#the curse of being able to set my own schedule....

[sanchoyoscribbles]

daily may day 17: sacrifice

don’t let me let u down ☹️

[tinyarsonist]

Volume: Up

"I bet I can make you scream in Korean."

Summary: In which heart throb K-Pop Idol, Bangchan, just shows you how 'Christopher' he can really be.

MDNI 18+ Only

TW: idol!Chan, IdolTrainee!Y/N(fem!), drinking, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it up), smut in general, dirty talk, swearing, masturbation, dumification, nipple play (fem!), cum on stomach, PleasureDom!Chan, switch!reader (fem!), pull out, cum on stomach, let me know if I missed anything!

Italics are in Korean. Bold is in Spanish. Rest in English.

Volume Series: Part One | Part Two | ?

You were still in awe.

You started your career as an idol fairly late in the game, making you older than most. But, when you entered the world of K-pop, you knew this was what you were meant to do. You were already creating music since you were young, and how hard could it be?

Very.

There were days as a trainee when you felt like giving up. You left your friends and family back home to pursue your dream, and after years, you still felt like you were right back at the same spot you started. Never moving. Stagnant.

That's when you discovered Stray Kids. Watching their debut to where they are now. It motivated you.

Then, one day, your company announces that they want you to lead a team. They presented you with suitable candidates for your girl group, but something in you felt like something wasn't right. "Sorry," you apologize to your board. "But, if I may be so bold as to recruit my own members?"

You wanted a family. Craved friendship beyond just another gig. And, well, let's say it worked out very well for you.

This brings you to the present day--standing in DIV studio, surrounded by its members, to do an interview. Your group was just starting out and already doing well. You've posted a couple of dance practices and some ballad covers you performed as a group, tracking some major views across all social media. DIV wanted to be the first to be a part of the soon-to-be international hype.

"You ready?" Eric smiled at you as the crew set up your microphone. You nodded happily. The rest of your group couldn't make it due to schedule. It felt weird not having the rest of your girls around you, but knew this wasn't an opportunity you just passed up.

Time passes, and so far, the interview is going great. It was amazing being around like-minded people. And, it was also nice being able to curse and not have to worry about your 'imagine' among them. They were free to be who they wanted. They wanted to break the mold; conformity was not in their dictionary. It took a while to let your company agree to the interview in the first place, but this was the direction you wanted to take the group. To be yourself and just produce music.

"Okay, so next up is the heart rate challenge." Eric smiled. You were divided into teams; you and Eric vs. Peniel and BM. The winner would be dubbed by the lowest combined heart rate.

"You're going down!" BM teased as Peniel hyped him up in the back. You grin brightly.

"Considering you boys are literally jumping around before the monitor is even placed, I think it's safe to say we'll win."

"Oh okay, that's how it's gonna be??" Peniel laughed. "Then let's make a bet; the loser buys everyone barbeque!"

Eric and you agreed in a heartbeat. You were already craving galbi and rice. Peniel essentially just bought the dinner you were going to buy tonight anyway.

As the heart monitors are placed, you try your best to stay calm. You were an anxious person in general, but when push comes to shove, you always had a way of relaxing yourself.

Peniel and BM went first. Eric and you teased them relentlessly during their time duration of 5 minutes. Peniel started blushing during his time up when you started throwing winks and kisses his way. Their combined score was 250.

"That's not far!" Peniel groaned as the video crew asked for a short break to recalibrate their equipment. "She's too cute, like how does someone not get flustered?"

"It's all fun and games in love and war," you winked at him. Everyone laughed except Peniel, who just took out his phone and pouted. His fingers typed furiously on his keyboard. Once it was time to get the cameras rolling again, Peniel had a knowing smirk on his face. You couldn't help but wonder what he was concocting. You just knew he was plotting his revenge against you.

Eric went first. Despite the constant harassment Peniel and BM gave him, you couldn't help but laugh at their jabs. "You're supposed to be on my team!" Eric roared at you at his last 10 seconds on the clock. Despite everything, his heart rate totaled to 120. All you had to do was ignore the comments for a minute. You got this. You sat down in the middle of the floor and crossed your legs, getting in an almost meditative position. The rest followed. Then the buzzer started.

"So," Peniel started as soon as the timer started going. "You learned Korean by yourself, right?"

You shot him a distrusting glance. "Yes..."

Peniel and BM nodded their heads slowly. "Interesting"/"Yes, yes, very interesting." Eric shot you a glance. He could feel it, too. Based on how the two acted Eric's turn was completely different, they were calm. Too calm. They were up to something.

"One might say," Peniel feigned thoughtfulness by stroking his chin. "You had an interest in learning Korean before you even had thought of becoming a trainee."

Crap. He saw the clip.

Before your group days, you would do little lives here and there. Just want to document your early days and interact with anyone who wants to chat. During that time, you mentioned the real reason you learned Korean was to easily watch interviews without the need for subtitles. Then you casually mentioned how much of a fan you were for a certain boy group. Your fans, which was very little back then, took those clips and circulated them online. Which was fine. It gained some traction that you were a STAY and helped grow your platform. It was a bit embarrassing, essentially admitting that you only learned the language to watch their episodes and lives to get full context. But, hey, it also helped you get to where you are today.

Getting bullied by two idols so they don't have to pay for your dinner.

"Yes, Peniel. I learned Korean so I can watch Stray Kids' interviews live." You roll your eyes but keep track of where your monitor is. 95bpm. Not bad. So long as you stayed below 130, that galbi was yours.

Peniel and BM continued to stroke their chins. "Interesting"/"Yes, yes, very... Stray Kids fan. Very cool"

Peniel held up a finger before leaving the room. You looked around at the crew, confused. Eric laughed and peered after him; "Where is he going?"

His question was answered as Peniel stepped back into the room with a shorter figure behind him. You moved around to peer behind Peniel, and when you locked eyes with the guest, your heart rate shot up. 110bpm.

Eric and BM rose to give a small bow when Chan said his hellos. You stayed still in your place. Embarrassment immediately washed over you. But you took a deep breath in and out, 3 minutes until you can freak out. 3 minutes, and you can process every single emotion you are feeling.

Chan gave you a little wave, his dimples showing as he smiled. Ugh, he might as well shoot you in the heart right now.

"You're not gonna stand up?" Peniel teased. You immediately shook your head. As much as you wanted to say hi, dinner was calling your name. Seeing Chan in the flesh was amazing. But Galbi beat everything at this moment. BM smiled brightly and motioned for Chan to take a seat next to you. How sweet.

2 minutes. 115bpm.

You bowed your head slightly to say hello, still a bit too stunned to speak. Chan gave a small head bow back. "Sorry about this," he chuckled. You told him it was okay, but still unable to make eye contact. Despite that, you knew he looked incredible. He always did.

Focus! You tried to snap yourself out of it and took deep breaths. In and out. In and out.

"So... you learned Korean to watch us live? That's sweet," Chan felt awkward all of a sudden. When Peniel texted him, this wasn't what he expected to be doing during the interview. "How many languages do you know?"

You close your eyes and focus back on the game. Here you were making casual conversation, while 3 other idols were jabbing at you, trying to get your heart rate back up. "Four; English, Korean, Japanese, and Spanish."

"Holy crap, how is it going down?!" Eric looked at the monitor and backed up at you. You kept your eyes closed, trying to maintain a steady rhythm. Everyone but Chan was losing their shit.

You could hear BM jump to his feet. The impending doom of a very large bill drove his heart rate up. "Chan, do something!" He exclaimed in Korean. Chan giggled next to you; "What? What do I do?"

"Hit on her!" Peniel got up as well. All attention is now on Chan. Eric stood up and pointed at the two competitors; "Hey! Hey! You leave her alone!"

You couldn't help but chuckle; "I was subscribed to his bubble. I was in the trenches with the rest of STAY. There's nothing he can say that I haven't heard."

Chan clicked his teeth with his tongue. His eyes narrowed. A challenge. He looked at you, with your eyes still closed, before casting his gaze over at Eric. "Anyway, we can mute our mics for a sec?"

Your eyes shot open.

1 minute. 120bpm.

BM ran over to mute your mic. As soon as he backed up, Chan leaned in close to your ear. His breath tickled your cheek, and you had to close your eyes again. 125 bpm. 30 seconds.

"I bet I can make you scream in Korean."

Chan wasn't expecting you to turn your head so quickly towards him. The way your face flushed. Your eyes wide. Everything about you was making his heart race. You locked eyes with him and felt like you couldn't breathe. This was it. That free galbi was gone.

The buzzer went off.

Everyone turned to the monitor.

129bpm.

You shot up from your seat and hugged Eric. Peniel and BM groaned at their loss. Chan laughed as he watched the two of you jumping around, singing about free barbeque.

He took a moment to sneak a look at you, his gaze traveling up and down. The way your hair bounced with you and how your outfit was snuggling your curves just right. He stood up as Eric said their sign-off. Once the cameras were shut off, the teasing started between the four. Peniel placed his arm around the younger idol and pulled him in a side hug. "It's okay," he reassured Chan. "It's not entirely your fault. A good majority of it. But, not fully."

Chan laughed and rolled his eyes. Everyone came up to thank him for coming over. That's when he locked eyes with you again, giving him a bright smile.

You gave the bow you weren't able to give before, formally introducing yourself. You all talked for a bit until you felt your hunger start to spike up; "Okay, so when are we getting dinner?"

The group settled for a time later tonight so everyone could get ready. BM invites Chan to tag along.

"No no," Chan shook his head, not wanting to impose. Peniel tickled his stomach as the rest of the group tried to get him to agree. You couldn't help but chime in. Part of you being selfish and wanting to spend more time with him and also wanting to get a jab in at Peniel and BM; "Come on, it'll be fun. And free!"

Chan looked at you. It was subtle, but his cheeks turned a bit red. "Y-yea, okay."

Chan made his way back to his dorm. The rest of the members who share the space are away on their own schedules. It was rare for Chan to spend the night alone.

He groaned as he plopped on the couch. He was still a bit jet lagged from flying from NYC back home. Laying his head on the back of the couch, he tried to take a nap before having to get ready to head out for dinner with you and the rest of the group.

You.

His mind was restless, and for some reason, they kept fluttering back to you. No matter how much he tried to push them out, he couldn't stop thinking about your big doe eyes. The way your breath hitched as he leaned in. The perfume you were wearing.

Was it Channel? Gucci? Whatever it was, it was flowery like a spring day. He could still smell it on his clothes oh so slightly.

Biting his lower lip, he got up from his seat and headed to the shower. The warm water was welcoming as he tried to clear his head. Unfortunately, it seemed there was only one thing to rid him of these thoughts.

The amount of guilt he felt once he stroked his cock to the thought of you was soon discarded as his mind wandered even more.

What were you like? Did you relinquish control or demand it? Were your lips as soft as he can imagine? Your mouth--oh God. How would it feel to have it wrapped around him? Were you a moaner? A screamer? Could he scramble your brain so much that you scream for him in Korean? Would you come in multiple languages?

He sped up his pace even faster. Water cascaded down his back as he faced the tile bathroom wall. One hand on the structure to ground him as he lost himself at the thought of you. He leaned his head back as he felt himself building and building. The warm water was a comforting feeling on his scalp.

The way he would take you as soon as you entered the dorm. No words, just a clash of flesh as he stripped you of your clothes and bent you over the couch. He wouldn't waste any time and would just thrust into your--oh God. How would you feel around his dick? How tight--

He muffled a moan as he came on his hand. The shower washed away any evidence of his inappropriate thoughts of you. He panted heavily and stood under the water for a couple of moments, pleasure rippling through him soon to be replaced with an abundant amount of guilt for getting off to someone he barely knew.

Maybe that was the thrill of it. Maybe the thought of having someone who didn't know his ups and downs is what did it for him.

Chan didn't have time to dwell on the thought as the time to meet up was fast approaching. And he hated to admit, but the thought of seeing you made his now softening cock twitch.

By the time Chan arrived at the restaurant, platters and drinks were spread across the shared table. BM and Peniel bought out a room so they could enjoy their meal without prying eyes. Chan could hear them hollering in the room before he even opened the door. His ears rang as they all loudly greeted him.

"Look who finally made it!" Peniel laughed as Chan took a seat across from them. Eric and BM were putting meat on the grill as they said their greetings. Chan couldn't help but scan the room, taking note that you weren't there. He tried to play it cool as he asked if you were running late.

"She texted us saying there was something she needed to finish up at home," BM answered him. Eric couldn't help but wiggle his eyebrows at Chan.

"Why? Scared she might not come?"

"No, no." Chan chuckled awkwardly while looking off to the side. "Was just wondering, is all."

The boys all made cooing noises. A flush of embarrassment washed over Chan at their teasing. Peniel smirked; "Wouldn't blame you, she's gorgeous!"

Chan poured himself a shot of soju, trying his best to drown out their teasing and take the stress away. The three men quit their teasing and talked about mundane things; schedules, new music coming out, and how big the bags under Chan's eyes were.

"I just flew back from New York!"

"Doesn't matter! Ever heard of eye cream!"

They were laughing at one another by the time you entered the room. Everyone stood up to greet you with a bow, and you bowed back. Gesturing for them to take their seats again. "Sounds like a party in here," you smiled as you took a seat next to Chan. He took note of how you wore your hair up in a messy bun, showing off your silver necklace. That flowery smell radiated off of you, and he had to lean a bit to the side so it didn't flood his senses in all the right ways.

"Is that soju or vodka?" You spot a filled shot glass from across the table. "Actually, it doesn't matter. Hand me it."

Chan watched you down the shot with a smile and motioned for Eric to pour you another one. "Hard day?"

The second shot went down a bit smoother and you gave him a grin. "You can say that."

He didn't need to know that the line he whispered in your ear had stressed you out to your core. It was possibly the hottest thing any man has ever said to you. It was all you could think about by the time you reached your dorm. His voice echoed in the back of your mind causing your body to feel hot.

He didn't need to know the real reason why you were late to dinner.

That you were squirming on your bed, rubbing yourself furiously between your legs. Trying to get all the tension out of your body before having to see him again.

And now you were sitting next to him. The man responsible for one of the best solo sessions in your life.

"I mean, I did have to spend half the day with these three." You gestured to the rest of the group who just booed at you. Eric rolled up a napkin and threw it your way, causing you to laugh.

As you and the group ate and drank, the room was beginning to get louder and louder. It wasn't long until everyone became tipsy.

You just finished cooking up your Galbi and offered it to the rest of the group who everyone, except Chan, declined. You used the tongs to bring it over to his plate before attempting to cut it. "Damn things," you huffed under your breath. The scissors were dull and worn out. Trying to cut through the meat was as effective as slicing a rib-eye with a spoon.

"Here," Chan grabbed the tongs and scissors from your hand. Despite the very brief time that his fingers brushed yours, you couldn't help but blush a bit as he gave you your half. You didn't have time to feel embarrassed as you caught Eric eyeing the two of you. He had his fingers interlaced and resting his head on them.

"You two look cute together~"

"Shut up," you mumble and grab some kimchi to add to your plate.

Chan sat quietly next to you. He plopped some food in his mouth, the best excuse he had to not comment. BM chuckled before pouring another round of drinks. "What did you say to her anyway? Peniel was screaming so loud I couldn't even hear it."

The two of you were sitting so close to one another, that you could feel Chan stiffen next to you. No doubt, wanting to avoid another round of ridicule from his colleagues.

"Awe, jealous he wasn't whispering in your ear instead?"

That snarky reply was all it took for the other two boys to holler and tease the living crap out of him. As the night progressed, soon talk of continuing the party commenced. Chan mentioned he had a free dorm tonight.

"You in?"  Eric asked you. You looked up from your plate of Galbi and rice. You were so distracted by your plate that you didn't realize they were all waiting for your answer. You hesitated. You obviously had this attraction to Chan since the interview. Hell since even before you became a trainee. The frustration of him being so near, mixed with alcohol, might just be the equation for something disastrous.

Chan bit his lower lip while sneaking a glance at you. He knew it was stupid to invite everyone over. To invite you over. He was already feeling the effects of drinking so much, trying to keep pace with everyone. What if he slipped up? Did something that made you hate him?

But then a wonderful thought popped into his mind: What if something amazing happened?

"It'll be fun," Chan gave you his shy grin. Your heart raced as you two locked eyes. How could you say no to that face?

"You got this," you whispered to yourself as you stood in front of Chan's door. It wasn't every day you're invited to a celebrity's apartment. Especially one that you've imagined in bed with when you're stressed out after work. Everyone left in their own taxi after dinner, planning to meet up at Chan's. You stayed a bit behind to make some phone calls to your family overseas, promising that you would be there soon. "Totally normal get-together. Nothing to worry about."

After a couple of seconds, you gather enough courage to knock on the door. A moment or two the door swings open and Chan stands there. God, he looked great with his messy hair, black tee, and joggers. Giving him that ready-for-bed look--

"Wait, were you asleep?"

Chan's face turned red. He was in bed. But he definitely wasn't sleeping.

"They didn't text you? They got a call on the way over, their schedule moved up earlier in the morning so they headed back home."

Oh.

You pull out your phone and groan. "Batteries dead." You just had to make those calls? You knew your mom could talk your ear off.

"Sorry," you put the phone back in your pocket. Taking a step back, you start to head out. "Have a good night."

"Wait!" He couldn't just let you leave. It could be from all the alcohol, but watching you saunter away felt wrong. He wanted you near him. To stay. "It's late... You can charge your phone and call a cab here if you want."

You didn't fight it. You know you should've. Chan was right, it was late. The responsible thing to do would be to go home. But that didn't stop you from sitting on his couch waiting for your phone to charge enough to call your ride. The two of you scrolled through YouTube on his TV, chatting about anything that came to mind as you both sipped on some mixed drinks Chan concocted when you first entered the apartment.

It was weird. Without the others, conversation flowed almost naturally between you two.

"You mean to tell me, you've never watched any of your own fan cams?!" You exclaimed. Chan shook his head and laughed shyly.

"No, it felt weird watching close-ups of myself if that makes sense?"

"You really should, they always look phenomenal!"

You grabbed the remote to scroll through the recommended videos to watch. Chan took the opportunity took look you over for the umpteenth time tonight. Here he was just in joggers and an oversized shirt while you sported a cute long-sleeved crop top and tight jeans. He had to grab the pillow next to him to cover up the bulge he was sporting.

You settled on a music video by RenMakesMusic.  The strum of the guitar had Chan bobbing his head along to the beat. The lyrics were a bit dark but meaningful. "This is good," Chan mused. "Turn it up a bit."

You gladly obliged with a smile, pressing the remote's volume button so his subwoofers would have to do some heavy lifting. Music filled the apartment as the two of you watched the video. You didn't realize it initially, but your shoulder pressed against his. You slowly shifted to your right, to create distance not trying to give him the wrong impression, but were surprised when he leaned back into you. It was comforting.

It was right.

"Everything okay?"

Chan's question broke through your mind wandering. You felt your cheeks heat up a bit. "Y-yea, um. Where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall, to the right."

Chan watched as you made your way to the guest bathroom. He couldn't help but keep his eyes on your backside. Once you disappeared, he leaned further back into the couch and groaned.

What was he doing? Letting you in this late, checking you out when you weren't looking, trying to get any physical contact no matter how little it was. It was stress, it had to be. His schedule has been so hectic lately his body was trying to find relief since his mind was almost running amock. Chan was so lost in thought that he let YouTube play on in the background. Not paying much attention to what was playing.

When you exited the bathroom, you were greeted with bongos and macarenas bouncing through the dorm. Peaking around the corner you spotted Chan leaning against the couch. He had his head back against the rest, his eyes closed. But despite his worn-down posture, he was still tapping his foot to the beat. "Aw, come on--you call that dancing?"

Your voice brought back his focus. His side smile gave you butterflies and you couldn't help but wear your own when he quipped; "Like you know how to dance to this?"

"Alright, Christopher. Get up." You grabbed the remote next to him and turned up the stereo even more. Hopefully, anyone living above or below the apartment wouldn't be able to hear how the bass shook the walls.

His grin widened at the name change. Almost nobody called him that anymore. There was a fine line between 'Chan' and 'Christopher', one that you seemed to be willing to cross.

What else were you willing to do?

Your hand was extended to him as you stood above him from his seat. The gleam in your eye was bright, almost playful. There was this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Bubbly and light. How the light casts around your silhouette made him realize why he felt the way he did when his eyes locked on you.

You were a goddess.

"You just gonna sit there? Come on, get up."

He didn't know what you said, but by the way, you grabbed onto his hand and pulled him from his seat, he knew he was in no position to argue.

You were a tough dance instructor. You corrected almost every misstep in Spanish. He couldn't comprehend your scolding, but he'll be damned to admit that at this point, he was doing it on purpose. There was something incredibly hot about being reprimanded in an unknown language.

"Dear all that is mighty," you sighed. "You're too stiff, loosen up a bit. Here, why don't you take the lead instead."

That caused his brain to malfunction a bit. He stuttered like a middle school kid being asked to dance for the first time. Without waiting for a reply, you grab his hands in yours and guide them on your body.  His hold on your waist was firm, but not too tough. He didn't want to scare you away. Not when he was so close to you he could smell your shampoo. Especially, not when you wrapped your arms around his neck and those eyes of yours were peering into his soul as you two stepped to the fast beat.

"Feel how my hips are moving?"

Oh, you bet he does.

Pushing those thoughts away, Chan tried to mimic your movement. "That's better!" You praised it, and it took everything in him not to press his body flush against yours right at that moment. He hated to admit it, but as the next song played, something with a slower tempo, every step you took with him around the living room, he somehow magically ended up closer to you.

This is the part where both of you could blame the alcohol.

You both were too inebriated to notice the fact that your phone was fully charged, that your fingers started to play with the bottom of his hair, or the fact that your faces were so close together. Chan's forehead rested on yours as the playlist finally died down to a softer ballad. YouTube ironically telling you two to slow down. But neither showing signs of listening.

"We...are going down a path you might regret." Chan closed his eyes to help steady his breathing. How were you able to do this earlier today? He felt like his heart was going to combust on the spot.

"That I might regret?" You whispered. Being this close to him felt surreal. You were sure you were about to wake up in your bed feeling very frustrated. "You won't?"

The feel of the pressure of your body was draining all his excitement from his chest to his dick. Another form of pressure was beginning to press against his underwear. A flood of penance sprung as quickly as his blood flowed to his quickening erection. "We just barely met. We don't know each other."

You pull away slightly so you can look up at him.

"Then, get to know me."

Chan knew this wasn't what you meant. But, it was too late to turn back now.

You were half-naked, a trail of clothes leading to his room.

For every question he asked, an article of your outfit was essentially ripped off you. Every question you answered, you returned the favor.

"Favorite food?" Whoops, there goes that necklace.

"Beef jerky with sticky rice." Goodbye, Chan's shirt!

He kissed you deeply and backed you up towards his bed. A brief pause as you fell into the soft cushions and he stared down at you. Your lips were puffy, chest rising and falling as you were trying to catch your breath. As much as he reveled in the thought of you being a goddess, there was something about bringing down a higher power that made him absolutely feral. Breaking you down bit by bit with every question. 

He climbed on the bed to hover over you, that stupid side smile making another appearance for the night. "That's not exactly a 'food', more of a meal."

"Sorry if I'm--ah. A bit distracted." You close your eyes as he attaches his lips right below your ear. Sucking on your soft skin, not hard enough to leave bruising, but a temporary mark just for his eyes. 

Biting your lower lip, you happily extended your neck a bit to give him more access. Mind all fuzzy and unable to think as he littered your neck with small kisses. Chan gripped your thigh and pulled it up a bit, lifting your hips just enough to hold you close to his pelvis,  kneading your thighs through your tights.

"Need you to focus." He nipped softly at your skin. "How else am I going to learn everything about you?

"Favorite position?" His fingers went under the hem of your tights and helped you shed the last outer part of your outfit. Once it was thrown somewhere across his room, you wrapped the leg he was holding up around his back and used what momentum you could gather to push his back on the bed. His hands instinctively grabbed onto your hips as you straddled him.

Your lips were soft and gentle as you leaned in for a kiss, the complete opposite of the intensity shared just moments before. "Don't care, so long as I'm full."

Chan wasted no time by stripping himself of his joggers and boxers on your behalf. Stifling a moan as best as he could once he felt your clothed core perfectly placed on his growing erection.  Guiding your hips to grind against him, he grinned as you threw your head back and sighed in content. Chan rocked his hips perfectly to the rhythm he set against you, providing the much-needed friction you craved.

You were starting to think he was tanking at dancing salsa on purpose.

"Anything off limits?" You couldn't even register that his hands snuck up to undo your bra clasp. He took a second to appreciate the view. Chan couldn’t stop himself from using his forearms to prop himself up to latch onto one of your nipples. Licking and sucking at anything he could grab. The mewls coming from your mouth sounded like a song he never wanted to end. Your hand caressed the back of his head, pressing him closer. 

“Just--mmm. Just don’t stop even if I say so.”

Leaving your breast with a wet ‘plop’, he stared up at you. You could see the usual gleam in his eyes disappear. They became dark, almost predatory. Chan lifted you off so he could be above you again. He traced your skin from the collarbone down to the hem of your underwear. You arched your back at his touch; “Luckily for you--I like begging.”

Your breath hitched. Surely, he could see the wet stain on your underwear by now.

“Any safe words then?”

Last question.

Chan finger slipped underneath the cloth and played with your folds. The way you squirmed underneath him made him want to ruin you more. The chuckle he let out when you tried to squeeze your thighs together made you feel warm all the way down to your core. Chan was quick to use his body to keep you nice and spread. All for him.

“L-lemon…”

“Sorry, couldn’t hear you.” Chan slipped the tip of his middle finger in you. “Could you speak up a bit?”

“Pendej--mmmphhh” You couldn’t finish your quip. Chan pushed in further until he was knuckle-deep. His lips hovered over yours as he slowly worked in and out of you. You kept arching and writhing as he continued his ministrations, mouth wide open as you let out silent moans.

“Ah, ah--I wanna hear you.” Once he added in a second finger, you couldn't contain yourself. Moans were spilling out of you like a pornstar. Even when he kissed you, there was nothing to stop the volume you were outputting. “Good job, baby.”

“Oh?” He chuckled as he felt your walls clamp down on him. “Did you like that?”

You couldn't speak as he kept pressing into you, wiggling his fingers against your walls. “C-chan…please…”

“Sorry, what was that?” He teased as he kissed around your collarbone.

“Chan…”

The bastard kept pretending not to hear you. As if he couldn't feel you practically leaking around his fingers and clenching around him like there was no tomorrow. 

You finally had enough.

Grabbing ahold of his face with one hand, you forced him to look at you. His cheeks smashed between your fingers. “Christopher, I swear to God--if you don't fuck me right now I'm taking over.”

Ah, so you did like to be in charge.

With a grin, he gladly ripped off your panties. He pulled away just a bit, taking in your appearance. Wanting to embed it into his brain for any future sessions he might have with himself later on.

He knew he should've grabbed a condom, but the alcohol was still flowing through him and he couldn’t stop himself as he slowly pushed into you. You tried finding words; how big he felt, how full he made you, but all that could come out were whimpers as he groaned and leaned in for another kiss to ease any pain you felt.

The two of you grind against one another. Chan never fully pulled out, keeping himself nice and snug in your warmth. Stretching you out, oh so sweetly.

Chan wasted no time in picking up his thrust as you tapped his shoulder, indicating that he was okay to move. You squeaked as he hooked your knees on his shoulders and leaned down to essentially bend you in half. He was hitting a spot you never felt before; not with previous boyfriends and definitely not with your own toys at home.

“So fucking tight…” Chan hissed as his pace sped up to the point he was jackhammering into you. His lips found their way back to your neck and kept mumbling about how you felt around him. So tight, so warm, just right. His teeth nipped your ear lobe, desperate to grab onto something but knowing he couldn’t mark you up too much. “Is this good, baby? Need it harder, faster?”

When you didn’t respond to him, he slowed down a bit and leaned back to stare down at you. His cock twitched when he realized what was happening.

You laid on the bed; eyes glazed over, mouth wide open, cheeks completely flushed. You knew he was asking you a question in Korean, but the words weren’t forming in your head like they usually do. “Aw,” Chan laughed. “Does it feel that good that you forgot Korean?”

Chan let up on the pressure so his hand can snake its way to your lips. You instantly latch on to his fingers and suck. Your tongue brushes around his tips, tasting the leftover residue of yourself from earlier. Your knees unhook from his shoulder and fall on either side of his waist. A whimper leaves you as he removes his fingers from your mouth and travels down to rub your clit. Still keeping his thrust with his brutal pace.

“Ahhh…wait…” You squirmed and your hand went to grab his wrist. Chan noticed how you didn’t pull his hand away despite your pleas. “Chan, p-please--too much.”

He kept using your body. Chan could feel you clamping down around his length. “Sorry,” he breathed out as he felt the pressure in his balls rising. “You’re just, hmmmph, too perfect.”

That’s what did it for you. The fact that he listened to what you mentioned earlier, and his talk. The crash of pleasure that overcame you was intense. Chan shuddered as he felt your wave around him. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” you came with a cry. Your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to ground yourself in any way that you could. You were loud. Nothing could stop the curses that flowed out of you as you held him close against you. Chan wasn’t far behind; “Oh, I-I’m gonna--”

He pulled out and stroked his cock rapidly around his head, painting your stomach with his warm cum. Of all the art museums he visited around the world--this was by far his favorite piece of work.

The room was filled with both of your heavy pants as he laid in your arms. Once he was able to catch his breath, Chan pulled away from your embrace placing the gentlest kiss on your lips. Humming as you kissed him back. He tried to get up, but you were quick to stop him.

“Don’t go…” You pouted. Part of you knew this would be a one-time thing, but another part never wanted this to end. Chan smiled down at you and gave your cheek a quick peck.

“I’m just grabbing a towel to clean you off.”

As he walked off to the bathroom you stared down at the mess on your abdomen. The remnants of the best sex of your life were starting to cake on your skin. It took everything in you to not scoop some up and taste him in your mouth. When Chan returned with a wet cloth, he cleaned you up before plopping onto the bed beside you.

Once you caught your breath, reality set in.

Here you were, all fucked out with a colleague in the same industry. Everything told you to leave. It wasn’t like the two of you were in a relationship. It was a rash decision based on a lot of alcohol and dancing. You started to get up, but Chan was quick to wrap his hand in yours.

“You…you don’t have to go…” Chan shifted to lay on his side and stared down to not meet your eyes. Acting all shy as if he didn’t fuck the lights out of you just moments before. Your heart melted at the sight.

Slinking back into bed, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his chest. His cheek pressed against the top of your forehead. You could feel his heartbeat against you and closed your eyes.

“You know,” you sighed. “This was something I definitely didn’t regret.”

“Me ‘neither.”

As the morning rolled around you woke up to Chan still wrapped around you. His soft snores made you smile. There was something surreal about seeing him so at peace that made your heart flutter. Placing a small kiss on his cheek, Chan shifted slightly and groaned as he stretched a bit.

“Mornin’,” He grumbled but held a smile as soon as his eyes landed on you. Chan wasted no time in pulling you into a kiss. His hands sneaking towards your ass to knead your flesh. His excitement is present against your thigh.

"Somebody's eager," You giggle as he pressed closer to you. Chan smirked as he gently rubbed his morning wood against you.

"You can say that."

"Unfortunately--"

Chan grumbled and hid his face in the crook of your neck. "No, don't say that."

"I was just going to say, that I need some water first." It was true. After all the drinks last night, your head was pounding like never before.

"Okay," Chan smiled and got up from bed to put a pair of boxers on. "Stay put, I'll grab you something to eat too."

Minutes passed as you waited in bed. Surprise overtook you as you heard a pan sizzling and the welcoming smell of home-cooking started to flood the dorm. Dawning one of his shirts, you made your way to the kitchen. Chan's back was to you as he manned the stove. You could see how his back rippled with every movement he made.

You couldn't see it, but a smile crept on Chan's face as he felt you wrap your arms around his midriff. "I thought I told you to stay put?"

"I'm not one for taking orders." You laugh as you hook your chin on his shoulder to peer over him. "Besides," Chan stiffened a bit as he felt your lips hover over his ear. "There's something sexy about a man cooking."

"Oh?" He quickly turned off the stove and turned around to face you. Your arms wrap around his neck as he leaned down closer to your face. "And what about your water?"

It was a frenzy of passion as your lips locked with his yet again. Both of you eager to relive last night in the light of sobriety. "Water can wait," you whisper in between kisses.

Chan easily lifted you, placing you on an open counter. Your legs spread to allow him access to be closer to you. The both of you started to mold into one another as the intensity grows. "I should cook for you more often," He grins as he breaks away from the kiss to catch his breath. He lifted his shirt on you slightly so your cunt was exposed.

"Promise?" You teased as he lowered himself down slightly to bring his lips level to your core. Chan enjoyed the way your head leaned back slightly as you felt his hot breath against you.

"Promise."

The both of you were so entranced with what was about to happen, that you didn't hear the door opening. Only the shrilly scream that bounced around the dorm broke you two apart.

You instantly jumped down from the counter as Chan stood upright, finding protection from behind him. Chan tried using his body to shield your half-naked body from the view of a very frightened Felix.

Not that he really needed too.

The younger member held both hands over his eyes. Groceries bags around him, spilling its contents around the floor.

"Felix?" Chan stuttered as he grabbed a kitchen rag to cover up his erection. "W-what are you doing here?"

Chan gestured for you to run back to the room as Felix was still covering his eyes. You had no hesitation, wanting to escape from the embarrassment. AKA your own personal hell.

"I didn't want you eating alone... I was gonna make breakfast."

Author's Note: Here it is! Please let me know what you think. I'm also open to requests, I really want to get back into writing and interacting more on here. If you'd like to be added to my taglist please interact with this post (linked). Bye~

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[thatguywrites]

Since it's the month of May could you do driver (no preference on who) with Indy500 winning boyfriend?

love your fics!

Big Winners

Set in 2024, and I actually moved this up my to post list by a month bc I love it and I wanted to post it Indy weekend, and I need to write fics with driver reader more lmaoooo

Also idk how tf this became kinda horny? Idk, ig I just see charles as a horndog

Charles Leclerc x Male!Indy500 winner!Reader

Every year, when the schedules for both of your seasons are released you both rush to check every weekend you may possibly be able to see eachother, with the Monaco GP and the Indy500 obviously being favorites.

Which makes it so frustrating how they always seem to overlap.

The week before your big races, Charles was in America for the time you could have together, lounging about in your motorhome, going on headset and looking at data, and drooling over you every time you left the car. It was a very busy weekend for him.

"Goodness baby, you're getting faster every lap, and my pants are getting tighter" He calls out, embarrassingly loud, as he strolls toward you.

Debrief forgotten, you can't help but turn and give your boyfriend a smile. "Well I gotta do better and better to impress this pretty boy I saw in the crowd"

"Oh" Charles' arms wrap around you, as he looks up into your eyes and plays innocent, biting his lip to sell the look.

"Yeah, he's got this ferarri jacket on, the cutest little stubble, and seems to be undressing me with his eyes at this very moment"

"Well I can't help it, how could any man forget your hu-"

Finally slapping your hand onto his mouth, you laugh, before dragging him off to lunch.

"Hugs! Your amazing hugs"

"Sure, sure"

For the rest of the weekend, Charles followed you around like a lost puppy, cheering you up after bad sessions, and cheering louder than anyone else when you rose above the rest.

When Wednesday finally came, and he had to go, he dragged his feet the whole day, trying to advocate for him to stay for the race, but eventually, with many kisses, a stay in a supply closet, and promises that you would call him every night while he was gone, he departed to his own race.

When you were getting ready Sunday, there was always at least one screen near you playing Charles' race. When you had to get in the car while the race still wasn't over it killed you, but just a couple laps in your engineer delivered the news. He won. Charles broke the curse, the first home winner in 93 years. You'd been doing all week, sure, but the racing that you did that day was on a level you'd never yet achieved.

You could hear your blood pulsing through your veins as you lead the last few laps. You couldn't let yourself believe it yet, not until you crossed the line, not until you had the wreath, and kissed the bricks. You couldn't -

And all of a sudden it was over. You'd won. The blood rushing through your veins hadn't quieted, but you could hear the cheers of the crowd roaring below it. You did it. You and Charles did it.

The next hour was a blink, podium, wreath, milk, bricks, interviews, pictures. And finally you could breath. You did it, and Charles did it. And holy shit, you have to call him. Pulling your phone out you were greeted to over 100 texts from Charles alone. From pictures of him on the podium and sobbing about his win, to him in the shower cleaning up, biting his lip as always. An hour later a picture of what must have been most of the grid having a watch party in his house about half way through the race, at least 20 comments of live commentary as you continued to fight for the lead, and a series of panicked texts as you neared the finish line, lap after lap. The last few texts were some photos clearly taken by the others of Charles sobbing on the floor, kissing you on the TV while you were on the podium. Even a picture of him 'kissing the bricks' with you. And the very last message? I'm on my way, thank fuck for AirMax.

Charles_Leclerc

Boyfriends making history <3

Taglist: (Comment or DM to be added)

@koalapastries @justaf1girl @spoonfulofmilo @op-81-lvr-reblogs

[doujindungeon]

summary: tonight, you had no plans to take any requests for your dj set at london's acclaimed ministry of sound. so what do you do when your boyfriend carlos shows up in desperation to request that you take him back? rating: nc-17 pairing: f!reader/carlos content warnings: established relationship, smut, oral sex (reader receiving, carlos DEFINITELY giving), if you're trying to see a grown man be horrendously down and desperate to get you back pull up word count: 5.8k

There would be no Sade played at the club tonight.

It wasn't as if you had anything against the group’s discography–far from it.

Rather, you were simply adamant to play literally anything else during your DJ set at the Ministry of Sound.

Tinashe, Daft Punk, Kylie Minogue–if it truly came down to it, you’d even throw on some Enya.

Because it only took one request for one particular song that instantly would remind you why you currently weren’t on speaking terms with your boyfriend.

Carlos.

You knew getting into a relationship with a man with such international renown and adoration came with certain risks, some compromises, and unavoidable sacrifices. By no means would you ask that he forsake his lifelong passion for racing for you–especially since comparatively, it would be similar to him demanding that you give up your blossoming career as a DJing producer to settle with being his housewife.

Still, it didn’t hurt any less when some weeks ago you asked if he would be able to come see you at any of your shows during your ongoing tour, with a few stops happening to align with his racing schedule breaks.

He said ‘no’ with big apologetic brown eyes and a jutted bottom lip.

Though his expression was precious, the look on his face was the exact same one he made over and over whenever he declared that he wouldn’t be able to see you perform.

To this day in the weeks since, you were still struggling to block out the argument that left a trail of missed calls, pitiful voicemails, and ignored texts from your boyfriend in its wake.

The prelude to the current song of solitude that you had been performing on your own since.

While despising the idea of keeping score or anything close to such a ridiculous notion in your relationship with him, there was still an inescapable pain wedged in your chest between the seeming care and desire you both gave to one another–especially as the two of you were careful to guard your love for one another with discreet privacy away from the prying public eye. Throughout this year, you managed to make time between touring and working on your next record to fly out to support him on his races whenever you could.

Not to mention, you couldn’t deny his late night calls as he begged for you to come join him at whatever fancy hotel he was staying in with ragged breath, desperate desire lacing every single one of his words.

And your public profile and prestige were nowhere near his.

Carlos had all the resources and capabilities to literally meet you halfway, and yes he was the embodiment of a hopeless romantic, but there was a matter of actions speaking louder than words, and he could sweetly murmur in your ear and continuously text “ti amo mucho, my vida” to your phone all he wanted, but based on how he treated you and your own passion, it just felt like he couldn’t give any less of a shi–

You bit back a curse as you found yourself fumbling a crossfade between tracks.

That was enough about your boyfriend, who should be locked in press conference purgatory by countless journalists after placing third in Imola today after George and Max.

It was full focus on your DJ set moving forward tonight.

Separate from your tour–which had you performing to a sold out crowd at Brixton Academy the night before–your presence at Ministry of Sound was actually a last minute addition. While you were lazily partaking in brunch after sleeping in through the morning at your hotel room, one of your local DJ friends texted and asked if you would be down to join his show as an opener for a casual, low pressure set.

You happily agreed and by the late afternoon, you announced your guest appearance on social media.

And now, here you were, dressed simply and summery–a tube top that hugged your curves, shorts that cut just below your bottom, and a pair of tennis shoes with a few of your favorite accessories. While London summer nights weren’t ungodly, a sold out club show turned the historic Ministry into a damn sauna.

With you also bouncing around to the bumping beats of your mixes and occasionally hopping on top of the DJ booth to hype up the crowd, this ensured that your skin was going to be beyond glistening by the end of your set.

A drink was definitely in order.

Prepped to perform once you were done with your set, your friend was happy to be your personal waiter, frequently traveling to and from the bar with any drink you fancied, along with a few personal recommendations.

But it wasn’t until he returned with a particular mix that left you pleasantly surprised as he set it right by your DJ controller.

It was your favorite cocktail, mixed and garnished to your exact preference.

“The bartender said that someone ordered this for you–a fan I think?” Your friend remarked with a hand cupped over their mouth, his voice raised to fight against the booming volume of the club’s cacophony of inebriated cheers and your remixed beats.

Your eyebrow quirked as surprise turned to suspicion when you noticed a couple notes stuck to the bottom of the glass. Still, you proceeded to pluck at the bits of paper, both left damp from the condensation formed from your drink.

Beneath the strobing lights and haze from the club’s state-of-the-art smoke machine, you squinted at what was written on both notes.

hello lovely can you play sade pls :)

i miss you so much :(

You froze.

The scribbled handwriting was one you knew all too well.

Your first instinct was to quickly scan around the crowd, doing your best to hide your shock–especially when you knew somebody was going to have their phone out, whether pointed at you while you performed or clubbers taking a selfie. Though, with the mess of writhing bodies, the blinding colorful lasers, and the heady fog of nicotine and machine, such efforts were futile.

With this, you immediately resorted to tapping at your phone screen to see if there were any texts sent or missed phone calls.

Nothing.

Outwardly, you smiled at your friend in thanks for bringing your drink over.

But inwardly?

The festive adrenaline from performing was morphing into hollowing tension.

He had to be here.

But this was utter insanity–your boyfriend had weeks if not months in advance to prepare to see you at one of your concerts when you initially asked if he would be able to make it out, but he outright turned that down and said he couldn’t make it.

Yet to show up from across another country–regardless of how relatively short of a flight it was–on a show you only just barely announced earlier in the day?

You sighed to yourself as you brought your cocktail up to your lips, gulping it down in one go.

Yeah, that was Carlos all right.

Being essentially stalked by your own boyfriend at your own show–you definitely weren’t drunk enough for this.

It was then that your phone screen suddenly lit up with the arrival of a new text.

You glanced down.

drink up my pretty girl ♡

You suddenly felt so much more exposed than ever before.

Wherever he was in the club, he had a full view of you.

It made you wonder how long he had been watching you on stage. Did he catch you climbing onto the booth to shake your ass while encouraging the crowd to let loose? Or when you were bouncing around so much to some bubblegum bangers that your breasts almost spilled out from your top? Not to mention, all the sultry slutty lyrics that you were happily mouthing out to the crowd while you continued to perform–you could only imagine the sort of nasty yearning was likely flooding his brain.

Before your argument, he was already calling you constantly to come join him after mere days spent apart, and it had since been weeks since the two of you were physically in the same space so you knew without a doubt he was likely on the brink of insanity!

Regardless, you knew deep in your heart that whatever naughty thoughts were swirling around his head, the moment you were ever within his reach, he’d be hauling you off to bed–or any other sufficient surface–, his apologies mixed amongst needy kisses and breathless moans while his hands clawed at your clothes–

You brought a hand up to your face to fan away the rising heat in your cheeks.

This was most definitely not the time to delve any further into such a scenario.

For now, since you still had a fair amount of stage time before you would swap out with your friend, you re-centered your concentration back to your set, spinning club classics with tracks from your own discography while you continued to curate the club’s vivacious atmosphere.

Along with thinking of how you were going to slip away without having to encounter Carlos.

All while his texts flooded right in.

ohh!! this song!! one of my favorites from you!!

i’ve been playing this a lot during my recent workouts!! it reminds me of you 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Rather than text back, you opted to instead immediately transition this very song to Alice Deejay’s “Better Off Alone”. And though you smiled at the crowd’s cheers upon hearing the iconic synths of the sacred Eurodance track, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pain in your chest knowing that his signature injured puppy look was going to be plastered all over that handsome face of his upon realizing what you just conveyed.

It didn’t help either that when you took a step back to groove around and sing along with the crowd chanting out the chorus in drunken unison, another glance at your phone had your heart twist all the more.

don’t say that amor

or play that

please.

The weight of the period in his last text could’ve leveled the entire club.

You were compelled to scan around the crowd once again, your gaze trying to cut through the layers of smoke and lasers to determine just where the hell Carlos was playing voyeur from.

At the same time, your phone continued to light up with more messages, a shining beacon amidst the haze of the club.

only thing i want right now is to dance up there with you

especially while you have that little outfit on 🥵🥵🥵🥵

For both of your sakes, you prayed that this wasn’t about to be the turning point where he dared to start sexting you while you were performing. Dealing with him while he was begging for forgiveness was a handful in itself, but trying to win against him while he had you begging for him to ruin you thoroughly was impossible.

i miss waking up with you in the morning 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

i miss YOU!!!

Thankfully he opted to go more sentimental than sexual.

Still, at this point, you wondered if it was best to break your vow of playing no Sade to cue up the intro of that song just to hard cut to the anthem of FC Barcelona.

You knew you would never see the light of day ever again if you did such a thing.

Carlos would make sure of it.

Yet while dipping to such petty lows was a tempting thought, you resigned to stop your search for your lover to focus on closing out your set, especially since your friend had returned from his last bar run of the evening.

With yet another one of your favorite cocktails in hand, notes stuck to the bottom once again.

While you had no desire to peer at whatever your boyfriend scrawled out, you would at least savor another drink to help deal with his shenanigans this evening–

“Wait, is that Carlos Sainz?”

Your friend’s voice by your ear, raucous cheers from the crowd, phones raised high in the air, the heave of your chest as you choking and sputtering on your first sip.

Your head snapped up to witness Carlos being lifted and propped up by a merry group of club bros. He immediately commanded any and all attention, looking as breathtakingly handsome as ever even while dressed in a simple yet ungodly pricy blue dress shirt and black pants.

Having once struggled to pick him out within the crowds of Ministry, you found yourself frozen and still in place as his eyes immediately locked directly with yours. Though he was all smiles as he ran a hand through the wild waves of his raven black hair, his gaze was nothing short of smouldering and intense as he stared directly at you.

Even with the club air hot and humid from all the writhing bodies, you still found yourself shivering.

He most definitely was watching you flaunt your body while you danced around earlier.

Your voyeur had just come forth to present himself now as your hunter instead, refusing to be ignored by you any longer.

And yet, you denied him your attention as you quickly busied yourself with mixing, your mind in a flustered flurry of beat matching and figuring out your escape plan.

At the same time, you braced yourself.

Carlos Sainz Jr. was at a club, surrounded by the adoring public.

That song was going to be mentioned, to be requested for you to play by a cheeky drunk or two or five.

Was it not your role as the DJ to honor his appearance by playing one of his most favorite songs?

Even while unbeknownst to everyone in the club that he had pissed off this very DJ a few weeks ago?

While you wondered how you were going to try to avoid the inevitability of having to play that particular Sade single, your boyfriend continued to do the absolute most to catch your attention. After all, he was right in the center of the crowd, so you were bound to look his way regardless.

It was when he managed to catch your gaze a few songs later as you were finally finishing the rest of the cocktail he last sent over that he had you ensnared.

His eyes quickly closed for a wink as he grinned from ear to ear, flexing his body as he danced while purposefully maneuvering and twisting his body to effectively cause the top couple buttons of his dress shirt to pop right off.

You nearly dropped your glass.

The generous glimpse of his bared chest had you immediately turning your eyes away, even as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

Weeks of separation could end tonight. If you dared to be within arm’s length, you could very well undo the rest of his shirt buttons along with his belt while he tore off your flimsy excuse of an outfit.

But it was at that moment that one of your biggest fears suddenly turned into your salvation.

Your set’s finale was nigh and you knew just the song to play.

Grabbing hold of your mic, you smiled cheerfully at the crowd while you lifted your hand in a wave. “Ministry, you were so lovely! Thank you for having me! While this is my last song–” You giggled hearing the medley of disappointed ‘awws’, placing your hand over your heart, “It’s okay! You still have an incredible set to enjoy by this distinguished gentleman beside me!”

As tempting as it was to pull your friend into a side hug, you also valued his safety with your boyfriend still very much in the audience and still very much casting his gaze right in your direction.

And it was because Carlos was still hanging out with the clubbers that you were certain that victory was within reach.

“For now though–!” You winked at the crowd.

At Carlos.

Your smile turned into a smirk.

“–this one goes out to the Smooth Operator himself, Mr. Carlos Sainz!”

A look of shock flashed over his handsome features as a familiar jazzy opener began to slither out the speakers, all while the crowd rejoiced and cheered at getting to bear witness to such a rare opportunity with the illustrious driver.

Full attention was on him yet again, whether by starstruck eyes or phone cameras set to record.

The perfect opportunity for you to make your getaway.

Your friend looked confused as you stepped away from the booth while you gestured for him to take your place, your phone in hand. However, wanting to not linger any longer than necessary, you quickly brought your lips to his ear as you declared, “I’ll tell you later! Just keep my USB safe for me, okay?”

Though still curious, your friend only smiled and offered you a thumbs up with a mouthed “You got it!” before he assumed your previous position in preparation for his set.

You didn’t waste a second longer.

Daring to not look back, you quickly seized the chance to head backstage, smiling in thanks to security for granting you entry even as your heart fluttered from an adrenaline far different than the one you usually experienced while performing.

The energy thrumming in your veins was manic, on-edge, skittish.

“Smooth Operator” clocked in at 4 minutes and 11 seconds.

That was barely enough time for you to rush by your dressing room to grab your bag, let alone to grab a towel to wipe at your sweat-slicked skin. And with London being especially busy and bustling on a night like this, even if you were able to call up a taxi, it wasn’t as if one was going to instantly pop up at the back of the club to whisk you back to your hotel. If anything, by the time your getaway car arrived, there was a good chance that Carlos would already be awaiting for you there–

You brought your hand up to your eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply as you continued to stride on ahead, doing your best to calm your nerves by basking in the cool air-conditioned air circulating throughout the backstage hallway.

Now was not the time to get caught up in the possibilities.

Action and instinct were key when pressed for time, and so you made your way to your dressing room all while you brought out your phone to begin ordering up for a ride back to your hotel. As you sought out your purse, you could still hear the muffled thrumming beat of “Smooth Operator” with the crowd enthusiastically shouting out the lyrics together as one.

With your boyfriend likely remaining captive by the adoring public, you felt more assured as you slung your bag’s strap over your shoulder while stepping back out into the hallway backstage.

And it was as you were about to finally confirm your pick-up that some commotion from the entryway had you pause in surprise.

Especially as you heard a very familiar voice blare out,

“–mate, please, I need to see her!”

You felt hollow.

Your breath was caught in your throat.

As though time itself had frozen, you slowly turned your head towards the end of the hallway to lead back out to Ministry’s dancefloor.

You saw the back of the same security guard who previously granted you entry, his hands raised and seemingly gesturing for someone to calm down.

There was no need to guess identities.

After all, it was just so very much like Carlos to be absolutely hellbent on seeing you, public attention be damned.

As this occurred, the crowd boomed with cheers as the final seconds of “Smooth Operator” played out while your friend encouraged everyone to give you a round of applause for such a lively set.

His turn to perform had come at last.

All while your lover was very much adamantly trying to gain access to you.

The thought of the very same phones being trained on Carlos while he danced now being locked on him being denied entry by a security guard was at the forefront of your mind, as was the idea of your boyfriend making a scene becoming a significant distraction for your friend’s imminent performance.

Daring to risk scandal for your attention whilst in the midst of the season–just how much had your boyfriend spiraled down and unraveled since the two of you fought?

You found yourself shivering again.

Not from the air conditioning.

Rather, it was seeing a man so decorated and acclaimed as him willingly debase himself in his desperate pining for you.

A sigh escaped your lips while you slipped your phone away into your purse as you made your way over towards the backstage entrance. Once you were within earshot, you cleared your throat before you called out with a pristine, “Excuse me!”

The sound of your voice had Carlos perking up akin to that of a dog being called forth by its master, his eyes gleaming as he eagerly peered over the security guard’s shoulder to get a better look at you.

Your eyes were trained on the security guard however, a sheepish smile forming on your lips as you remarked, “So sorry about all this!” Your index finger pointed right towards Carlos’s direction just before you gestured back to yourself. 

“He’s with me.”

Even you couldn’t resist from casting a glance at his face at that moment.

What you saw was nothing short of rapturous relief.

While the security guard grunted out an “Understood” in response, he still looked towards Carlos warily as he stepped aside to let him enter.

“Don’t matter if yer Prince bloody Harry, mate. If I say ya’ can’t pass, then ya’ can’t pass–”

Yet the man’s words fell on deaf ears, especially with Carlos immediately sprinting past to tail after you as you had already spun on your heel to begin walking back down the hallway.

With his refined athleticism, he was already just a breath behind you in mere seconds, following every step you made until you both were in your dressing room.

While you strode on ahead, he was of mind to lock the door upon shutting it closed behind him. When he turned around to face you, it was at that moment that you were able to finally get a much better, much clearer look at him, without the smoky murk of the dancefloor getting in the way.

As the ceiling lights cast down on him from above, you could see both soft relief and utter exhaustion on his face. His post-race fatigue was a sight you were familiar with, yet with the newfound darkened circles that were under his eyes, it only declared how little sleep he was likely getting during your time apart.

Yet as he quickly approached where you stood, each step that closed the distance between you both seemed to bring more life to his handsome features. His lips parted, his voice tender as he called out your name with adoring reverence.

“Thanks for the save back there, my love.”

He opened and held his arms out, a welcoming beckon for you to enter his embrace.

However, you merely held your ground, your tone exasperated in response. “Well, I couldn’t really sit by and watch you make headlines for a stupid reason.”

His head tilted to the side, his expression both confused and crestfallen. “What stupid reason?”

Your arms folded over your chest as you cast your gaze down to the floor.

“Getting into a fight with security while you have hundreds of people and their phones on you–I’m not worth you making yourself look like an absolute fool–”

You suddenly found yourself being drawn forward and pressed against solid, sturdy muscle while a pair of arms wrapped themselves securely around your body.

“What would be so stupid about everyone finally seeing how much of a fool I am for you, cariño?!”

The tremble in Carlos’s voice had your head quickly snapping up in shock.

Just as instantaneous were his hands moving to cup your cheeks, soothing warmth emanating from his calloused skin.

He sought out your gaze, conviction etched clearly on his features while the look in his dark brown eyes was fiery with passion. “I’d rather the whole world laughs at me than ever make you sad again. The time spent apart from you after what happened–” His voice trailed off as he closed his eyes with a shake of his head, pain latching onto every one of his words. “–it killed me more than you could imagine.”

As his eyelids fluttered open, he peered at and spoke to you with utter remorse. “I’m sorry, amor, I’m so sorry.”

Your instincts cried for you to soothe him, the sound of his wounded tone clawing at your heart. Yet before you were moved to speak, your mind drew forth the memories of all the times he offered his meager apologies every time he said he couldn’t come see you perform. This led to your quiet and strained response of, “It’s words versus action though.”

Yet he took this with stride as he nodded. “And I understand that, I really do–” On his last word, he then closed the gap between your faces, his forehead pressing gingerly against yours, his lips mere millimeters away from your own while he affirmed with iron-clad resolve, “–I never want to make you feel like I’m belittling your career ever again so from now on, I swear this to you: as your lover, I’m going to be better in supporting you. If I have to get my own private jet, if I have to drive over by myself, if I have to run on foot–whatever needs to be done to see you perform, I will do it.”

His expression was serious and determined, akin to the very same look he conveyed whenever he slipped his helmet on before taking to the track.

The way he spoke left absolutely no room for doubt, his voice heartfelt and sincere.

A smile soon found its way to your face as your heart began to swell with joyous relief.

“I’m holding you to it then, Carlos.”

One moment, you watched sheer bliss sweep over his face.

Immediately after, his mouth was on yours for a kiss you both had been craving like nothing else. The warmth and the taste of his lips were divine, all sensations you yearned for during your time spent in separation.

When the two of you parted for air, he winked at you as he teased, “Actually hold me as well too while you’re at it, yeah?”

Giggling, you obliged him by finally returning his embrace, your head resting on his chest while you pressed your body tightly against his with affection. “As you wish.”

While your action was innocent in intention, Carlos still found himself shuddering as he felt the sweet and soft pressure of your breasts, all while he basked in the familiar sensation of your embrace along with the smell of your perfume mingling with your natural scent. Not to mention, he was still fully riled up from seeing you bounce around in your revealing attire earlier.

And as he felt your cheek affectionately nuzzle against the exposed expanse of his chest, he knew you were in a similar state.

One of his hands was already hovering by the hem of your shorts as he suddenly cleared his throat. “Now, with that said–”

He held your attention once more as you peered up at him curiously. His thumb returned to your cheek, stroking over your skin reverently as he elaborated further, his voice sounding much huskier than before. “I know this doesn’t excuse what I did to you before though, so right here, right now–” The tender touches on your cheek stopped to swipe over your bottom lip instead. “–I’m gonna make it up to you, okay princessa?”

“Right here…?” You repeated curiously, only for a gasp to escape you as you felt one of his big hands proceed to grope your ass through your shorts. As a moan tumbled from your lips, you gazed at him with wide and astonished eyes. “But shouldn’t you be resting? You literally raced and flew all the way out from Imola today!”

One of his eyebrows raised while he cheekily grinned.

“What about it?”

Before you could respond, Carlos took the chance to steal another kiss, making sure to tenderly nip at your bottom lip before he went on to sweetly clarify, “I’m finally reunited with the love of my life after a very stupid mistake I made. I need to make sure this isn’t a dream. Besides…”

The fingers of one hand moved to cup your chin as he smirked. “Don’t think I missed the way you bit your lip when my shirt opened, amor.” At your immediate flustered expression, he chuckled and decorated your face with even more kisses while he continued to indulge himself with feeling up your ass.

“And believe me, the feeling is very much the same–” To emphasize his words, he pressed you even closer to him while he slowly ground his hips against yours, making sure you would feel every inch of his stiffening bulge through his pants. His lips journeyed over to your ear, his voice gruff as he spoke, “You can feel it, yeah?”

“I–” You moaned once more as your head fell back in pleasure, reaching for his shoulders to better steady yourself as your knees buckled. “I do…”

Seeing your neck exposed further, he didn’t hesitate to seize the chance to bring his lips right at its juncture, eager to start marking up your skin with kisses and bites. His voice deepening with desire, he rasped out, “I don’t think I can wait for a hotel. Seeing you dance around on stage in this little outfit all night long–” The hand he had on your ass moved to start cupping and fondling your breasts while also playing with the waistband of your top. “–you already know fully well that I don’t have that kind of patience, amor.”

“And neither do I.” 

It was Carlos’s turn to be surprised as you took lead in guiding him over to a nearby couch. As soon as your back fell back against the plush cushions, the two of you quickly descended into maddening passion together.

A flurry of hot open-mouthed kisses, clothes left ripped and yanked by impatient hands, repressed affection finally spilling forth–primal instinct took the forefront over thought, especially in the case of Carlos, who was able to strip you down fully first. 

The moment he flung what was left of your now torn panties over his shoulder, he was eagerly diving his head right in-between your thighs, the stubbled bristles of his facial hair scratching your skin while he noisily feasted on your cunt, his tongue hungrily swiping up and down your drooling entrance. Intoxicated by your taste, possessed by the cries of his name from your lips, encouraged by the tugs of your fingers in his hair, he kept on and on with savoring you fully until you were left writhing and squealing with the bubbling rise and harsh crash of your orgasm.

Prideful satisfaction was blatant on his face as he withdrew away to sit back on his ankles, his chin gleaming with the mix of your essence and his saliva. While his tongue swiped over his smirking lips, he gazed down at you with smouldering passion as he admired the sight of you catching your breath–the hot heat in your cheeks, the precious way you were sprawled out on the couch, and the temptatious glisten of your drooling core.

While he knew you wanted nothing more than to return the favor, he simply couldn’t wait to truly reunite with you.

With his shirt, pants, and belt flung in some random corner of the dressing room, all that was left was for him to remove his black boxer briefs.

He was fully nude soon after.

Catching the way your eyes immediately focused on the sight of his thick, throbbing cock, he let out a chuckle as he happily situated himself right between your thighs once again.

Yet rather than toy with you with his tongue, it was dragging the blunt sticky tip of his dick against your core. Hissing in pleasure from your sticky heat, he eyed you directly as he purred out, “Poor gatita–must have been so starved for milk while I’ve been away, eh?”

“Don’t tease, don’t tease, Carlos, please.”

The sweet breathlessness of your voice, the needy lift of your hips, the pleading look in your eyes.

He damn near orgasmed right then and there.

“Wouldn’t even think of it,” he reassured with a wink as one hand reached for your hip while the other lined his cock right up against the entrance of your cunt. “Because from now on, I’m going to feed you–”

As he spoke, he slotted his dick right inside of you in one full motion. Hearing you squeal out his name while the scorching tight heat of your core enveloped his cock nearly had him forget his train of thought. But as you reached for his shoulders to pull him down for a kiss and to have something for your hands to latch onto once he began to quickly work his thrusts into a relentless and punishing rhythm, he proceeded on, his words mashed against your lips.

“–dance for you–”

He seized hold of your breast with one hand, squeezing the soft plushness as his fingers pinched at your nipples, recalling earlier how the sight of them almost popping out of your top had him drooling from the corner of the club he was watching you perform from.

“–travel for you–”

The exquisite pain of your manicured nails clawing at his shoulders, the fierce embrace of your legs around his hips, the sweet vice of your cunt continuing to milk his cock–he was driven further and further into madness and was determined to drag you down with him.

“–fuck you–”

While he wanted nothing more than to kiss you further, his mouth parted from yours as he looked right into your eyes, his expression ravenous yet loving as he declared from the bottom of his heart,

“–and love you endlessly.”

You smiled up at him adoringly, with that very same affection matched in the way you dreamily replied with, “And it’s the same from me to you, Carlos.”

He grinned and happily brought his head down for his lips to rejoin yours for another kiss, continuing to pound away into you until he was flooding you full with his cum–the first of many orgasms to be messily shared on this night alone.

And truly, if there was anything that you had come to realize on this particular evening, from having once wanted nothing to do with your boyfriend to now feeling like the luckiest woman around to receive his love, it was that this man was just too goddamn smooth for his own good.

--------------------

literally have not known peace WHATSOEVER the moment i laid eyes on this video 😭😭

but thank you all for taking the time to read this piece of the pancake prince !!! 🥰🥰🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️ it always means a lot !!!

in the meantime i may or may not have added a couple hints on what my next f1 piece will be 🙆‍♀️🤫 expect another update soon enough !!!

other than that my inbox is open for requests so please feel free to drop some by--more info can be found on my pinned !!! 🙋‍♀️💌 thanks again !!!

[dreamofbetterthings]

No Regrets Noah Sebastian x Reader

Prompt: "The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

VIP: Noah Sebastian

Band: Ban Omens

Summary: There's no such thing as a "calm" Halloween night, especially when hidden feelings are involved.

Warnings: It's gonna be a little spicy, but not full-on smut. Still, this is 18+ due to descriptive language and some curse words scattered about, so minors, please DNI. 

A/N

Hello everybody! I'm sorry that I dropped off the face of the Earth. I have an abundance of things going on in my personal life and I am trying my hardest to get through it all. I know in the last post I said chapter 3 of It's Been A Long, Long Time was coming soon. That wasn't a lie. It is still in the process of being edited. I'm working on a new uploading schedule for you guys, and a page redesign as well so if everything pans out the way I'm hoping, it will be put into effect starting next week. In the meantime, I have a couple of stories I'm planning on getting out before Chapter 3 gets released. This turned out a lot longer than I thought it was going to be, but I had an idea and ran with it. I've never written for Bad Omens before, so let me know what you think. Enjoy!

This is a fictional story about real-life people. Nothing that is mentioned in the story below represents who said individuals are, or how they act in real life.

Halloween night was always your favorite time to be around certain people, specifically the friends you called Motionless in White and Bad Omens. There was always something up their sleeve to turn the normal night into one that you weren't sure you wanted to remember in the morning. Luckily, tonight was the annual hangout at Chris' house this year, and you couldn't be more excited. Every year you all would get together at someone's house and pass out candy to the kids, then watch a couple of movies after the last stragglers came through. After that, came your favorite part of the night, Hide and Seek. It might seem childish, but watching a bunch of tipsy/drunk people try to stay quiet in a hiding spot was always hilarious.

 You were making another batch of popcorn when Chris walked into the kitchen. "Hey, we just put on The Lost Boys, just thought I'd let you know." You smile. "I'm not surprised. That's almost everybody's favorite." He laughs and grabs another bowl from the cabinet. "I know, that's why we put it on first, so nobody can complain about it later." The timer on the microwave went off signaling that the popcorn was finished, and you carefully took the bag out. You gave Chris the cooling-down bag and picked back up the one you set on the counter before he walked in. After emptying them and grabbing extra napkins, Chris brought the popcorn out to your friends who were talking through muffled and hushed whispers. Before you walked back into the room, he pulled you back for a second to whisper something in your ear. "I pulled the seeker for tonight. Unfortunately, it wasn't you. Maybe next year." You pout and then smile "Fuck, I'm never going to get picked." He laughs as you glanced around at everybody scattered in the room. 

Ryan sat with Justin on the loveseat. Folio was a drama queen and insisted he get his own seat. Nicholas, Vinny, and a few other of your friends, Florence, Nicole, Victoria, and Robert who were invited sat around the coffee table on the floor. Ricky, Jolly, and Noah were on the couch. Then, you and Chris got the two giant bean bags in the corner. The lights were changed to red and the TV just started the opening credits to The Lost Boys. You and Chris give the popcorn to Ricky and Nicholas respectively, everybody else having their own mostly full bowls, and grab your drinks before plopping back down on the bean bags. Folio rubs his hands together and smiles. "Now that our final two goofballs are here, who's ready to watch one of the best horror movies ever made?" Everybody gives some form of yes or a holler, and he immediately turns the volume up. As the movie plays, there is a small conversation here and there, and occasionally someone has to get up for a new drink, but you are relaxed and having fun. 

At about the halfway point of the movie, Noah gets up to get another drink from the fridge. On his way back, Jolly scares him, causing his wine to spill all over the floor and your sweatpants. "Jesus man!" The movie is paused and everyone's attention is on you guys. Jolly laughs and puts his hands up in defense. "Sorry dude, I had to scare you at least once today." He turns to look at you. "Didn't mean to ruin your sweatpants though, my bad." You wave him off. "It's no big deal, these were old anyway. You guys can keep the movie playing. I'm just gonna change into different pants real quick." You take a sip of your drink and get up from your spot to go upstairs. 

After finding your weekend bag, you huff as the extra sweatpants are nowhere to be found. Instead, you pull out a pair of spandex volleyball shorts and go to the bathroom. Noah hears the sink running upstairs as he's cleaning up the accidental mess he made by your spot. He throws the paper towels away and before he gets to the stairs, Chris quietly asks "You good?" He nods, telling the other singer he's going to make sure you're okay, and heads to your bathroom. He knocks a few times and after a couple of seconds, the sink cuts off and you open the door. You were expecting one of your girlfriends to be standing there, but instead, it's Noah. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I'm sorry about spilling on your sweats. I hope I didn't ruin them." Holding up the pants, you show him where the stain had previously been. "If these sweats can make it through one of your tours, they can certainly handle a little bit of wine. I just didn't want them to stain, since you drink the darker stuff." He chuckles and follows you back into the bedroom. 

You grab your shorts and get ready to put them on, but Noah points to your leg. "I didn't know you had a thigh tattoo." You glance at it and glance at him confused. "Really? I got it a while ago. I could've sworn I showed you when I got it done. Then again, I'm always in longer shorts, so it's not exactly easy to see." Setting them down, you turn to the side and pull part of your underwear band up, showing the last covered part of the tattoo. Looking up at Noah, you can see he's staring, but there's something else behind his eyes. Just not sure what it is though. You don't flinch when he reaches his hand out, but your skin gets goosebumps as his fingers ever so lightly trace over the ink on your leg. Everybody that came over tonight had seen each other in their undergarments or even completely nude before, whether by accident or on purpose. Hell, you've walked in on him changing plenty of times. 

So why did the room suddenly feel hot? 

It could be that you've had a crush on the man since you were kids. There wasn't anything not to like. His personality just made you want to be around him all the time. He's sweet and kind, and has a terrible sense of humor that only you two get. You could go on and on. He was just an all-around amazing person. You were so caught up in your thoughts, that you missed the hand that was snapping in front of your face. "Hello? Are you there?" Coming back to reality, you saw Noah looking down at you with curiosity. You quickly apologized and asked him to repeat what he said. "I said it looks amazing on you. The placement is perfect and it works great with the curves of your leg." You thank him and can't help but notice just how close he's standing to you. There's a tense silence for a couple of moments, and neither of you moves from your spot. You glanced at his eyes, then his lips, but immediately looked away. 

It felt like you were a school girl again, talking to the guy you've had a crush on for ages. You heard him mumble a "Fuck it" before he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. They were soft and tasted like wine, courtesy of the drink that led you here in the first place. You felt his hand move to rest against your cheek. His lips were gentle, almost as if he was savoring the moment, afraid it would never happen again. When the two of you finally pulled away for air, your eyes remained closed for a moment, before slowly opening them and meeting Noah's. The two of you looked at each other in pure awe before you let out a small "Woah" He laughed, and you looked down, feeling your cheeks become hot.

The thought of you being so flustered made him blush too. How was it possible for someone to be this cute? Your heart was pounding out of your chest, and you almost couldn't comprehend what just happened. "You know, for someone that always complained he was a terrible kisser, that was uh, really impressive." He could feel you now completely relaxed against him and he laughed a little, slightly embarrassed. "I'd say that I've had practice, but you already know my teddy bear in fifth grade doesn't count." The two of you laugh. Remembering his hand resting on your cheek, you look away and take a small step back. "I think we should get back to the movie. It's gotta be almost over by now, and I don't want them to yell at us for taking too long." He let out an uncomfortable laugh and muttered a "Yeah." 

You never noticed but Noah frowned slightly when you pulled away from him. He felt so comfortable being that close to you. As you turned to the door he realized something. He really liked you and didn't want this to be just a one-time thing, especially if it was going to make things weird between you afterward. He picks himself out of his thoughts just as you open the door. He walks across the room, taking your hand and silently closing the door. Standing there surprised, you ask him, "Are you okay?" It was now or never he told himself. "I'm sorry, I just..." He takes a breath before continuing. "I really want to kiss you again." You stand there just as surprised but decide to see just how far this could possibly go. "What's the problem then?" He lets go of your hand and brings his own up to hold your face. Pressing his forehead against yours, he whispers. 

"The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop." 

He obviously likes you, right? But this is your best friend. You've known each other for years. If he did like you this much, he would've told you by now, right? You two have been affectionate towards each other before, but there's a line neither of you dared to cross. If you crossed it now, you would rather do it with no regrets. It was better than wondering what could have been. "What if I don't want you to stop?" Noah tilts your head so you're looking him in the eyes. 

"Then I won't." 

He pushes his lips against you again, this time with newfound hunger. His hands fall and grab at your waist while yours go around his neck. Your feet follow his backward and you hit the edge of the bed. He pulls you down to sit on his lap, completely forgetting your lack of pants while he pushes himself further back on the bed. His tongue runs across your bottom lip and you open your mouth allowing him in. Your hands gently tug at the now-cut-short hair on the back of his neck and he grabs at your hip hard enough to leave bruises before pulling you even closer to him. Shifting your weight a little, your lower half sits directly on his hardening cock and he groans into your mouth. He pulls his lips away only for them to move down your neck. You tug at his hair a little harder and he sucks at the tender skin that connects your neck and shoulder. A moan leaves your lips and you mindlessly grind down against him. There was nothing that could prepare you for how right this felt. Like you were seeing a whole different side of him, hidden from the outside world, and for your eyes only.

Noah moved to whisper in your ear. "Quiet baby, wouldn't want everybody to hear us, hmm?" You shake your head no, but it doesn't matter as he kisses you again. "Hey, are you guys-OH MY GOD!" The bedroom door opens to see a shocked Chris looking at the two of you. Noah pulls away from your mouth, and the two of you look like deer in headlights. "I'm going to go... quickly." Chris walks away, before coming back and closing the door. You and Noah make eye contact for a split second, before the two of you look away, slightly embarrassed that you were caught. "Maybe we should go back before someone comes in again." He clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, that's a good idea." Carefully getting off of him, you stand up and let him off the bed. You both straighten out your respective clothes, and you finally put on those shorts. 

"Are you alright?" He nods and you get ready to walk toward the door. Noah runs his fingers through his hair. "Um, Before we go, I just wanted to ask...You don't regret any of what just happened, right?" You immediately shake your head no, slightly frowning. Maybe this was all a big mistake. "Not at all. Why? Do you?" He smiles and also shakes his head no before taking your hand in his. "Nope. No regrets." A smile replaces the frown on your face. You ask "Are you ready for them to never let us live this down?" He laughs and glances at the door. "That doesn't sound like such a bad thing to me." Giving him a nod, he opens the door and the two of you walk back into the living room where the rest of your friend group is talking amongst themselves. When they hear you guys walk in, it gets silent. Noah lets go of your hand so you can sit down first, and then goes to his spot on the couch. 

Nobody said anything for the first couple of moments before Chris broke the silence. "You guys fucked in my spare bedroom..." Instantly you and Noah sat up and shook your heads. Your voice and his overlapped and both of you tried to tell your friends that technically nothing happened. Once the two of you were finished explaining, the room was silent for another couple of moments before anyone spoke. The silence was starting to make you uncomfortable, but before you could say or do anything, Ryan threw his hands up and yelled. "Fucking finally!" This breaks the tension in the room and everybody starts laughing and giving you and Noah happy looks. You even saw a couple of people passing money around. Those fuckers bet on you and Noah getting together. When the commotion has died down, another movie has started, and everybody turns their attention to the TV. As you focus your attention on the screen, your phone buzzes, and you pick it up. 

Noah

"I was thinking later we could finish what we started in the spare bedroom?"

You smile at your phone and quickly respond before setting it down.

"Well, we're still playing Hide and Seek after the movie. I'm once again not the seeker, lol. If it happens to be you, don't go easy on me. Depending on how the rest of the night plays out, you might get your wish ;)"

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Noah readjust himself in his seat. He sends back a text almost instantly, and goosebumps litter your skin again as you read his last text.

Noah

"Oh, I won't. I like the hunt."

Nope, no regrets.

[bonesxbows]

Once Upon a Dream - Chapter 12 (Lucifer X Reader) (Alastor X Reader)

My Masterlist

In a sleeping beauty-inspired AU, a curse is placed over you when you strike up a deal with Heaven to protect baby Charlie, causing you to lose your memory. You remember nothing once the curse takes over; not your marriage with Lucifer, not the family you had with the two of them, nothing. So when a strange smiling demon offers you a place to stay when you can't remember where 'home' is, you take him up on his offer. 

(WARNINGS)

Gendered terms used (mom, good girl, wife) but otherwise gender neutral pronouns used

Heavy depressing themes

Loss of a parent (temporary)

(CHAPTER WARNINGS)

Relationship fighting

Descriptions of anxiety/panic

I am SO sorry for this being so delayed!! First I got sick and now school is making me so behind schedule, I haven't had time to write at all due to finals coming up😭 I swear I haven't abandoned this story!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12 (You are here), Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15

Banners by @strangergraphics

Silence. All you could hear was silence. Tears formed in your eyes as the realization hit you; you were watching as Lucifer’s mouth was moving in front of you, his lips forming words, but yet none of the sound reached your ears. You forced your hands to separate from his, your eyes immediately falling onto the dark bloodstains that covered your skin. Your fingers flew back up to where they had once been, covering your ears, but you were only met with more blood dripping from there as you did. 

Your eyes widened. Out of shock. Out of fear. Out of panic. Out of pure agony. You wanted to cry. To run. To scream. …Would you even be able to hear your own shrieks if you did?

Lucifer reached out towards you, a hand meant to gently pull your hands away from your clearly damaged ears, but you yanked yourself out of his grasp before he could. You hadn’t meant to, you were just so scared, it had merely been an instinct, but the look of hurt that flashed across Lucifer’s face still broke your heart. A deep frown cut into your face as he pulled his hand back slowly. You tried to will yourself to relax. “I’m sorry.” You mouthed to him, not entirely sure if you were producing any sound along with the movement or not. “I…I can’t…” You found the silent speech hard, instead opting to point to your still bleeding ears and showing him the evidence left on your fingertips. He seemed to understand as a look of distressed terror set across his features. 

More deliberate this time, he calmly held out his arms towards you, offering you his embrace. You gladly took it, practically falling head-first into his arms as the tears began to fall down your face. He hugged you tightly to his chest, cradling you to him as you silently sobbed. You clutched onto the comfort and safety of him, his body the only foreseeable lifeline you had left as you tried to grapple with your newfound disability. 

The curse had been lifted. Your memories restored. But now at what cost? Heaven always had a game to play, and it looked to be as if they were creating new rules. You remembered your place as Queen of Hell, but whether or not you would ever hear your husband’s voice again remained to be seen. For the time being you were as good as deaf, a tonal silence the only thing your ears could pick up. 

He had led you back to his room, a few twists down the hall that seemed to lead farther and farther away from Alastor’s side of the hotel. You had gone along with him willingly, of course, but there seemed to be an urgency to his steps that he couldn’t quite control. He practically dragged you along, calling out a name that you couldn’t hear, as he pulled you down the ever-winding halls. What small glimpses you could catch of his face whenever he turned back to face you left you with even more confusion; his eyes glistening with worry and his frown set with a layer of panic. 

The situation became even worse once you had arrived at his room and he threw the two of you inside mere seconds after the door was opened. While you were lost amongst the decor, had you ever stepped foot in this room?, Lucifer was becoming a ball of turmoil, pacing across the floor. 

You watched as he mumbled to himself, the words lost to you. His cane made impact with the floor with every step he took, his feet coming close to almost tripping over the pole multiple times but never once taking him down. He was somewhere in his mind, oblivious to you as you stepped closer to him and reached out to place your hand atop the one grasping his cane. Halting his pacing once and for all as he came to a dead stop right in front of you. 

His eyes flickered up from their spot on the floor to meet yours, and you greeted him with the most comforting smile you could offer. “It’s okay.” You told him as you motioned to your ears. Though you weren’t even sure yourself if that was entirely true. 

He refused to meet your gaze once he heard your words. His frown morphed into a proper grimace as his mind once again threatened to spool him down a path of self-blame and doubt. He opened his mouth to say something but then changed his mind once he realized you wouldn’t understand him anyway. Your hand found his jaw, cradling his face and trying to silently soothe his worries. Though he still wouldn't look at you. 

The moment was shattered, however, when inky black shadows pooled up from the floor and began to wrap around your outstretched wrist. Lucifer recoiled almost immediately, yanking himself out of your touch with a look of disgust etched into his features. The sudden lack of his warm skin against yours had you frowning. But your mood only soured further as the shadows deepened into a thick fog, bathing the floor in an eerie mist that threatened to choke the life out of anything near it. 

It wasn’t long before a towering black shadow stood up tall from the blackened abyss, standing directly between you and Lucifer. A second later and he materialized from the darkened air with a puff of smoke. 

His attention was instantly on you, despite your surroundings clearly being Lucifer’s room, as he rushed forward to take you into his arms. You were still getting used to reading the particular emotion on him that he currently held on his face. A feeling he seemed to only reserve for you. 

Worry. 

He tried talking to you, not aware that you couldn’t hear a word he was saying, as he held you close to him. His eyes raked over every inch of your body as his ears twitched nervously atop his head. 

“Alastor.” You placed your hand on his chest to get him to stop. His concerned motions came to a ceasing halt once he felt your fingers over his pounding dead heart. “I’m fine.” 

It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but yet he seemed to see right through the falseness of it anyway. His smile widened unnaturally as his eyes narrowed. His finger came up to the bottom of your ear, scraping against your skin, and it was when he showed you the crusted red substance now collected under his fingernail that you knew your previous statement wouldn’t be believed. 

“I…I can explain.” You blurted out as your eyes widened at his bloodstained finger. The air prickled against your senses as a thrumming vibration began to pulse off of Alastor in rolling agitated waves. 

Lucifer had suddenly had enough of the demon’s, in his kingly opinion wholly *unnecessary* aggression, and separated Alastor from you. Forcefully putting distance between the two of you as he inserted his body as a protective force in front of you, blocking Alastor from physically touching you any longer. He said something to the demon, something you couldn’t make out, but it only seemed to further fuel Alastor’s annoyance. 

He waved off the devil’s actions with a nonchalant motion of his hand, trying to hide his ever-growing rage and failing as his twitching and strained smile did little to aid his pseudo-dispassionateness. 

He was being denied you. By him. Of all people. An offense he would not easily forgive. And one that would be remedied. Immediately. 

The two seemed to be arguing, words falling flat against your now-deaf ears, but their creased brows and fast-moving lips gave away their heated verbal jabs at one another. That was until one of Alastor’s comments hit a little too close and got underneath Lucifer’s skin. His anger flared up to a new level, hellfire practically burning behind his snake eyes, as he said something back to the demon with an added overly forceful poke to his chest. 

You watched as Alastor’s head tilted at an unnatural angle. You could almost hear the sickening crack echo from his neck even despite your stunted hearing. His eyes blinked and switched to glowing dials that flickered with intensity. His smile increased and grew, nearly cracking his face in half. Lucifer’s expression only twisted with irritated glee as he relished in the sight of finally making Alastor break. 

Was he never one to know when enough was enough?

“STOP!” You screamed. You felt the whole room shake and rattle from the overwhelming extent of your voice. It shook the pictures on the walls, rattled the glass within the window panes, but most importantly it compelled the two men in front of you to cease their quarrel. Causing you to gain their undivided attention. 

They shuffled away from one another, their hands flying to their sides in guilty defense as they each mumbled something under their breath. The growing space between them was so thick with tension you could practically see it floating in the air, and they both continued to sneer and snicker at the other, despite how you had verbally pulled them apart. Though at least the situation was no longer on the edge of unbridled violence. 

“Enough, you two! Are you children?!” You shouted again. This time throwing your hands up in clear frustration. They seemed to finally get the message after your second reprimand. With their mouths now not firing off at one another they were left to be scrutinized underneath your scolding gaze. It didn’t take long before they were looking away, casting their eyes to look anywhere but at you and your piercingly accusing stare. They counted their unholy blessings when a distraction entered the room and they had somewhere else to divert their attention. 

They had heard her enter, and seen her before you had. Their eyes flicked up to her presence and they soon began conversing with her. Not long after you followed their gaze and found a very disgruntled Charlie who looked as if she had burst through her father’s door. She immediately went to your side, her mouth moving faster than you had any hope of following, as she gently grasped at your hands and held them. 

“Charlie.” You called out her name. She looked at you with a small tilt of her head that reminded you so much of her infant years. “I can’t hear. Not anymore.” You told her as plainly as you could. She predictably crinkled her nose in confusion. You looked to Lucifer, hoping he would understand the silent message you were trying to convey. He started to speak to her, walking forward and physically putting his squabble with Alastor behind him to be with you and his daughter. You could only trust that he would say the right things to her, explain what had happened. Your only indication was the look on your daughter’s face as Lucifer told her, you had no other way of knowing what was being told otherwise. 

She seemed to contemplate something once Lucifer had told her everything, her eyes downcast as her brow knitted over them. You gave her hands a small squeeze to let her know that you were still there. Despite everything, you were still here. That was never going to change. 

She said something to Lucifer and you looked to him for guidance, the silent words lost on you. He seemed to understand as his eyes met yours and he waved his hand about, producing a pad of paper and a golden pen. He scribbled something down, albeit quickly, but you could still make out the hastily written words. 

Charlie wants to ask Vaggie for help 

she was an angel

might know something

only if you're okay with it

Before you could even finish reading the last word Alastor appeared behind you, his clawed grip strong on your shoulder. You turned to him and found yourself met with a steeled gaze, directed at no one in particular, his narrowed eyes set firmly atop an even smile adorned with razor-sharp teeth. Even with your damaged hearing you were able to make out the single worded syllable he uttered. No.

The phrase immediately set Lucifer off again. His face twisted into anger as he tried to argue with Alastor. But you shut the potential argument down again before it had the chance to fester into a proper fight. 

“No one is making the decision for me.” You told them in the clearest and sternest tone you could form without being able to hear your own voice. Alastor’s hold on you never faltered, but Lucifer’s silence told you that the demon behind you didn’t remark on your statement. Whether that meant agreement or the fact that he knew when not to argue with you, you weren’t sure. 

Regardless you continued on with your previous thoughts on the situation before he had interrupted you. “She would know more than you?” You asked in a soft tone, referring to Vaggie. It wasn’t meant to be an insult to either of them, more out of mere curiosity. Both Lucifer and Vaggie were from Heaven; why could only one of them help?

You followed Charlie's eyes shift to Lucifer and watched as he let out a sigh, his hand moving in quick scritches to add something to the piece of paper. Not a moment later he showed it to you. 

I’ve been out of Heaven a lot longer than her, sweetheart

A frown, carved from the memories now running freely and uncontrollably through his head, was set onto his face with a twist of melancholy as you read his words. A pang of realization shot through your heart as your mind pieced together what he meant by the written sentence. Your frown began to match his own as you stepped forward with an outstretched hand, stepping out of Alastor’s hold as you reached for Lucifer, cradling his jaw in your hand and smoothing your touch over his skin. He leaned into your grasp, his frown slowly morphing into a smile from your presence alone as your gentle fingers chased away the tormenting and lingering thoughts of Heaven that still plagued him, even after so much time had passed. 

“It’s worth a shot.” You whispered, though it was unclear to the rest of the group if you had meant to. You turned to Charlie with a curt, but determined, nod of your head. “Let her know. I’ll appreciate any help.”

Charlie beamed from your decision. Her toothy smile practically lighting up the room with brightening optimism. She rushed forward, tearing you from Lucifer as she embraced you in a bone-crushing hug. You let out a strained wheeze as she squeezed you with as much force as she could muster. When she let go of you she said something to you, her lips moving though you couldn’t make out the sound, as she smiled at you before skipping out of the room. Leaving you with Lucifer at your side and Alastor behind you. 

You turned to face the two of them, a determined, but confident, look set onto your face. “I’m going with her.” You told them. 

Even though you couldn’t hear their verbal arguments, immediately you could tell that they disagreed with your decision based on their shifting disgruntled expressions. You placed your hand in the air in front of you, halting their disputing and silencing them all in one motion. Once you were sure they were both paying attention to you, you took in a steadying breath. “I’m leaving you two here. Alone. To hopefully sort out the immature…issues the two of you have going on.” You said each word slowly, concisely, clearly; making sure they could plainly hear every word. “You two have always been at each other’s throats. Even before I knew the truth. I can’t stand it. I love both of you. Figure out how to get along. You’re both adults here.” 

And with that you followed in Charlie's footsteps, exiting out the door and chasing up to her down the hall fairly quickly. Lucifer and Alastor were left in the King’s room by themselves. Both rendered speechless.

To be continued in Chapter 13...

Taglist - Let me know if you would like to be added!

@kyo-kyo1 @voxslays @the-enderwolf-princess @fangthesandwing @hayamie @qardasngan @sirens-and-moonflowers @teacherunicorn @torustesseract @diffidentphantom @howlingnia @sleepy-frenchvanilla @drevisrose

[xuchiya]

"stuck in this fairy tale" || choi san || series || second part

| genre: prince! san. fluff. angst. adventure | mentions: cursing. | here's the first part Like I mention, I am not entirely back. As for this month? I am totally pack in schedules in school. The only reason I am able to write again is because I'm taking a breather from these school shits. So I'll leave this one for you, my loves!

back to masterlist | chapter 3

before you read this ... go to the first part to know the context

You swallowed hard, the pulse in your neck quickening as San loomed over you, his breath warm on your skin. Your hand gripping the shelf behind you, making you more nervous and scared even more. The playful atmosphere from earlier evaporated quickly, replaced by a suffocating seriousness. His eyes were sharp—nothing like the San you knew. The friendly warmth that usually danced in his gaze had turned into something colder, more calculating.

Your eyes look for the warmth one that you usually look at but it has replaced nothing but sternness and sharpness within it.

“Spy?” you whispered. And the farthest sound in your head is a cd halting like a dj scratch. Your eyebrows frown, “Wait wait wait … we’re not playing mafia here, San, what’s gotten into you? This isn’t funny anymore.”

He didn’t back down. Instead, his fingers flexed, his body tense as if ready to act on a suspicion you couldn’t fathom. “Mafia? Is this an insult?  You’re not from around here. Your clothes... your speech... They’re unfamiliar to me.”

You chuckle dryly, rolling your eyes. There are scenarios where your patience wears thin around San whenever he pulls a prank and you are caught in another of his schemes yet he still plays long until one of you surrender. “San, seriously enough is enough! This is not funny— I mean you’re a guy full of humor, we know, pranks and jokes but this is going way a little far.”

His eyes darken and it made your heart race even, and you glanced around, hoping this was some sort of elaborate prank your friends had set up, but the unfamiliarity in his expression sent chills down your spine. “By your tone and informalities with this “San” makes me think you know me too. So…  If you know me— and this clone—so well, then you should know what we’re capable of.”

This isn't right. You knew San, the real San. The one who couldn’t even lie to save himself during a game of Uno. And now, he was accusing you of being a spy? Not only that, taunting you is a new thing.

“I’m not a spy,” you managed, voice firmer than you felt. “I’m your friend, San. Hello? We came here together, you invited me here!”

His head tilted slightly, his gaze narrowing as if weighing your words. “You speak as though we share a history, yet I know nothing of you. I am the heir of Utopia– soon to be king! And if you have been sent by these hunters or witches—”

“Prince? King?” The word tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop it. “San, listen to yourself! Heir?! Utopia?! Bullshit! You’re San—Choi San. The popular humorous kid in campus! A black belt taekwondo under his the care of his father! You’re not a prince, and we’re in a library, for crying out loud. This is just a story, it’s not real!”

But the more you spoke, the deeper his frown became, and the more his reality began to feel distant from your own. You tried to calm your rising panic, your mind scrambling for any explanation.

 Was this some kind of bizarre dream? A hallucination?

You were getting frustrated, slowly and deliberately. Your fingers running down your face, hissing as you look at him, “Just stop okay? Wooyoung or Jongho are waiting outside—”

Your eyes flicked to the book in your hand, the one about Dragon Mountain and the prince. It was still open to the illustration that had sparked your joke, but now, looking at it again, you felt a knot tighten in your stomach. The prince in the book wore the same uniform, carrying the same air of authority that now surrounded San.

“San, please—” you whispered, your voice softer, almost pleading. You wanted this to be over, you want your friend back— if this place is different or the timeline, you don’t care anymore.

You only care about your friend in front of you.

“You’re scaring me. This isn’t you.”

“Stop calling me that!” he growled, his patience clearly waning. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke, “If you know my name, then you should know I do not tolerate deception. Answer me truthfully—who sent you?”

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, not from fear but from the surrealness of it all. This had to be a joke. This is getting frustrating any second. Not only that, you were slowly starting to think this was all just a dream or worse—a nightmare. You opened your mouth to speak, to plead again, when something else caught your attention. In the corner of the library, a flicker of movement—a flash of light, so faint you might’ve missed it if you weren’t desperate for anything that made sense. You squinted, and for just a moment, you thought you saw a familiar figure. Another face you knew well.

Wooyoung?

San must’ve noticed the shift in your focus because he jerked his head to follow your gaze, his grip on the shelf tightening. "What is it?" You blinked again, but the flicker was gone. The library fell silent once more, save for the distant rustle of pages and the faint creak of chairs shifting.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” you finally whispered, your voice shaking. “But I’m not a spy. And if you’re really a prince, an heir in this place or kingdom—whatever... I think I might need help figuring out where I am.”

San’s jaw clenched, uncertainty flashing in his eyes for the briefest of moments. I mean, if it is really true that he is from this place, then putting down the reverse card on him is to know who he really is and if he is the one pulling tricks on you. 

 Then he exhaled sharply, stepping back just enough to give you space to breathe again. “We’ll see if you’re telling the truth,” he said coldly. “But for now, you are coming with me.” Before you could protest, he straightened his coat, his demeanor once again that of a prince. “The kingdom will decide your fate.”

Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. This couldn’t be real. You couldn’t possibly be in a story... Could you?

But as San walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart in your throat, you realized one terrifying truth.

You were no longer in the library. 

Or, at least, not the one you knew. You stood there, paralyzed for a moment, watching as San—Prince San—strode away, his posture rigid, commanding. The library, so familiar moments ago, now felt foreign, as though the very air had shifted with his words. The soft hum of the ceiling fan was still there, but the faint murmurs of other people, the gentle rustling of pages—those sounds had faded into an eerie stillness.

You shook your head, willing yourself to snap out of it. This had to be some kind of trick. A dream, maybe, but as you touched your arm, the feel of your pulse, the pounding in your chest—it was all too real. Too vivid. You glanced at the book again, lying open on the table. The picture of the prince, dressed exactly like San, seemed to mock you.

You decided to keep the book with you, maybe you don’t know what this world holds or San hides but at least a little story from the book will enlighten you.

No, this doesn’t make any sense. At all. 

You took a tentative step forward, then another, your legs trembling beneath you. Maybe if you could just get to the door, you’d find everything back to normal. You’d laugh about it later with San and the others. This had to be a mistake. But as you approached the door, the air thickened, heavy with an inexplicable weight. You hesitated, your hand hovering just inches from the handle.

Don’t be afraid, you told yourself, forcing a shaky breath. It’s just a damn library. Nothing weird ever happens in a library… right?

But when you opened the door, it wasn’t the library hallway on the other side. Instead, you were greeted by a vast, open landscape—a castle stood in the distance, it's dark spires piercing the gray sky, and the scent of rain hung in the cool, damp air.

You blinked, eyes wide. This was impossible. The warm, comforting space had disappeared, replaced by stone walls and a narrow path leading toward the castle. Your heart pounded as you stepped back, slamming the door shut “Holy fuc–!”

But when you turned the handle again, it opened to the same grim landscape. A cold breeze swept through, and for the first time, fear truly settled in your bones making you slam the door shut as you spun around, hands on your hair, out of frustration.

“This … I must have been reading too much!” Your voice came out in a whisper, barely audible over the wind, your fingers rubbing your stressed temple, “I’ll blame Wooyoung for this. Keeps feeding me scenarios and other stuff and I’m slowly losing my wits!”

“Come out or I’ll force you to!” You heard San yelled at the other side of the door. Huffing, you stood up straight, opening the door with a slight force making a wind blow your hair back with a straight face, “I’m here your highness.”

As you stepped out of the door, you turned around, expecting the familiar sight of the bookshelves, but they were gone. The library was gone.

"What the-" You were cut off when a shadow passed over you. San—or Prince San, you still weren’t sure—stood several paces ahead, watching you with the same guarded expression, his hand resting casually on the hilt of a sword you hadn’t noticed earlier.

"Oh holy mother of cheeseburgers!"

“Still think this is a game?” he asked, his voice low and almost mocking. You didn’t answer, your throat tight as you stared past him at the looming castle. It looked like something out of a storybook. Something medieval, ancient, but it was solid, undeniable, standing right there before you.

“Where are we?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “What is this place?”

San tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “You speak as though you’ve never seen the capital of Utopia. Either you’re a skilled liar, or you’re even more lost than I thought.”

You grumbled at his choice of words. San is never this rude. The capital of Utopia? That was the name mentioned in the book. The book you had just been reading. But how could you possibly be inside a story? It didn’t make any sense. None of this made sense. You glanced back at the door again, but there was no going back. No way to return to the library.

Before you could process what was happening, a horn blared in the distance, loud and commanding. San’s expression shifted instantly, his body tensing, eyes sharp as they scanned the horizon.

“We need to move,” he said suddenly, grabbing your wrist. His touch was firm but not harsh, pulling you along the path as the sound of galloping horses echoed in the distance. “We’re not safe here.” You stumbled after him, your mind reeling as you tried to keep up. “Not safe? From what?”

San didn’t answer immediately, his eyes focused on the path ahead. But as you ran, you noticed the faint shimmer of light in the distance—an eerie, unnatural glow that made your skin prickle with unease.

“San!” you called, breathless. “What’s happening? Who are we running from?”

Finally, he glanced at you, his expression grim. “It's what and if you truly don’t know, then I’ll explain later. Right now, we need to get to the castle.”

You struggled to keep up, the uneven path beneath your feet making every step feel like a battle. But the closer you got to the castle, the louder the sounds of pursuit became—the horses, the clanking of armor, the harsh shouts of soldiers.

“What's after us?” you asked, your voice shaking as fear gripped your chest. “Why are they chasing us?” San’s grip on your wrist tightened, and his gaze darkened. “They’re after me. And if you’re with me, they’re after you too.”

Your heart raced, the reality of the situation crashing down on you. You were no longer in the safety of the library. You weren’t even sure you were in your own world anymore. And somehow, for reasons you couldn’t yet comprehend, you were caught up in a dangerous pursuit with someone who looked like your friend but didn’t know you at all.

Turning around to took a peek but you notice how they are slwoly closing the gap making you squeal and speed up, "Fuck-!"

You stumbled again, nearly falling, but San was quick to catch you, his arm wrapping around your waist to steady you. His touch, though unfamiliar in this strange version of him, sent a strange mix of warmth and reassurance through you. “We’re almost there,” he said, his voice low, calming. “Just keep going.”

But before you could take another step, a bright light flashed in front of you, blinding you both. You gasped, throwing up your arm to shield your eyes as the air around you seemed to crackle with energy.

“Stay behind me,” San commanded, drawing his sword as the light began to take shape—a swirling mass of magic, twisting and shifting before your eyes. Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched in horror, the ground beneath you trembling. You didn’t know where you were, or how you had ended up here, but one thing was certain.

You were in way over your head.

[copajay]

how to write a love song

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

masterlist

taro has been heavy on my mind for the last 24 hours and i’ve always wanted to write a fake dating fic so here we are

summary: you have been a solo idol under SM for years now. unfortunately, you’ve seen a decline in your popularity in the last year. sm’s newest boy group, riize, on the other hand, is blowing up in korea and overseas. in an attempt to generate buzz around your upcoming album, your company sets you up in a PR relationship with riize’s shotaro. (not proofread)

date: 04/07/24

scenario themes: fake dating, idol!au, lowkey grumpy x sunshine lmao

idol: osaki shotaro of riize

concept: fluff, angst-ish

warnings: swearing

word count: 5.3k

"fucking hell." you curse to yourself, alone in your private studio. you were looking at the sales for your last mini album. this was the lowest number you've seen since your debut. flopping onto a chair, you opened up youtube to check your streams, then spotify, then naver, and so on and so forth.

you were beginning to become obsessive, looking to numbers for validation. you put your phone down, sighing. looking up at the wall in front of you, you were greeted with your debut poster.

you were so young, so passionate. you didn't care about streams or sales, you just wanted to share your art with the world. feeling a bit ungrateful, you began to gaslight yourself into feeling better: it's not like the figures were that low, and many artists would kill to have half of what you're complaining about.

it didn't work. you felt even more like shit. somewhere along the way you fell in love with stardom. you became used to high-end brand endorsements, sold-out stadiums, and paparazzi everywhere you go. life has changed a lot for you in the last year.

you got so caught up in everything that you haven't been able to produce as much music. and if you're being honest, the only music you have put out hasn't exactly been your best work.

you initially stood out since you were an idol who didn't dance or put on flashy performances but instead wrote and composed captivating songs with meaningful lyrics. this attracted the attention of a nation, and later on, you developed a global fanbase. a fanbase that is currently fighting for their lives to defend your shitty mini-album.

somewhere along the way, you lost your spark. your lyrics which used to be about raw emotion and life experiences now seemed out of touch and cliche. your instrumentals had so much care poured into them, with most of them containing your own playing of the guitar, piano, drums, and more. now, they were created electronically for the most part by multiple big-shot producers.

you followed the formula for success, so why weren't you reaping the benefits?

your phone screen lit up, notifying you of an email sent by your manager:

RE: Staff Meeting

Y/N,

The numbers aren't looking too good. We need another drop, and soon. We’re having a meeting and you can show us what you came up with so far. We brought in the PR team and they're going to share some ideas with us. The meeting's at 6, don't be late.

you glanced over at the clock. it was 4:44 p.m., which means you still have an hour and 16 minutes to come up with something to show your team.

no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't come up with anything. it used to come so easy to you. your love songs in particular were always so easy to write, and guaranteed hits at that.

unfortunately for you, being in love is nearly impossible when you're a full-time idol. between hectic schedules and invasive fans, you can't find the time or place to catch feelings for someone.

before you knew it, it was 5:50 and all you had done was mope about how hard it is to make music. packing your belongings, you headed out of the studio and made your way to the SM company building.

once seated at the meeting, you were greeted by your manager and the PR professionals he invited. "so, y/n. we're looking forward to hearing about any progress you might have made for the album." your manager encouraged, smiling at you.

"i... don't have anything," you admitted. the room was dead silent and you were holding yourself back from cringing at your own words. "I was hoping we could maybe just look at a couple of demos?"

"y/n, that's what we did last time, and it clearly isn't appealing to the fans. they want your music. we need the finished album from you by next month." your manager stressed.

"i know, i know. i'm working on it." you muttered. clearing his throat, your manager looked to the PR team, "since there's no new music for us to listen to, i guess you guys can take it from here."

"right, thank you." an unnamed woman in glasses began, "we were thinking of creating a fabricated relationship between miss l/n and another idol here at SM. his group is having a comeback around the same time you are."

you were about to protest before she cut you off, "the relationship doesn't have to go on for long, just until you release new music. it'll generate buzz and people will be more likely to tune in if they think your songs are about him. just consider it." she pleaded.

"who is it?" you questioned, still apprehensive. "shotaro from riize. the group is still recovering after a member of theirs has gone on hiatus following a scandal free seunghan until it's backwards. the two of you are close in age and he's been an idol for a few years now so he's perfect." she persuaded. you saw your manager nod in agreement in the corner of your eye.

"isn't dating as an idol a scandal in itself?" you argued. "yes, but you would generate more good exposure than bad. fans online have been talking about how good of a couple you would make for a while now." your manager butted in.

great. so you're not only going to get death threats from delusional fans but also affirm crazed shippers' beliefs. as badly as you wanted out, you really did need more attention on you as you were preparing to come back. besides, any publicity is good publicity, right?

"fine." you agreed begrudgingly. "wonderful! shotaro has also agreed, we'll have another meeting tomorrow at 10 a.m. with the two of you to go over everything." the lady exclaimed, clasping her hands together excitedly.

smiling politely, you excused yourself and left the room. your manager rushed after you, stopping you from leaving the building. "y/n, listen. I know this is all probably really uncomfortable, but I think it'll be good for you." he insisted.

good for streams, maybe. "i'll be fine. it's only a month, right?" you smiled. "right." he affirmed, patting you on the back before walking in the opposite direction.

once he was out of sight your smile immediately dropped. you made your way out the doors of the building preparing yourself for the lonely commute home.

despite being surrounded by fans and paparazzi constantly, you felt pretty lonely most of your days. you rarely had time to see your friends and family, and you didn't have any group members to share the burden of loneliness with.

making your way to the parking lot, you bumped into an energetic figure, causing your keys to drop. the two of you bent down at the same time and your heads collided. stepping back, you looked up at the stranger that had just made your already shit day even shittier.

he picked up your keys first before standing straight and looking back at you. laughing, he handed them over to you, apologizing for the inconvenience.

to your surprise, it was shotaro. the man you had to act like you were in love starting tomorrow. he had incredibly soft features and the brownest, biggest eyes that you could get lost in forever.

"hey, I recognize you!" he chirped, "I was told you would be at the meeting tomorrow for..." he trailed off, the air between you suddenly awkward.

"yeah." you added dryly. "well it was nice meeting you." you pushed past him. "nice meeting you as well!" he called out, enthusiastically waving.

he's so sweet it's sickening.

maybe you're being a bit of a bitch, but your life feels like it's falling apart. stepping into your car, you took a moment to breathe before starting it and heading home.

the next morning, you wanted nothing more than to rot in bed, but your annoyingly loud alarm reminded you of your impending meeting with shotaro. you didn't see the harm in getting a few more minutes of beauty sleep so you hit the snooze button and drifted back off.

unfortunately, those few minutes turned into an hour, and the next thing you know, you had twenty minutes until your meeting. panicking, you rush to wash your face and get dressed, sprinting down the stairs of your apartment.

once you're seated in the car, you're greeted with a blaring sign: empty tank. just your luck. you have under 10 minutes to get to the SM building and it's a twenty-minute walk from your place.

you checked the bus schedules frantically but none of them seemed to come in time. mentally cursing yourself, you began running in the direction of the company building.

there was no way you were going to make it in time. but this was better than nothing. after about 5 minutes of sprinting like your life depended on it, you saw a familiar face in a car waiting at a stoplight: shotaro.

you don't know how you managed to bump into him yet again but you couldn't really afford to care at this moment. knocking on the window lightly, you saw him look at you shocked.

he rolled down his window, "are you okay?" he asked, slightly freaked out. "i'm so sorry i promise i'll explain but could you please let me in because the light is about to turn green." you begged.

he stared at you shocked for a few seconds before you practically yelled at him to let you in. unlocking the doors, he watched you jump in. he definitely thought you were crazy.

and you couldn't blame him either. looking in the window, you saw your reflection for the first time since you left home: sweat beading on your forehead from running and your hair frizzy and half out of your bun.

while putting together your appearance as best as you could, he coughed loudly, "you said you were going to explain...?" he cautioned.

"right. I slept through my alarm, my car ran out of gas, and I was planning on booking it for the interview since there were no buses available either. oh, and sorry again for scaring you." you rattled on.

you expected him to react like most people if put in this situation: slightly annoyed but accepting of the situation.

he simply laughed. "well then I'm glad you ran into me!" he cheered with a genuine smile on his face. what the hell was his problem?

you knew idols would put on cheery, cute personas for the camera, but you never met someone so honestly enthusiastic. you would be lying if you said it wasn't refreshing, but it felt too good to be true.

you arrived at the building within a matter of minutes. "thank you, once again." you turned to shotaro once the two of you reached the elevator. "no worries." he smiled.

you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t extremely handsome, and his kind demeanor made him even more attractive.

you caught yourself staring at him intensely, suddenly feeling nervous in the cramped elevator alone with him.

he kept trying to make conversation but you were completely zoned out, only being able to focus on how good he looked in his oversized black sweater.

your eyes kept nervously flitting between him and the elevator door, and you were beginning to sweat. has he always been this hot?

after what felt like an eternity, the elevator door opened and you practically sprinted out, making a beeline for the conference room. never have you been more relieved to see a room full of PR professionals.

you and shotaro sat down a safe distance away from each other. you’re not sure what overcame you in the elevator.

you haven’t had any romance in your life for so long that every little thing gets you flustered, including being alone in a small space with a good looking man.

“thank you both for coming today.” the same woman from yesterday greeted. “if you don’t mind, we’d like to walk you through the month-long plan of your ‘relationship’” she shared, using quotation marks.

“firstly, we want the two of you to be spotted out together. going to cafe’s, the movies, even just for a walk. hold hands, hug, kiss if you feel like it.” you couldn’t help but look at shotaro for the last bit and you were shocked to see he was already looking at you.

“we’ll call on paparazzi and companies like dispatch to ‘catch you in the act’ and post your photos online for people to catch on.” she continued, nodding at a man next to her.

“then we’re going to make an official announcement on behalf of the company that you two are officially dating. you know, ‘the pair are getting to know each other and we would appreciate your privacy bla bla bla’” the man said, far less professionally.

“right. you two will continue your outings for another week or so after and then you come back, and we will make a statement on behalf of the company that you have broken up to focus on your schedules. how does that sound?” the lady wrapped up.

“sounds good to me.” shotaro replied coolly. “yeah, um, sounds good.” you sputtered, a bit overwhelmed.

suddenly, you heard a loud ping on the woman’s phone. she looked down and looked up again between you and shotaro, “well, it looks like you two have already set the plan into motion.” she chuckled.

looking closer at her phone, you saw an online article showing pictures from just an hour ago of you in shotaro’s car titled “y/n and shotaro: potential lovebirds?”

what the hell? how did those photos get out so fast… and when were they even taken?

although you were growing increasingly anxious about your lack of privacy, you had to admit the PR team knew what they were talking about, people were going insane over the article.

“since you’ve already been spotted together today, you might as well go on a ‘date’ later in the afternoon to seal the deal.” an older man opposite you added in air quotes.

you and shotaro simply nodded in agreement and before you knew it, the meeting was coming to a close.

grabbing your bag, you prepared to speed-walk out of the room and avoid shotaro until your inevitable ‘date’ but he seemed to have other plans.

“wait up, y/n!” he hollered, catching up to you. “i know we’re kind of being forced to hang out, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other’s company!” he began, “what’s your favorite coffee shop? mine’s-”

“look i appreciate you trying to make light of the situation, but this is just a marketing strategy, nothing more and nothing less.” you cut him off, “let’s just go to the bakery across the street, make lovey dovey eyes at each other, and go our separate ways, yeah?”

his smile faded a bit which made you feel guilty, but he recovered quickly and nodded, following you out the company building.

once you arrived at the bakery, you tried to seem as interested as possible in whatever shotaro was talking about, but your brain was still foggy from the hectic morning you had.

“anyways, what about you?” the singer excitedly asked, “…what about me?” you repeated through gritted teeth, forcing a smile in case any cameras were on you.

“i was asking if you started preparing for your new album.” he smiled. “oh. um, yeah.” you shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

“you know i’m a big fan of your music,” shotaro started, “i loved your debut album, i listen to at least one song from it every day.” he shared shyly.

well great. now you felt even more bad for being so unnecessarily rude to him. softening your demeanor, you replied with “thanks… i really liked ‘get a guitar’, too.”

his eyes lit up upon you mentioning his track, which you took as a sign to continue, “but i can never get the dance quite right.” you added, grinning.

“i can always teach you!” he beamed.

“that would be nice-”

“oh my GOD, is that shotaro?” a stranger gasped, causing both your and shotaro’s heads to snap in opposite directions.

even though you were technically trying to get caught, old idol habits die hard. dating scandals are every idol’s biggest fear: an entire dedicated fanbase turning on you just for experiencing romance? true nightmare fuel.

“and i think that’s y/n with him! why are they here together?” another stranger spoke up. you and shotaro swiftly picked up your belongings and left, worried you’d attract more attention.

“i’ll-um-see you, bye.” you mumbled with your head down as shotaro gave you a small thumbs up underneath the table.

the two of you set off in different directions and you began dreading the long walk home. you were wearing a mask and a beanie, which meant your chances of getting recognized were pretty low, but they definitely weren’t zero.

however, you loved walking through seoul, especially this time of year. the weather was nice, and the streets were bustling. you used to love brainstorming song lyrics and melodies during walks.

deciding to take advantage of your situation, you racked your brain for any potential lyrics.

nothing.

how could you have lost all your creativity? did your songwriting talent just disappear? how would you get it back?

doubts filled your mind as you realized you were already halfway home and failed to come up with a single verse.

maybe you were lacking inspiration. your life was filled with romantic endeavors prior to your debut, which filled your mind with several ideas for new songs.

but you seemed to have forgotten all of them, and as cheesy as it sounds, you might have forgotten how it feels to be in love as well.

nearing your apartment, you felt a vibration in your pocket. taking out your phone, you opened up an email from your manager:

Re: Dating News

Hello Y/N,

Seems like your bakery date is already going viral on SNS. A pair of fans spotted you two and uploaded a photo of you sitting at a table together. Keep up the good work.

[1 Attachment]

clicking on the attachment, you saw a screenshot of a tweet exclaiming ‘RIIZE SHOTARO AND Y/N L/N ON A DATE???’ with a picture of the two of you smiling and sitting across from each other at a table.

it freaked you out how happy the two of you looked in the photo, almost like a real couple.

shutting off your phone, you couldn’t help but smile as you entered your apartment, maybe shotaro was starting to grow on you.

in the next few weeks, you and shotaro would go on several public outings, getting spotted almost immediately.

before you knew it the two of you were the hottest topic in k-pop, headlining several media outlet articles and trending on social media.

you would periodically receive correspondence from your manager and PR team praising you for how well you were pulling the stunt off.

although you wouldn’t admit it, you were really starting to enjoy shotaro’s company as well. the two of you began texting until late hours at night and planning ‘dates’ without instruction from your team.

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starting to feel a bit attached to him but you reminded yourself that this was simply a work thing. besides, it’s not like he’s interested anyway… right?

you couldn’t read shotaro at all. he always had a sweet smile plastered on his face and seemed excited about everything and anything.

weirdly, you felt your writing ability start to come back slowly as well.. but it obviously has nothing to do with shotaro!

it’s just a coincidence that you draw on your memories of him to come up with lyrics; that you describe his mannerisms to a T in your potential choruses and scribble about how he makes you feel in your notebook on your off-days.

yup! definitely just a coincidence.

“y’know i used to love these growing up,” shotaro shared as the two of you stood at a street food stall indulging in dango.

“you must miss japan a lot, huh?” you asked, staring at the side of his face. his expression faltered slightly.

“of course i do, but i’m glad i chased after my dreams. it sounds cliché but it paid off. i get to do what i love, even if i’m hundreds of miles away from home.” he replied softly.

you don’t know what it was, but in that moment you wanted nothing more than to kiss him. you stared at his lips for a few moments before he caught on.

“do i have something on my face..?” he questioned, raising a finger to wipe his mouth.

you leaned in, centimeters away from touching your lips with his when he stepped back.

shit. way to go, y/n.

“sorry, i just- i don’t think we should…” he stammered,

“no, i’m sorry. i don’t know what came over me. we-i should go.” you said awkwardly, biting your lip.

you headed off before he could reply, mentally cursing at the world and wanting to crawl into a hole and die.

how could you let your guard down like that and embarrass yourself?

that night, you didn’t receive a single text from him like you usually do, so you tried reaching out.

no response.

every time you contacted him afterwards or tried to set up another ‘date’ he would flake last minute or respond dryly until he full-on ghosted you.

you stopped heading out together and your manager seemed content with it as you had already generated enough anticipation for your comeback.

the next time you saw him would be at a company meeting, discussing the end of your ‘relationship’.

you zoned out the entire meeting, barely hearing anything coming out of anyone’s mouth. you focused on trying not to look at shotaro and keeping your thoughts preoccupied so you felt less embarrassed just being in his presence.

your manager briefed you on the contents of the meeting afterwards, sharing that all you had to do was release a joint statement that confirmed you were now broken up.

“it’s easy enough, you mostly leave it to the social media managers. just send them your virtual signature and be sure to post it on your instagram as soon as possible. got it?” the man asked.

you nodded wordlessly with your head still in the clouds. for the first time in a long time your mind was filled with new ideas for lyrics, ranging from lovestruck to heartbroken to enraged.

you opted to walk home that day, even taking the longer route, furiously typing in your notes app and recording several voice notes on the way. you must’ve looked insane to everyone else around you but you didn’t care.

if you couldn’t get your mind off shotaro, you’d at least make it work in your favor. that night, you wrote an impressive 10 drafts of different songs, staying up until late and getting up early the next morning to head to the studio.

you drowned yourself in your work, hoping you’d forget about the boy whose presence was still all around you in both your thoughts and lyrics.

eventually, you refined and recorded all 10 songs, ready to release them in your new album.

shortly before your album announcement, you posted your official ‘breakup’ statement, feeling empty as you tapped on your screen.

you never would’ve predicted the somewhat annoying and yet incredibly charming guy that you were forced into a relationship with would haunt you this much.

you even found yourself looking through old posts and articles about the two of you, reminiscing on your time as a fake couple.

it stung knowing it was completely one-sided, and it stung even more knowing you could’ve still had him as a friend if you didn’t stupidly act on impulse.

you saw him here and there entering and leaving the SM building and the two of you would share a polite smile and bow before rushing off.

the response to your breakup announcement was unprecedented, and the amount of people heartbroken for the both of you took you by surprise.

riizeandrealize: ‘love isn’t real after all 💔💔’

y/n4eva: ‘at least we know the new album is gonna hit’

y/ntaro: ‘NOOO MY PARENTS’

tarosho28: ‘awww… so that means shotaro’s single again? 😁’

scrolling through the comments absentmindedly, one in specific caught your attention:

user1129399: ‘she always seemed more into him than he did. he’s probably the one that broke it off’

you felt hot with rage, what does a stupid netizen on the internet know? and why is their comment making you so upset?

maybe because they were partially right. you obviously were more into him or he would’ve been more receptive to your humiliating attempt at a kiss.

your album was set to come out in a week and you had a set track list recorded and ready.

and yet, you felt compelled to add one more song.

you went to work immediately, writing so fast your words were barely legible but you could read it perfectly fine.

you wrote as intensely and specifically as you could about everything—from your first encounter to your last. you tried to keep your other songs vague enough to avoid any suspicion on shotaro’s part about the subject of the lyrics, but you didn’t care anymore.

you were in love with osaki shotaro and you needed to express it in the only way you know how.

“are you insane?” your manager’s voice boomed over the line.

“it’s already recorded, and i have the backing vocals done too. i just need one more day to get the production team together and it’ll be done and ready to add to the album.” you pleaded.

“fine.” he sighed, “this better be worth it.”

“it will be.” at this point you weren’t sure if you were assuring him or yourself.

this was your most personal and emotional piece of work yet, and you were worried shitless about what response it would receive.

luckily for you, it did amazing on the charts and with your fans. in fact, your fanbase almost doubled in size and you were experiencing even more success than you were already.

unluckily for you, you still felt like shit.

your life felt empty without shotaro in it and no amount of fans, cameras, or praise could fill that void.

as you were preparing to go out onto stage for a music show, you ran into a familiar figure heading out of the green room.

of course it was none other than the one person you have been thinking about nonstop for the past month, wrote an entire album about, and the same guy who probably cringes every time he hears it play on the radio.

you gave him a polite smile before rushing towards the hair and makeup room.

“wait. y/n, can we talk real quick?” he began nervously.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfu-

“y/n?” he repeated, snapping you back to reality.

“yes. of course.” you responded, trying to sound as collected as possible.

“i-uh listened to your new album. it’s amazing. i loved track 11 the most.” he smiled softly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

of course you liked that track, it’s obviously about you.

“thanks! is that all?” you rushed, preparing to sprint away at any moment.

“no! honestly, i wanted to apologize for the way things ended.” he confessed,

you knew how this was going to end. he was going to give you some bullshit excuse for ghosting you instead of just telling you he wasn’t interested and waste 5 minutes of your time.

but you don’t have 5 minutes to waste. you need to get up on stage and sing about how bad he hurt you.

pathetic, but at least you’re self aware.

“save it. i know you don’t feel the same way and that’s fine. but you could’ve at least told me. you didn’t have to shut me out, I thought we were friends at the very least.” you exploded, suddenly feeling a burst of adrenaline.

“but y/n-”

“and i’m not in the mood for excuses. you had a month to think of a good excuse but i guess there just isn’t one. you know i just hope you can take this experience and learn to never do this to some other girl because-”

“y/n you’re not listening to me.”

“why should i? you didn’t bother listening to me when i called you all those times. and about track 11, yes it’s about you. the whole fucking album is about you and i bet you already knew that-”

your petty rant was cut short when you felt something press gently against your lips… but he definitely wasn’t kissing you.

oh my god. did he just physically shush me? he carefully removed his finger from it’s place in front of your now-closed lips.

“did you just shush me?! have you lost your damn mind-” you began again,

“y/n!” he practically yelled, now gaining the attention from several staff members.

“i know what i did was shitty and I’m sorry. you’re right, i shouldn’t have ghosted you. but it’s not because i didn’t feel the same way. i’ve loved you for a while now.”

your jaw dropped, along with several eavesdropper’s jaws throughout the now dead-silent hallway.

“i was scared that you didn’t see me in that way but when i found out that you did… i panicked. i was too scared to tell you how i felt and i know i’m an idiot for it.” he looked down. “i’m not going to beg you to take me back or anything, but can we at least go back to the way we were? friends?”

“y/n, you need to get to hair and makeup NOW! you’re running out of time before your performance!” a staff member called out before you could respond, dragging you away.

well great. now you have to pretend everything’s alright and sing a little song on stage when your whole world has been flipped upside down.

as you sat in the makeup chair, you pondered over what would happen if you did agree to start over with shotaro, would you be happy?

before you knew it, you were on stage facing a crowd full of people staring right at you. you usually wouldn’t mind, you’re an idol after all. but the whole situation was just overstimulating you.

luckily the backtrack began playing before you could overthink and you were able to escape from reality for a few minutes to sing and perform.

you missed this feeling. you missed staying up writing, listening proudly to your new music you poured your heart into, and giving your all on stage every performance.

at the end of your song, the crowd erupted into cheers. you looked onto all the banners with your name and face plastered onto them gratefully.

whether you liked it or not, shotaro brought your spark back. yes it caused you immense pain and suffering, but it also gave you moments of joy, including the one you were experiencing right now.

once you wrapped up, you headed backstage, surprised to see shotaro standing by the monitor. was he watching your performance?

“i made up my mind.” you announced, walking up to him.

“are you sure you don’t need more time?” he asked, nervous.

“you’re a dumbass for what you did,” you started, noting how his face fell, “but i’d be an even bigger dumbass to pretend i don’t want to be with you.”

the contagious smile you’re used to seeing slowly reappeared on his face, causing you to slowly smile as well before you quickly corrected yourself.

“but… i want a proper apology. maybe you could give me one at the bakery tomorrow morning?” you mused.

“it’s a date.” he responded warmly.

[katuschka]

Olalla Chapter Sixteen 2/2

Jake Kiszka x f!OC 5.145 words

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): kissing, fluff, some angst and arguing, sore muscled, talking about abortion (retrospective), alcohol consumption and intoxication, alcohol insomnia, allusions to oral sex, petting, unprotected sex, including some rough fucking in you squint, language, and as always, an unhealthy dose of heavy emotions and feelings

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Previous chapter Olalla masterpost

A lime tree was burning down like a torch, Annie sat under, getting scorched. And all the boys cried as the cinder covered her. All except one who falsely loved her.

April 22nd 2026, Mount Pierce, Jake

---

He had never felt so humiliated. 

A former jock, my ass! That was a million years ago, apparently. But still, being able to frolic onstage for hours made Jake live in an illusion that he was still perfectly fit and in good shape, despite Josh’s occasional half-hearted mocking remarks. Scrawny asshole. 

He would probably laugh his tiny ass off if he could just see them and watch how Jake’s dignity bursted like a soap bubble the moment Veela set the pace uphill, and the remaining residue prevented him from telling her to slow down. 

The chronic lack of sleep, the crazy schedule and the bad habit of drowning his sorrows in booze had really taken its toll on him after all. 

He could keep up with her for the first mile or so, but the moment the trail got steeper, she was constantly several steps ahead, full of stamina and life. Like a captured wild animal that was finally set free again. He should rejoice. And he did. Really!

But every now and then, she stopped in her tracks and turned around to wait for him while flashing him a sympathetic smile, which always made him feel like shit. 

So, Jake was actually glad that as soon as they reached the alpine zone, she stopped bothering. Instead, she soon disappeared from sight, no doubt too lost in her own daydreaming to care for poor old Jake who kept huffing a few hundred feet behind her. 

The rest of the way to the top felt like an eternity to him, only to get nearly swept back down by the icy gust as soon as he finally reached the large, flat summit. Whose fucking idea was this, and in the middle of fucking April, no less? Oh yeah, right, his! He cursed himself for it, regretting ever suggesting this hellish trip… until he saw her a few hundred feet ahead of him, and quickly hurried to join her. 

She was standing on a flat rock with her back turned to him, looking calm and majestic in the blustering wind. Like a statue of some fucking ancient goddess. Dishevelled strands of her long dark hair bound in a high ponytail kept flapping around her head like seaweed, but she kept still, scanning the horizon as if the whole vast space was her own queendom. 

Two more minutes passed, with Neszka lost somewhere in the introspective world of her fantasies and memories, and Jake lost in the sight of her. Then she turned around and the wilderness surrounding them could not compete with the untamed power behind her eyes. It was there for just a split second before she transformed into a human being again, but he saw it. 

That was what made him love her so much. Sure, she got a pretty face and gorgeous tits, but inside that beautiful human form lived a siren. Enchanting and deadly, stirring strong emotions deep inside his chest from the very first day, except now he no longer tried to fight it.

At last, she finally stepped down from the elevated rock to join him on his spot behind a few stunted conifers that felt a bit less exposed but still offered a breathtaking view. 

Jake expected her to say something, but instead, she just grabbed both sides of his face and kissed him. Fiercely… even though it was far from fiery, with their noses ice cold and runny. They both also nearly fell down as her sudden fierce attack made him stumble and his right crampon grated against a bare stone. No, not romantic at all… and yet. 

“Thank you,” she breathed out laughing when they finally regained balance. 

“So you like it? I hoped you would… not as impressive as the Rockies, but it reminds me a bit of Western Tatras, so I thought... Ya know, some of those places you took us to when we were there with…” Fuck. No escaping him. Not even now.

But she just smiled, seemingly ignoring the  last, unfinished sentence. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe even Karkonosze… this peak’s not that high, is it?”

“4.310 feet.” Not that high, my ass! I almost died today, Jake thought to himself, making a mental note that he should start jogging again.

“Uh huh,” she puckered her lips in mock understanding and nodded up and down appreciatively. “I love it when you speak Mongolian to me. … and I really love this place.” She pecked him on the lips again before looking around once more, obviously reluctant to get back to moving just yet, despite the wind getting stronger and darker clouds gathering on the horizon.  

At this time of year, the mountain tops were still covered with snow, but the changing weather and an occasional rain had turned some parts of the trail into an ice chute. 

Jake was already not looking forward to the way back, and the prospect of rain made it even worse. 

“I think it’s time to go back, Veela.”

“I know,” she murmured, but still didn’t move.

Jake understood. This snowy world existed completely independent of all man-made sorrows, keeping its wild beauty almost out of spite. It was, in fact, the very reason why he took her here, remembering what she once told him. This was the source of her peace of mind, away from the world’s troubles. 

But he was getting cold and as much as he loved seeing her thrive and bloom in fresh air, he longed to be back in their rented cabin. Their time spent there turned out to be the source of his comfort. 

The previous day had started with heavy rain that lasted well until early afternoon. The two of them had stayed in bed almost until lunch, listening to the pitter patter of raindrops on the roof and sharing funny childhood stories. 

The outer world couldn’t reach them there, but one can only ignore it for so long. 

And despite the serenity of this secluded place and their growing, yet still fragile intimacy, Neszka’s smile was still veiled with worry. They couldn’t really run away from it, and she didn’t want to.

A quick facetime with Maya actually made things better, in spite of Jake’s concerns. Neszka’s sister already knew what had happened from his previous phone call and he had also advised her not to talk about it, so this was mostly about the situation back home. She assured them everyone was ok and well. 

She was also still adamant in her attempts to convince their parents to leave the place, but Elena was right. They wouldn’t dare send drones so close to the mountain range. 

Cold comfort. 

When they switched to Polish, Jake cleared his throat and excused himself to go make some coffee, because he was certain they were talking about him… and judging from Veela’s sneaky sly smile and stealthy side glances, he was right. 

Comic relief. 

It was worth it, though, because even after the call ended, Veela’s smile still lingered on. Time to show her why he had brought her here in the first place. 

“We need to go to town,” he started while handing her the steaming cup. “I’d like to go out tomorrow, but we don’t even have decent boots, much less anything else.” 

And so they did. 

Neszka insisted on wearing his hat and shades despite the overcast, simply because she had tried them on earlier that day and loved the sassy look.

So did Jake. In fact, he loved this new version of her so much he didn’t even mind when she stole his cigarettes. 

Later in the evening, they played cards and then watched a couple of movies in bed again, falling asleep sometime during The Last of the Mohycans.

The new day greeted them with a sunny sky, and despite the cool breeze, the weather promised to be warm and stable at least until midday. Jake made breakfast and prepared sandwiches for the day, so Agnieszka bargained that she would cook dinner, despite his constant grumbling.

And so she did, after they finally came back from their hike, drenched and numb with cold, because they hadn’t outrun the rain. Jake didn’t argue. Instead, he disappeared in the bathroom as soon as he could. Hot shower had never felt so good. 

After dinner, Jake grabbed his guitar and a bottle of whisky and went outside to sit on the porch, because Neszka insisted on baking him a cake and he was not allowed to help, watch or even hang around. 

Their life together was slowly turning to a constant battle of who would do what. The petty bickering usually ended in a kiss… until they started anew just minutes later, stubborn heads clashing over yet another insignificant task. 

Jake secretly loved that. Sometimes he provoked her on purpose. 

However, this evening he didn’t really mind and just let her do whatever she wanted. With a new melody stuck in his head that begged to get tweaked, Jake in fact appreciated some privacy. The air was thick with mist after the late afternoon rain, turning the woods that surrounded that cabin as well as the hills in the distance into an eerie place that suited the mood of this new song. 

It didn’t take long for the world around him to turn dark blue before it got completely swallowed by darkness. Only the fog still lingered like a blanket that keeps you cold. It inspired him, helping him turn some of the weight on his shoulders into yet another sad tune. 

The only source of light that still illuminated the porch was coming through the window right behind him. It didn’t reach his fingers, but Jake’s eyes were closed now anyway, letting his hands move on their own. 

He usually didn’t bother with words, safe for several exceptions. Those songs were his and his only. He had shared and eventually reworked some of them with Chris, but a few were never meant to be played for others. Lulu’s Lullaby being one of them. Only two other people had heard it so far. 

He was still unsure about this new one. Some things just need to be said… or sung. Not by Josh, though. Not this time. 

So immersed in the chords that spoke to his heart and the hummed words through which the heart talked back, he didn’t notice her already standing in the doorway. That’s why her voice made him jump when she suddenly spoke, the tone of her voice husky and once again tinged with melancholy. 

“He used to play like that… not that well, I don’t mean… In the darkest corner of our garden after the sun came down.” 

“Who?” he croaked while grabbing the neck of the guitar to put it aside, his throat feeling strangely constricted all of the sudden. How much did she hear?

“No, please, don’t stop. Play some more… for me.” 

And so he motioned to her to sit down on the bench next to him. Once again, the fingers moved on their own, recollecting one piece he used to strum a lot while alone in his house in January. It was a simple chord progression, fit to be played by the fire by anyone with two hands. Definitely not something he’d choose to play to impress her. But that wasn’t what she wanted, anyway. 

Even the world’s most famous and haunting tunes are simple. Some masterpieces are just like that, because hurt isn’t always complicated. 

“Hey… I think I know this one,” she smiled. “Can you sing it for me?”

Jake hesitated. For several reasons. “I’m not really a good singer…”

“That’s very hard to believe.” The unspoken ‘because’ once again hung in the air and Neszka bit her lip as soon as she said that. To break the sudden silence, Jake simply started again, this time with the words. 

“Measuring a summer's day, I only find it slips away to grey. The hours they bring me pain…” Then he suddenly stopped again. “Do you know he wrote it about Jackie DeShannon?”

“I have no idea who Jackie Deshnoun is… so no.” 

That made him laugh, and the immediate change of mood was quite uplifting. To chase the feeling, he did exactly what he had promised himself to stop doing: He grabbed the opened bottle standing on the small table in front of them and took a swig. 

Before Jake could put it back, Neszka snatched the whisky from his hand and followed suit. Birds of a feather, he thought glumly. 

“Yeah, erhm,” he cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s interesting… without knowing the story, you’d automatically think it was one of Plant’s women… or simply no one in particular… just because it was him who sang the song when they recorded it. But it’s really about Page’s broken heart after she went back to the States…” 

… and it suddenly occurred to him why he remembered this particular one. Well, fuck again. Time for another round. He gulped the whisky again and Neszka immediately reached for the bottle too. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy girl! You drank half a bottle of wine at dinner. You should be more careful with this shit.” He held the bottle at arm’s length, but Neszka simply stood up and wrenched it from his grasp with ease. 

“And I finished the bottle afterwards. So what? You should stop being so protective.”

“I won’t.” Jake’s tone was suddenly very sober… and quite uncompromising. 

“Wha’ not?” 

“I made a deal with god… or, to be more precise, with the registrar in Copenhagen city hall.”

“Jake, em serious.” 

So was he. This was really between him and god… or whatever deity kept track of their conscience. 

“Well, firstly, because your sister threatened to cut my balls off if I won’t take care of you… and she sounded determined enough to rip them off with her bare hands if necessary. And lemme tell ya,” he leaned closer to her, whispering theatrically: “She scares me!”

Neszka’s laughter rang in the air, shrill and warm. “En’ secondly?”

“And secondly…” The second reason wasn’t funny at all, and he was reluctant to shatter that unusual moment of carefree joy they shared, because such moments were still precious. But they promised each other to talk about these things, so he talked. “Last time, I didn’t care enough… until it was too late.”

Unable to think of more words, he strummed the initial chord and plucked a few following arpeggios, to remind her.

Neszka knew immediately what he meant. She had, of course, long forgotten the melody, but not the mood. “You didn’t really tell me wha’actually ‘appened.”

He sighed. “It’s pretty prosaic. She just went to have an abortion. Without even telling me she wanted to do that.”

“Tha’s not right…”

“Yeah… thinking about it, nothing about our relationship was right. She did it when I wasn’t home… which was most of the time, actually. I think Emilia was resolved to leave me long before she got pregnant.”

“Did you love her?”

“Yes.” At least I thought so. He needed more whisky.

“Hmmm, m’kay…”

Several more minutes passed in silence between them, with them just sharing the bottle and listening to the evening sounds and letting all those words sink in.

He should have told her to slow down, but already quite drunk himself, he was in no position to criticize? After all those stressful weeks, they could finally breathe freely again… at least for a while. 

“M’sorry I ruined your birthday,” she slurred, breaking the pleasant silence at last. 

Jake looked at her in confusion, his own vision already a bit blurry. “Whaddaya mean? Yeh jus’ baked me a cake.”

“S’jus’ a simple sponge cake. You derserve more. An’to be with your family.”

Jake was suddenly desperate for a touch. Realizing he was still bending over the wooden body of his guitar, he quickly put it down with a dull clang and pulled her closer to him. “M’exactly where I wanna be, Veela. Besides, not sure there’s much to celebrate. Ah feel like an old man. Especially after today. Everything hurts,” he chuckled.

“Mah fault,” she snickered against his shoulder. 

“Yeah, no shit. Not gonna argue with that.”

Neszka wrapped her arms around his waist and hissed right in his face playfully. “Welcome to the ancien’ club. Zzzzhirtyyy!” 

It made him laugh out loud. “That sounded like a diesel engine.” 

She tried to slap his stomach in mock offense, but Jake grabbed her wrist and pressed his lips to hers instead. Their kiss deepened pretty quickly and she moaned into his open mouth, making his dick twitch as the muscles of his lower abdomen spasmed. 

Jake’s brain seemed to stop working, his head was spinning with his eyes now closed, and he was getting completely lost in the sensation, filtering out everything else. The feeling of her soft, warm tongue against his and his own heavy breath was all he could focus on. He was hungry. Ravenous. Eager to devour her and to melt into her, and she bit his lower lip in response, making him growl. 

Suddenly, she straddled him. 

He could feel her fingertips digging into the stiff flesh of his lower nape and he sank his own fingers into the dark mass of her hair that hung over his head and shoulders like a curtain. It was still a bit damp from the shower she had taken after putting the sponge cake in the oven. 

Vanilla…

His world got reduced to abstract twirling visions mixed with very acute sensations. She sounded like a titmouse when he licked a stripe up her exposed neck, while his fingers traveled down her spine…

The darkness surprised him. The dryness in his mouth did not, but… something was wrong. The soft mass behind his head felt like a pillow, meaning he was in bed. 

He tried to sit, but the throbbing head and nausea made him lay down again. Think, Jake.

In an attempt to clear his head a bit, he took a deep breath through his nose and froze. The scent… still lingering on his already visible mustache… so familiar and yet so new. 

Fuck! 

The curse reverberated through the silence that surrounded him, as if he actually  said that aloud. The silence was way too silent, actually. He used his hands first to explore the space around him before his eyes adjusted to the darkness. 

It was coming back to him in flashes like a fever dream. The groping hands. The overturned chair. The cries. FUUUCK! He could still feel her on his tongue, yet she was nowhere to be found, the sheets next to him already cool. And empty. 

Panicked, Jake scrambled from the bed, chasing the slit of light under the closed door. 

He found her in the bathroom, sitting naked on the cold, tiled floor right next to the toilet bowl. “I was sick,” she muttered when she looked up and saw him standing in the doorway. “Too much whisky. I have a terrible hangover.” 

She sounded so matter-of-factly, trying to hide her distress, yet he could still sense the disturbing undercurrent of emotions under those words. Not how it was supposed to be. He could also see she had been crying again. Eyes puffy, cheeks burning.

Quickly, he knelt down to her and pulled her shivering form into his arms. “You’re so cold, baby. Come on, get up, silly girl.” 

Instead, she buried her face in his chest as a sob ripped through her chest. “I’m sorry.”

No! “Why?”

“I’m sorry for being such a burden to you. This shouldn’t feel like such a big deal, but… I… I…” 

No, no, no! Please don’t say you regret it. 

Neszka clung to him for dear life, which was… good? “You’re not a burden, baby. You’re my love. Come back to bed now. Let’s talk about it in the morning.” He could feel her nod and helped her stand up. Neszka refused to go back without brushing her teeth first and Jake wrapped her in a bathrobe before he scurried to the kitchen to pour her a glass of water, ignoring his own heaving stomach. 

Back in their bed, he carefully pulled the comforter over her and she let him spoon her before they both drifted back to sleep a few minutes later. 

When Jake opened his eyes again, woken by the sound of heavy rain, the room was filled with grey light.��

This time he didn’t have to guess or wonder. She wasn’t in bed. She wasn’t anywhere else in the room either. 

“Veela?”

The only response to his soft call was a continuing, oppressive silence. 

First he checked his phone. Nearly 11 am. Then he slowly got out of bed and put his sweatpants on, before he went looking for her. 

She wasn’t in the main room. Peeking into the bathroom, he found it empty as well this time. When he opened the main door to check whether she wasn’t just chilling on the porch because she loved listening to rain, he saw that his car was gone. 

Nothing else. Just the car. 

Gone. In the pouring rain. After she apologized for being a burden. After he fucked her drunk and neither of them could even remember it. 

Mad with worry, Jake dialed the number of the first – and the only – person he could think of. It rang for a while before it went straight to voicemail. He tried again. This time, he finally picked up. 

“I hope you have a good enough reason for cockblocking me on my birthday!”

“She’s gone,” Jake blurted out, sounding much more alarmed than he wanted to. It was followed by several seconds of silence before his brother spoke again. 

“Jake, what the fuck do you mean? Whaddaya mean gone? What happened?” Josh’s own tone turned from cocky to worried in milliseconds. 

“Dunno… I just woke up. She took my car. And now she’s gone. Left no message.”

Jake could hear Taffy’s annoyed voice somewhere in the background, but Josh quickly shushed him before he spoke into the device again, repeating his previous question: “What happened?” 

“I don’t know...” Even Jake knew that it sounded very unconvincing, and he ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. 

“Did she take anything else?”

“No, just my car keys. Even her jacket’s still here…”

On the other end, Josh took a deep breath before he spoke slowly and calmly, which only meant he was just as alarmed and his mind was racing. “Jake… is, uh, is there a reason why… why this should be concerning?”

“I don’t know… I… she… hang on!” The sound of tires on the gravel road made his heart leap. He glanced through the window to see her pull into the driveway. “Nevermind, she’s here.”

“Listen, you assho…” But Jake hung up before Josh could finish the sentence. He ran out the door and towards the car just as she got out of it, completely drenched as if she had been walking. In just her t-shirt. In this fucking freezing weather!

Jake grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her, ignoring her startled look. She seemed guilty, too. Good, she should. “Where the fuck have you been?!?!” he shouted while the rain kept pouring down on them. 

“I can explain,” Neszka responded weakly. 

“Yeah, you better!” With that, he grabbed her by the arm and forced her up the stairs and inside the cabin. 

“I just needed some time alone,” she started to explain after he dried her up with a towel and placed a cup of hot tea in front of her. They were now sitting at the table opposite each other, like a culprit and her interrogator. She hadn’t seen him angry like this in months. Cold and unpredictable.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long, but that wasn’t my intention. I got lost…”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you need some time alone?”

She sighed and wrapped her fingers, numb with cold, around the hot mug. “What happened… my mind was not clear and it’s not very memorable either. I’m sure you’ll agree. I needed to know how I feel about it.”

“Okay…?” Jake crossed his arms and pursed his lips, getting ready for the worst part. 

“I want to do it again.”

Jake raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Outwardly, he tried to remain calm, to keep his cool, but inside he was screaming. 

“I want to do it again. I love you. Take me. Make me yours, sweet Jake.”

Agnieszka

—

There were no more words. He watched me for an eternity after I said what I said. Or maybe it was just a few seconds, I don’t know. 

I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Or maybe I could. I know those seconds were not thought, but felt. Tingling. Every new intake of breath felt heavier inside my heaving chest, as the air around us thickened with anticipation and untamed longing. Watching it grow behind his dark eyes, I almost feared his next move, and yet I couldn’t wait. 

Then I heard the chair below him creak and suddenly we were both standing, still eyeing each other apprehensively.  

Then he moved, and after two swift leaps around the table, he was standing right next to me, so close I could feel the heat coming from his body before I even consciously registered that it was really happening. He was like a wolf, hungry and wild. 

I gasped when he grabbed me by the shoulders again and he quickly filled my open mouth with his impatient tongue. 

This was it. It was the time to give in. But not to give up. I scratched the skin that stretched over his muscles, hardened by the power with which he held me. I pulled his hair when he sank his teeth into the flesh of my neck, making him yelp and growl. 

And just like that, we danced into the bedroom, where he pulled my t-shirt over my head and threw me on the bed, reaching for the button of my jeans as soon as I lost my balance. 

I arched my back when he ran his hand down my sternum, silently begging him to squeeze my tits. My hardened nipples were desperate for his mouth, and I cried out when he leaned down with his knee between my legs and took one of the crimson buds in between his soft lips, teasing it with the tip of his tongue as if he could read my mind. 

It was maddening. My hands roamed blindly over the skin of his back, my fingernails leaving scratches there. 

Then he straightened up again, and pulled both my jeans and panties down with one swift motion. I was now completely naked under him and his scrutiny, my legs hanging over the edge of the bed. His eyes fell on me and his fingertips traced the curve of my hips. 

I scrambled up towards the headboard, to let him see what he just unwrapped. It was his, from the roots of my hair to the depths of my warm and waiting pussy. I spread my legs to let him see how impatient I was. Groaning, he pulled his sweatpants down, letting his hard cock spring free, before he climbed between my trembling thighs. 

I reached out to grab him by the nape of his neck and pulled him down. Our mouths met again, sucking, biting, our tongues fighting for dominance. 

Without warning, I suddenly felt the tip of his cock brush against my entrance. He found the way without any help and I could feel he didn’t want to waste another second. I gasped when he entered me and slowly bottomed out, and my whole body arched under his. 

He sank his fingers in my hair as his palms cradled both sides of my head, forcing me to look at him. I expected to find the previous fierceness in his eyes, but that wasn’t what he wanted me to see. 

The atmosphere in the room changed, and with it, the shared energy between us. 

What he showed me made my heart weep, and he stroked my cheek softly before he started moving inside me. 

My starlight. 

Suddenly, he was meek like a lamb. I wrapped my legs around his waist, inviting him even deeper, and he whined into my ear, rubbing his nose against the upper curve of my earlobe. 

“Please, don’t do this to me again,” he murmured, panting. “Please don’t become just a memory.” 

I felt the urgency of his words with each thrust. All the fear and frustration and tenderness he had been trying to suppress and keep under control for my sake. I suddenly felt the burden of it all, and – feeling guilty of causing it – I welcomed it. I was sure he must have felt a lot of anger too, and I urged him to let go. Grabbing his buttcheeks, I dug my fingernails into the bare, plump flesh. He moaned loudly and quickened his pace. 

“Harder,” I whispered. Surprisingly, he shook his head, so I grabbed a handful of his hair again and forced him to look at me. 

“Fuck me harder!” I hissed through my teeth. “Take me. Break me, if necessary.” 

His eyes darkened again. “That’s right!” he growled. “Mine!” He grabbed the headboard and thrusted into me with full force. I almost screamed and it only encouraged him to go on. Straightening up, he grabbed my hips and started pounding into me. The new angle made me see stars and it didn’t take long for me to tense under him as my orgasm hit me with an unexpected force. 

Jake leaned down again and kissed me softly, but still kept moving, prolonging my high, making me squeeze him. 

His moans grew higher and more urgent, and I could feel him tremble in my arms. He was so pretty, all sweaty, with his eyes closed and his mouth gasping for air. Suddenly, he frowned and looked deep into my eyes again. His hips stuttered and I grabbed his butt to push him all the way in one more time. 

“Fuck…” His eyes widened as he spilled into me, before he finally collapsed on me, panting. 

“Fuck… my baby… I love you so… fucking much!” 

We fucked two more times that day. It was his birthday, after all. 

The second time was slow, gentle and exploratory. The third time he pushed me against the wall. 

As the day progressed, the grey clouds dissipated and the sun emerged from behind them, presenting us with a beautiful sunset. 

I was sitting on the porch, wrapped in a blanket and holding a mug of hot tea in my both hands, when Jake suddenly appeared in the doorway with a strange look on his face. 

“Veela…?”

“Yes?” I turned to him with a smile. 

“Josh is coming.”

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep  @takenbythemadness  @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96  @gvfstuddedmajesty @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @tripthelightfantastix @sanguinebats @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @kiszkas-canvas @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @hollyco @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickitty @clownstarr @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @blankvz @psychedelectable @allof--mylove @joshylanefleet @thewaythatshebreathes @Ironlotus90 @justwantjosh @stardustsam @livviaaa

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Lamb (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Modern Daemon has bad blowjob etiquette. You think you can teach him a lesson.

Warnings: Smut. Rimming. That’s it. That's the fic. Nah, kidding. Cursing, trapped in an elevator, male masturbation. Casual workplace sexism.

A/N: The last two Sundays I decided to be sweet. But since my finals started, we go back to my scheduled period of being unhinged. And then I started my actual period and hated this so much. So if it sucks, sorry.

He is staring at you. Again.

You never understood the point of glass walls. If you owned the building, you would have them all replaced by real, actual walls. Or at least, you would put blinds on. But you don’t own the building.

The man that does is sitting in the office right across from yours, staring towards you. Daemon Targaryen. Board member of Targaryen’s Industries. Your father and he had been at each other’s throats since you had been a little girl. Otto Hightower and Daemon Targaryen hated each other, it was a fact of life. Him choosing the office right across from yours had been taken as nothing more than a taunt to your father.

But you knew better. Daemon was set on driving you to insanity. You scowled, and he smirked at you, closing his laptop and sliding those damn glasses off his face to look at you unashamedly. He looked starving. Like he wanted to eat you whole.

You didn’t actually know what his position was. It was hard to keep track. He had been appointed by the CEO, your godfather Viserys, to more departments than you could count. First, he had been head of marketing, but your father complained he was using too expensive models that were not on the budget. Then, he had overseen PR, which had been an absolute disaster. After that, he had been placed as the CFTO, only to be demoted a few weeks later. Then he had been… Well, you get the idea.

Daemon waves his hand, shaking you out of your contemplation. You quickly close your mouth, noticing you had your lips slightly parted, as if to speak a word that would never come out. He snickers, no doubt amused at what he perceives as a weakness.

He has done this for a month. You have to give it to him, he is a patient man. Daemon sits there every morning and just looks at you. Takes you in, as you flutter around your office, sometimes on the phone, sometimes typing away on your computer. He never gets bored, or tired of it. How could he, when he is a predator waiting to pounce?

You see, Daemon has been waiting weeks for a moment of weakness. Taunting you, looking at you, making you uncomfortable. And it’s fitting, really. That today of all days is the day you break. There is a storm raging outside, the worst winter Westeros has seen in years. Climate change it’s at fault, or so they say. You only know that you despise Daemon, and you despise thunderstorms.

His eyes. Purple and mischievous, meeting yours at every turn. You despise those. His little sideways smirk. That, too, you hate. You hate his entitled, nepo baby attitude, and you are sick of the taunts about your nephews and sister. His handsome face, and how good he looks in glasses. Annoying. You wish someone would put him in his place.

No one had actually expected you to enter corporate life. You see, as the daughter of an old money family, your father was sure you would do just as Alicent did and become the housewife of a rich man. The thing he didn’t take in consideration was that you had inherited none of your mother’s and Alicent’s grace and soft tempers, and all his cunningness.

You had gone to a good school, and had quickly risen through corporate ranks. You had a strong work ethic, but your last name had helped, too. Being the daughter of Otto Hightower had his perks, especially in university, considering you had been able to not worry about paying student debt and only focus on getting good grades. It also helped that you had a sure work once you had graduated, since Viserys Targaryen was not only your brother-in-law, but you were his goddaughter too. That last fact had made for interesting conversations after he married your older sister.

Still, you dedicated yourself to your work, trying to prove you deserved to be there as much as anyone else. It was a male dominated field, and working in the company where your father was CCO, and your sister married to the owner meant many expected you to be either looking for your own rich husband or to be a lazy nepo baby. Just like Daemon was.

The sound of thunder cast you out of your thoughts. You gave a quick glance at the window, noticing that once more, it was pouring. Not a good omen for your meeting. Thunderstorms always made you slightly uneasy.

Too wired to keep working, you shut down your laptop and slid it inside your purse. You had to be at the meeting room in fifteen minutes, which, in reality, meant you had to leave now. As soon as you stepped outside, however, it seemed destiny had other plans.

“Oi, sweetheart!” Daemon called, and you fantasized of strangling him with one of his expensive ties. You knew, without needing him to speak more, that he was about to taunt you. Still, he owned half the company, you couldn’t risk ignoring him. You turned, heels clicking in the hallway. “Bring me a soy latte, no sugar.”

“Mr. Targaryen, I’m sorry, I’m not your secretary. And I’m going to a meeting.” You answered, very politely, and started walking again, this time towards the elevator. Daemon followed, eyeing your ass with delight. You truly worked those dress pants.

“Come on, Hightower. We both know you are not really busy.” He arrived at the elevator first, to your disgrace, and pressed the button. Daemon leaned his arm on the wall, effectively caging you in. You glared at him, trying not to get distracted by how good he smelled. It’s not that you were attracted to him, surely. He just used an expensive cologne, and those always smelt good. Even your nephew Aegon, who was the sleaziest twenty-something you had ever met, could make them work.

“I am, though.” You ducked under his arm and pressed the button insistently, trying to get the elevator to arrive faster. Nothing happened.

“Doing what? Getting the rest of the board coffee?” Daemon snickered at his joke. You turned to look at him, giving him a disdainful once over that turned… Not so disdainful, when you realized he looked good enough to eat in that suit. Whatever, it’s not like it meant anything. All men did. Still, your cheeks heated up, and your next words came out in a mutter.

“Doing my job, Mister Targaryen. Which does not involve serving coffee.”

“Bah, you are a CDO. A made up position if I saw one.”

“I plan the whole company's social media strategy, and oversee our different digital platforms for purchase and devolution.” You glare even more, but quickly avert your eyes when you realize he is looking at you like he wants to eat you. Again. Gods, does he ever tire? “Hardly a made up position.”

“So you direct a bunch of nerds and interns. Big deal. You can still get me coffee, or send your minions to get me one.” Daemon stepped closer, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. You batted his hands away, shivering. From the cold, obviously. There was a storm raging outside, it had been one of the harshest winters in a while. It didn’t matter that you were wearing thermal clothes underneath your suit, which was wool. You were not affected by Daemon’s touch. At all.

“Here’s a novel idea.” You were just too angry to avoid insulting him. It was not often you resorted to those petty tactics. You left them to your nephews, Aemond and Aegon. “Why don’t you go bring me coffee? I don’t even know what you are doing in our department, you don’t even have Instagram, old man.”

Daemon laughed.

“Who are you calling old man, little girl? I will have you know, I know all about social media.”

“Oh, really?”

Daemon ignored you, typing something on his phone. You weren’t too bothered by it because the elevator finally got there, and you were able to step inside. Your phone pinged, as you did, so your hand went to the pocket of your blazer to check it. Distracted, you didn’t notice Daemon getting into the elevator with you.

Your phone pinged again. You took it out, checking the notification without unlocking it.

@caraxesrider has started following you

@caraxesrider: U were saying?

At that, you looked up and glared at him, startling a little at finding him inside the elevator.

“You know I will have to report this, right?” You quickly started scrolling through his Instagram, which seemed very… Normal. He followed his official one, and the accounts of his family members and plenty of models and fitness girls. In little clothing. What a pig. “You are not allowed to have an Instagram, apart from the official one that is in the hands of the community manager.”

“Says who?”

“Viserys.”

“Real mature, that you call him by his first name now. Tell me, do you think watching your father’s business partner marry your older sister, who is young enough to be her daughter, traumatized you?”

You ignored his taunt, frowning.

“I will report you to the PR department, they were clear you are not allowed to…”

“Not allowed.” He imitated your voice, mockingly. “Not allowed. Will you tell your daddy, little girl?”

“I’m serious.”

“Whatever. Report me. I don’t care, you are such a kiss ass.” Daemon rolled his eyes. It stung a little. You hated being called that. It was not your fault, truly. You liked following the rules. They were there for a reason. And Daemon’s antics usually made the company stock drop because his last name was attached to it. When Daemon got drunk and insulted a server or was spotted at a strip club, it was not him who suffered, but the company as a whole. He was a PR nightmare. His Instagram, no matter how private, would eventually leak and become another.

But whatever you were going to say, be it either a witty retort, or more talk about what you were going to do, died in your throat when the elevator jerked to an abrupt halt.

“What… What..?” You braced against the wall, the phone falling to the floor in your haste to hold on to something.

“Well, at least we still got power…” Daemon pointed towards one of the security cameras. “They will see us and then…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence because the lights turned off, leaving you both completely in the dark.

“You jinxed it!” You accused, voice shaking. You were not claustrophobic, nor were you afraid of the dark. What did scare you, however, was that you were trapped in an elevator in a building with no power, which as far as you knew, meant you could plummet to your dead anytime.

“Fuck. Never mind. Are you alright? You sound as if you are about to cry, and I can’t deal with crying people.” Daemon complained, switching on his phone, so he could light up the space. He truly looked concerned. He dropped to his knees to search for your phone and handed it to you.

“I’m fine. Just… Do you think we are safe?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Daemon banged on the wall of the elevator, making you let out a tiny yelp at how it shook.

“Don’t do that!”

“When elevators get less power, they jerk to a stop. It’s safe. It was probably the storm.” Daemon is leaning against the wall and starting to scroll through his phone. Like he is bored. And not, you know, terrified out of his mind because he is hanging from a rope in a metal cubicle caught between floors. The thought makes even more panic bubble up in your throat, so you try to think of something else.

“How do you know that?” You narrow your eyes at him, noticing how the light from his phone lighted up his sharp features, giving them an eerie blue glow.

“I read the OSH mail, every once in a while. That was in the winter’s newsletter.” He drawled, in a bored tone. “Come here.”

“Why?”

“Because you look frightened. Come here. I can make you feel better.” And he almost sounds convincing. Were the light on, you would be able to see that he is nearly salivating at the mouth, like the wolf about to pounce on a little lamb.

He has been working on you for a month. Little pretty Hightower, so tightly wound, always doing the right thing. So close to snapping. It’s like you were a present, placed on his lap by Otto himself when he sent him to this godforsaken department.

You gave him a dubious look, but stepped closer.

“Good girl.” Daemon brushed your hair back, gently. You were so close to breaking, he could taste it. “You will be just fine, just match your breathing to mine.

“I’m not having a panic attack, you fool.” You complained, trying to hide the hint of a smile on your lips. What was it about him that was so intoxicating? He had boosted your mood immediately. Oh, you hated feeding his ego.

"Rude.” Daemon muttered. He pulled you into a hug, pressing your bodies close. Chest to chest, hips to hips. Your curves against him, so damn soft, so ready for the taking. “There, there. It will all be fine.”

“I pity your kids.” Still, you melted into the hug regardless. Daemon took the chance to nuzzle your hair, hands trailing dangerously lower on your back.

“You are so rude and cunty. I can see the family resemblance.”

“Shut up, you inbred degenerate.” You mumbled against his throat, still hugging him. “You were chasing after your niece’s skirts not so long ago. And Viserys first wife was your cousin. Your family resemblance is worse.”

“I have not denied it.”

And of course, doing something very foolish, you tilted your head up and kissed him. Blame it on the sexual frustration, or the way he had shown you he had a decent side to him, but you never found him more tempting. Your kiss was heated, all teeth and frustration. If he responded, it would undoubtedly turn things less family friendly.

Daemon, never one to lose the opportunity to have sex, responded in earnest. How could he not, when he had been waiting for a chance to pounce for a month? His lips parted, turning the kiss into something much more dirty. His hands went to your hips, rolling them against his. You moaned.

When you parted, he had his trademark smirk on, full force. The one that said, Daemon Targaryen is a winner. The asshole was getting off on the thought of corrupting a Hightower.

You pressed a few careful kisses down his throat, making sure to not smear your lipstick in places that are noticeable. Daemon smells so good, it makes your knees weak. Fucking expensive cologne.

The arousal doesn't let you think straight, and he loves it. You are desperate for him already, Daemon can tell by the way you clutch and grope at him. And in truth, you are turning into a wanton little thing. Wet from just a few stolen kisses, it’s hard to think of all the reasons why this is wrong.

You want to suck his cock, badly. It’s not often, you are in the right headspace to give head. It gets guys too arrogant. And Daemon is already arrogant enough. The temptation seems too great, until he tries pushing your head down. Talk about a mood killer. It feels as if a bucket of cold water has been dumped on top of you, dulling your arousal and making you realize, in fact, you had been about to suck your nemesis off.

Daemon. You had been about to suck Daemon's cock. The guy who orders you to bring him coffee, as if you were some intern and not the head of your section. The guy who despises your family. The guy who calls you and your father kiss asses and Alicent a cunt. Twenty years older, brother to your godfather, man whore, Daemon.

Oh my god, are you turning into Alicent? Fucking men old enough to be your father? Being into Targaryens? Ew. No way. Viserys is nowhere near as appealing as Daemon. But still. What's next, leaving your career to pop out entitled brats?

You stop. Daemon pushes your head down again. It ignites a rage long settled on you.

“Are you seriously pushing my head down?” It comes out like an indignant little yelp. Turns out, the little lamb was not so willing to surrender, Daemon thinks. He has two choices. He can force you down, make you break. Or he can wait it out, lull you into a false sense of comfort, and slowly get you more and more pliant. Yet, he wants to see what you are about to do.

“Is it working?” He sasses, and you turn your head up to glare, even if he can’t see it in the dark elevator. Then, a thought sparkles in your mind. Kiss ass. And here you have someone who needs to be taught a lesson.

A thud. Your knees hitting the floor of the elevator, between Daemon's legs.

“Fuck. Are you really…?” He groans, and you hear another thud. Must be his head against the wall. Good. Perhaps this way, his two brain cells will actually connect.

You unbuckle his belt and open his trousers, the sound loud in the stillness of the elevator. It's done the fast and quick way, not really knowing how much time you have left before someone comes looking for you. You kiss his hipbones, then his thighs. Daemon tangles a hand in your hair, leading you to his cock. You go along with it, but do not touch him where he wants you to.

Instead, you go lower. And a bit further back.

“What are you…?” He asks, confused. Praying to god he showered that morning, you spread him open and lick a stripe over his asshole. His body seizes up, a moan leaving his mouth. “Oh, little girl… You are filthy.”

Daemon is clean, if a bit hairy. The carpet matches the drapes, you will be able to say now. This will be a little secret, between the two of you. When he mocks you in the boardroom, or asks you to get him coffee, you will be able to think of this moment. Not only have you seen him bare, but you intend to take him apart.

For all his posturing, he is only a man. It shows in the way he arches, hips bucking, desperate to find friction. Cock swollen and balls heavy, tip messy with precum. You lick at him, making sure to make the most obscene slurping noises you can, as if his ass was a fine meal. Daemon moans, hand desperately going to grab at the wall to keep himself upright, and you snicker.

“Tell me again how much of a kiss ass I am.” You taunt, curling one of your hands around his gorgeous cock. He is thick and warm in your grip, you can feel him throb in your hand. Your panties feel embarrassingly wet at the pure filth of the act you are performing, but also at the fact Daemon is losing control so steadily.

“You… Oh. Seven Hells. Fuck.” And it's not his fault, really. You have been steadily opening him up with your tongue, nearly french kissing his hole, only to spear your tongue right when he tries to form a coherent sentence. One of your hands keeps him spread for you, and the other is braced on his hip, to avoid him rutting and bucking. Daemon is so pent-up that if you weren't holding him, he would be humping the wall.

His hand tugs at your hair, harshly. You stop.

“What…?” He looks down at you, at the way your face disappears between his thighs, utterly confused. Then, he gives you a menacing growl, as if he were the one in control. “Don't tease, little girl.”

Daemon wears dominance well. It comes with being a Targaryen, you have realized. The entitlement oozes out of his pores. When he gives an order, he is used to at least five people jumping out of their seats to obey him. That gives any man an unstoppable confidence.

But it's not what you want. This is about rewarding politeness, not him acting like an entitled fool. You press down on the sensitive skin behind his balls, right on his perineum. You want him to beg. Not only will it teach him a lesson, but perhaps, get you railed after.

“Beg.” You order, pinching at his thigh.

“You are out of your mind if you think…” Daemon starts, but he quickly shuts up when you place a hand on his cock again. You are not what he was expecting, not what he was expecting at all. He underestimated you. Yet, he cannot say he doesn’t like what he is learning about you.

“Beg.” You insist, teasingly dragging your nails over his sensitive skin. Not enough to hurt, but to warn. Your teeth and mouth are very close to his most delicate parts, and he should remember it. “And be polite about it.”

“You will not get away with this, little girl. I’ll spank your pretty ass red.” Daemon complains, and you snicker. Funny, that he thinks that is a threat. You intend to do much worse to him.

“Oh, really? And who says you will have the chance?” Petty. Realizing you are not going to budge, and he cannot make you, Daemon lifts his hand from your head and pats you on the hair. Not an apology, no. A reward for a particularly clever pet. The game is not over yet. Not when he still has everything to play for. What is losing a battle when he can win the war?

“Please.” At his moan, you start jerking him off. It's a bit rough, without any lubricant, so you offer your hand to him, never stopping your tongue and mouth from working. Daemon catches the hint beautifully, spitting on your open hand. You go back to jerking him. His desperation is a heady thing. It gets you almost high on the thrill of it. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to get some friction on your clit. A shame you cannot touch yourself, with both hands busy.

You wish you could suck his cock, mouth watering with the sight. He has one of the prettiest you've ever seen, all flushed skin and slightly curved in a way you know would feel just right inside of you. And he is smells nice too, which is deeply unfair. Clean, yet still male and musky. Daemon tenses, cock throbbing in your hand. He is very close, about to spill all over you.

The sound of metal scratching against metal makes you jerk and pull away. Divine intervention, you think to yourself, as you get up and start rightening your clothes and hair.

“And where in the Seven Hells you think you are going?” His tone is so short and clipped, you worry he is about to pounce you. His breath is heavy. You bet, if you could see his face, he would be absolutely enraged.

“Are you deaf?” You answer condescendingly. You can hear how his teeth grit against themselves with how hard he must be clenching his jaw. “Bruxism is not sexy, by the way. You will hurt your teeth.”

“Deaf? Bruxism? What the fuck are you talking about? You just ruined my orgasm! I was so close and you, you… ” Daemon truly, truly wants to grab at you and choke you. He underestimated you. Again. Such a fool, he has been. Thinking he is leading his little lamb to the slaughter, and here you are, composed and retouching your lipstick without a care in the world. Oh, next time he gets his hands on you, he is going to make you cry.

“They are opening the door.” You answer, smugly.

“You little shit!” Daemon nearly screams. You cannot hold it any longer, and start laughing. The scratching turns louder, and Daemon hurries to tuck himself back into his suit.

When they finally open the doors, you strut out, not a care in the world. You kiss your father’s cheek, who is standing next to the security guys. Daemon glowers.

“Neither of you thought to text or call someone?” Otto asks, incredulous. He turns to you and checks you over. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

“I didn’t hurt your precious little flower, Otto.” Daemon rolls his eyes. Now that he is standing in the light, you can see he looks slightly disheveled, cheeks flushed and standing awkwardly. You nearly smirk. “She is a cunt, just like you. If any, she hurt me.”

Otto glares at him, and places an arm over your shoulder, gently steering you away. He starts talking a mile per second, something about all meetings being adjourned because of the weather and waiting to give you a ride home. Of how worried he was, when you didn’t answer your phone and were not in your office. You hardly listen. Because your phone pings in your hand, another Instagram notification.

@caraxesrider: You will pay for that, little girl.

Your fingers fly over the keyboard in your haste to answer him:

I'm totally reporting you to the PR guys. XOXO.

[rosemar-y]

Hello :D

Just wanted to ask what your headcanons (if any) about Ethan’s powers are :)

HIIIII SORRY I DIDN'T SEE THIS UNTIL NOW AHHHHHH

As for powers I think Ethan would have, I don't see him having abilities of physical substance like other characters do (ie, Percy water powers). I think if he were to have powers/enhanced abilities, they would be similar to Annabeth and her intellect or Nico's ability to sense the dead/souls. It'd be more of a mental thing, like intuition.

Within greek theology, Nemesis is usually portrayed with an ability to 'sense' when things are unbalanced and can give luck or curses in order to regain a balance (or to enact retribution on those who cause the imbalance). I can see Ethan having kind of a sixth sense when it comes to when things aren't balanced, whether it be physically or morally. Like the little voice in the back of your head tugging, whispering; "this isn’t right, this isn't equity, this needs to change," and then subconsciously know how to solve it. We kind of saw this in the books when Ethan was able to clock the location of Percy's Achilles Heel almost instantly and then had the urge to attack him there. Like evening out the odds when someone or something has an uncouth advantage or disadvantage.

Along with this, I like to think Ethan would have a very balanced lifestyle (if circumstance allowed him to lmao). Like in a domestic-not-titan-war setting, he would have a healthy sleep/wake schedule and would cook balanced meals, while also keeping a balanced schedule between rest and work. It might also make sense for him to be ambidextrous or have a strong equilibrioception. It would also be interesting if along with that intuition, he had a sort of thermoception, pitch perception, and or situational intelligence. Picking up on shifts or imbalances in your surroundings and then adequately countervail it.

Now if were talking physical ability/power wise, Ethan having wings would be a banger concept. I don't remember where I read it, It was like 3 years ago minimum, but I read a fic where Ethan had like goose wings and I ATE THAT SHIT UP OML DELICIOUS. It's plagued my mind ever since I read it. Nemesis being a winged goddess and having geese/birds as a reoccurring motif in her theology. Nemesis having the ability of foresight and destiny. UsghevehehejvhehdgdhdhdbRAHHHHHH

Imagine with me now: Nemesis forsaw the battle of Manhattan, she knew Ethan was going to get killed by Cronos. She knew his blade was going to shatter and shrapnel back into him. She knew even after that, Cronos would still chuck him down Mount Olympus to his death. She knew that wasn't balanced, that wasn't on even grounds. So as a way to balance out her sons fate, she gave him wings. It's Ethan's choice whether or not learn how to use them, and he'd still have the problem of getting stabbed by the shards of his own weapon, but it gives him a fighting chance of survival once Cronos drop kicks him down 600 stories. Do ya see the vision with me here chat. I know most people don't like Nemesis very much, but I'm such a sucker for "child who would do anything for their parent(s) to just look at them" and "parent who's trying their best and loves them but doesn't want to hurt them by getting too close" dynamic UEUUHHGHGGGJGH.

Sorry for the word wall oh my goodness but I hope you liked it 😭😭

[cuddlepilefics]

Put your head on my shoulder

Fandom: Ateez

Sickie: Yunho

Caregivers: mainly Mingi

Prompts: Migraine / Light & Sound Sensitivity / “I can close the curtains…”

TW: emeto

@whumperless-whump-event

No one’s POV.:

Yunho knew he wouldn’t have a good day when stay started their dance practice that day. Facing the mirror, weird flashes of light hit his eyes and made him wince. He knew those funny spots in his vision, had seen them many times before. They were a telltale sign of an impending migraine, so he forced down a protein bar before swallowing some medicine. If he took it early enough, it might ward off the worst of it. Yunho knew he wouldn’t get anything done once it hit, so he was determined to give it his all now to allow himself rest later. There was no point in telling his friends yet, he could still speak up once the pain started to interfere with his work.

Mingi knew Yunho better than anyone else and picked up on his hyung being quieter than usual. When he bumped the older with his shoulder and asked if anything was up, the dancer winced, shaking his head. “I’m tired”, he chuckled, hoping the younger would accept his lie. The worst was, that he was supposed to lead this dance practice, so it’d be hard to hide his struggle from the members. They’d need him to teach them well or else they wouldn’t be able to keep up with their schedule. Luckily, most of the members were still sleepy too, so they didn’t notice… for now.

It went pretty well at first, though the aura lingered the pain didn’t come and Yunho functioned pretty well. Sure, his balance was a little off and he tripped a couple of times but they were able to laugh it off as plain clumsiness. Slowly the loud music blasting from the speakers got to him though and finally triggered bursts of pain pulsing with the beat of the music. A pained crease was etched onto his forehead and didn’t fade when Hongjoong decided they should take a break. Seonghwa handed Yunho his water bottle and whispered: “Are you feeling okay, Yunho-yah?” The younger nodded but grimaced when the movement sent a jab of pain through his skull and made his head spin.

Yunho was nothing but determined, so if he had his mind set on something, he wouldn’t let anyone stop him. Not even Mingi, who worriedly watched him stumble over and over again. The rapper was under no illusion, being sadly far too familiar with his friend’s headache-face to miss the signs. He was only a little surprised when he offered Yunho some painkillers. “Thanks but I already took something when we got here”, the older admitted quietly, “Is it really that obvious? I thought I was dancing well.” – “Hyung, you’re always dancing well”, Mingi sighed, “It’s more that you seem unwell in general, quiet and withdrawn with a tense look on your face. Your eye bags are quite impressive and you having a headache was a lucky, or rather unlucky, guess.” Drawing a shaky breath, Yunho bit his lip and whispered: “Not a headache, Mingi-yah. Had an aura earlier and now the pain is setting in.” – “Well, fuck”, his dongsaeng cursed, “The music isn’t helping, huh?” A look into Yunho’s eyes told him that his guess was spot-on.

“You know that you should tell Hongjoong-hyung, right? It’s risky to practice when you have a migraine. You could hurt yourself when you get dizzy and uncoordinated”, Mingi frowned, knowing that it wouldn’t be the first time, “Why don’t you take a sick day and go back to your dorm, sleep it off?” Rubbing his face, Yunho mumbled: “Someone’s gotta teach you guys and I can still function.” He noticed the look his dongsaeng gave him and added: “I know you don’t like it, Mingi-yah, but we’d fall behind schedule if I took a break right now. I’ll try to hold out for a few more hours, so we can go over everything together and by the time I’m completely out of commission, the rest of you will be able to practice on your own.” – “Please speak up before you end up hurting yourself, even if we haven’t gone over everything by then”, Mingi warned, shooting Hongjoong a look.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa didn’t catch the short conversation between their dongsaengs but Mingi’s worried and the fact that they were disagreeing about something, was enough to confirm their suspicions that something wasn’t right at all. They didn’t have to wait all that long to finally learn what it was. Yunho was supposed to do a spin while changing positions but immediately crouched to the floor, hit with a wave of vertigo. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get his bearings while his stomach turned. Seonghwa’s hands were already on his shoulders, ready to catch him when the dancer clamped his hands over his paling lips. Suddenly, everything was quiet except for Yunho’s ragged breaths. Someone must’ve stopped the music. The sound of the trash can being set down in front of him sharply cut through the silence, the oh so glorious silence Yunho had been yearning for most of the day.

“It’s okay, Yunho-yah, we got you”, Seonghwa whispered, gently pressing down on his dongsaeng’s shoulders to make him sit. Not daring to open his eyes to the bright ceiling lights, Yunho shook his head and lowered his hands. He wouldn’t throw up. He just needed to take a few deep breaths to calm his twisting stomach because throwing up was out of question as his head felt like it’d explode from the strain if he didn’t manage to fight it down. Sluggishly pushing away the trash can, Yunho drew his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead on them, partly to shield his eyes and partly to relieve some tension in his neck. He could hear his friends whispering but was too focused on not letting the nausea overwhelm him to focus on what they were saying.

Seonghwa still rubbed his back, despite his shirt being soaked with sweat, well, he assumed it was Seonghwa but couldn’t say for certain. The lights were eventually turned off and it grew quiet once again. Hongjoong had stepped out to arrange a ride back to the dorm, while San, Wooyoung and Jongho tried to call disperse to give Yunho space. Only Seonghwa, Mingi and Yeosang remained close by in case Yunho needed anything. Drawing a shaky breath, the dancer blindly started to feel around for the trash can and straightened up when someone nudged it into his hand. He tried to focus on Seonghwa’s hand on his back to distract himself from the pounding on his head but it could only work for so long. Someone took his free hand and gave it a soft squeeze. Yunho would recognize this hand anywhere, having known it for years. He returned Mingi’s gentle squeeze as he swallowed. He didn’t want to be sick.

Mingi was impressed that Yunho had managed to battle wave after wave of almost unbearable nausea and despite two hard gags, hadn’t thrown up. The older had used to get violently ill every time he had a migraine, so this was a first but Mingi decided not to question it. He was mainly glad that Yunho was hanging in there. Hongjoong had been able to clear not only Yunho’s schedule but also Yeosang’ and Mingi’s. Mingi was a given, being Yunho’s closest friend and the most experienced when it came to the dancer’s migraines, and Yeosang being his dorm mate arguably knew best where they kept their medical supplies. Considering the time when Yunho had thrown up on their manager’s shoes before passing out, Hongjoong probably shouldn’t have been so surprised about how easy it was to clear two members to take care of him.

It most definitely took both, Mingi and Yeosang, to drag Yunho to the car, the older suddenly unable to coordinate his long legs. Seonghwa’s foresight had resulted in both of them having a plastic bag and a travel pack of tissues stuffed into their pockets. Sure, the ride to their dorm wouldn’t be long and Yunho had been more in control of his body than any of them had expected but the eldest didn’t want to be lured by a false sense of security. Good thing he wasn’t because Yunho broke into a sweat as soon as Yeosang had buckled his hyung’s seatbelt and Mingi eased the dancer’s pounding head down, lowly whispering: “Put your head on my shoulder.” Though hesitant, Yunho swallowed and rested his head on his best friend’s shoulder, weakly patting his pocket. Mingi got the hint and retrieved the plastic bag. Clutching the bag in his clammy hands, Yunho felt a little safer, though barely.

Right as they pulled into the building’s garage, Yunho lost the battle he had fought for so long, lifting the plastic bag to his ashy lips in a panic. The first gag was immediately productive, a large wave rushing up his throat. Some even came out of his nose and he groaned in pain, grateful for the strong hand on his arm steadying him. Yeosang’s gentle hand drew slow, soothing circles on his back, at least somewhat distracting him from the pain when his stomach seized again. “Almost over. You’re doing so well”, Mingi whispered, holding his best friend steady while the older threw up repeatedly. Yunho barely caught a break in between, the plastic bag in his hands growing heavier so quickly. It seemed his stomach could only calm down once he was empty.

Gasping for air, Yunho’s breath caught in his throat. He coughed harshly, black spots clouding his vision. Yeosang carefully took the bag from him, afraid the dancer was going to pass out. It wouldn’t be the first time. Mingi’s grip on Yunho’s shoulders was tight and secure, though it loosened a bit once he had helped the older lean back into the seat. Yunho panted, squeezing his eyes shut against the vertigo. He was slowly catching his breath but the spell had taken a lot out of him. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he winced when he heard the crinkle of Yeosang tying up the plastic bag. Pulling out a tissue, Mingi gently dabbed across his best friend’s forehead before drying his tears. With another tissue, he wiped Yunho’s lips and breathed: “You tell us once you’re ready to go up to your dorm.” It was only then that Yunho noticed that the car had stopped moving. “I think I’ll go ahead and throw this out already. Might be able to set up some stuff and… I can close the curtains?”, Yeosang mumbled, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Mingi gave him a small nod, mouthing: “I got him, hyung.”

Mingi sat with Yunho, the dancer’s head resting on his shoulder, while Yeosang already hurried up to their shared dorm. Yeosang had disposed of the bag on his way upstairs and quickly washed his hands before turning on the kettle. He prepared a pot of ginger tea in hopes of quelling his hyung’s nausea and while letting it steep, he closed the curtains. Wanting to get as much prepared while Yunho was still resting in the car, he quickly spread a towel over the other’s pillow and set a bucket next to his bed. Anything that he didn’t have on the ready would mean them moving around later, which would inevitably aggravate Yunho’s headache no matter how carefully they moved, so Yeosang already placed an icepack on his hyung’s nightstand before checking on the tea.

Swaying softly on his feet, Yunho hung onto Mingi’s arm, partly for balance and partly because he couldn’t stand to keep his eyes open. Though Mingi promised him that they were quick, it felt like it took them an eternity to get to the right floor, the elevator ride making his stomach flutter. The younger must’ve noticed the blood draining from his face because as soon as he had unlocked the door, he dragged him to the kitchen sink. It was their closest option and a truly lucky one at that because no sooner than he gripped the counter, Yunho was retching again. Yeosang, though a little startled by the way the two had barged in, was by their side in an instant, helping Mingi steady their friend. There was barely anything left for Yunho to bring up but he couldn’t stop his stomach from trying to turn itself inside out. Spotting the cutting board he had left on the counter while preparing the tea, Yeosang hurriedly cut off a thin slice of ginger and tapped the back of Yunho’s hand. “Here, try to chew this”, he whispered worriedly, “Might lessen the nausea.”

Yunho had wanted to argue that he could not possibly chew anything right now, already gagging every couple of seconds, but he was also desperate for it to stop, so he popped the slice into his mouth and bit down on it, trying to breathe slow and steady through his nose. Though he pitched forward with a closed mouth gag, he slowly regained control of his body and weakly leant against the counter. Yeosang handed him a glass of water to rinse his mouth with and whispered: “Your room is all set up, so as soon as you feel ready to move, you can go and lay down, hyung.” Taking a couple of moments to calm down and even sip some water, Yunho waited till Mingi had taken off his shoes and returned to help him with his. He doubted he’d be able to bend down right now.

Once Yunho’s shoes were removed too, Mingi helped him to his room and gently tucked him into bed. The rapper carefully draped the icepack over his friend’s forehead and whispered: “Do you want me to sit with you?” – “For a bit?”, Yunho rasped, linking his fingers with Mingi’s. Yeosang popped in for a short moment, bringing Yunho’s tea and requesting: “Get me if either of you needs anything, kay? I’ll give you two some space but I’ll just be in my room.” Mingi nodded and mouthed a ‘thanks’ before turning his attention back on Yunho. The dancer was already knocked out though.

[rjthirsty]

Eventually, I will awake from this curse of being wholly consumed by thoughts the throuple. But until then, here's a thing about Gilbert and Roderic breeding Dahlia (OC) from Ikemen Prince.

Scheduling sex was a foreign affair for Dahlia. It was a foreign affair for Gilbert and Roderic as well, but it was the only way to work out when the three of them could coordinate an event like this. They were all lovers, and free to indulge in each other whenever the mood struck them, and sometimes that happened when the three of them were together, resulting in multiple orgasms and multiple partners in the same night. But this was different and had a different purpose. This was an attempt at impregnating Dahlia, and due to the structure of their relationship, that required all three of them able to perform at the same time.

Gilbert had fears about carrying on his bloodline. But Gilbert was also a selfish and jealous man when it came to Dahlia. When the discussion was finally pushed for children, Roderic and Dahlia were in agreement. As much as Gil didn’t want a child of his own, he didn’t want Dahlia carrying another man’s child either, if she was going to have a child, it would be his. He was aware the two thoughts were diametrically opposed and neither fit the situation. Dahlia wasn’t only his, and Roderic and Dahlia had as much of a relationship as he and Dahlia did. The single difference was that Roderic would only get to be part of their relationship where no one else could witness it.

Ultimately, Gilbert would be father to Dahlia’s child, even if Roderic was the actual parent. The discomfort of knowing they were all lying to their offspring was felt in everyone involved. Thus, the solution was that they not know who fathered Dahlia’s child. There was only one possible way for that to happen: they both had to pour their seed into her on the same night. Once that rule was established, coming inside Dahlia was reserved for special occasions. It wasn't something they regularly did, anyway, so not much changed in their dynamic.

Months had gone by with only a handful of encounters that led to nothing taking and Dahlia began to lament that she would never carry a child with how rare all variables lining up were. Fortunately, Gilbert and Roderic are two solution oriented partners, and so the scheduling of breeding Dahlia began.

Gilbert and Roderic wake up earlier than Dahlia daily. They set the stage for what is going to take place, providing water and snacks to keep up strength.

Dahlia is nervous, something about the structured nature of it all causes her stomach to do flips and her heart to flutter.

“You're acting like this is your first time, Little Rabbit.” Gil teases. “Look how wet you are already.” She's practically dripping with excitement.

Gilbert fingers her while licking her clit. Getting her to relax is the objective, but he also just loves stuffing her. He stops before she climaxes, leaving her begging.

They had already determined Roderic would be first. He has a brief refractory period and Gilbert doesn't need to take a break until after a few rounds.

“Please, Roderic. I need you.” Dahlia whines while playing with her clit.

Breeding Dahlia is a turn-on Roderic didn't know he had. Having a child with someone he loves. Making a family, something he never had. Leaving his mark in the world as a man that never existed.

He sits inside her for a few minutes after he comes, the two of them sharing sweet kisses and intimacy.

Gilbert had been stroking himself while watching, antsy about not being involved. His two favorite people were right there and he wasn't allowed to join.

“So blissed out already and we've just begun, Little Rabbit.” “I didn't know my Little Rabbit was so desperate to be filled.” “I'm going to fuck Roderic's cum back inside you. Then I'm going to fill you more and more until something is bound to take.” “Don't worry, Little Rabbit, we'll fuck you until you're with child.”

Gil is intense, fucking Dahlia silly in no time. It helps that she's already sensitive from climaxing with Roderic, it makes each additional orgasm easier to manage.

There's something erotic about his cum mixing with Roderic's that turns him on. It's not about impregnating Dahlia, it's about putting the three of them together that Gilbert likes.

Gilbert fucks through his first climax. Round two leaves him short of breath. He's not used to doing all the work but concern about their sperm being pulled by gravity to drip out Dahlia's cunt has her on her back for best results.

Roderic is ready once Gil finishes a second time. He had been fantasizing about Dahlia's pregnant body. About another baby after the first. About hearing the news and how happy that'd make him. He really wants this to work.

“I love yous” murmured between kisses. His hands clutching her hips tightly so he can drive himself deeper. He wishes he could manage words as well as Gil, the things going through his head spurring him on to fuck harder and faster.

There is no cuddling once he's done. Roderic sprawls on the bed and Gil quickly takes his place.

Dahlia attempts to protest, but it feels so good as soon as he's in her she has no sense left and only a drive to feel it again and again.

“Aw, is my Little Rabbit tired? Worn out from getting fucked? I'll take care of you.” “I'd do anything for your happiness.” “I love you so much.” “Poor Roderic is spent, you've taken so much from us today.”

“I can do one more.” Roderic responds out of Dahlia's sight. She can barely see straight as it is.

Gil laughs, “Lucky Little Rabbit, he's going to give you another. How much more can you hold?” “Can you take another from me and him?” “Be good and don't spill any, okay?” “That's right– fuck! Tighten up to keep every drop inside you. I'll check you myself after I'm done.” “Can't let you be so careless with our gifts. We'd have to fuck it back in, is that what you want?”

Gilbert does, in fact, check her after he comes, and the sight of her pussy red and puffy and shiny from semen and her own fluids has him aching to fuck her again. But he also knows Dahlia is past exhausted and Roderic wanted one more.

“I can't!” Dahlia cries as Roderic and Gilbert trade places once more. Her muscles ache from flexing. Her body is tired from physical strain. She feels like her cunt is too full and going to spill over.

Gil soothes her. “Yes you can, Little Rabbit. Just one more. I know you can manage.”

Despite Dahlia shaking her head, she makes no other protest. Roderic slow fucks into her, attempting to be gentle to keep from overwhelming her.

Gilbert coaches her through their last round. “The more we give you, the likelier our seed will take.” “You're my brave Little Rabbit, right? You'll last for one more, won't you?” “Just one more, and we'll rest for the rest of the day.” “You're going to be gorgeous when your belly swells with a child.” “You'll be a wonderful mother.” “I love you so much. You know that, right? I love you so, so much.”

Coupled with Roderic's grunts and groans and quiet babbling of his love for her, tears fall from Dahlia's eyes. Gilbert kisses away the ones he can reach easily.

[mrs-luigi-vargas]

no rest for the wicked

Rating: General Audiences Characters: Bowser, Kamek, Bowser Jr, Kammy Relationships: Bowser & Kamek, Bowser & Bowser Jr Tags: Angst, Family, Exhaustion

Summary: Bowser is very much used to Kamek grumbling under his breath about the amount of work he has to do, work that Bowser gives him more often than not. But Kamek always pulls through with good results, so Bowser never pays said complaining any mind. Maybe he should have been doing so, instead of taking Kamek’s efforts for granted. Word Count: 2,784 words

[AO3 Link]

~~~

Kamek cut himself off with a weary sigh. “You’re not listening to me, are you.”

Walking next to him, Bowser smirked. “Nah, I got the gist!” He gestured to their surroundings, to the minions bustling to and fro carrying crates and supplies, setting up fire bars, pushing around statues. “Everything's on schedule, the plan’ll go off perfectly, Mario’s days are numbered, blah, blah, blah, right?”

“...you really should pay attention to what I say, sometimes.”

“Eh, but you’ve totally got everything under control.” Bowser waved a hand dismissively. “You’re my #1 minion, after all!”

Kamek stared at him — or through him, it almost seemed. “...right.”

“Hey, but speaking of,” Bowser said, leaning in close. “How’s that secret weapon comin’ along?”

“It’s progressing well,” Kamek replied after a moment. He shook his head as if to clear it, then continued. “Despite the...unreasonably rushed timetable, with any luck I’ll be able to have it ready well on time.”

Bowser pumped a fist in excitement. “See, I told you it’d be easy!” And Kamek had grumbled and complained under his breath so much when Bowser had put him in charge of developing it. Well, he’d put him in charge of finding the weapon at first, but apparently that had been completely impossible, no matter how he tried to order Kamek to do so, while creating it from scratch had been deemed near-impossible, instead. Hence the grousing about the difficulty or the tediousness or whatever — Bowser hadn't listened to any of it, because Kamek always had something negative to say about being assigned larger projects that were allegedly impossible, as if he didn't rise to the occasion every time to produce solid results. So surely the complaining was just some old man-ism or something.

“Yes, yes.” Kamek sounded distracted, his jaw flexing oddly.

But Bowser paid no mind to the lackluster response, busy picturing in his mind’s eye all the ways he could use his new weapon to crush Mario when it was finished. “And that chump won't even see it coming!” he crowed.

Behind him, Kamek mumbled something. It took a moment for Bowser to parse it as, “Don't count your chickens before they hatch, sire,” and Bowser scoffed, though he couldn't help the grin on his face about how on cue Kamek was, with a comment like that.

“Oh, come on, you know there’s no way I can lose, this time!” Bowser laughed, long and loud. “I’m the King, after all! And you’re the one making my secret weapon!”

“...”

Bowser frowned, slowing to a stop. This was supposed to be the part where Kamek chastised him for having a too big of a head. But the absence of such echoed throughout the room, as if the rest of the world had slowed to a stop, too. He turned around, and whatever was on the tip of his tongue in response to the silence died instantlyy, faced with Kamek lying on the floor in a heap.

Bowser’s first impulse was to make fun of Kamek for presumably tripping and falling on his own robes. But if that had been actually what had happened, then Kamek would have started in on the muttered cursing by now. He wasn't even moving. Was...he even...?

“H-hey...” Bowser crept closer to Kamek. Something moved in Bowser’s periphery, and Bowser found himself catching the gazes of a group of minions, staring back at him with a wide-eyed expression Bowser hoped wasn't a reflection of his own. “Are you people going to just stand there?!” he heard himself shout, and all at once half of everyone nearby sprang into action. The other half sprang into a panic, which was something Bowser should have probably been focused on abating but Kamek wasn't moving, and —

Amidst all the chaos of the moment, Bowser’s name was called. Bowser almost didn't hear it at first, but when the soldier that had called for him cut in front of his view of Kamek, Bowser’s attention snapped to him. Bowser screwed his face up to shout for him to get out of his way, but the soldier, determined to do the job his superior assigned to him no matter how much anger it brought, managed a, “King Boo has just arrived and is waiting for you, sir,” and fuck.

If it were literally anyone else, Bowser would blow off the upcoming meeting in a heartbeat in favor of watching over Kamek. But leaving King Boo hanging had consequences, and those consequences were annoying. Like “traumatizing everyone in the castle and straining their mental health resources and possibly putting his son at risk” annoying.

But the opportunity to damn the consequences and skip meeting King Boo anyway was snatched from him, by a lieutenant approaching him. Despite the clear apprehension in doing so, she informed Bowser that while he had been busy mulling over said opportunity, Kamek was halfway out the door to the medical wing. Bowser snapped his head up and around, but only caught the blue of Kamek’s hat on the white of the cloth stretcher as it turned the corner out of sight. Thus, at this point Bowser would more get in the way than anything, and the medical staff were just about some of the only people Bowser couldn't strong-arm into letting him do what he wanted, no matter all the power he’d try to pull for it. So he’ll forced to do nothing but wait. Without knowing what had happened to Kamek. And King Boo was still waiting regardless. Bowser ground his teeth.

“W-we’ll be sure to deliver updates as soon as we get any, sir,” the lieutenant said, an understanding in her gaze.

“...those updates better be quick.”

The lieutenant saluted crisply. “Sir, yes, sir.”

---

It was extremely rare, but Bowser really hated being King, sometimes.

And no time as much as this, rushing through a meeting with King Boo and probably acquiescing to too much during their negotiations in the process, and then stepping out after it and near-immediately getting pulled into seemingly a thousand other little yet important things that would be usually left to Kamek to take care of, but...yeah.

But finally, finally, he got word that Kamek had woken up, and that was enough to ditch whatever he’d been in the middle of to speed to the medical wing to see him. And when he turned the last corner —

“What the hell are you doing?”

On the other end of the hall, Kamek was leaning heavily against the wall. He raised his head. Even through the thick lenses of his glasses, Bowser could tell he wasn't all there. “...Going back to my office,” Kamek eventually replied, gaze fixed on a point in the middle distance just past Bowser’s elbow.

Bowser quirked a brow, striding up to him. “I don't think you’re gonna make it,” he said. “You look dead on your feet, old man.” This close, Bowser could see the dark, dark bags under Kamek’s eyes peeking out from beneath his glasses.

Kamek pushed himself off the wall, squaring his shoulders despite swaying as if the next stiff breeze would knock him over. “I’ve worked through worse.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “A strong coffee or two should do the trick.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Eh —? You’re working?”

“...Yes?” Kamek’s brows furrowed. “Your plans still need finishing, my Lord. Your secret weapon should still be ready in time.”

“I —” Bowser gaped at him. “You can't work!”

“Why not?”

“You literally passed out earlier!”

“...Minor inconvenience.” Kamek slumped back against the wall. “Won’t be too much of a delay.”

“...But you passed out!”

Through the haze of exhaustion, the irritation Bowser was used to began to peek through. “You’ve...already said that.”

They both stared at each other. Kamek pushed himself upright, almost falling over in the other direction before catching himself at the last minute. “If there’s nothing else,” he said, beginning to shuffle down the hall, “Then I’m leaving. I’ve” — he stifles a yawn — “I’ve got work to do.”

“Wait, hold on —” As Kamek passed him, Bowser reached out and grabbed him around the middle. “You can't work like this!”

“I have to!” Kamek tried to tug himself out of Bowser’s grip. He failed. “That’s the whole point of the plan!”

“Well, then...I’ll...I’ll come up with a different plan!”

“You?”

The retort was unusually cutting, and it took Bowser aback. “Well —! Whatever!” He sputtered, a wave of indignation flaring in his chest. “I’ll figure it out! But you're not working yourself to death on my watch!

“Don't be ridiculous.” Having given up on pulling himself out of Bowser’s hand, Kamek resorted to weakly banging on Bowser’s wrist, instead. “You’ve been going on about this for ages, and now you want to give it up? This is far too important to —”

“Screw important!” Bowser shook Kamek. “You were just laying there! I thought you —! You —!”

Kamek went quiet. “...sire, please,” he whispered, and Bowser abruptly realized that in his outburst his grip on Kamek had gotten a little too tight.

Bowser dropped Kamek as if burned. Kamek fell to the ground, gasping for air; he straightened his robe sleeve, fingers lingering on his arm as if to grasp it. He looked very small, uncomfortably so. Bowser felt very big, uncomfortably so.

The heavy silence broke when Bowser Junior poked his head out from the entrance of the medical wing. He frowned at Kamek. “You weren't supposed to leave, yet,” he accused.

Kamek glanced between him and Bowser. Bowser crossed his arms, wordlessly daring Kamek to try his stupid reasonings on Junior, too. Kamek sighed, defeated. “...Right. Apologies.”

Junior ran over to help Kamek stand. As he led Kamek back to the medical wing, Bowser trailing behind, a nurse ran out in a tizzy. “Oh, Lord Kamek!” they exclaimed upon seeing him, slumping minutely in relief. “A-and greetings, King Bowser, Lord Junior,” they continued, tensing right back up again under their reproachful stares. “Um.” They addressed Bowser, quaking in their shoes. “L-Lord Kamek is fine, he just needs rest. And he can go back to his rooms for that.”

“Whatever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality, huh?” Kamek scowled. The nurse flinched.

Despite his ire, Kamek was drooping where he stood, even braced against Junior. Junior could probably take all of Kamek’s body weight, Bowser thought, but nonetheless he found himself reflexively steadying him with a hand. Kamek stiffened, but slumped against his touch. Bowser let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

“Well, at least you don't have to stay in there,” Bowser muttered. Staying in medical sucked.

Kamek didn't respond; he’d gone still. Bowser reached down to poke him, and he heard light snoring. You’ve gotta be kidding; while still standing? Bowser didn't even know Kamek could do that!

Well, they were hardly going to get Kamek back to his quarters like this, so Bowser near-unceremoniously scooped him up to carry. Junior clambered onto Bowser’s shoulders, and off they went.

---

Junior pushed the door to Kamek’s bedroom open as quietly as he was able. Bowser came in after him, carefully placing Kamek onto his bed. Junior, face screwed in concentration, carefully removed Kamek’s glasses and put them on the side table. As he covered him in blankets, Bowser watched Kamek breathe in and out in sleep, a faint frown on both their faces. He swirled around in spiraling thoughts until the sound of the door opening and closing again snapped him back to himself. Junior had left the room, and, curious, Bowser followed him, being led all the way to Kamek’s lab, where Junior was looking around the room with a purpose about him.

“What’re ya doin’, bud?”

Junior hummed. “I need” — he opened half the drawers of Kamek’s desk — “this!”

Junior held up a notebook, full of sticky notes lining the sides. The cover was old and worn, but the writing on it was clearly Kamek’s.

“I really don't think Kamek should be working right now...”

Junior levelled him with a blank stare. “He’s just gonna come get it, anyway.”

Hm. Well. The old man was evidently more stubborn than Bowser realized, so he supposed Junior had a point. He wasn't about to tell him that, though.

Regardless, Junior wasn't done with his search, turning his attention to the nearby bookshelves. He stared thoughtfully up at them, and Bowser was suddenly struck with a vision of the bookshelves toppling over because his son decided to try climbing them.

“You need some of those?” Bowser hurried to ask.

Junior nodded, pointing at one of the books. “The yellow one about tran...transmog-er-ation. Please,” he added, very belatedly.

Bowser spotted it easily, just barely within reach. “Trans-morgan-ratio, huh?” he repeated amusedly. “I didn't know you were into this stuff.”

“‘M not,” Junior said. He paused. “Pops’s been reading that one to me so I fall asleep,” he quietly admitted.

Bowser frowned. When was Kamek doing that? Bowser’s been the one putting Junior to bed recently, and Junior’s long since self-proclaimed himself too old for bedtime stories...? The answer hit Bowser all at once, and his face fell further.

“You know you can wake me,” Bowser said, because while he knew Junior’s been having nightmares by the way he’d been waking up with the kid curled in his arms in the morning recently, he hadn’t realized that Junior had been waking up even earlier than when he’d feel him crawling into his bed.

“I know, but Pops is already awake, anyway.”

“Already awake?”

“Mhm. In here, working!” Junior grinned. “He must really want everything to be perfect.”

Bowser looked around the room, at the discarded throw blanket on the couch, the empty coffee mugs crowding the desk, the loose paper scattered on the surrounding floor. Something sour curled in Bowser’s gut. “Yeah...”

As Bowser followed Junior out of Kamek’s lab, an errant thought occurred to him. “D’you think the old man’s eaten?” he asked the hallway.

Junior shrugged. “I haven’t seen him eating.”

Of course not. Bowser bit back a sigh. “How about this.” Bowser gets on a knee to address Junior on his level. “I can take Kamek his stuff”— he held out a hand for the notebook Junior was still holding — “and you can go to the chefs and tell them to whip up something special for when he wakes up. For him, not for you,” he added at Junior’s dawning delight at being able to freely choose dinner.

“Daaaad,” Junior whined.

The speed at which Bowser cracked was honestly kind of impressive. “Alright,” he said, mock-resigned with a smile wobbling on his face. “Maybe something special for you, too.”

“Yes!” Junior pumped a fist in excitement. He passed Bowser Kamek’s notebook. “You’d better be careful with this,” he warned.

“I will, I will.” Bowser chuckled, tucking the notebook alongside the book under his arm.

With that, Junior went to perform his task. Bowser turned the other way to walk back to Kamek’s rooms. Along the way, he ran into Kammy, who took one look at his face and what he was carrying and huffed. “So it finally happened, didn't it? Ugh, Kamek’s such an idiot.”

“Hey,” Bowser protested, though he wasn't sure at first what exactly he was protesting.

Kammy rolled her eyes. “It was only a matter of time. He’s a damn people pleaser with no sense of setting boundaries.” She clicked her tongue. “At least I don't have to mind him, this time.”

Bowser stood at a loss for words. In the meantime, Kammy wiped the irritation from her face, replacing it with a slynness. “Never mind that, though. Since Kamek’s out of commission, I can take over his project if you still need it done,” she said sweetly, practically fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“...I’m going to run that by the old man first,” Bowser decided. “Tell therest of the troops to put the other preparations on pause for now.”

Kammy looked disappointed, but she nodded, said, “Yes, King Bowser,” and parted from him.

Bowser returned to Kamek’s bedroom, where Kamek was still fast asleep. He put the books down on the nearby desk and frowned down at him. This time, Kammy had said. I've worked through worse, Kamek had said. All under Bowser’s nose, apparently. For a secret weapon for a half-cocked plan.

...a half-cocked plan whose appeal was very quickly wearing thin.

Bowser re-gathered the books in his arm. He took one last look at Kamek, reaching out as if to put a hand on his shoulder. Kamek looked tiny under the shadow of it. Bowser hesitated. He pulled his hand back. He turned away, leaving as quietly as he could.

He’ll come up with a different plan.

[deceptive-daydreams]

The Under-Ground (18+ ONLY)

Chapter Four - Roadkill

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - A moody car ride and muddled emotions.

Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader

9.9K Words

Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, mentions of drugs and drinking, drug dealing, allusions to mental illness, mentions of blood, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: I put my soul into this chapter like I just wanted everything to be right and for things to add up. Anyway, I'm so glad to finally share it as we reveal more about their story.

Masterlist

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Hawkins High - English Class, Sophomore Year

The clock ticked by tauntingly slowly, five minutes feeling like an eternity in the stale classroom flooded with white and beige, each desk meticulously placed in their respective rows, all uniform and not one out of line as each student occupied their own.  A pop quiz rested in front of every anxious student, Mrs. O’Donnell being overly unfair in springing the assignment on everyone after only going over the unit one time in the span of fifteen minutes.

Only the sound of pencils gliding across paper and the ticking of the clock were evident among the prison-like room.  Just outside of the window to your right was a perfect view of the large oak tree you’d claimed as your lunch spot.  Though Steve had asked you to sit with him and his friends at lunch, you declined.  The mere idea of having to face all of those preppy and popular kids was terrifying and you’d rather enjoy your lunch in solitude.  Steve seemed like a promising friend the deeper you got into highschool but you’d settle for sitting with him in class if it meant you could avoid the jocks he hung out with.

Stomach grumbling, you only prayed that the next two class periods would go by faster than the first period had been dragging along.  It was only a week into sophomore year and you were already counting the days until summer.  You thought you’d be able to avoid Mrs. O’Donnell’s dreaded English class throughout all four years but sadly in only your second year you were cursed with her name on your schedule.  Everyone knew her class was the one to dodge if at all possible.  

Marking your answer to the last question on the quiz, you bashfully stood to set it on Mrs. O’Donnell’s desk, noting the way she glared at you before heading back to your desk as quietly as you could.  There was no pleasing the woman, she was alway miserable.  Being one of the shyest students in the class, she still made it known that not even you were safe from her wrath.  Just as you reached into your bag to retrieve your copy of Of Mice & Men which was assigned at the very beginning of the week, the classroom door swung open, the hinges squeaking in protest.

“Oh, Mrs. O’Donnell!”  A boy’s voice sang as he sauntered through the door, skateboard in hand and backpack in rough condition barely hanging onto his lanky shoulder.  It was the same boy from the ice cream social, he was wearing pretty much the same thing, black jeans with noticeable rips and a matching t-shirt with ‘Iron Maiden’ on the front.  The chain hanging from his jeans clinked as he walked and his tousled brunette curls swayed with the movement.  Eddie, as you recall.  His sneakers squeaked against the floor as he came to a stop in front of the teacher’s desk, her face displaying a different kind of disdain for the boy in front of her, his dimples still framing his smile regardless.

“Munson, it is not polite to interrupt my class.  Where are your manners?”  The older woman seemed to gain more wrinkles just by engaging with him.

“Actually, that’s why I’m here.  You get to experience another glorious year with yours truly.”  He had no fear, he was dripping confidence and from the looks of it he didn’t care if Mrs. O’Donnell wasn’t having it.  You were suddenly envious of his charisma, only wishing you could absorb some of the self-assurance he was possessing in the few seconds he had walked in the door. 

“I’ll be the judge of that, you’re not on my roster.”  O’Donnell suddenly stands, her gaze would intimidate you but Eddie only sighed and ran a hand through his hair as if this wasn’t his first rodeo with her.  

“I swear, the office sent me here directly.  Call them.”  Before she could scold him, he had made his way toward the back of the room, tossing his backpack on the ground next to the empty desk just behind you and slumping into the chair while crossing his arms.  So it seemed he was in your grade.  Every other guy your age was still struggling with voice cracks and puberty mustaches but he seemed to have a grasp on things and was more mature looking than them.  Or maybe he was in another grade and just in a sophomore English class.  Whatever the case, he sat right behind you and it made you nervous, the kind of nervousness that makes you question if you tried hard enough on your appearance, wishing you would’ve taken more care in the mirror that morning.  

Who were you kidding?  Boys didn’t even look your way so what made this one any different?  He wasn’t.  You were just riling yourself up again only to let yourself down by setting unrealistic expectations.  And all within a few seconds, that dream was discarded and you came back to reality.

Only for some reason you dared to sneak a glance over your shoulder at him.  Where that sudden bravery came from, you’d never know.  But you’d never forget the way his eyelashes casted perfect shadows along his cheeks even in the annoyingly fluorescent lighting of the classroom and the way a dimple peeked out at you as he offered a boyish close mouthed smile, by far the most charming smile you’d ever seen.  It happened so quickly you started to question if you were daydreaming.

—

Present Day

There are a lot of things to focus on in Eddie’s van.  The big gulp cup in his cup holder filled a third of the way with change, food wrappers littering the floor which he must have shoved away to make room, a few cassettes among the trash—who used cassettes anymore?  There was a car parts catalog on the dashboard, a pair of headphones on top, and next to it a small box of unopened guitar strings.  Among the many things happening visually in the van, it was all very Eddie from what you currently knew about him against your will.  Even the lingering smells screamed his name, the hint of cigarettes, a little bit of the pine air freshener dangling from the mirror, a tinge of skunk-like bitterness, and the spice from his cologne.  

It was silent, not even the radio he famously blared at high volumes playing, only the sound of the engine rumbling.  You didn’t dare look to your left at him, embarrassment seeping through your pores from earlier.  There was no way you would talk about being that vulnerable in front of Eddie Munson out of all people.  Hell, you weren’t even sure why you were riding in the passenger seat of his van and had you been coherent enough when he guided you to sit, you would’ve refused and walked home, paying no mind that it would’ve taken around thirty minutes.  Now you were stuck in one of the most uncomfortable positions of your life, riding shotgun in your nemesis’ car and on shaky ground with your best friends.  The more you thought about it, Steve couldn’t even look at you when you’d asked if Robin knew about his sneaky endeavors.  It was as though you were subject to isolation with no reparations in the foreseeable future.

“Pull over.”  You were surprised by how strong your voice had sounded despite how much you’d been crying before.  

A glance your way was all you received as you watched him in your peripheral.  Why was it that the most common occurrence tonight was to be unresponsive?  

“Pull over.”  You repeated a bit louder.  

Still, he ignored you.

“Pull over or I’m going to jump out.”  

The threat was lost on him, earning you no reaction however you took him by surprise when you reached for the handle, pulling and cracking the door open as the pavement beneath zoomed past and the wind sucked the breath out of your lungs, the crisp fall air felt like a punch to the face in contrast to the warm cabin of the van.  

“What the fuck!?  Do you have a death wish or something!?”  Eddie kept a hand on the wheel while simultaneously stretching his arm across you as he reached for the handle to pull it closed but failing in his first attempt.  “Shut the damn door!”  Unsure of what you were trying to gain from this, you tugged the door toward you with a scoff, Eddie shifting his eyes between you and the road.  What would be your next move?  You hurl yourself out of a moving van and end up roadkill?  It wasn’t a very well thought out plan.

“Just pull over.”  You couldn’t stand being trapped within the confines of his van much longer.

Everyone and everything you knew was turning out to be a lie, straight to your face and the pressure was only building up inside.  And it all boiled down to one person who happened to be sitting just to your left.  “Dammit!  Just pull over!  I wanna walk!”  You shifted, now turned toward him, his brows furrowed and his lips downturned, complete displeasure written on his face.  

“Would you quit being such a fucking brat!?”  There he was.  This is the Eddie you knew of, a complete contrast to the one that had emerged earlier.  He was unrecognizable as he played the part of the neutral party between you and Steve.  And he had no right either, you would be sure he knew that.  

“Then fucking pull over!”  

“We’re almost there, then you can do whatever the hell you want.  See if I give a shit.”  His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, a pinky tapping against it as he seemed to try and keep himself calm.

“You don’t even know where I live.  Let me out.  Right here, pull over.”  It was a constant battle, neither of you having the slightest urge to just give it up although it looked like you were going to win when the brakes screeched, the van halting to a stop in the middle of the road.  You were at a bend with nothing but forest on either side so you could either step out with your pride, also bearing the possibility of becoming a news headline in the morning: ‘Girl found dead on side of the road’, or you could let him win this one and make it home in one piece.  

“Go on then.  You wanted to walk?  Have at it.”  Eddie gestures to the open road, very clearly unwalkable from this point.  You remained silent, contemplating your options.  “What?  I give you what you want and it's still not enough?”  He huffs in annoyance, head shaking.

“You did that on purpose.”  You mumble, barely audible but he catches it anyway.

“Did what?  Drive you home so you wouldn’t strangle Harrington?”  He was very clearly trying to push your buttons and he was going to end up being the one strangled if he kept it up.  

“You know what?”  The sound of your seatbelt clicking alerted him that you were about to hop out, your hand reaching for the door.  “You want me to be roadkill so bad?  Fine.”  And with that you stepped out into the crisp fall air, a light sprinkling of rain painting your skin as you stomped down the road.  

The van’s engine didn’t rumble which told you he hadn’t sped off yet, most likely watching in victory as you began your trek home.  The frigid air started to bite at your skin, your cheeks and nose beginning to hurt and lose feeling.  You didn’t get very far when you began to regret leaving the warmth of the van, you just had to pick this battle and now it seemed you lost in the end anyway.

It still hadn’t zoomed past you like you envisioned, only the sound of someone running behind you was heard which in all honesty only freaked you out even more.  This was the worst case scenario for how the night was supposed to end.  Maybe some serial killer had gotten Eddie and now you were their next victim.  A new headline flashed in your brain, something along the lines of ‘Young couple found murdered near the woods in Hawkins, Indiana’ and you nearly puked as you began sprinting, the downpour of rain becoming heavier as you did.  Lungs on fire, you forced yourself to keep going no matter how ridiculous the thoughts racing through your mind were.  Maybe it was the quickest way to get home after all, to imagine you were being hunted for sport the whole time.  The nightmare you conjured up quickly came to an end when you slammed into something firm, almost being knocked to the ground only to be stabilized by two hands gripping your arms.  Your eyes were shut tight, avoiding whatever fate was awaiting you.  Were you being dramatic?  Yes, however it couldn’t be helped especially being just next to the woods in nearly pitch black.  The basis for a classic horror film.

“Are you crazy!?  Get back in the van!  You’re gonna get killed out here, you can’t see shit.”  Much to your relief just this once, you were happy to open your eyes and find Eddie, out of breath with his curls dripping, a few sticking to his face.  

His eyes were more doe like than ever, staring down at you, the headlights from the van barely reaching the two of you allowing you to make out his features.  His stare flickered between you and the road urgently.  “If a car comes around the corner we’re fucked, LETS GO!”  If he had any remaining patience, it was gone because suddenly his arms wrapped around your legs and waist, throwing you over his shoulder without struggle, jogging back to the van as you were left breathless.  Ending up tossed over Eddie Munson’s shoulder was the last possible outcome you’d imagined tonight and yet here you were.

“Put me down!”  You still protested, delivering a firm smack to his shoulder blade.  If he obeyed, you had no plan so you weren’t sure what your motive was here however he continued on without so much as a flinch.

“Oh yeah, look what happened the last time I listened to you.  Had to fuckin’ chase you down.”  The passenger door was left open from when you took off as you glanced over Eddie’s shoulder.  

“You didn’t have to!  I could’ve made it home perfectly fine!”  You weren’t one hundred percent sure about that but you could sell the lie.  In your defense, he took a completely different route than what you had originally walked earlier in the day since you had to stop by the Byers’.

Suddenly you were placed in the passenger seat again, and not very gently either.  Eddie’s intense gaze only egged you on, returning the favor as you looked up at him, narrowing your eyes.  

“Yeah?  You sure about that Roadkill?”  

You’d had it and there was very little if any fight left in you.  Teeth chattering and hair wet, you came to the realization that your clothes were almost completely soaked and before you could huddle in on yourself for warmth, a leather jacket was tossed at you before the passenger door was slammed shut, Eddie quickly returning to the driver’s side, a displeased expression remaining on his features as he shifted into drive.

–

Rain dotted the windshield and other than that and the squeaking of the wipers against the glass, it had been silent.  Five minutes had passed but it was easy to mistake it for five hours with how tense the air in the van was.  Eddie released a heavy and dramatic breath every so often and if he was searching for a reaction in you, you weren’t interested in partaking.  Home wasn’t far, you only needed to endure a couple more minutes in the stuffy but thankfully, warm confines of the vehicle.  

Maybe you were delirious, your brain muddled in the events of tonight because Eddie had finally been silent that full five minutes and you stupidly took it upon yourself to engage in further conversation.

“Roadkill?  Really?”  

The green traffic lights overhead created a glow around him, painting him almost like a picture, a renaissance painting you might even say.  If a renaissance painting could include a grumpy metalhead adorned in rings, tattoos, and a demonic t-shirt.  So no, not a renaissance painting and yet, you couldn’t find another way to phrase it in your mind.  Why?

“Roadkill.  That’s all you have to say?”  Offense lingered in his tone, his eyes glancing to you briefly.

Your body turned toward the door, even more than it already had been as you watched the scenery race by, deciding to go mute again.  There was no civil conversation with him, only snarky comments and full blown arguments.  

“Better than Socks.”  A smirk graces his lips when you turn to look back over at him and there was no way to tell if it was playful or cynical.  

Should you bite and comment back or should you remain ignorant?  You’d started it after all.  This time he wasn’t the one breaking silence to torture you, it was the other way around and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why you yearned to instigate.

“I will not be called ‘Roadkill’ if that’s what you’re getting at.”  It was said cruelly however just beneath the surface, if he was intelligent enough to pull at the corners of your gaze with his, he may find a seed planted deep within your depths.  

Could it have been that the way he stepped in earlier was in some regard an olive branch?  Extended with the means to mend what was previously shattered beyond repair, an intention.  No.  It couldn’t be, not even in the slightest.  Because he was Eddie and you were you, this is how your stories were written and engraved into the margins of the universe.  That didn’t mean you didn’t wonder why he had been so tangled up in the ball of yarn that was your life for so long if not to infinitely cause an ache from wounds slashed into your soul years ago.

“I think you’ve definitely been upgraded from Socks to Roadkill.”  Though he was snarky there was a glimmer in his eyes.

“Hell no.  If I’m Roadkill then what are you?”  Arms crossed, you shifted to turn your body further toward him, brow raised in expectancy.

“I don’t do nicknames.”  It was a short and simple answer and it simply wouldn’t do.

“You can’t just go by Munson, you need some kind of…some kind of earned name for some dumb shit you would do—or have done!”  You snap your fingers at him, a smile playing at your lips and he swears he hasn’t seen that kind of smile directed his way in years.  It’s enough to bring a flush of pink to his cheeks that he hopes is hidden by the darkness and won’t become evident under the street lights passing by.

“What, like running into the open road in the pitch black during the rain—at a bend in the road, might I add?”  

“Well…don’t—don’t even pretend I’ve done even half of the dumb shit you’ve done!”  That smile still pulls at your lips uncontrollably and he’s not sure if you’ve given up trying to hold it back or if you’re so beyond tired and delusional that you’ve forgotten who you were talking to.  Either way this moment would be burned into his memory, even if it would be the last time you’d offer him the upturn of your lips, even if you were sleep deprived and not in your right mind.  

You continue to ramble, searching your brain as he admires to the best of his ability while driving, eyes drifting from you to the road and back.  “Like—like the raccoon thing!  Yeah you’re Racoon Boy!”  

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.  “Really?  Racoon Boy?  That’s the best you can come up with?  Doesn’t really roll off the tongue like Roadkill.”  

His criticism earned a glare from you but not the kind of glare he was so used to receiving from you.  This one held some kind of spark if he lingered long enough, large eyes beaming at you if you cared to notice.

“Okay well, a raccoon becomes Roadkill, right?.  If I’m Roadkill, you’re Roadkill.”  You decide.

Eddie doesn’t know why he has butterflies, all he knows is that the way you incorporated him into the phrase is making his palms sweat, just like when he was sixteen.  And the fact that you had even put his jacket on was something he never imagined in his wildest dreams.  Nevertheless, he keeps his cool.

“And you think I’m gonna stand for being called Roadkill?  You’re out of your mind.  Try again.”  His head shakes in disapproval.

“Oh please, would you rather be called Liar?”  Just like that everything reverted back to the way it was, as it intended to be.  

“Or Friend Fucker?”

He knew it was too good to be true, the way your eyes crinkled as you grinned just seconds ago, how you teetered on the brink of giggling as you attempted to conjure up a nickname for him, the sole fact that you were even trying to give him a nickname.  It was all a facade put on to deliver a blow of karma that he rightfully deserved and though it may not have been a facade on your part, he knew somehow the puppet strings controlled by the universe created this moment to torture him.  The air turned eerie, sour almost.  

Disgusting.

He felt disgusting.

Because you didn’t know how wrong you were about him and yet he kept further providing reasons for you to keep believing it.

Suddenly he’s seventeen in the stairwell of the Harrington’s basement regretting every move made that night.  And you were sixteen trying to make sense of it all, asking yourself, why?

And now you were still begging the question, why?  Why did Steve have to ruin everything?  Why was Eddie still causing destruction even now?  After all, he played just as big of a part when you’d seen them both leaving the van, so why did you offer him the courtesy of bestowing a nickname upon him as if you were old friends?  As if he hadn’t taken your heart, played with it, made it beat for him all those years ago only to take a dagger to it and leave you bleeding and devoid of the ability to beat for anyone else.

Your apartment came into view, an escape from the toxic atmosphere that you’d tricked yourself into breathing in, under the illusion of sleep deprivation and wounded feelings.  This wasn’t some redemption arc for Eddie as you’d begun to imagine in your deliriousness, this was you caving in at a moment of fragility and venturing to the nearest soul in hopes to cling onto some of your sanity.  But what you failed to realize in your misconception was that there was not one soul to sympathize with in your agony.  As the van came to a stop, you dared to glance over once more.  His eyes looked almost black, the absence of sunlight keeping every brown hue hidden in the shadows which only further fed into the idea that he was cold and heartless.  And as you exhaled a final time into the void created between two opposing forces, you were hoping that would be the end of it, that he wouldn’t do as he normally did and fabricate a reason to fuel a never ending war.  But then again you never had faith in him in the first place.

“I’ve told you.  I’m not a liar.”  His nostrils flared, ringed hand tightly gripping the steering wheel once again.

“You’re not a liar?”

“Did I stutter?”

“What do you call it then when someone withholds the truth from you?  You’re saying that doesn’t make them a liar?”

Your name was muttered under his breath as if it were a curse.  “Dammit!  When will you just let it go!?”  His face contorted in anger, brows furrowed in misery.  “Why do you have to fucking hold on to this thing that happened ages ago!?  I never once lied to you and you keep trying to throw it back in my face!”

“Never once lied to me, right.”  You laughed, however there was no humor behind it.

“Do you know how many times we’ve had this argument?  Do you ever think maybe I keep fighting back because you’re wrong?”  

“Oh, I’m wrong!?  Was I wrong when I caught you and Steve just now in the parking lot?  Was I wrong about that too?  Was it my imagination when you planted one on Steve?  At least I’m not a fucking liar!”  Tears welled up in your eyes and you’d never forgive yourself for it but it was inevitable, the anger demanded to be poured from your eyes.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it, I have never once lied to you.”  He sucked back his lip as if trying to hold himself back, fist now clenched in his lap.

“Another lie!”  You tried to stop them, oh how you tried but the tears began to trail down your cheeks one by one, sucking them back only did so much due to the overflow already gracing your waterline.  

Eddie debated digging up the old box in his heart that he locked up and swore off forever, promising to never let another soul touch it.  But he was Eddie and he didn’t know how to let others open him up, only knew how to push everything deeper until it was forgotten about and collecting dust.  All he could do was what he did best.  Shut down and push back.  He regretted inheriting even a sliver of the temper his father held.

“Get out.”  The demand was met with your wet eyes burning into him as he faced forward, gaze set straight ahead with no sign of meeting yours.  His jaw clenched, you could see him swallow.  Before you could offer any further comments, he caught you off guard.  “Get out.  Get the hell out.”  His arm was suddenly reaching over you to open the door, his damp curls tickling your cheek briefly until he was scowling at you from the driver’s side once again.  You remained sitting, not because you wanted to but because your brain simply refused to cooperate, leaving you staring dumbly at the floor of his van.  “Well, I’m not lying this time am I!?  Get out!”  

The way his voice raised made you wince and you had that gnawing feeling settling in your stomach and your chest.  Hands trembling, that random pang of anxiety began to take over and you wanted so badly to run and find some sense of comfort in your little apartment just upstairs but you were frozen.  The energy of the confrontation just endured shocked your nervous system and though you’d argued with Eddie before many times, it had to have been the build up throughout the night, the betrayal you’d experienced only adding that much more strain.  Everything was spiraling and it was as though a weight too heavy for anyone to carry was placed on your shoulders.  And you were left to bear it alone.  

Eddie stared expectantly, brow raised though he couldn’t catch your line of sight even if he tried, you were too in your head by this point and it seemed that the contents of the trashed floor was far more interesting however he was able to lower his head to catch the trace of fear—or maybe it wasn’t fear maybe it was loneliness topped off with uneasiness—either way he was able to detect it among your features and the way you were absent from the van, your mouth ajar and hands shaking in fists balled up at your sides.  Maybe he’d gone too far?  Or at least that was his initial conclusion but it didn’t make much sense seeing as you’d mouthed off to each other several times before and you’d both said things far worse.  Whatever the case, he knew he’d be laying on his lumpy mattress tonight wondering what he could’ve done differently.

“Shit.”  He mumbles while putting the van in park, undoing his seatbelt and inching the slightest bit closer to you.  “You still with me?”  It came out shakier than he’d intended, not really having the knowledge of what to do.  Sure he knew what he’d need to do for himself for the most part if it were him but comforting others was not something he specialized in.  Was it even comfort you needed?  He didn’t know, but there was something wrong and your body language was telling him that you were stuck in some kind of a panic.  

But before he could even make a decision on how to proceed, you’d snapped out of it right before his eyes, a wobbly breath escaping you before your eyes darted up to his wide ones.  He was too close for your liking, and far too close for someone who had just yelled at you to get the hell out.  It was frigid, the air from outside stinging your cheeks as the door remained open.  In the blink of an eye you were gone, your feet carrying you up the cement stairs of the complex and away from him, his jacket still engulfing your frame, sleeves falling over your hands and slapping against your legs as you scurried.  You hadn’t bothered to shut the door in your quick departure, raindrops finding their way onto the fabric of the seat and covering the interior.  At the top of the stairs, he caught a glimpse of you momentarily with your head in your hands before you rounded the corner and disappeared.  If he never saw his jacket again because it provided you with warmth, well he figured that would be just fine.  

“If I’m Roadkill, you’re Roadkill.”  He muttered with his eyes glued to the ceiling.

—

The Harrington House, December of Junior Year

“Munson, did you bring the stuff?”

“Yeah, what’re you looking to buy?”

“What?  You brought everything?”

“Just about, what’s your poison?”

Eddie rummaged through the little black metal box full of various substances, naming each one aloud to the jock that had spotted him across the living room, the music bumping as he shouted over it.  Was his name Ben?  Brady?  Eddie couldn’t recall and if he’s honest, he didn’t really care.  The only time the guy acknowledged his existence was to buy from him at whatever party they happened to be at.  This time it was Steve Harrington’s ugly Christmas sweater party, the second one in the making of an annual event.  Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those nasty sweaters with bells and tinsel but he certainly had no problem with making money off of the spoiled rich kids who would pay out the ass to pop a pill and let loose for the night.  And so he found himself lingering in the dark corner of the living room, awaiting those who would recognize him, giving them their fix in exchange for a fat stack of cash.  They seemed pathetic in his eyes, all decorated in their multi patterned sweaters with all kinds of crap dangling off of them, fiending for a high as they kept their interaction with him as minimal as possible.  It wasn’t his business though, his business was to sell and collect until his supply ran out and if he thought hard enough about it, both parties were doing the same song and dance of quick exchanges with not a smidge of regard for the other’s presence once the deal was done.  That’s just how it was and he wasn’t going to complain so long as he got paid.

So he sold Ben–whatever his name was, a few grams of weed and some ecstasy.  That guy would forget Eddie’s existence until the next party.  That or until he wanted to buy some more weed from him at school.  The guy was relatively mellow with Eddie when alone but once other senior jocks were in the equation they threw every name in the book at him and tried to make his life hell.  Key word, tried.  Eddie was tough and a few names were nothing, hell even the few times he’d been jumped by them in the school parking lot didn’t phase him.  You learn to pick your battles when your dad is the antagonist of your life.  That didn’t mean he didn’t lash out every now and then at them, cause he did.  He just knew which fights were worth a black eye and bloody knuckles and which ones to surrender on, let them shove him around a little bit, maybe take a kick to the ribs and then move on.  The less he struggled against them, the quicker they would get bored and call him a slur before marching off with their chests puffed out.  

It was only nine, the night was still young and he had already made enough to sneak a good amount into his Uncle Wayne’s wallet with enough leftover to pay for the week’s groceries.  He’d sooner just put the money into his own bank account and transfer it to Wayne’s but his old man was old fashioned and stuck mainly to cash.  That cash would usually go toward utilities if Eddie already handled the groceries.  By the end of the night he should have made enough of a profit to buy that new part for the van he was fixing up.  He’d made a deal with the guy at the junkyard that if he could get it working and get it the hell off his lot that it was his.  Sure it was an older model, a little rusty with a funky smell clinging to the interior but he could make anything work and he’d rather drive that than keep borrowing his uncle's pickup truck or hitch a ride with someone.  It just wasn’t reliable and he had his own agenda though he’d never tell Wayne exactly what that agenda was.  As far as he knew, Eddie was working odd jobs around town, repairing the neighbor’s sink, mowing lawns, fixing cars.  It wasn’t a lie–it was just that according to Wayne it generated a suspiciously large income.  Eddie always insisted his charm was a contributing factor and the moms up in the fancy neighborhoods would pay him extra for being ‘so sweet’.  Which wasn’t a lie either.  Those moms knew of his reputation but were reaching the point of their mid-life crisis and it seemed they were willing to do anything for a smidge of excitement while their boring husbands left for a business trip every other week.  He never entertained them past telling them how wonderful they looked.  But he would never admit outright to his uncle that he had been in contact with Rick who his dad had been involved with before going to prison.  Now it seemed at only seventeen he was following the same path however it was to keep food on the table and the strain of all of the financials off of Wayne’s aching back.  ‘This is different.’  He’d keep telling himself that but sometimes he’d look in the mirror and his father would be staring right back at him.

Becoming bored with the clientele of the living room corner, he made the decision to migrate to the hall just near the basement door.  There was heavy foot traffic and a possibility that he could sell out the rest of his supply in minutes to those desperate enough for a good time.  Leaning against the wall, he heard shouts from the basement, a beer pong game with high stakes no doubt.  A younger kid, most definitely a freshman shuffled by with six unopened beers clinking together in his arms and without drawing any attention to himself, Eddie snatched the one that was just seconds away from toppling over onto the floor.  It went unnoticed as the freshman continued down the hall toward the back door, a satisfying crisp snap filling his ears as he opened the stolen beer.  As the fizzy ale met his lips, he was grateful it was cold with condensation collecting on the glass since the house was stuffy and hot despite the contrasting weather outside.

In about ten minutes he’d sold almost everything, people were drawn to him like a moth to flame, knowing he was the go to for anything good.  It always sucked trying to get rid of the last of it, which made the night even longer since he just wanted to be done and leave.  Sweat gathered at the nape of his neck and a dip in the Harrington’s pool seemed like heaven right about now even in the freezing cold snow.  He was just about ready to give up and head down to the basement to start marketing his product to the rowdy football boys so he could get out of the muggy hallway when he caught someone’s gaze from the opposite end of the hall.  The only person he really hoped to see at this dumb party and he was intuitive enough to know that she would show up due to her friendship with King Steve.  Before he knew it she was making her way toward him, dodging other teenagers.

You kept your eyes on him throughout the several people in the way, reaching him being your only goal for the moment while Nancy and Robin–the new girl with the pretty blue eyes and freckles–rolled their eyes at your gawking and patiently waited while you wandered away.  It was loud but you tuned out everything as you took in his curls, longer than they were last year when you’d first noticed him.  He still seemed to be growing it out, brunette locks now covering his ears and a few hanging in his eyes as he bowed his head but still kept his focus on you.  You’d seen him just last week at school but you were only now noticing the progress on his hair growth, usually too enamored in his molasses pools of eyes.  He wore his standard getup, a black leather jacket, black jeans with a few holes, and some black boots.  Maybe it was the single shot you’d taken with Nancy and Robin back in the kitchen but he was looking especially handsome and you feared your heart was going to leap out of your chest right in front of him.

“Thought you swore off parties.”  You shouted over the bass vibrating the house.

Shaking the little metal box he held at you, you understood that he was ‘working’.  

“Parties are my biggest sellers so I couldn’t really keep my word on that one.”  

“Fair enough.”  You leaned your shoulder against the same wall he leaned his back on, turned toward him with all of your attention solely on him right now.

“Was just about to get outta here though.  I got roughly enough for one last sale, just need to find someone to bite.”  Taking a swig of his beer, he glanced around for any takers but still found no success.

“Well, what do you have?”  Your innocent eyes stared up at him, your ridiculous Christmas sweater being the only one he actually liked out of the hundreds he had seen that night.  

“I don’t sell to children.”  He teases.  You were only a year younger after all.

“I am not a child!  You’re a year older, c’mon!  What do you have?”  You whined, bouncing on your toes.

“No way, sweetheart.  I have the right to refuse service and I’m refusing yours.”  A smirk graced his lips as he turned his body toward you, mirroring your stance as you each leaned a shoulder against the wall.

“Munson-”

“Nope, closed for business.”  Tucking the little metal box under his leather jacket as if to hide it from your view, you playfully shoved at his shoulder.  

“I guess I’ll just have to get my weed from some other sketchy guy.”  You sighed dramatically.

“Whoa whoa, are you calling me sketchy?  I’ll have you know I am probably the least sketchy drug dealer you could hope for.”  He showed fake offense in the knitting of his brows and a hand thrown over his chest.

“I dunno, that sounds like something a sketchy drug dealer would say.”  

His eyes squinted at you in thought and he was definitely not going to sell you drugs however he could extend you an offer.

“How about…I keep a joint with your name on it on supply and you come get me when you wanna smoke?”  

Before you were able to answer, a group of jocks came tumbling into the hallway, one of them bumping into you particularly hard in his drunken state.  Eddie had already intervened before you could tell him that it was okay and that you were sure it was an accident.  

“Watch where the fuck you’re going!”  

His hand shoved the muscular guy back with no problem and had that guy not been completely wasted, a fight would’ve broken out but it seemed he couldn't register what was going on as he began roughhousing with one of his friends once again, thankfully making their way into the basement.  

“I-uh-how–how much?”  You stuttered, ignoring the interruption.

His plush lips tightened before his tongue darted out, one of his nervous habits.

“Share it with me and we’ll call it good.”  Your heart fluttered, face heating.

It was flirting.  It was in your face, outright, one hundred percent flirting and yet you couldn’t let yourself believe it.  He was just being friendly.  Because boys didn’t like you like that, they never have and they probably never will.  Especially the one in front of you who everyone warned you against associating yourself with.  It never stopped you from talking with him in the classes you shared or waving to him in the halls, him always returning the favor.  Your experiences clearly indicated that he wasn’t always rough around the edges like everyone said, he was actually a sweetheart with a lot of nerdy tendencies.  At least that's what you learned from your shared time at school.  There were select occasions outside of school such as previous parties where he’d sell that you would approach him with a shy smile and he would be as charming as always.  And there were times where he led you to think that maybe, just maybe he liked you as much as you liked him.  But you’d never act on it, having never even had a boyfriend before so what experience was there to guide you?  He was one of the only boys to offer you that kind of attention but it was never expected of you to cross a boundary and he let you take the lead, accounting for your bashfulness and fully realizing that he couldn’t just hook up with you and leave it at that.  Because there was something else there and he didn’t want to ruin whatever it was.  

“Well, I have to pay.  Seriously, how much?”

His arm was braced against the wall as he leaned toward you, breath fanning over your cheek, you didn’t even mind the smell of beer filling your nose.  

“Your money’s no good here.”  His dimples had you hypnotized.

“That’s not fair.”  You breathed, your eyes sparkling while looking up at him. 

“No?”

“No.”

“Alright Munson, quit hitting on my friend.  You got any weed left or are you done here?”  

Steve Harrington was going to get a mouthful from you later.

–

Present Day

You’d never existed in that van if anyone were to ask, not that they would.  It had been the shittiest night you’d experienced in a good while.  The worst part of it all was that you couldn’t even call Robin or Steve to rant to them about how shitty of a night it was because they were part of the reason.  Loneliness was the most debilitating illness and it was conquering you from the inside out.  Sure you could probably confide in Jonathan but your brain was screaming at you to suffer alone.  No one else needed to be bothered by your whining when they had their own lives to live.  This was now between you and yourself.  

Living in a small town had never been such an issue.  Working in the same coffee shop as your best friends as well as your biggest enemy was proving to be a stupid idea but you were in no position to change jobs, not when you could barely make rent and no other jobs would have the flexibility to keep you around with your class schedule.  Plus no one was even hiring, they’d already secured their seasonal hires.  So back to the drawing board you went.  No more arriving at work early, minimizing the chance of interaction with Steve and Robin and keeping to yourself your entire shift as a means to tune Eddie out no matter how hard he would try and press your buttons.  It was going to be hell but what other option did you have at this point in time?  There was always the choice to drop out of college but then that’d be a waste of a scholarship you’d received based on your low income in combination with a well written essay your senior year.  Senior year you would punch you in the face if you dropped out all because of the poorly thought out actions of others.  All that hard work down the drain for a couple of dumbasses?  Absolutely not.  

No.  You were not going to alter your life just because of them.  Although it felt you were being somewhat dramatic, you weren’t going to let this go.  It was as if they’d isolated you and laughed about it behind your back.  Left you in the dark and giggled to each other about how pathetic you were.  No one should ever have to endure this pain, especially not at the hands of the people who you’d thought mattered to you most but seemingly proved that they were just like everyone else.  You figured you still had the kids but then quickly remembered whose house they mainly hung out at and it left you defeated.  At least you could always stop in at the Byers, that much you knew.  Even so, you didn’t want to bother them with the sudden friendship politics, it seemed childish on your part and Will definitely didn’t need to hear you complain about the other two people he looked up to.  That was not a road you were willing to go down, he’d had enough of seeing adults bicker to last several lifetimes and you already vowed to shield him from any more of it.

That night was honestly even more awful the second your back hit your shitty mattress.  Sobs racked your body and it was nearly enough to make you throw up.  Nearly.  You held it down but still dry heaved, curled up in a ball like a loser while everyone else seemed fine.  The cherry on top was the way Eddie clawed at old wounds, your guts may as well have left a bloody trail from the street where he dropped you off all the way up the stairs to your apartment.  Surprisingly, it wasn’t the fact that he yelled at you to get out of his van that was inducing the vomit rising in the back of your throat.  It certainly contributed but what brought the taste of bile to your tongue was the way that you’d bantered for a split second just like in high school—when there was a chance.  When you were naive and sadly mistaken.  A love sick puppy for a boy who had only misled you and mistreated you.  You suppose some of the blame could’ve been on you, letting yourself fall harder and harder each time you’d seen his contagious smile in the halls and in class.  You know how they say some people peak in high school?  Well you could say that you hit rock bottom which to be honest, felt far more embarrassing than peaking.  All because of a stupid boy.  

Was this really what you’d become?  A sorry excuse of a woman muffling sobs into your pillow over some mistakenly split open feelings for a boy—now a man still taunting your everyday life?  Why did he have this power over you all of the sudden?  For the past few years you had felt nothing but disgust for him and now it felt like you were dealing with the heartbreak all over again, as if that night happened just hours ago.  

And Steve had practically spit on the heartbreak that he’d witnessed before his eyes.  That he’d helped nurse you through, drying your tears with countless tissues, lending his shoulder to cry on.  That version of him was flushed down the drain the minute he stepped out of that damn van.  Where you used to see kind and caring brown eyes with that sympathetic wrinkle in the middle of his eyebrows, you now saw betrayal in human form.  

—

The smudged mirror of the public bathroom in Hawkins Community did little to enhance any beauty you may have held at some point.  It only added to your dark under eyes, hues of purple beneath the skin along with a puffy redness from non stop crying.  To sum it up, you looked swollen and you were sorry to anyone that had to witness the sight.  The cool water you splashed on your face from the sputtering faucet didn’t do as much as the internet said it would.  If anything you only looked worse but now your nerves were shocked from the temperature change.  You had to get over yourself eventually, just suck it up and go to work.  

With one last wipe of a gritty paper towel, your nose raw from constantly wiping snot away, you gave up the pity party and forced yourself out of the depressing, poorly lit bathroom.  A push of the germy door with your shoulder has you moving on to brave the rest of the day—the hard part of the day.  The part that you’d dreaded and played out in your mind like a projector on a screen.  Every scenario laid out before you like a deck of cards and so unsure of which one would become your fate.  

The sky looked an eerie gray, more rain expected to accompany that morning's light drizzle, casting the hallways in a darker light than they usually led on.  It was beyond you that you kept leaving your umbrella at home when rain was almost always on the forecast these days.  You suppose the sky reflected your mood and that was fair enough.  

Stepping outside as the metal door slammed shut behind you, your skin erupted in goosebumps, wind swirling in your hair as mother nature declared its fury in thunderous echoes in the sky.  It was only a fifteen minute walk, just endure the unusually strong winds and keep on, that’s what you told yourself.  Things can’t get any shittier, they just can’t.  

—

Slowly The Under-Ground came into view as did the downtown square where not one person lingered due to the weather.  Each bench was devoid of its regular users and it seemed like a ghost town more than anything.  The faint smell of chimney smoke crossed your senses and it only made you wish you’d be able to just cozy up next to a fire and forget this cursed timeline you were in.  You could just imagine the families in their homes just a few blocks over, probably preparing for dinner in their well manicured kitchens while their kids enjoyed the warmth of the fireplace and watched a wholesome movie.  What you’d give to be in their position again.  Young and free of responsibility.  

Fat rain drops began to paint the pavement and you thanked whatever higher power that it had waited until you arrived at work to unleash the beginnings of what seemed to be a storm.  You now only bargained with Mother Nature that it would be kind enough to let up by the time your shift ended.  The Fall rain seemed to be treating Hawkins extra cruelly this year.  

You’d scurried as fast as you could to the front French doors of the shop, swinging one open as the bell chimes above and a blanket of warmth cocoons you, allowing you to take in the rich, chocolatey smell of a recently warmed brownie mixed with notes of espresso.  It was 4:55 PM, just five minutes shy of when your shift was supposed to start, aiming to keep it as close as possible to avoid Steve and Robin the best you could.

There wasn’t a single customer in sight, a brief whiff of bleach filling your nose as you walked by a ‘Caution Wet’ sign propped in the middle of the floor.  You didn’t even give whoever was behind the counter so much as a glance as you kept your focus on the floor, making your way toward the back to hopefully avoid everyone so you could set your things in your locker and prepare yourself for your shift.  The typical jazzy music played over the speakers and you could just barely hear a whisper of what had to be Robin’s voice directed at Steve.  Something along the lines of ‘fix it, right now’.  If she was referencing what you suspected, she was naive to think that Steve could just ‘fix it’ right here right now.  In your eyes she was practically telling him to slap a band-aid onto a bloody gash that would actually require a severe amount of stitches.  

Your gaze remained glued to the dark tiled floor, the grout interesting you more than the hushed conversation between two traitors.  The hope was to ignore any and all attempts to make amends at this point in time on Steve’s part.  And to dodge any reasoning Robin tried to sprinkle on top.  But hopes are often lost and before you could reach the back, Steve’s scuffed Adidas forced their way into your line of sight.  Your name fell from his tongue like an apology that you were far from accepting.

“Listen, can we-can we talk?”  He sounded as if he was begging for his life and you were too mad to look into his eyes to further read him.  

All you offered was a scoff as you tried to push past him however he stood in your way, a bold move for someone on such thin ice.  

“Please?”  His head ducked down in an effort to meet your eyes, succeeding for a mere second where you caught that stupid sympathetic wrinkle in between his eyebrows and his apologetic stare.  It didn’t work this time.

“Move.”  You were stern as you bit your lip to keep from showing any kind of emotion.

“We have to talk about it—“

“We don’t have to talk about anything.”  You snapped bitterly.

Robin seemed to understand to keep her mouth shut in this instance, she knew this wasn’t some dumb disagreement that you’d end up laughing about at the end of the day.  This was grounds for a possible severed bond.  So there she stood, wide eyed as she pretended to clean the already sparkling countertop, blue polish chipping from her nails as she gripped the rag with apprehension. 

And Steve seemed to know his place as he stepped aside, comprehending that he would not make much progress with you right now and that you may not even forgive him ever.  It terrified him but what could he do?  He fucked up and he was suffering the damages, a far greater loss than his selfish needs were worth.  Respecting your boundaries was the most he could do right now and it gutted him from the inside out.

You were lucky that only a single tear escaped and trailed down your cheek, your skilled ability to not cry in public proving very useful in the moment.  Wiping it away with dignity, you proceeded to the back room, only wishing to have a minute alone to recover before having to put on a facade.  Your locker was your only target but you’d fumbled as your mind worked quicker than your legs, bag flying off of your shoulder and spilling out a tube of mascara, a half eaten bag of chips, and a few papers from an assignment you’d tried to work on last night to take your mind away from the endless sobbing.  It felt as though the dark clouds outside were following you and wreaking more havoc than could handle.  Quickly, you scooped up each item and shoved them back in your bag, a few curses uttered under your breath and when you were about to push yourself up off the sticky ground, you were met with a pair of abyss-like brown eyes.  

He was tying his decked out apron around his waist, looking down at you with concern.  You hadn’t even seen him upon first walking in, his presence residing in the corner of the room where it seemed he placed his helmet on the window sill farthest from the door.  He was early.  And he was never early.  Without a word between you, his hands were up in surrender as he spun back around towards the window, back facing you as he pulled a pen from the apron and seemed to scribble on something.  The interaction seemed strange as he didn’t offer some insult about how clumsy you were.  And you didn’t snap at him the moment he laid eyes on you.

Seeing him still made you beyond upset but the tension in the air carried something far more complicated that you couldn’t distinguish.  So you left it, swinging open your locker and snatching your apron before shoving your bag inside, the metal clanking noisily as you did.  A breeze brushed past you while you secured your apron to your satisfaction and when you finally glanced behind you, Eddie was no longer in the room.  

Patting at your pockets dumbly for your phone before departing out to the front, you were having trouble locating the device.  You double checked your bag but no success, even feeling around the inside of the locker just in case.  It wasn’t until you turned around that you realized you must have abandoned it on the foldable break room table in your uncoordinated walk earlier.  And there it was sitting atop the table—with a steaming to-go cup next to it?  Surely that wasn’t there before, you would have definitely knocked it over with how close it was to your phone and how ungraceful you were in your movements.  You were starting to question how insane you were going with everything swirling around in your brain since last night, did you make yourself a coffee in the midst of Steve trying to coax you into a conversation?  That must have been it.

Except as you further inspected, there was some kind of writing on the side of the cup.  Scribbled in black sharpie was a single word.  And realization hits you like a train when you read it.  

“Roadkill”

~end~

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tags - @mmunson86 @haylaansmi @batkin028 @obscureenigmatic @micheledawn1975 @dreamerjj @hideoutside @hellfirefiend @emilyslutface

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A Reason - Riku x Reader

It's been a hot minute since I took a swing at fluff, so I have my doubts about the "tooth rotting sweet," but I hope this at least made you smile, anon.

Premise: He's home

Words: 1,723

~~~~~

               Soft, flowing song fills the complacent solace. Bringing a warmth that artificial cannot, candlelight dances upon the wooden surface of the coffee table.

               An article of clothing lies flat against the floor. Then another. And another. Ah, but this one has a partner. A spread of socks awaits their matches from the laundry basket, shirts and sheets and towels already tended to.

               Honestly, it’s well past late for me to be doing chores, but I’ve long since given up on regulating any sort of circadian rhythm. Since I’ve been left on my own, it’s been a couple months and I now find myself at the mercy of my own whims—unable to sync routine to another’s. It’s a bit of a curse, but I suppose nobody can nag me about doing chores at—what is it? Two in the morning? Great. Still, in spite of my disaster of a schedule, I tend to this empty little apartment on my own for a reason. Waiting.

               A sharp buzz tears through the quiescence, spurring my body to rise from the floor. The lull resumes its rule as my feet amble towards the laundry room where another load finds its way into the basket.

               Just as I return to the previous pile, a rattle shatters the repose permanently. A surge of adrenaline fills my veins as a tingling fear claws up my spine. Hands on the verge of trembling set the basket on the floor, but wide eyes remain locked on the shaking handle of the front door.

               It’s way too late for visitors. Thus only the worst of suspicions overwhelm my thoughts as I try desperately to recall the precautions we had planned for intruders. I remember specifically being told to run or hide—there’s no guarantee what kind of person would come knocking on our door with the kind of world he was entangled in. But there’s nowhere to hide in the living room and a mad dash for the back door could easily see me overtaken.

               The lock clicks. What precious seconds I had were squandered second-guessing my actions. Running is the only option now.

               As flight begins to take over, the door grants entrance to the trespasser.

               Then the world stops. My feet take not another step. Fear drains from my system. Even my lungs dare not take another breath. The world stands still in my shock—for maybe I’m mistaken.

               But I heard his voice.

               A second ticks by—maybe two—before caution guides my gaze back. In the doorway he stands, far worse for wear. Silver hair looks dull and grey from the grime, much of which coats his skin as well. Holes and scuffs mottle the clothes I remember him leaving in. It’s been some time since I’ve seen rings so dark beneath that shade of green, but those are most definitely his eyes.

               His name barely makes it past my lips.

               “Riku?”

               “What are you doing up this late?” Though his words mean to reprimand, that smile demeans the point.

               Not that it matters. I resume my flight, only this time, it’s straight into waiting arms. Teeth grit in vain, a sting growing beneath my weary lids. Another part of my resolve begins to break when I feel the weight of his arms slip around me. As though my life depends on this moment being real, I cling so tightly my nails may scar my palms. But I don’t care, especially once I feel the steady beat in his chest.

               Sure, the length of his departure plays a hand in my dramatics, but Riku and his friends left for war and I had no choice but to accept the chance that he may never return. So with my soul resigned to somber possibilities, I’ll never be able to describe this reprieve.

               I’m not sure how long we stand in front of the open door, but these long months without this feeling compel me to hold fast. If I had it my way, I’d never let go again. Alas, the shiver that ruins the moment convinces Riku to pull back.

               “Sorry. I didn’t think you’d be awake.” Managing to keep an arm around me, he reaches back to shut the drafty door. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

               No amount of shame can douse this moment. “Laundry.”

               His head shakes. “What am I gonna do with you?”

               “As long as you’re here, I don’t really care.”

               “Hey, now that’s not fair.” Worn, rough hands press softly against my face. “You can’t go saying things like that while I’m scolding you.”

               “Then punish me.”

               Mock defeat melds into his exhaustion. What gentle caress he used turns into light pinching. “Later. Right now, I just wanna take a bath and go to bed.”

               “’Kay.”

               While Riku leaves to take his bath, I return to my abandoned heap in the living room. A mediocre distraction it is but I’ve been putting it off for far longer than I should have. Not like I could do much else right now anyway.

               A light heart makes the work somewhat lighter, but I certainly did myself no favors in procrastinating the chore this long.

               Grabbing another towel, I fold the towel up ready for the cupboard. Reaching for another, the floor suddenly disappears. Well, actually, it’s the other way around, my feet leaving the floor. My stomach jerks with the motion, an embarrassing yelp escaping me.

               A deep chuckle sets a fire in my ears.

               “You’ve gotten jumpy since I’ve been away.”

               Arms constricting attempt to anchor around the young man’s neck. “Back for not even an hour and already picking on me.”

               “Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You didn’t think I was going to bed by myself, did you?”

               “But…laundry.”

               “No sane person is doing laundry at three in the morning. It’s time for bed.”

               “Hey, at no point did I ever claim to be sane. Grab my phone.”

               He does as asked. “True. But I’m tired and you’re coming with me.”

               “Fine.”

               With literally no ground to stand on, I’m hauled off towards the bedroom. At least with hands preoccupied, Riku is helpless against the peppering of kisses I press to his face.

               In the bedroom, Riku gives a smirk that causes me pause. I fall, without warning, still clinging to my anchor. Laughter shortly ensues, Riku crawling to hover over me.

               Insides writhe at the feel of his mouth against the crook of my neck. Whatever thoughts of resistance I may have had go right out the window and I allow myself to succumb. Snaking their way beneath me, Riku’s arms keep me flush against him. Meanwhile, my own fingers busy themselves in his hair, encouraging each warm, longing kiss against my skin. The inevitable journey brings his lips to mine. It’s like breathing old life back into a shell, reigniting the passion I’d been deprived of these past moons.

               There’s always been a cheeky sort of give and take between Riku and I, even when we kissed. Of course we had those moments of sweet softness now and then, but it still had that element of silliness that came out in our relationship. But this is different. This is deep—fathomless adoration crashing down on me relentlessly, seeping into my bones. The purity with which Riku imbues each kiss leaves me in awe, banishing any fragment of thought that would dare consider ruining this moment. I can’t begin to understand what it was that he faced in his absence or what will come of it in the future, but right now, he needs this.

               Another kiss breaks soft. Missing the feel of his lips, I let my eyes open. Moonlight sneaking its way through the curtains shows me his face, wrought with contemplation.

               My voice barely breaks the silence. “What’s wrong?”

               Burrowing into my shoulder, Riku holds his tongue just long enough, as if bracing himself.

               “I missed you,” he murmurs.

               “I—”

               “The only reason I came back was because of you.”

               Breath catches in my chest.

               “It was tough; there were so many times I thought I wasn’t gonna make it. But you were waiting for me. And I couldn’t bear the thought of making you wait any longer than I had to.” Beneath my back, his fists clench.

               “Riku, I—”

               “The whole time I couldn’t stop thinking what would happen to you. What would happen if I failed? What would happen if I disappeared? And I hated every minute of it. No matter what, I had to come back.”

               On trembling arms, the young warrior props himself back up.

               “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do if it was for you. You’re the reason I fought and the reason I survived. I’m still here because of you. Because you’re my light.”

               A single drop of warmth drips, trailing my cheek from where it lands.

               Realizing his breaking composure, Riku sits back, dragging an arm across his face.

               “Ugh, how cheesy do I sound right now?” It’s a flawed attempt at our usual banter, but it’s an attempt nonetheless.

               Somewhat reeling from his confession, I, myself, sit up. I’m not sure what to do with this knowledge; I’ve never meant so much that it made a difference before. But it brought him back to me, and maybe that’s all I need to know.

               Love—threatening to blur my vision—tugs at my lips instead. Reaching I banish another stray tear.

               “Maybe a little. But it’s okay. You get to be a little cheesy when you’ve been gone so long.”

               Maybe it’s exhaustion or maybe it’s relief, but the laughter that ensues is soft.

               Climbing my way up the bed, I wiggle beneath the blanket. Before bunkering down, I let my arms open wide. My hint is taken and Riku lies down beside me, powerful arms wrapped around my waist. As I draw the blanket over us, my partner nestles his head against my chest, finding peace where he lies.

               While it doesn’t take long for me to drift to the realm of dreams, I stay awake just long enough to ensure Riku does first. Another pass of my hand through his hair releases any remnant tension with a sigh. This is where he’s content and where he needs to be.

               This is where he’s loved.

               My dearly beloved light.

~~~~~

Nova’s Kingdom Hearts Masterlist