

"I can't," he said, waving his hands in front of him. "I need to be strong for this. It's my job."

Kyouka shook her head. "No. You need to eat," she implored him. She had the blank face she usually had when thinking and the Port Mafia, and his stomach sunk as he realized how serious she was. Not that she wasn't usually serious, but now he knew that he wouldn't be getting out of it.

"But..." he began, "the job..."

"Kenji. I haven't seen you eat even once in the past few days. I know how unpleasant that is." His stomach sunk further. He couldn't just abandon the job, it would be dishonest and disloyal. "Kenji," she repeated, and stretched the crêpe out to him. "You need to eat." She paused and looked at a point near his eyes. After a long moment, she continued. "And sleep."

"I'm fine, though."

Her face took on a colder aspect. "I think you'd find you'd rather eat this crêpe than find out the other methods I know of putting people to sleep." That was her attempt at a joke, he could tell, but he could also tell how painful it was for her to make it.

Kenji sighed and took the crêpe from her. Kyouka-chan was more than capable of covering for his absence. He'd have to apologize profusely to Kunikida-san later.

"You need to sleep too," he found himself saying as he took a seat. 

"I'll be fine." She took a bite of her crêpe, and he did the same. She seemed to contemplate something. "You won't be, though. You might be strong, but you're still human." Something dark and bleak shone in her eyes as she said that, something wholly unfamiliar to the boy he was before coming to Yokohama but now something he'd been seeing more and more often.

He turned her words over in his mind, barely noticing how his leg started bouncing again as he savored the sour-sweet taste of the crêpe. 

Kenji supposed he had just learned a new lesson.

__________

Ranpo tugged at a stray thread as he carefully listened to the new fight begin. This fight was between Dazai and Kunikida, a regular occurrence in the office, so he wasn't particularly interested in seeing it play out. Two fights in the span of, what, fifteen minutes? Really, where was popcorn when he needed it? (In the safe under the main office room. In one of the drawers in the temporary kitchenette set up in a corner. Deep under the couch cushions.) And pain meds. But he'd bother Yosano about those later. Now wasn't the time to burden them.

The clock on the wall continued to sound like an endless series of gunshots shooting off into the abyss. Life really was like one giant battle for him. Lights were like Kunikida's flash bombs, Akutagawa's incessant coughing was like bombs going off in the middle of a hurricane, everyone's breathing was a heavy wind battering at him, and the faint, loud buzzing of electricity sounded like heavily bass-boosted 2013's-era brostep aimed straight at his ear drums. Not to mention that they were one wrong move away from launching into an actual war, though, if he predicted things correctly, then war would've been imminent either way. There was more to the Rats in the House of the Dead than met the eye, but he was never quite partial to seeing, was he? He was a great detective and could figure out anything. Which was how he knew that they were completely f—

The door exploded open with such force that he flinched and nearly fell out of his chair. His eyes flew open and he squinted through the sudden brightness to find that the door was not, in fact, lying in pieces on the floor but rather was just standing open. His mind raced to piece his thoughts together after the sudden interruption. How had he missed the footsteps?

At the door was Fancy Hat Dude, or Chuuya. He supposed it was time to start referring to people properly because it would be such a shame if all chances of (another) negotiation were ruined due to his "improper manners". He scoffed to himself.

Chuuya was no longer at the door, he noted. Rather, the executive was striding over to Akutagawa, who was nearly doubled over, clutching his stomach and coughing violently. Ranpo's ears were still ringing from the cacophony of sound, and he could feel a migraine developing behind his eyes from the sensory hell he was in. He tried to glance over at Yosano and convey his pain through friendship telepathy or whatever, but quickly regretted when he realized that even the smallest eye motion felt like two stabs delivered straight to the back of his eye sockets.

He leaned back again, massaging his forehead with his palms. 

More footsteps were coming up the stairwell and down the halls. Great. No, really, it was great, because now they could finally start discussing what to do with the smelly, gross, and also highly criminal guy currently (presumably) unconscious in a soundproof room that was under supervision by two fourteen-year-olds, and also how to deal with the fact that Fukuzawa (and Mori, he supposed, though he didn't care about him and would actually be rather pleased with his demise) was less than ten hours away from an excruciating death. But he wasn't stressed, not at all, he was a great detective and nothing could ever faze him.

...

...

Okay, yeah, fine, he was extremely stressed and they were all screwed.

__________

That idiot had forgotten to take his meds again, because of course he did. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong, huh?

Burning darkly both inside and out, he strode over to a choking Akutagawa. He slammed his hand into his back, allowed for the power to radiate out and stretch around a new form, and then quickly floated him over to the Agency doctor, who he'd taken note of as soon as he'd stepped into the room. 

"Take him," he barked, and then quickly severed the undulating waves of power stretching out between them. Akutagawa dropped onto the conference table like a sack of potatoes. He didn't have it in him to muster any extra sympathy. "We'll need him later."

He glanced behind him. After verifying the presence of the rest of the Port Mafia higher-ups, he focused in on himself and channelled energy through his legs and into the floor. The floor jolted with a low boom. That got their attention.

"Hey, Armed Detective Agency idiots," he began. "Get yourselves together. We have a lot to discuss. Namely," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, "that."

As if on cue, through the door stumbled in a shaky and deathly pale mafia boss, leaning heavily against a flickering little girl. Mori had thankfully come out of his delirium near the end of the endless half-hour car ride, but it was still clear that he wasn't exactly in mint condition, and having been left wounded in a dumpster for several hours was doing nothing to improve his state. If the cannibalism virus didn't kill him, then the infection from whatever was teeming in the dumpsters behind the "Mori Corporation" buildings certainly would, and god, wasn't that a cheerful thought. The future sure was bright and smiling, huh? 

"And that," the Boss continued, pointing a thin finger left.

There was a brief moment of complete silence punctuated by stifled coughs. "Rintarou, that's a plant," Elise piped up. "Dofuto...dosutoefu..." She paused. "Whatever. The Russian's that way." She pointed right. 

"Ah, Elise-chan, of course..." the Boss muttered.

He thought he'd been a loyal part of the Port Mafia for long enough to not get smote on the spot for daring to speak against the Boss, which is exactly why he decided to speak up after half a second of deliberation. "Can we just get on with it already?"

Every eye in the immediate vicinity seemed to turn to him at once. 

"The hatrack's right. We should all stop getting sidetracked and start trying to solve the issue of both of organizations being on the verge of collapse. You know, I'm actually surprised the hatrack even had it in him to come up with such a beautiful idea, this entire time I was convinced his hat consumed his brai—"

The fact that he managed to keep himself from violating all of the Geneva Conventions within the span of a second was a testament to his self-control, and only marginally more impressive than the speed with which the blond detective kicked the offending waste of bandages into the nearest wall. 

"Please ignore him," calmly said Kunikida. "He does this a lot, my apologies. Let's proceed to the topic at hand."

He was a little awed. He made a mental note to buy the detective wine as compensation later.

"Yes, of course," Mori said, sounding strangely distant again.