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everythingelseisextra · 10 months

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Treasure The Memory

Part One: Everything Is Fine

Part Two: Commit To The Bit

Part Four: Petty Criminal

Description: A couple days after the hose incident, you find yourself feeling empty, and set off to find Thomas and apologize. Warnings: Language, alcohol Word Count: 2292 Tag List: @theshelbyslimited @globetrotter28 @babayaga67 @shelbydelrey Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

Twelve horses. From six in the morning to six at night, you work without stopping. It’s your purpose, your drive, the only reason you have for getting up in the morning. The only reason you eat or drink. There’s an aching kind of emptiness that begins after the car drives away, that makes the time go by slowly while you work through the horses. Heaviness that pushes your muscles to work harder than usual, an odd sense of carrying something. But, still, you put your head down. You have work to do. You don’t have time to fantasize a life beyond what you trudge through. You don’t have time to imagine things had gone differently.

You don’t.

But on the second day after, the weight is the same. You wake before sunrise and find yourself expecting to see him watching you ride in silence again, observing. You fill buckets and clean stalls and turn out and all the while, the back of your mind stumbles off somewhere, looking for the dawn to break like it did two days ago, like some groundhog day. You were given a splash of color in the long span of gray, and now you can’t forget what it was like. Now you can’t stop yearning for the boldness, the attention.

That night, you lay in the twin bed shoved into the corner of a tiny room, and you stare at the night sky through the cracked window. Cool air caresses your face, and you sit up to look out. You see only the shadows of the barn and the void of the countryside, all-consuming darkness. Here, you think, is where everyone else’s ghosts come to haunt. Here is where the forgotten come to waste the rest of their lives. Here is where I will live, and here is where I will die.

No.

You stand up and walk the two steps to your wardrobe, pulling your clothes out and scrambling to put them on. Whatever you plan, whatever strange scheme, will present itself to you as you move. You can’t be like this forever. You can’t keep being fine, fine, fine, until you’re ready to go and all you can look back on is mediocrity. You can’t keep going out and waiting for someone to ask you who you are, what you’re about, whether you’re okay.

You need to be the one to ask.

You rush out to the barn. This late at night, no cabs will come to you, not when you’re so far out. Wired, almost manic with desperation, you halter your quickest horse, a mare named Secret, and forgo the saddle to ride bareback. The night is still young, and if you get there soon enough, get there fast enough, then maybe, maybe you’ll find him. Gripping your mare with your thighs, you cluck and urge her forward, loosening your reins and pushing your calves into her sides. She shoots off, and suddenly, you’re coursing through the night, the wind whipping your hair, the sound of hooves pounding the only thing you can hear.

The first few minutes, exhilaration runs through you, and you breathe in the wild rush of the darkness. Then you feel the cold, and the dryness waters your eyes, and your skin grows red and chapped from the constant battering of the wind. And still, Secret gallops, and you cling to her back and duck your head and clutch her mane in your shaking hands.

City lights blink softly at you through the mist of early night. You sit back and talk quietly to the mare, bringing her from a gallop to a canter, then to a trot, then, finally, to a heaving, breathless walk. Her sweat seeps into your pants, her fur covers the inside of your thighs, and your own sweat drips down your forehead. Still, you walk on, her hooves clattering on the stone streets. Eyes glint at you from alleyways. The city murmurs its quiet song. And, you, an interloper walking boldly into an unknown territory, hoping.

You remind yourself: hope is a thing with teeth.

The Garrison stands solemn in the darkness. The lights inside silhouette figures moving, dancing, banging their hands on tables and chairs. Tonight is Saturday night. Closing your eyes, you steady your breathing. Cold penetrates your bones and you find yourself trembling, coming and going in waves. You run your fingers through your hair, like it could be tamed, and slowly slip off the horse. You find an old hitching rail a few blocks away and tie her, offering her a bucket of water. You leave her there, in the dark side of the alleyway. You won’t be long.

When you open the double doors to the Garrison, you’re flooded with golden light and feral singing and warmth. You still tremble, but less so. The chills are chased away by the faultless sense of revelry in the air. You push through the crowded sitting area as though fighting your way down an overgrown path. Limbs swing into your way, people stamp their feet, and a rousing chorus starts up.

You stumble through to the bar and lean on it, facing towards the seating area. Men on tables, men dancing, men drunk and throwing up in buckets. Men howling like wolves, men grabbing their women, men cheering each other on. No sign of the man you came here looking for. Your heart sinks.

The barmaid laughs from behind the bar while she walks towards you. She leans over, smiling faintly. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m—” Your voice doesn’t carry; she leans closer to listen. “I’m looking for Thomas Shelby.”

She points immediately to a slim door, closed, but that opens into a small, octagonal room. “I wouldn’t interrupt.”

You hesitate. “Who’s he with?”

“His brothers.”

“Thank you.” You nod to her, then push through the drunken party to stand in front of the door. You breathe in whiskey and cigarette smoke and body odor, and breathe out. Then, cautiously, you knock.

If there’s a response, you don’t hear it. Throwing caution to the wind, you place your hand on the handle, take another breath, and push it open.

Three pairs of eyes stick to you; two angry, one surprised. You step inside and close the door behind you. Silence, so thick it seems to buzz with the energy of their gazes. From their seats behind the table, they look you up and down, and you’re suddenly in a spotlight, caught in the blindness. No one speaks.

The man on Thomas’ left breaks it. “Who the fuck are you?”

Your eyes drop and you mouth the words; no one.

“I said,” The man stands awkwardly, scooting out from behind their table and approaching you. He’s considerably taller than you, leaning down to loom over, speaking far too close to your face. You catch the smell of whiskey and beer on his breath, and your eyes lock onto bits of food stuck in his mustache. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Enough, Arthur.” Thomas leans back in his seat, arms loosely crossed, a cigarette in one hand.

“I thought you hadn’t taken a woman since—”

“I haven’t.”

“Is this the one that sprayed you with the hose?” The man on his right grins at you. “My kind of girl.”

“Wouldn’t let someone spray me with a hose.” Arthur steps back, though you keep yourself shrunken away, a little too overwhelmed by what you’ve stepped into to unravel yet. “I’d knock ‘em out and spray ‘em meself.”

“That’s enough.” Thomas stands and walks out from behind the table, brushing past you to open the doors. The riotous sound of the bar fills the small space again, and you step away from the door, trying to get away from it. “John, Arthur, go join them.”

“No, I want to hear what hose-girl has to say.” The man still sitting, presumably John, stays sitting, eyes going straight to Thomas’. “I’m staying.”

“John.” Thomas’ head tilts slightly, his eyes flicking to you, then back. “Get out.”

John looks at him a moment longer, smile fading, then shrugs, stands, and walks out. Arthur follows. Thomas closes the door after them, and you close your eyes, relieved by the quiet.

“Sit down,” Thomas says. You hear his footsteps move past you, then the sound of him sitting back down. After a moment, he adds; “Please.”

You open your eyes. His hands lay on the table in front of him, his cigarette between his ring and pinkie finger. His dark hair sits as though he styled it, and you become suddenly aware of your appearance, the wildness of your hair, the goose pimples still on your skin, the slight shiver of your body, the sweat dried on your temple. His eyes are on you, expectant, and so you nod and sit on the other side of the table as he asks. Your gaze remains downcast.

In silence, he pours you a small glass from the bottle of amber whiskey, and you take it, slowly sipping the smooth liquid. Once you place it back down, and settle into your seat, he speaks.

“If you came to ask for forgiveness, it’s already given.” His voice rolls off his tongue, a plodding sort of sentence that you can’t help but get wrapped into. “Past in the past. We can go our separate ways.”

You look up at him, head still tilted down, and you toy with the rim of the glass, running your fingers along it. Your voice is quiet, not quite even enough. “Who are you?”

“You know who I am.”

“No. When you said I didn’t know who you were, what did you mean?” You look back down, unable to hold your gaze steady with his for long.

He rolls his shoulders and sits back, hands still laid across the table. “I’m the lead of the Peaky Blinders.”

“The razor blades.”

“Aye.” He inclines his head to you.

“And you guys do… what?”

“What needs to be done.”

“That’s very vague.”

“We’re a group of well-intended people who do very bad things to achieve our goals.”

You smile faintly. “I’m supposed to be scared of you.”

“Most people are.” His eyes search your face. “You’re not.”

You shrug. “Truth is, I’m scared of everyone. I’m so used to it that it doesn’t make you special.”

He brings his cigarette to his lips, takes a slow drag, and exhales a plume of smoke. “So you are scared of me.”

You take another sip of the whiskey, hoping to avoid answering. Your body shivers, despite the warmth of the drink inside of you, burning as it goes down.

“Smart thing to do now is go home, feed those horses of yours, and forget you pointed that bloody hose at me.” He sits up, leaning towards you. The space between you shrinks with the intensity of his gaze, and you sit back, meeting his eyes. “No need to get mixed up in the shit I live with.”

“I don’t want to forget it.” Something about him sparks some bravery in you, helps your voice come smoothly, helps your mind connect with your body. Or maybe that’s the whiskey. “It might’ve been… unfortunate, but it was the most fun I’ve had in— well, in years.”

“Treasure the memory, and get out while you can.”

You look down. This conversation is not going the way you’d hoped. You play the last cards you have. “I won’t sell you Draco, but I’ll let you ride him.”

Silence. Your gaze shifts upwards. One of his eyebrows is slightly raised, his cigarette paused halfway to his lips.

“What do you want?” He gestures at you, still holding the cigarette. “Why do you want this so badly?”

“I don’t know. I guess I want something different. I don’t want… to die in a house I feel trapped in. I don’t want to—”

“I’m not here to play games.” He stands, starts for the door. He stops, looks over his shoulder at you. “I’m not here to listen to girls who don’t know what they want.”

He opens the door and begins out. Sound rushes in, a deluge that almost catches you off guard and drowns you. Instead, you stand and project your voice. “Thomas.”

He pauses, looks back at you, slowly closes the door. His eyes are cold, calculating, a glint in them that tells you he’s teetering on a line between anger and amusement.

“I want freedom,” you say, finding some strength to your voice. “I want to feel like I’m more than my past, and more than the money I have. I want to have people care about me. I want to not be alone anymore.”

I want you.

“And,” you let out a short breath. “I want a do-over. I want you to come ride with me. Without spraying you with a hose.”

“A do-over,” he repeats, one hand still on the doorknob.

“Yes.”

He considers you, blue eyes sharp, but not as cold as before. “Tomorrow morning, then.”

“Okay.”

His gaze falls to the door beside him, and, almost imperceptibly, he takes a breath. “You ready?”

You nod and walk forward, moving towards the door.

“Wait.” He steps in front of you, blocking your way. You stop short, a foot away, and your eyes trail over him, marking his positioning, ready to dart away if needed.

He takes off his coat jacket and holds it out to you. “Wear it on your way back. Don’t need you getting sick.”

You take it, and offer him a small smile. “Not so scary.”

“Don’t decide yet.” He opens the door and the world floods back to you. As you walk out, you hear him say, “Goodbye, No One.”

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random-thot-generator · 5 months

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Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 9

Frenemies/Tenderness AU

NINE: Grow Me Something Better

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FRENEMY FEM READER

Summary: While staying at Riley's house to heal and recuperate, he presents you with a surprising proposition.

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mention of minor character's death, Unapologetic Fluff, No use of Y/N

(Notes: Been a minute. Hope it's worth the wait.)

Word Count: 3.2K

Chapter Nine

'Looking around and all I see is people happy with what they're given Life is pretty sweet, I'm told I guess I'm just shit outta luck growing a lemon tree I'm gonna burn it down And grow me something better...'

— Post Malone, "Lemon Tree"

Simon wakes slowly, his conscious mind rising like an air bubble in deep water.

He floats up through the dark depths of sleep, passing through the amorphous shapes of dreams to pop awake in the warm reality of his own bed.

His eyes are open but remain hooded, a sigh escaping his lips as he rolls onto his back. It's been ages since he slept this hard. It feels strange, waking lax and loose-limbed, thoughts fuzzy. He blinks at the muted brightness of the room, brows furrowing as he glances down to see sunlight laddered across the foot of the bed. Grunting, his head turns to squint at the clock on the nightstand, shocked when he sees it's nearly fifteen after ten in the morning.

"…the bloody hell?" he mumbles, confused and feeling unaccountably late for some unknown reason.

He pushes himself up on his elbows, head swiveling to take in the empty but rumpled sheets beside him, brows furrowing deeper.

Where are you?

His hand slides over the sheets, cool to the touch, and a frisson of cold panic takes hold. "Dee!" he barks out, his voice pure gravel.

The house is silent.

Grumbling under his breath, he throws off the covers. Plucking at the front of his T-shirt, he notices the tell-tale stain on the left side of his chest where you had drooled on him in your sleep. His gaze softens at the sight even as his anxiety propels him from the bed.

"DEE!" he bellows, his deep voice booming through the house like a sudden clap of thunder.

Still no answer.

He's in the hall and jogging down the stairs in seconds, socked feet slipping as he rounds the banister in the foyer. His eyes dart into the sitting room, noting that the telly is on before his eyes zero in on the kitchen door. He barges into the room, sees an abandoned mug and a protein bar wrapper on the island, but you're nowhere to be seen, and neither is Fiona, for that matter.

Had you talked her into taking you home?

He sees the kettle is still switched on and circles round the island with a muttered curse to turn it off. He's already making plans to find you and bring you back when his eyes catch movement through the window above the sink. His heart thuds hard in relief when he sees you ambling around the back garden, looking over the fallow flower beds.

"Bloody hell," he mutters with a sigh, bracing his hands on the edge of the sink. His eyes track your meandering progress around the yard.

You're moving slow and stiff, but you're moving, bare feet shuffling through the wet grass. Shaking his head, he goes back upstairs to retrieve a towel, a pair of socks and his shower slides, before heading out to join you.

He sees your head turn as he steps outside, pausing to drop the bundle in his hands on the patio chair before walking out to meet you. The corner of your mouth ticks up as he comes to a stop beside you.

"Your garden looks like shite, Ri."

Simon grunts. "Never here long enough t'mess wif a garden. 'Sides, don't know owt 'bout gardenin'. Pay a lad t'mow an' trim. Tha's good 'nough."

You cluck your tongue in disapproval. "Shame to let it all go to waste. You could have a lovely garden with this much space."

"Tha's more yer thing than mine, doll. I'd muck it up, fer sure."

"You would not," you mutter, nudging him. "You'd be a good gardener. You've got the patience for it."

He hums, unconvinced but not in the mood to argue about it. "Never had a garden before. What about you?"

Your eyes took on a distant look, a wistful, sweet smile on your face. "My mum kept a garden. I can still remember it."

Simon slants a cautious look your way, taken by surprise. You rarely speak of your mum. You had mentioned a car accident when he had asked, but didn't say more, the subject closed. He understood enough to know to say no more about it.

Of course, he had looked up the news articles and police report. It had gutted him, reading it. Your mum had slid off the road during a rainstorm, the car flipping over into a flooded ditch. Too injured to free herself, she had ordered you to unbuckle yourself and climb out a broken window to safety. You had sat on the muddy bank and watched as the car slowly filled with water, unable to do anything as your poor mum drowned. You were only six.

"What was in her garden?" he asks, his voice a low, soothing rumble.

Your eyes widen slightly as your mind travels back in time. "Roses along the fence line, a lilac bush outside the kitchen window. She had vegetable and herb beds; I remember weeding them with her. She planted daylilies in the back left corner and..." You pause, then sniff out a little laugh. "Her 'apple-less' tree was planted on the right side."

"Apple-less tree?" he repeats, confused.

You nod, an amused light shining in your eyes. "Mum bought the sapling not long after she and da got married. No one told her that she would need at least two apple trees to get them to bear fruit. They produce by cross pollination, so with no other apple trees nearby, no fruit. It was pretty to look at when it bloomed, but it never produced a single apple. Da used to tease mum about it, called it her 'apple-less' tree. He loved winding her up, making her laugh..."

Your words trail off, a look of longing on your haunted face, and Simon feels his chest constrict, then has to look away. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and guides you back towards the patio.

"C'mon, doll. Need to get ya outta this wet grass. Too cold fer ya to go barefoot, yeah?"

He leads you to the chair, having you sit down before he kneels by your feet. Taking up the towel, he begins to gently chafe your feet with it to dry and warm them up at the same time.

He glances up at you, then looks back down. "Ya know, if ya wanted, ya could plant yerself a garden here. Be nice, comin' home an' sittin' in my back garden with summat to actually look at."

You sniff a laugh, shaking your head. "I'd have to be over here all the time to tend to it. I wouldn't torture you like that," you joke, prodding his chest with your toes.

He grunts a laugh then moves to the other foot, pausing when he sees the bruised shape of Finch's fingers wrapped around your ankle. His fingers graze it with the lightest touch before he curls his hand around it, hiding the mark. "Wouldn't mind it— havin' ya around." His hand slides down from your ankle to cradle your foot. "Least I'd know yer safe."

You can hear the concern in his words, marveling at his penchant for taking on your problems, like you're his responsibility to bear. You wiggle your foot in his grasp, drawing his attention back to your face. Smirking at him, you quip, "Should I move into the garden shed, so you can keep a closer eye on me?"

He goes very still as he peers up at you, caught up in your words. His fingers flex around your foot, deep umber eyes gleaming and earnest when he answers, "No. Ya should take the room across from mine."

You try to make light of it, sniff in amusement like he's still joking, but you can see that's he not, and your smile fades. "Ri..."

His eyes dart between yours, his body coiling, ready to pounce on any argument you might pose and rip it to shreds. "I mean it, doll. If ya want t'put my mind at ease, then move in wif me."

You heave a sigh. "Ri, I know this whole thing with Jerry has put you on edge, but—"

"No," he says emphatically. "Listen t'me. This ain't a spur o' the moment decision. 'M not over-reactin' 'cause o' wha' happened las' night. This has been on my mind fer awhile now."

His accent has grown so thick, you know he means every word he says. "Ri, you just avoided me for a whole week because of a bad row. How are you going to do that if we live together? I'd be in your personal space— all the time."

"Then be in it, I don't care," he growls, clasping your foot to his chest. His eyes have grown fierce with his determination. "Get in my face, give me fuckin' hell, run me outta my own bloody house. Doesn't matter. 'S what I want."

You shake your head, dubious. "Ri, I know it's in your nature to be protective, but you don't have to take care of me. I've been on my own for awhile; I know how to take care of myself." Then you consider what occurred the night before and amend your statement. "So long as I use my common sense, anyway."

His strategic mind tells him to fall back, go at it from a different angle instead of pushing the same point. He focuses on your foot, rubbing it gently between his big hands, bits of dead grass littering the paving stones between his knees.

"'S not jus' about protectin' ya," he murmurs lowly, keeping his voice even and soft. "Ya work yerself to the bone, doll, jus' t'keep yer head above water. If ya live here, ya won't have t'pay rent. Place is already paid fer. We can split the bills, if tha's what ya want, or don't. Doesn't matter t'me. It's worth it t'have ya here lookin' out fer the place while 'm gone. It would help us both out, don'cha see?"

He's wise to your hesitation, but he knows he's got those cogs turning in that sharp little mind of yours. He's revealed his strategy, appealing to your common sense, the one thing he knows you will always fall back on when making an important decision; your practical nature is your default setting. Now, he just has to wait for the other shoe to drop.

"And what about what happened in Shoreditch?" you push back, and there it is.

"I was... outta line," he admits, gaze dropping. "I took it too far. When ya wouldn't say where ya were goin' or what ya were doin', comin' home exhausted, I was convinced ya were seein' some bloke who was usin' ya fer what he could get. 'S why I decided to track ya. I wanted ya t'lead me to him. Was gonna have a word with the sorry bastard."

You scoff at the notion, but don't comment on it, more pressing questions needing to be addressed. "And how did you do it? Follow me, I mean."

He almost balks, but then grumbles it out. "I stole yer phone, had yer GPS signal boosted an' linked to a receiver. 'S how I found ya so quick las' night. I know it was a shite thing t'do, but 'm glad I did it, now."

While you aren't pleased to hear what he did— you're right pissed about it actually, yet you're somehow not surprised. On the one hand, he basically stalked you, but on the other, you couldn't deny his actions were done out of concern and ended up saving you from a terrible situation. Not knowing what to do or how to feel, you chose to set aside. For now.

"I want to talk about what you said to me in the alley. You accused me of giving lap dances to pervs to pay my rent. Why even ask me to move in with you if that's your opinion of me?"

This is the one question he has been dreading above all others. This could all blow up in face if he did a bad job of explaining himself. He didn't expect you to excuse what he said to you, but he wanted you to understand what led him to do it.

"Ya tol' me once that yer da taught ya self-defense, yeah? When yer bein' attacked, ya go on the defensive— ya fight. What did yer da tell ya do?"

Your brows knit together, wondering where he's going with this. "Go for the weakest points on the body. Hurt them before they hurt you, so you can get away."

He nods. "Tha's wha' I did in the alley that day. I wasn't expectin' ya t'catch me out there. Then when ya tore into me, and I... I went on the defensive; I went fer yer weak spot. I didn't say what I did 'cause that's what I thought of ya; I said it 'cause I knew it would hit ya the hardest."

He ducks his head to meet your gaze. "I ain't in no position to judge ya, doll. I kill fer a livin'. Wha' the hell could be worse than tha'? I won't pretend I like the thought o' ya strippin', but I won't judge ya fer it. Yer jus' tryin' t'get by the best ya can."

You scoff again, shaking your head at how dense he can be sometimes. "I'm not a stripper, ya fuckin' eejit. I clean the private rooms at The Grind. Did you not notice the club was closed that day?"

Simon had never been so glad to be proved a fuckin' eejit. Your words are like a soothing balm to his mind. For the past week, the thought of other men seeing you naked, putting their filthy hands on you, had eaten him alive. Yet as pleased as he is to finally know the truth, he's also confused by it.

"Then why go t'all tha' trouble t'hide yer job?"

"Would you want to admit you make your money scrubbing cum stains off the walls? It's basically a brothel, Ri, and I get paid to deep clean sex rooms and toss out used condoms. It's disgusting; it's bloody embarrassing."

Simon nods in understanding and returns to his task, working his too-large socks onto your cold feet, then slips the slides on them. It's almost comical how big they are on you. Gripping your knee, he looks up to meet your eyes again. "Ain't no shame in makin' an honest livin', doll. I would never think less of ya fer it."

He gets back to his feet, resolute to see this through to its end. "I know we fight, doll, an' I doubt that'll ever change. Thing is, no matter how hard we fight, no matter how pissed we are at each other, when we need each other, we show up. We take care o' each other. Tha's as close t'family as I'll ever get, doll. It ain't perfect, but it's real an' it's ours."

With that, he leaves you to make up your mind.

You're quiet the rest of the day, and Simon knows you're thinking, picking over everything that was said, analyzing it, deciding if his offer is the best thing for the both of you. He leaves you to it, gives you your space, knowing there's nothing else to be done for it; you either will or you won't; he'll accept your decision either way.

When you knock at the door to his office and poke your head in to say goodnight, he wishes you the same, then listens as you go about your routine before bed. He wonders if you'll get much sleep tonight, because he doubts that he will. Still, there's a calmness that settles over him as he gets into bed and turns out the light, the knowledge that you're just a room away and safe giving him the peace of mind to close his eyes and rest.

The next morning, he wakes, checks in on you, goes for a run, checks in on you again, then goes to the Dog to fix the door he broke, leaving a note on the island to let you know. He hopes you'll still be there when he returns.

As he replaces the door, Ollie tells him about the police investigation that's been opened on Finch for multiple sex offenses. His informant relayed the news that Finch is now considered a fugitive on the run, after his car was found abandoned in a car park near Heysham Port in Lancashire. Simon is pleased, glad that their plan worked, glad that he played a part in ensuring that Finch never hurts you or anyone else again.

When he returns home, the house is empty, but your old messenger bag is still hanging on the peg by the door, your trainers still set next to his old boots in the corner. He wanders to the patio doors and there you are, almost ankle-deep in the mud of one of the garden beds, a pile of dead plants uprooted and tossed to the side.

Simon crosses the yard, his heart beating fast in his chest. "What're ya doin', doll?"

You stop, stand up straight and arch your sore back, hands on your hips. "Decided I want the vegetable garden here. Need to go by the nursery later, and the hardware store, too. Need some proper gardening tools."

Simon nods calmly, though he's pumping his fist on the inside. "I'll take ya. Jus' say when, an' we'll go."

You nod, sniff, then slant a look at him. "When I move house, I'd rather keep my couch. Yours is shite. Like sitting on a slab of concrete."

He huffs but nods. "Tha's fine but keep your grubby mitts off my Barca. Tha' stays, no matter what."

You shrug, then start picking your way out of the garden bed, taking his hand when he holds it out to you. You both peer down at your mud-caked bare feet, and Simon shakes his head. "Get over t'the hose an' wash yer bloody feet. I'll go get ya a towel an' some clean socks."

Later, while you're wandering the nursery perusing the plants, Simon goes off on his own, returning a few minutes later with a receipt that he tucks in his pocket without saying a word. You end up bickering over who's going to pay for everything as the cashier looks on with bored disinterest, then split it down the middle.

The following morning, you get up and head downstairs to make yourself some coffee, when you happen to spy Riley in the garden, the water hose extended out to the far-right corner of the property. Curious, you go out to see what he's up to, but your steps slow to a halt when you see what he's done.

There are now two new sapling trees planted at the back of the garden, a muddy spade and empty soil bags tossed into a nearby wheelbarrow. You step up to stand beside Riley as he waters them, looking up to meet his gaze when he bumps you with his shoulder.

"Couldn't get ya one like yer mum's. Had t'get dwarf apple trees cause o' the housing code restrictions. Figured ya'd still want apples, though, so I got ya two."

Linking your arm through his, you turn your head to swipe at an errant tear, but your smile is radiant when you look up at him again.

"They're perfect, Ri. I love them."

He's smiling underneath his mask when he says, "Ya know I did this fer purely selfish reasons. I like those little apple hand pies ya make."

You laugh, poking him in the side. "You'll be waiting awhile, then. It takes a couple of years at least before they'll produce any apples."

He shrugs, not bothered at all. "Tha's alright. I don't mind waitin', if you don't."

You stare up into his warm umber eyes and shake your head, heart overflowing. "No. I don't mind waiting at all."

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Taglist

@stillinracooncity @cumikering @cutiecusp @deadbranch @ghostlythots @thetiredtoad0-0 @glitterypirateduck @gothgirl6-6-6 @sofasoap @cathnoneofyourbusiness @shuttlelauncher81 @luminousbeings-crudematter @crunchlite @delilah-grimes @bobochacha @igotmajordaddyissues

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod ghost x reader #ghost x fem reader #simon riley x fem reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #cod ghost x fem reader #Love Thy Frenemy #Frenemies/Tenderness AU

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feelbokkie · 6 months

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Autumn Dates with SKZ

Feeltober Day 6

genre: fluff, a smidge of crack

pov: 2nd person

description: Autumn dates each Stray Kids member would take you on.

pairing: ot8 x reader

warnings: swearing, mention of food

word count: 1,401

☀️Feelbokkie M.list ☀️

👻13 Days of Feeltober👻

방 찬 (Bang Chan) (157 words)

Pumpkin Patch

Chan in a pumpkin patch is like a child in a candy shop

You will have to rent one of those wagons to drag all your pumpkins around

Because you are not getting just two pumpkins

Will probably convince you to bring a pumpkin for each of the members

Wouldn't have to do much convincing

The two of you would have the biggest pumpkins at least, he'd make sure of it

In fact, he'd make it his personal mission to find two identical giant pumpkins

Would even get some pie pumpkins so Felix could bake something with them or Minho could make soup

When you get tired from walking around the pumpkin patch, and you will get tired, he'll insist that you sit in the wagon with the pumpkins while he drags you around

Later the two of you would head home and carve the pumpkins together with the rest of skz, making it a family affair

이 민 호 (Lee Know) (233 words)

Picnic

Which sounds basic, I know, but it's all about the vibes

Since he likes cooking he would have fun planning a fall-themed menu

The two of you would take a scenic drive somewhere

Windows down, chill autumn air filling the car, music blasting, a blur of oranges and browns whizzing past you as you drive by all the trees

It wouldn't take much of a hike to get to the picnic spot, but you'd be surrounded by trees and drying leaves

And because it's cool out, he's brought things like warm soup and hot apple cider

If the picnic is at a public place like a park, then the two of you would people-watch and make up little scenarios about what's going on with the people around you.

If the picnic is in a place more secluded then the two of you would just enjoy your privacy

Bonus points if he rented a van, you two would just eat in the trunk of the car while staring out at a lake

Speaking of lakes. If there is a lake nearby, you would try to convince him to go on a boat ride

And by convince I mean you are begging to go and he is teasing you by pretending he doesn't want to

but he does

You end the date by watching the sunset for a little bit before heading out to dinner

서 창 빈 (Changbin) (152 words)

Haunted House

Sure, he gets scared in haunted houses, but the idea of going through them is kinda fun

Would 100% act all tough beforehand

"I watch horror movies for fun, this is nothing!"

A blatant lie, he is shitting bricks the whole time

But listen, as scared as he is, he is blocking you from all and any danger

Your hand is glued to his

He's reassuring you while screaming

Or rather, he's reassuring you after he starts screaming

"Ah! It's fine, it's just a ghost in the corner holding a knife!!"

Will be patient with you if you're exceptionally scared

Will also try to crack jokes to calm you and himself down a bit

"Hey, I didn't know Chan hyung got a part-time job here!"

Would tease you about how scared you were and act like he wasn't

"You were screaming so loud!" "Pretty sure you were just hearing yourself, Bin." "Hey--"

황 현 진 (Hyunjin) (180 words)

Train Ride

It would simply be a train ride to nowhere in particular

He just wanted to take you on the train ride to watch the passing trees

Will make sure you have the best seats on the whole train

Would also pack snacks for the two of you

He would make sure he had his gummies

And have a small sketchbook with him, maybe even a mini water coloring set

And you would have a book or something else with you to keep you occupied

Because you can only spend so long just looking out the window of a train before it's not fun anymore

You two would share earbuds as you sit across from each other quietly

You might hold hands for a little bit if your activity doesn't require both of your hands

After the initial train ride, you two would go out to eat since you already made the trip

Probably go shopping too before heading home

On the train ride back you would sit side by side, lying on each other while quietly listening to music again

한 지 성 (Han) (159 words)

Movie Night

Another basic one I know, but listen he would make it cute

Halloween-themed movies, but cute ones like Halloween Town and the Haunted Mansion

And even though it's not a Halloween movie, Kiki's Delivery Service

"Jisung, this doesn't count." "It has a witch, it definitely counts!"

His room would be decked out in Halloween decorations

Would just make his whole room into a giant blanket fort

Would even get you two matching pajamas and fuzzy socks

Has a whole bunch of snacks and food that he ordered

We know this man is not cooking shit

You two will find yourselves eventually tangled up together cuddling

And at some point, probably halfway through, fall asleep

Or, if you're not asleep, Jisung will be too comfortable to try to find the remote and put on another movie

Will start whining if you try to move either to find the remote yourself or go to the bathroom

Face it, you're conjoined now

이 용 복 (Felix) (220 words)

Apple Picking

This is such a cute date because you know it's going to lead to a baking date

You would even go to the apple farm wearing matching outfits

And you would have your own baskets

You are ready!

Felix would try to help you get higher apples by either giving you a leg up or putting you on his shoulders

Which would be fun until a couple of apples knock him on his head

No doubt you two would buy some apple-flavored snacks before leaving

And Felix was so ready that he bought all of the other ingredients beforehand

And the baking part is a whole date in itself

Matching aprons and everything

You're both working in the kitchen, music on as you take on different tasks

Because you're not just making one thing, you're making a whole apple bakery

Except, there is one problem: too many apples

Honorary member of paborach frfr

And you two only realize after you've washed and peeled all of the apples so now you're trying to find more recipes to use up all of the apples before they go bad

Eventually, even with all of the recipes you had, the two of you cut up the rest and just served it to the other cutie dorm members like a mom bringing her child fruit

김 승 민 (Seungmin) (129 words)

Autumn Photoshoot

He loves taking pictures and you are his favorite model

Would take you somewhere with a lot of trees so the picture would pop

Would even bring props just in case

You stole his camera a couple of times to take some pictures of him

Because why wouldn't you want to take pictures of that smile?

Eventually, you two will start playing in the fallen leaves

I'm talking about leaf angels and making giant leaf piles and jumping in

Of course, Seungmin got some lovely candids of all that

At the end of the date, he will suggest going out to eat and the two of you will go to a nearby restaurant not caring about the leaves in your hair

Which, of course, Seungmin got some pictures of

양 정 인 (I.N) (171 words)

Autumn Festival

Listen, a lot can happen at an Autumn festival

You can get caramel apples

Drink apple cider

Go on a haybale ride

But the main attraction: the corn maze

Which is all fun and games

For the first 20 minutes

Unfortunately, Jeongin was in front and the two of you got so lost

Not that you would be any less lost if you were in the lead

It's funny at first, getting lost, because that's one of the main points of the whole thing

But eventually, you start bickering

"I told you to go left," "If you want to go left so much, go left. Nobody is stopping you." He says while clutching your hand

By the time you're both mad at each other

Until your stomach growls

And then you two go find somewhere to eat and talk about the maze

Which will lead you two to start laughing and joking about the whole thing

As if you two were willing to sacrifice the other to get out moments earlier

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

Taglist

@amyyscorner @puppysmileseungmin @veedoesntknaur @its-hannjisung @marked-unknown @honeypaintedskies @jaydebow @want2besomeoneelse @lanatheawesome @starlostastronaut

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secretgamergirl · 3 months

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Do experience systems do more harm than good?

Earlier today I saw someone talking about the common wisdom that you can't make an RPG without SOME sort of system where after you finish a session (or maybe an adventure), the GM gives you some sort of points that, whether automatically or based on assigning them, makes your character better at doing stuff. Not only do I strongly disagree that that's something every game needs, I'd like to present the argument that even in games you'd have a hard time imagining without them, experience points might actually be doing more harm than good.

Before I even get into this, let's take apart the obvious perks to having experience systems:

1- It helps maintain longterm interest in keeping a campaign going when the players are getting some sort of regular reward.

This is true of certain campaigns, but I don't think I'd really ever want to be in one. In a good campaign, everyone involved should be having a fun time just hanging out with each other, putting themselves in the shoes of the characters, building up a story and a world together, and generating cool memorable scenes. That should be more than enough incentive to stick with a game, and if you don't have those things going on, you should really stop and work out what's going wrong, not try and pave over it by powering everyone's characters up. I don't need to boost some Watcher Score when I marathon through a good TV show or a movie, and I'm not even getting to influence how those unfold, you know?

This is also one of those many things where what we have today is sort of a twisted ghost of what was originally conceived back in the early days of D&D. I had an old project on this very blog where I was reading through the books for 1st edition AD&D with a critical eye, and a huge takeaway from that was that Gary Gygax seems like he was just the absolute worst kind of GM (also backed up by reading message board posts of his, and various accounts). Back in his day, leveling up wasn't the expected inevitable progression as a game went on necessarily. You'd roll your stats, with some harsh restrictions, be forced to play what you had, roll your HP too, and the game was just kind of inherently hostile to the PCs, so you had a good chance of dying in a given session. Not only that, but when you did, there was no real coming back from it, you make a new character, starting from scratch, with 0 experience, and see if you can keep this one alive long enough to get up there again.

And aside from the carrot of maybe getting one of those elite high level characters if you stuck with it, there was the stick of characters partying their gold away. Seriously, by AD&D 1e rules, characters would just kinda burn through... I want to say it was 100 GP per level per day. And not in-game day. Real life day. You'd better show up for every session, because a week from now, your character's going to have 700 less gold in their pocket whether you show up to play or not.

We don't really play that way anymore. At least nobody I know does. Leveling up is planned out in advance by GMs, characters level up at the same time as everyone else even when the player misses a session, and if you need to make a new character or you're just joining the game late, obviously you come in at the same level as everyone else. I don't even want to dignify the arguments against doing that with discussion. It's even common for people to start games at levels other than 1 because people just don't like low-level play.

And you know, this is way outside the scope of what I was sitting down to write, but I've gotten into the jobification of video games before, right? Where people keep doing stuff like daily login rewards and weekly challenges just so there's a sense of obligation to log into games every day? That crap doesn't actually make things more FUN, it's in there to keep players compelled to play regardless of how much fun they have, and that's... literally the argument behind experience as an incentive to keep a game running.

2- It good when number go up!

Funnily enough, this is the hardest one for me to refute. There is some basic direct release of the good brain chemicals when you have numbers, and they go up. And I mean... sure, but in a tabletop game you're not generally seeing a number climb on its own, you're getting points thrown at you that you have to jot down or mark off or otherwise track and do math with, and like... there's plenty of other results from playing the game good to release the good brain chemicals. You don't explicitly need this one.

3- It's cool when you can have a story where like some dorky little kid starts off barely able to do anything and all unconfident and then gradually gets it together and gets more confident and competent as time goes on!

Oh yeah, everyone loves that sort of thing, and there's a strong case to be made that this is the primary reason people feel the need to put an experience system in basically every RPG, but those systems are all kind of just the worst at actually delivering on that, is the thing.

D&D and its derivatives are the absolute worst with this. The way I put it in this earlier conversation, you start out all, "I am a poor peasant child, barely able to afford the clothes on my back, a length of rope, a week's worth of food, and this dagger here" and then a few months later "I am basically a god and any amount of money less than 1,000,000 times my starting net worth isn't even worth stooping over for." And when I made this point someone corrected me that if you really go by the expected pacing, a campaign without big stretches of downtime between adventures with the recommended combat pacing is going to get you to level 20 in a month.

Now, I don't want to completely spit on the D&D power curve here (the economic one though can absolutely go to hell, stop making me a billionaire as a side effect of killing monsters and do all that bookkeeping). I do enjoy the eb and flow, campaign to campaign, of playing the same characters as wimpy little nothings and demigods over however long it takes my regular group to finish a campaign. But as far as having characters with arcs to them? It is AWFUL!

First off, it's just too damn fast and abrupt. When our little ragtag band heads off into the swamp to deal with those goblins or whatever, we're going to come home from even that little speed bump of an adventure tougher than all our neighbors and absurdly wealthy, to a point where it feels almost inevitable that you leave your old life behind completely and look down on everyone you grew up with.

It's not IMPOSSIBLE to have some sort of long or medium-term personal quest to avenge my parents or show I'm better than some bully, but it takes a real delicate touch to do it right, since you really have to decide up front when exactly I'm going to have that confrontation, make the villain something of an appropriately challenging nature for the level I'm going to be when I settle things, and that I don't manage to arrange that confrontation much earlier or later than planned, because again I'm pretty quickly going from dealing with food rationing, animal attacks, and slippery ravines, to taking down monsters four times my size without breaking a sweat, to like changing the course of history and rivaling evil gods. There's a very small window where it makes sense for me to get back at that owlbear who put me in the hospital or whatever.

And that's not even getting into the problem of how I've got these other three humble little kids from home experiencing all this rapid growth at the same time. Can't really have a wise old mentor if we're using experience as experience. We're either never going to catch up, or we're going to leave them in the dust if they're not leveling with us.

Now, again, D&D is kind of a huge exception here. Most RPGs I've played instead go with a starting setup where you don't start off as some starry-eyed youth who can't do anything, but instead have some skill-based system where every character is an expert without peer in a handful of skills that fit some archetypical theme, and for anything else, they need outside help, either from fellow PCs, or making arrangements with NPC experts. Standard with this is a little drip-feed of extra skill points, but this... really doesn't work for what we're looking for here. If I want to be the party's hacker, I'm going to start off as an excellent hacker. I'm not going to put all my points into shmoozing people and then expect the rest of the party to put up with me looking for the any key over a dozen adventures before finally working out this make or break ability.

4- You gain new abilities as you level up!

So... first off this actually isn't generally all that true. If you're playing a wizard in D&D, sure, every couple levels you get access to a new tier of spells, and hey that's a big game changing deal maybe. Most level-ups though are just about numbers going up. All of them in most games. Hitting harder, more often, in bigger areas, maybe. Skills and abilities work more consistently. You maybe get more HP.

For now though let's focus on when you do level up and get cool new abilities. One moment you're some kid with a stick, then you bonk the magic number of goblins with it, and now suddenly you can make all your friends fly, unbound by gravity, or you can read the thoughts of everyone around you, or you can teleport home where it's nice and safe no matter what the situation. Well that actually really sucks for the GM!

Let's say I'm doing what everyone ever making an 8 or 16-bit RPG did and lifting plot concepts shamelessly from Laputa. We've got our big floating continent. Maybe we've got some kinda evil emperor up there, raining terror down on people or something. Nobody can get there and confront him... until they hit level 7 or whatever and have access to the fly spell. I better get any air superiority based adventures out before then. Also anything where there's a tower that has windows, or dangerous terrain, etc. Better get mysteries and hidden agendas taken care of before that mind reading. Better not think about trapping the party or them getting word of an attack somewhere else before that teleporting. And that's assuming I'm being on the ball about that sort of thing. I might have this whole thing planned, where the party desperately needs to get to that flying continent, and it's this whole quest hook where maybe they have to befriend a dragon or help build an airship or get some kinda rubber bones potion and access to a powerful cannon. Whole adventures about getting that power of flight, and any of these might just totally fizzle because oh whoops, the party leveled up and they just do that now.

Less dramatically, what if we're playing of those skill point games. I'm already a super great seductive femme fatale sneaking past laser sensors and stealing keys off people I'm charming right from the start of the game, and hey, cool, that's a nice simple archetype, everyone knows what I'm good at, we can plan missions around me being all sleazy over here while someone else sets up in a sniper position and someone else is in the basement hacking and all that. Several adventures down the road, well, I have all these skill points, I haven't been able to put them into the stuff I'm good at, so now I'm also a combat monster. The original combat monster can also hack. The original hacker can also charm the pants off everyone. We're starting to develop a lot of redundancy, but that's not necessarily bad? But then we play a bunch more adventures. Those secondary concepts capped off, we're working up more. Nobody is unparalleled at the thing they originally did. Have the party is equally amazing at a given thing. If we keep going like this, eventually everyone is going to loose all sense of unique identity, and there isn't really a strong in-game reason we need this whole ragtag crew anymore. Anyone of us can take on any problem solo, really.

5- The power fantasy of being super amazing.

This is kind of a point I've already hit but I'm stuck with this format, but the thing with experience is, again, sometimes sure you gain new abilities, but usually all your various numbers go up, and that actually kinda sucks in practice. First off, it's a lot of tedious bookkeeping, in basically any system you can name. It also doesn't generally really make a difference in the grand scheme of things?

I'm level 3. I've got a +7 to hit, doing 15 damage a hit, and an AC of 18. I'm fighting some orc with 40 HP, 15 AC, and attacking at +5. I level up a few times. Now I'm level 7. I've got a +13 to hit, doing 30 damage, and an AC of 24. I'm fighting crustaceanoids now, with 80 HP, 21 AC, and attacking at +11. Objective numbers wise, crustateanoids are way way tougher than orcs, but in my experience this is the EXACT same fight. I hit on an 11. I need 3 hits to take something down. It's bad news for me if my enemy rolls a 13 to hit me. All we've done is a bunch of annoying math refactoring with nothing to show for it but cosmetically reskinned mooks.

Now here, interestingly enough, I ONLY have the D&D type example here. Again, most other RPGs I have don't have that same sort of rampant power creep. You start out absurdly skillful at whatever your specialty is, and there's little if any room for growth, numbers wise. So here, if we go from orcs to crustateanoids to hellborn cyberdragons as enemies, not only is this technically a set of progressively scarier enemies to have to deal with, they actually ARE more meaningful threats to the party. Maybe those orcs were all show, they never really hurt us because we're awesome secret agents or something, but now things are getting serious because these crustaceanoids are just as good at sick flips and firing machine guns in two different directions as we are, so we have to take them much more seriously. And oh damn, after this we have to deal with a hellborn cyberdragon? Those are so scary if we all just rush in we're probably all gonna die. We need to come up with a whole complex plan to avoid directly engaging that if at all possible, and run for it if that doesn't pan out, or something.

And hey, we don't need something even more epic than a hellborn cyberdragon to top that. One of those is still going to be harrowing no matter how late in the campaign we bust it out. We can establish a power balance early on and keep it relevant like that. PCs gotta get more innovative and clever not just kill most monsters until demigods are easily punchable.

6: Revenge of 3- Well character growth is still important!

So, I really shouldn't be trashing experience points' ability to deliver cool character growth if I don't have some alternative to it, right? We need some way to change things up so the game doesn't stagnate. Well sure, but we can do better than experience there.

Just off the top of my head, how about we go with plot relevant respec-ing? Like at any given time a character's got their main spotlight thematic kit. Your best of the best at being a hacker or wizard or whatever. Maybe also a secondary skillset. And then definitely some number of slots for stuff they're into but it's not their main thing. Maybe we have a few variant minisets for those. Like if someone just unlocked their psychic powers and haven't fully figured them out, you have access to this here set of abilities. Once you have your big dramatic power mastery moment, that becomes their main thing and we demote their previous main thing to a secondary thing... and if we don't like this psychic stuff in the end, we demote it back down and fill a tertiary slot with like Lost Psychic Powers, where you still get to be all knowledgeable about how this sorta crap works and maybe have some battles of wills but your cool telekinesis is all locked away. At least for now.

I don't want to sit down and fully design a game at the tail end of a blog post here, but feel free to try this out with whatever system you like. Just pick whatever level feels like the good one, build characters with that as their basic kit, let'em have a few dips into secondary and tertiary angles, do a lot of getting thrown out of orders and taking major injuries and getting temporarily possessed or infused with mystery things. And you can do the plucky young kids in over their head thing with this sort of system easily enough. Start off with just the tertiary interest/mini-skill-packs, and once whatever you want to grow into starts coming up, rapidly grow into that over the course of a few adventures, no needing some big dramatic status quo change like this usually calls for.

Oh and I haven't been talking about video games here, but kill experience there too. If I'm not doing the whole Metroidvania/Zeld'em Up thing to pick up new powers as I explore, just gimme the whole kit from the get-go. Have traditional difficulty curves. We're good. Leave the skill trees and the level-grinding out of it. What are you holding back for, replayability? It's been raining free big-name big commitment games for years. Quit demanding that much of our time.

Oh and I keep forgetting to beg for money while I write these. I went 24 hours here without eating because I was just out of food and couldn't afford to go to the store. Someone took pity on me and hand delivered a big bowl of soup. Things are getting real bad. Patreon link.

#game design #experience points #leveling up

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kipixxx44 · 9 months

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entry 3

7/29

i was home alone for a large portion of my day meaning i had the time to boil and infuse my tea and clean everything up and get the weed smell out of the kitchen before anyone got home!! so currently i am wrapped in blankets, extremely comfortable, remembering that i have a diary to write in. i ate twice today and stayed under my mentally noted limit which was good. the oatmeal was good. i think i'm gonna start making that recipe more often.

i didn't talk to bligh for most of yesterday and today, i feel bad but i also really hope he takes the hint that i am rethinking having anything going on with him. he's my best friend and i only really have two of those and i don't want to knock that number down to one (she's not very committed anyways) even if that means i don't make him my boyfriend. or whatever it is we'd consider it since both of us aren't really into labels. i value our friendship more than i would ever value anything romantic with him and he knows that, i've told him that, i just have very complicated feelings revolving around him. but he knows that, too.

i didn't hear from jj today, yet. i don't think i will. i hope i do. jj is very cool, in the way that makes you curious. and horny, kind of. she's also very compassionate, but in that "tough love" kind of way, just not with me for some reason. like, i watched her curse out her sister and then pour her a bowl of cereal on facetime and when she looked back at me she smiled in the sweetest way. and then she called me pretty. she's soft for me, or at least soft towards me. jj is also bipolar. so two weeks ago she was making plans to come over, asking me if i could hold her, calling me every night to gap the emotional distance you feel when you really want to see someone but can only text them. and within the past 9 days, i've spoken to her 3 times. each time she spoke maybe 4 sentences tops. so yeah, she sort of went ghost. which honestly has been a test for me, coming out of a bad relationship where if one of us didn't text back for more than two hours the shit would hit the fan. it's given me a lot of time to myself, and i know in the grand scheme of things 9 days isn't a lot of time, but to be in your head for that long is. plus i haven't really been sleeping. or eating, so that means almost no energy. which means i just sit there.

jj is also one of the most beautiful girls i've ever seen in my life, no exaggeration. the whole reason we started talking was because kaz cheated on me with her, and when i first found out it broke me sort of because she was literally everything i wanted to look like. her hair is long and pretty and a nice shade of really warm toned brown and her eyes are breathtaking. i don't even really know what i'd call the color but it's a mix of green and blue and hazel and it's captivating. her dimples are even and her piercing is cute and her smile is contagious. with that being said, she has a very paintable face. i've been trying to get the sketches down so i can slap something on some canvas. unfortunately i haven't drawn an anatomically correct face in such a long time so it's all shit. and i literally do abstract mixed media, so the anatomy doesn't matter too much to begin with since the majority is going to be abstracted in some way but every time i think about her i just want to get every detail right.

i did paint, though. i don't think i like it very much, but it's going towards a project, a mini-series if you'd like to put it that way. i was blasted when i came up with the concepts, so bear with me but essentially it's based around "mind, body, soul" as a prompt. mind referring to consciousness, as well as a higher form of consciousness, body being the physical form and connections to its surroundings, and soul being the individuality of the energies that accompany the physical form. i'm going to separate each of the elements onto different canvases, so they're gonna be a set. lots of bright, flowing colors, acid trip visuals but not too overwhelmingly so, lots of overlap. glitter may eventually be incorporated somehow. i did body today, i'm excited about watching it all come together.

i'm quite tired and i don't really want to leave my room cos it smells like food and i'm really hungry so it's giving me a headache. i think i am going to sleep early.

thank u :)

#journal #journal entry #poetry #poetry account #dear diary #diary entry #duster

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keravnous · 2 years

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you talk about ‘we’ a lot, do you speak french now; rodrick heffley/reader (smut again duh, minors dni)

pt. I | pt. II | pt. III

word count: 6,4k

so v and I were stuck in advanced training over the last weekend and my mind conjured something up to …idk, cope I guess

Rodrick comes over as Y/N’s parents are out of town and things don’t exactly go as planned.

warnings: all characters are 18+, she/her pronouns, explicit, negotiated kinks: light bondage, face fucking, name calling/praise kink, face slapping (like, once or twice), spit kink; oral: male receiving, vaginal fingering

title is from partynextdoor’s “come and see me” - great song, check it out

“No, no - really”, you scramble to your knees, trying to sit up on your bed as your hand darts out in his direction, “You can’t smoke in my room!” You shake your head to give your words some more leverage.

You watch as Rodrick blows a thick cloud of smoke into the chilly air of your bedroom. He came over after band practice so the two of you could enjoy some privacy, with your parents being out of town for a couple of days for their anniversary. You hadn’t planned anything specific, all you wanted was to spend some time with him without someone (mostly his brothers or your mother, depending on where you met) disturbing you. A cold shiver ran down your spine at the thought - you definitely were in way too deep already.

Rodrick’s standing by the opened window, leaning against the window sill. A cool breeze that slips past him makes your curtains shift slightly in the dim light of your room, ghosting over the furniture and lighting up his face, making his eyes gleam playfully. He had lit a cigarette a few moments ago and since you heard his lighter’s flame pop alive you tried to convince him to put it back out.

He takes a drag and you sigh in annoyance. “Please, Rodrick, just don’t.”

Rodrick looks at you, laughing at your idignant expression, taking another looong drag.

“I mean it”, you huff out but he’s not responding, only smirking his smug Rodrick-smile.

You decide that you’ve had enough. If he didn't want to speak about it, you'd have to find another solution.

You look away to give a false sense of security only to suddenly dash forward to knock the cigarette out of his hands but he’s quicker - as usual - and knocks you right back, hand connecting with your shoulder. The impact doesn’t hurt and isn’t really forceful either, but it surprises you nonetheless and thus, you sway a little until your feet loose their halt and you fall back on your bed. Your mattress creaaaks in surprise and so do you, squealing out a breathless oof as you connect with the soft surface.

“Easy, princess”, he fucking winks at you, tapping a little ash out of the opened window. Bastard.

But you won’t be giving up that easily. You don’t know how long the scent of cigarette smoke remains indoors but you won’t risk it.

“I am being serious, Heffley. You can’t smoke in here, if my parents find out-”

“Make me.”

“What?”

“Stop. Make me stop”, a laugh bellows deep in his throat as his eyes fall on your baffled expression, “C'mon, sweetheart, don’t be shy.”

You playfully roll your eyes at the smirk that’s forming at the corners of his mouth but quickly come to realize that he’s being serious, as he’s puffing out a fine cloud of smoke into the cool air of your bedroom.

Your eyes meet and you do your best at your signature You can’t be serious-look, but he just shrugs at that, snickering. It's an invitation. You decide to pick that fight with him too, having fought with him for a good 75% of your high school years - why let that one slide then?

You watch him for a moment - waiting for the right moment to strike while the two of you give each other the best Mexican stare-off you can muster without laughing - and then you jolt upwards, trying to catch his hand or arm, trying to steal the cigarette from him. The two of you start quite the tussle, hands slapping against each other, giggles errupting between breathless ouch’s and hmpf’s filling the air. You’re trying to pull at his shoulders but you’re too slow and he’s onto you in one swift motion, nearly fucking tackles you and throws you back on the bed. He’s quick, cigarette back between his lips and hands on your wrists, pinning you down on the mattress with some force as he hovers over you.

“Jesus, calm down Mister Quarterback”, you huff out, only slowly realizing that he’s holding you down with all of his weight. It makes your skin tingle and your mouth goes dry.

“Nice try”, he smirks, cigarette bobbing up and down. You can smell the smoke on his breath and his scent - deodorant and aftershave. You’re suddenly very much aware of how close he is to you, how his weight is pressing you down and of the heat that radiates from his body.

Your breath hitches and your eyes widen. That surely, strangely wasn't how you expected your evening to go. You just wanted to spend some time with him, you really didn’t plan on engaging in anything sexual tonight but he never failed to make your chest tingle, your loins catch fire and your abdomen clench with want - he never failed to ignite your longing, he never failed to make you want.

“Jesus, angel, look at you”, he hums, smoke errupting from his cigarette.

To Rodrick, you’re looking like a scene from one of his wet dreams suddenly coming to life - hair framing your face like a halo, wrists pinned down and body at his mercy, pupils blown and lips parted. His eyes are dark in the dim light, eyeliner smudged around the waterline and you want to run your hands through his messy hair. Your wrists try to wiggle out of his grasp but he just tsks at that, eyelids fluttering a little. It’s always nice, makes your skin grow even hotter, to see the way his body responds to you - and only you.

“Wish I could fuck you like that”, he blurts out, voice rough, before he can stop himself. You think, that you can see his cheeks flush a little in the warm light of your fairy lights.

And your head falls back at that and a quiet hum errupts from your throat, the thought making pleasure tingle in your lower back. It’s not like you haven’t thought of it, of him tying you up since the church incident. Something about his behaviour on that - turned very unholy - Sunday had sparked your fantasy.

“Do it”, you whisper, heat creeping up your cheeks.

He’s a little taken aback at that, eyes widening and eyebrows shooting up.

“What?”, he blurts out, catching his cigarette from falling onto your chest last minute, thus letting go of your left wrist. You flex it a little, already missing the delicious stretch, the slight pain that came with it.

“I wanna try it”, you repeat, bravery catching up with you, “I-”

Your gazes lock. He looks genuinely surprised and you smile at that.

“Really?”, his voice is so so soft and your stomach tingles, heart missing a beat, “I don’t want you to-”

“I trust you.”

And with that Rodrick’s back onto you, lips hungrily devouring yours as he dives deep into a kiss. You want to wrap your arms around him, but he’s pinning your wrists down again, cigarette slowly burning down between his fingers. The way he kisses you makes your desire for him reach new levels, has it shooting up to the stars.

“How you wanna do it?”, he mumbles against your lips between kisses, licking into your mouth, kissing the corners of your lips.

You haven’t really thought about it and your eyes roam your room aimlessly, trying to find a rope that you know you don’t have, while his lips wander down to your throat. Then it hits you.

“Your belt”, and he blinks at that.

“My belt?”, he sounds surprised, lips hovering over the soft skin right beneath your jaw. They wander back up, giving you a soft and quick peck on the lips.

“Sure. I keep mine in my top drawer.”

His eyelids flutter quickly with disbelief and then he smirks at you in a way that never fails to make wetness pool between your legs.

“Fuck, ain’t you just a dirty little slut?”, he hums and it’s so playful that you find yourself playing along, teeth catching your lower lip as you pull at it, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Don’t move”, he nearly growls, lets go of your wrists and scrambles to his feet, hurrying over to your drawer, carelessly putting out his cigarette on the windowsill. You should complain, tell him to clean that up now but you can’t bring yourself to care. His movements are quick and excited as he goes through your drawer and then emerges back victoriously, belt held high in one hand.

He takes a look at your bed, placing your belt on the mattress next to you. “Where do you want me to-", he gestures aimlessly and you suddenly come to realize: he’s nervous.

Rodrick Heffley is fucking nervous.

You carefully sit up as his eyes dart over your headboard. "Rodrick”, you can hear yourself say, voice soft and he looks at you, head tilting down a little, “Relax, please.”

You can see his chest rising and then falling, as he exhales audibly, nodding. “'S just-”, an insecure smile tugs at his lips, “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’ll let you know if it does - hurt, I mean. I promise”, your hand darts out, thumb brushing over his cheek. You can feel a slight stubble prickling at the palm of your hand. You guess that it would be perfectly visible in a few days, if he weren't to shave it off again, soon. It’s an oddly soft and sincere moment and you find your head spinning at the intimacy.

He nods and suddenly looks a lot more confident. “Good”, you hear him say, more to himself than to you, really, “Good.”

You nod, too and smile at him. “I really want to try this, don’t hold back. I’ll let you know, if I want to stop.”

"Alright", he takes another breath and grins, hand brushing over your cheek. His movements grow more confident, more comfortable quickly, as he guides you back up, wraps his hands around your waist. He's pulling you close, flush against his body and his hardening dick pokes you through his thick denim, right above your hipbone.

His hands dart to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up slowly and swiftly over your head, throwing it to the ground carelessly. You're in leisure wear and thus, not wearing a bra.

He hums deep in his throat and his hands come up to grope your tits, closing around them and giving them a light squeeze. You sigh and press yourself against him a little more.

Rodrick leans down, tongue gliding over your throat, down over your chest and rubs over your left nipple, right thumb and index finger closing in around the right.

The way he teases you, flicking his tongue and closing his lips around the sensitive skin, pulling at the right nipple, has your knees buckling and a needy whine escaping your throat. Your hands come up and bury themselves in his messy hair.

Encouraged by that, Rodrick's hand leaves your tit and caresses your stomach, gliding down towards the waistband of your pants. He toys with it for a moment, before slipping a hand in, immediately diving for your panty-clad pussy, rubbing his index finger against your clit.

You moan, relishing in the pleasure that shoots through your body as he flicks his wrist, teeth carefully pulling at your nipple, tongue lapping over it.

It feels so so good, but you already miss the feeling of him being completely in control and your fingertips tingle with anticipation.

"Rod", you whisper, gently brushing through his thick hair, guiding his face up to look at you. He's radiating warmth against your skin and you feel your knees going weak as he looks up at you, teeth still grazing over the sensitive flesh, fingers rubbing circles over your clit, panties dampening.

"Yeah, princess? 'S all good?"

"Can you", you clear your throat, heat flushing your cheeks, "Can you tie me up? Like, before you-?"

You smile and his eyes widen a little, looking at you quietly. And then he chuckles, soft and deep.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you want", Rodrick straightens back up, pulling his hand out of your pants, wrapping it around your waist instead. He pulls you into a kiss and slowly guides you backwards, sinks onto the soft mattress with you. His movements are heated and vibrate with arousal, lust but he's gentle nonetheless as he guides you upwards, until your head rests on your pillow.

"Put your left arm up", and you do as you're told, while he's fishing for the belt behind him. He eventually gets ahold of it, and wraps it around one outer bar of your bed's headboard. "Let me know if it's too tight", his voice is quiet as he ties your wrist to the cool wooden surface and you watch his fingers making quick work of the buckle. You're elbow's bend in a nice degree, tying to snug to the wood without pressing into your flesh or pulling at your strings too much.

It feels good and you let him know by raising your other arm in an already similar position. He chuckles, hand brushing over your cheek, before leaning down and kissing you gently. It makes your chest tingle and you hear him opening his own belt, buckle clinking. He pulls away from you, licking his lips, to pull down his trousers. It takes him a moment and when he finally got rid of his jeans he quickly pulls his belt out of the loops, before throwing his jeans across your bedroom.

He's eager and so are you, chest rising and falling rapidly as you quickly suck in your breath. You can see his already hard dick straining against his striped boxers and your mouth waters at the sight.

He wraps the belt around the outer bar of the headboard on the other side, guiding your wrist into the loop, tying it down. You flex your wrists a little, wiggling your fingers.

"There you go, girl", he hums as he closes the belt buckle around your left wrist, thus tying you securely against your headboard, elbows bend in a comfortable angle. You pull at the restraints a little, making sure they're snug. They are and the way your arms stretch, putting you on display makes your head swim a little, arousal pooling between your legs.

"How does it feel?", his thumbs are caressing your hips, watching you intently.

"Feels good", you admit, arching your back a little, feeling the stretch in your arms, your shoulder blades.

Rodrick smiles at that, looking a little proud. "Looks good, too", his voice is rough and deep and you blush, squirm a little under his gaze. You suddenly feel very warm, needing him.

"Touch me, please", you whisper, nearly a whine and he complies, fingers dancing over the hem of your panties, before tugging them and your leisure wear down and spreading your legs. Your underwear and joggers land on the ground, just as his jeans did, with a quiet thud. But you don't give a fuck, focused on his index finger that slowly runs through your folds, feeling the wetness and warmth. You groan at that, roll your hips into the touch.

"Patience, girl", he scolds, but flicks his thumb over your clit anyways, making you moan, eyes rolling back into your skull, "Let me just-"

He retreats his fingers from you and you sigh in disapproval. He tugs at his shorts and pulls them down, dick springing free and discards them into the mess he made out of your room.

You can't fight it, eyes immediately flying down to his hard cock, wetting your lips with your tongue, but he's already leaning back down, snaking one hand between your bodies, the other supporting his weight by resting next to your chest, flat on the mattress.

Rodrick's tongue flicks over your throat, your collarbones and travels down towards your tits, pressing sweet kisses onto the sensitive flesh while his fingers runs through your folds, gathering your wetness.

You moan and push your hips towards him and his touch, elbows rising and falling back against the headboard. You can feel his hard dick resting against your thigh as he pushes one finger into you, making you hiss with the sudden stretch, while his thumb rubs small circles over your clit.

"Always so tight for me", he groans and the hairs on your arms stand up at that, has you mewling in the back of your throat, shivers running down your spine.

He slowly pushes is finger in and out of you until you're loose enough for a second. As he pushes his middle finger in, his lips find your throat again, teeth and lips nibbling at the soft skin. It's a nice, muted sting and you know that he'll leave a mark, but you can't bring yourself to care as he presses both fingers in deep. Your hips shake a little a the sudden pleasure, that grows when he rubs your clit again, lips still sucking at your throat, tongue lapping over the now sensitive and stinging skin.

He soon picks up the speed of his fingers, mouth wandering upwards, closing in around the soft spot beneath your jaw, softly biting and sucking.

You realize that he's literally marking you up and shivers roll over your body at that, having you moan deeply. It spurrs him on, digits picking up a faster rhythm.

Rodrick's thumb flicks over your clit, while his middle and index finger rut into your hole relentlessly, the other hand still buried into the mattress. “There you go, good girl”, his fingers part a little, scissoring you open. You can feel your muscles clench and you throw your head back, moaning at the pleasure that rolls through your body. You can feel your walls pushing against his fingers and wetness flooding your folds, as you squirt against his palm.

He hums in approval, deciding that you're wet enough, before slowing the rhythm of his fingers down, until they come to a rest completely. You whine at the loss of stimulation, looking back up at him.

“Fuck, would someone look at that”, he retrieves his fingers from your clenching hole, examines the wetness your juices left on his digits in the dim light, “Tell me what you want, princess.”

You can still feel his hard dick pressing against your thigh and it makes you groan, feeling the hot and hard flesh so close to your equally hot core. You want to cum but you want him more.

“Please, Rodrick”, you whisper, “Please, I want your cock.”

He smirks at that, eyes growing a little darker.

“Yeah, guess we can do something 'bout that, pretty girl.”

Rodrick parts from you and you want to complain, but he’s already shifting onto his knees. You watch him kneeling over you, cock hard and heavy and the tip glistening, bobbing a little as he shifts into a comfortable position over your body. Your legs are still parted and you can feel your pussy aching, wetness dripping onto your sheets.

One of his hands finds your hip, the other comes to a rest on the headboard of your bed, as he leans down. You desperately want to touch him and your fingers wiggle, wrists straining against the cool leather of the belts. He’s so close, hovering over you but he’s not close enough.

“Oh no no no, don’t move, hm?”, he sing-songs, tongue darting out to lick his lips, gaze running over your face, your flushed cheeks and flushed chest, hard nipples and parted lips.

You nod and he rewards you with a low hum, thumb caressing your hip, before he’s finally leaning down again.

Rodrick’s lips ghost over your chin and his tongue laps over your lower lip, as his hand runs up your chest, squeezing your right tit. You groan at that, the way his thumb runs over your nipple, as his lips capture yours. The kiss is surprisingly sweet, gentle and deep, his warm lips pressed onto yours, noses touching, rubbing against each other. You can feel his cock resting on your stomach, while his tongue slides past your lips and brushes against yours. You welcome it home, while he slowly ruts his dick against the skin between your ribcage.

“Shit, that’s hot, you’re hot”, he mumbles against your lips, and it’s barely audible, voice nearly a whisper. It makes your chest tingle and makes you little braver.

“Wanna suck it”, you reply, voice equally as quiet, not wanting to disturb him, disturb the oddly tender moment that slowly unfolds between the two of you, “Please, let me suck your cock.”

He’s quiet for a moment, blinking at you, like he’s far away and then suddenly snaps back into it, nodding feverishly. “Shit yes, fuck yes”, he rasps and his hand runs up your chest, ghosts over your throat and come to rest gently on your cheek before he leans back down, locking your lips once more. His lips are hot and plush and you moan against them, as he kisses you like he’s starving for it.

Rodrick eventually parts from you to straighten up and you swallow as his dick comes into your line of sight. The tip is flushed and a fresh drop of precum pools at the tip. You take a deep breath trying to ready yourself for it, tongue darting out to wet your lips in advance. One of his hands still rests on the headboard, the other one strokes your cheek one final time before brushing a few loose strands from your forehead. There’s a slight smile forming on his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, as his hand leaves your hair and wraps itself around his dick.

“Be a good girl and open up for me”, and thus, you do, lips parting as saliva’s already pooling underneath your tongue again. Rodrick carefully pushes himself into your mouth and you hum around his scent, the musky and salty taste that spreads on your tongue. His cock is heavy and hot, the vein on the bottom pulsating. He rubs the tip over your tongue and you open up even wider, looking up at him. He groans as your gazes lock, lets go off his dick and pushes himself in without the help of his hands, until a good half of it is buried between your lips. At first you’re glad that he’s starting off slow, but as you wrap your lips around him, he grants you no time to accommodate, immediately starts to slowly thrust into your warm mouth. His other hand comes to rest flat on the wall.

“Jesus girl, bet you look fucking hot”, Rodrick breathes out and tries to catch a look at where your bodies meet, while his balls graze along your sternum. You suck in air through your nose, gaze darting away from his belly, meeting his. His lips are slightly parted and you can hear the way his breath hitches in his throat.

“Fuck, that’s so good, you always suck my cock so good”, he pushes his hips forward a little more and you relax your throat as he buries himself deeper in your mouth. You moan around it and both, the sensation and the noise, has him moaning, too.

He rolls his hips slooowly, his eyelids falling shut as he slowly fucks into your mouth, grip on the headboard tightening.

You look up at him and his ecstatic expression, the way his eyebrows clench and then rise a little, groans falling from his lips, while spit runs down your chin. Your stomach tingles as you come to realize that you’re the reason for his pleasure.

His eyelids flutter and suddenly you’re met with hazy gaze. He blinks a couple of times, before carefully pulling himself out of your mouth. You sputter a bit, trying to catch your breath to ask him why he’s stopped, what’s wrong but he’s onto you quicker than you can think.

His lips meet yours so gently that you want to whine but instead you only strain against your shackles, head sinking into your pillow.

“Fuck, you’re definitely something else”, he murmurs against your lips, hand caressing your cheek, the other one still clasped around the headboard for leverage.

He straightens himself up a little, hand resting motionless on your cheek as he tries to get a good look of you.

And then, his eyes turn dark, as his lips tilt up into a mischievous smirk. “Wanna try something, angel?”, his thumb brushes over your lower lip and spreads your drool across the soft skin.

You nod, mind a little foggy already, with the taste of his dick and precum heavy on your tongue. You want his cock back, pressed snuggly against your lips, your tongue. You lick your lips, tongue resting on your lower lip.

“Jesus”, he huffs out breathlessly, gaze following your tongue, “Don’t distract me, girl.” His hand pats your cheek lightly, and you croon.

“Yeah, thought you’d like that. Want me to hit a little harder?”, shit, yes you do. You nod, leaning your face into his palm a little, closing your eyes.

“Need you to say it, princess”, his other hand, the one that was resting on the headboard, slowly comes down, caresses your shoulder, ghosts over your breast and tugs at your nipple gently. It makes you sigh with pleasure.

“Yes, hit me”, you sigh, mind fogging up continuously, “Please.”

“Look at me”, his voice is deep and rough and it snaps you out of it, eyelids fluttering and gaze shooting up to his face.

Let me know if it’s too hard he mouthes and you nod, shivers running down your spine and arms, anticipation pooling in your stomach. You wonder where he suddenly got that idea, but you’re excited to try it out, excited for him to be a little more rough.

Rodrick’s hand on your cheek guides your chin upward a little and then disappears for a split second. The moment it meets your face again it’s accompanied by a loud slap that throws your head to the side a little, leaves you gasping. It stings in a perfect way, the pain igniting pleasure that travels down your body and right to your pussy, makes you squirm with fresh arousal, wetness. Your back arches with it, wrists straining against the belts as you chase any sort of friction.

You close yours eyes for a short moment, relishing in both, the pain and the pleasure. His hand softly turns your face back to him, thumb caressing your lower lip and your tongue darts out to lick its pad.

Rodrick’s gaze is soft and his eyes are dark, gleaming. His chest is heaving with the deep breaths he’s sucking in through his parted lips.

“Did you”, he swallows thickly, adam’s apple bobbing, “Did you like it?”

You nod, warmth spreading in your cheek, your skin tingling. “Keep going”, you whisper, lips brushing against his thumb as you speak and he looks reliefed, before his expression grows a little more stern again.

“Open up, pretty girl, I’m not done”, he hums, thumb entering your mouth and pressing down on your tongue, which is lolling out of your mouth already, making your jaw go slack, lips opened wide.

Rodrick smirks at that and pulls his hand away, secures his own weight by placing it flat on the wall, before shoving his dick into your mouth in one swift motion.

You choke a little at the sudden intrusion but it feels good, having him deep in your mouth, tasting him, drool gathering on your tongue. He starts a slow rhythm as he fucks into your mouth and your eyelids flutter. The way he's using you, fucks into your mouth while his gaze is resting your face, has your mind entering a hazy state, only one thought pushing itself to the front, to conciousness: be good be good be good.

Your wrists strain against the belts as you lean forward, face meeting his thrusts as you move against them and he moans at that, deep in his throat, throwing his head back.

"Jesus, girl", Rodrick's thrusts still and you take the chance to suck him off, head bobbing back and forth, while you look up at him.

His chest is flushed and you wish that you could run your hands up the warm skin, feel his heart beat picking up beneath your palms. His lips are parted and eyes closed, as he breathes audibly, moaning as you rub your tongue along the bottom of his dick.

You bury him deep in your mouth, pubic hair tickling the tip of your nose as you relax your throat to take him all in. His hip jolts forward at that, making you choke and sputter around his dick, eyes tearing up, as his head falls forward, brows clenching. You take few deep breaths through your nose, while still bobbing your head forward, growing comfortable with the thick head of his cock hitting the back of your throat as he starts to thrust into your mouth again.

"Fuck, that feels so good", he groans, knuckles turning white as he adds more force to his grip around the headboard, balls slapping against your chin.

Rodrick's eyes snap open again and your gazes lock - his eyes cloudy and dark with lust, yours teary and pupils blown wide - and his hips stutter at that. You know he's close.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck", he curses and rolls his hips back, slowly gliding out of your mouth. You cough and catch your breath, blinking a few times, as he takes in-and exhales deeply.

"Easy girl, don't wanna cum yet", he huffs out and you your lips pull up at that, throwing a dopey smile at him, lips swollen and red, throat dry.

He playfully pouts at you, as he notices your relaxed, hazy stare. "Want me to put it back inside of you?", he wraps one hand around his hard dick, that's shiny with your saliva, and rubs it over your cheek. You nod, tongue lolling out again, inviting his cock back in but he just tsks at that. "Greedy little slut, ain't you?", he hums, giving you a light slap with his dick and you whine, "Nu-huh. Gonna fuck your pretty brains out, just watch it."

Your eyelids are heavy, pussy aching for his touch, as Rodrick scoots back down, spreads your legs and hooks one up, into the crook of his elbow. "Y'ready, princess?", and you nod feverishly, wiggling your hips a little bit.

Rodrick grins at you, the way he always does and it has your stomach doing a little, funny flip, before he wraps one hand around his dick again, rubbing it alongside your folds for a short moment to slick himself up even more, until he pushes himself inside of your hole. You welcome him home, walls clenching around his cock, your warmth and tightness has him hissing.

He's slowly pushing himself deeper, until he's bottoming out, making you gasp. "Shit", your curse and your back arches, pleasure crawling up your spine.

You're desperate for Rodrick to move, to fuck you quick and hard until you're senseless but he just does - nothing. He's just kneeling there, hand caressing your thigh and the other one holding your leg up and bend, not moving, not thrusting, just watching you.

You scramble for words, sputtering out utter nonsense. "Need you", you whine, finally forming coherent words and he chuckles at that.

"Say the magic word, sweetheart", he hums, tilting his head to the side a little and you whine again, chest rising with want.

"Please", you breathe, looking at him, "Please, please, ple-"

The word gets stuck in your throat as he suddenly starts moving, pulls out and shoves himself back in quickly, knocking the air out of your lungs. You gasp, back arching, a moan escaping your lips.

He sets a quick pace, rolling his hips with quite the force. Obscene sounds of his balls slapping against your wet skin fill the air, of his grunting and your groaning. It's a nice rhythm, that has your nerves singing and your abdomen clenching.

Your body feels heavenly light already but it's not enough, it doesn't feel like swallowing you whole just yet.

He moans deeply, grip on your leg tightening as it uselessly bounces next to his hip. His other hand lets go off your other leg, snaking up your body and closing in around your tit, squeezing it.

Fresh arousal floods your pussy and your eyes dart in on his hand, the way it closes in around your flesh, nipple peaking out between his slender fingers. His dick stretches you delightfully as he fucks into you and you bite your lower lip, deciding that you need more.

"'S not enough", you finally whine, one tit bouncing freely with the force of his thrusts, the other still in his grip, as he squeezes it again. You throw your head back, pressing your hips towards him.

"What", he huffs, surpressing a moan, "What do you need, princess?"

You know exactly what you want, what you need, desperate for him to be even rougher.

“Shit, do it again, do it again”, you chant and his brows furrow in confusion until it clicks. He smirks mischievously, utters out a Fuck, you slut between deep breaths.

His hand leaves your tit and halts in the air for a moment, until it comes down, slapping you across the face. It makes you moan and throw your head to the side, while the stinging pain spreads in your cheek.

He rolls his hips into you with force and you moan, throwing your head back. "Yes, yes, yes", you huff out, "Please, fuck me harder, shit. Rodrick, please."

He smirks at that. Seeing you moan, face contorting with pleasure amd begging like a cheap whore for more has his breath hitching and chest tingling with want, butterflies errupting underneath the thick arousal that clouds his mind.

It spurrs him on and he grabs your hips, pushing himself even deeper inside of you, head of his dick hitting against your cervix repeatedly. It makes you gasp and then moan, as he starts to move quicker than before. One of his hands come up, closing in around your chin, holding your face in a thight grip as he ruts into you.

Your body moves with every thrust as the two of you hold each other's gazes, his own rhythm has him panting and groaning, making you moan.

Rodrick has a good look at you like that, the bruises forming on your throat from sucking on the soft skin earlier, your flushed chest and your bouncing tits. But what get's him the most is the way your face looks - pupils blown wide, lips parted and cheeks reddened, gaze soft and moaning with every thrust of his.

He's close and he knows that you're close, too, needing only a little more to tip you over the edge. He feels your wall clench around his dick, hips spasming already, stuttering against his rapid pace.

"Shit, look at you", he breathes out and a whine leaves your mouth at the praise, "You look so hot - fuck - you are hot, I l-"

The words get stuck in Rodrick's throat but his gaze transports them and they hit you square in the face, like a punch in the gut and you press your eyes shut as white hot pleasure takes over your brain, makes your nerves explode and legs shake.

It takes you a while to come back to earth and when you finally do, mind clearing up, the first thing you feel is him.

Rodrick's warm body is pressed flush against your back and you can feel his chest rise and fall. He must've undone the restraints a few minutes ago and turned you on your side, one arm wrapped around you. It's oddly calming, comforting even, with the way his lips graze over your neck, your shoulders.

"Welcome back", he whispers and you chuckle, a tired and blissed-out sound. You stretch your legs a little, body feeling sore.

"Stay here, I'll get you a glass of water", his voice is coarse and you hum quietly, feeling the mattress dip as he gets up, searching for his boxers.

"Y/N?", your best friend looks up at you, the assignment in front of her completely forgotten, gaze trained on your throat. You don't notice her though, not her stare, not her speaking to you.

The two of you are sitting in the cafeteria, working on your homework for next week with your teacher surprisingly falling ill this morning and no substitute available.

Well, she's working. You're busy watching a certain someone across the huge room, talking to his friends, spinning his pencil like you imagine he usually spins his drum sticks. He laughs at something one of his band mates said and you find yourself smiling involuntarily at the way the sound errupts from his throat.

"Y/N!", your friend says - again - more persistent this time, raising one hand and waving it infront of your face, pulling you ot of your daydream and back onto planet earth.

She looks at you, a little reproachful, a little confused and turns around in her chair, tries to follow your gaze. "Who were you -"

Your breath hitches and you nearly cough.

"What did you want to know?", you quickly try to distract her - but to no avail.

"No no no, I wanna see who or what you were watching", she says, more to herself really, eyes darting around the room. Your course is there and a few other people from your year, that also happen to have a free period.

"Nothing, no one", you stutter, "Listen, what did you fill in for question number four, I really don't-"

"Oh my god", she whispers, mouth agape and then her head snaps back at you.

You frown. Fuck.

"No way", she says slowly, looking over her shoulder once more, then lowering her voice into a conspiratorial hiss, "Rodrick fucking Heffley? Why are you-"

Her gaze drops to your throat once more. You can see - hear - the wheels in her head turning and your eyes grow wide.

Oh no no no no.

"Oh my god!", she screeches and a few people turn their heads, Rodrick and his friends included, "That is not happening!"

Your head sinks down on your textbook in embarrassment as she bursts out in laughter.

#rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley x reader #smut #doawk rodrick #doawk #devon bostick #rodrick rules #yeah he still does i dont make the rules #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley smut #rodrick smut #my writing

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metalbuckaroo · 3 years

Text

Birthday

Summary: Toby invites Bucky to his 11th birthday party.

Warnings: good bit of sexual tension, rude ass parent, cursing, I think that's it???

AU: Babysitter!Bucky x Fem!Reader

AN: I waited soo long to finish this that I couldn't remember exactly what I'd planned for it, so I winged half of it.

THE FILL IN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Moodboard by @bucksdolll

"Toby seems to be warming up to the temporary pretty well." One of the Moms whispered to yours. "Bucky? He's a sweetheart. Isn't he, dear?"

You looked away from where Bucky was being swarmed by the younger kids and a couple of their older sisters you'd went to high school with; your mom giving you a sweet smile. "A big softie."

"He's great with Toby, and is sweet on a little miss someone." She grinned, poking your side as you got two bottles of water from the cooler. "Well, aren't you lucky." One of the other mom's chided. "Extremely."

"Go save him, poor boy looks like he's ready to combust." Your mom sighed, fixing a few things on the table that held cake and various types of snacks.

Turning on your heels, you went to where he was stood letting Toby babble on about his arm. "Can I borrow you for a sec?"

Bucky gave a bright smile and nodded, letting you guide him to the open back door. "I think he's have a good time showing off his super cool babysitter." You teased, handing him some extra drinks for the cooler. "Does he ever run out of energy?"

Shaking your head, you looked over the way the dark blue t-shirt clung to his skin, the dips of his muscular torso visible even through the wet fabric. "You're not gonna take that off are ya." You said, tugging the hem.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. "Nothing wrong with being a little modest, Buck." You smiled, noticing how he chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Don't wanna, uh, scare a bunch of kids."

"Or have their dads chasing you down because, the wives are gawking at you." You said, scrunching your nose up at him. He breathed a laugh and shook his head again, leaning down to peck a simple kiss to your lips. "Yeah. I don't think that's gonna happen."

After presents were opened and cake was ate, you and Bucky hid away in the kitchen again for a few moments away from the crowd of kids and parents. "You look beautiful, sunshine." He said, adjusting the thin strap of your dress. "Don't look too bad yourself, Buck."

Your fingers wrapped around the cool metal of his dog tags, tugging them so he'd lean down; his lips ghosting across yours when he turned his head to the opening back door.

"James! There you are." Your mom breathed, pulling the door shut behind her. "Mallory just extended her vacation for another 3 weeks. Please, tell me you're available?" She clasped her hands together and gave him pleading eyes.

"Yeah, of course." Bucky smiled, nodding his head. "Great, perfect. A few of Toby's friends are staying, so I hope they don't bother you too much." She said, looking to you.

"I'm sure Bucky wouldn't mind staying to help, right?" You looked up at him, patting his chest lightly. His eyebrows raised and he nodded, swallowing thickly. "I'll stay."

"Miranda, I've been looking for you." Darlene, one of the most judgemental moms, said, Toby and her son following in behind her. "I've been meaning to ask you- where's Matthew? Shouldn't he be here instead of-" She stopped when she saw Bucky, still standing very close to you.

"He had work." Your mom said with a forced smile. "No wonder it didn't work out, that's all he thinks about." Darlene said clicking her tongue. "Now, you're stuck having to pay a babysitter who-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna stop you right there. Toby, go play outside." Bucky looked down at your hard expression, putting his hand on Toby's shoulder to walk with him into the backyard. "That's not an appropriate thing to talk about at a kid's birthday party. He is eleven, he doesn't need to know why his dad didn't show up."

"It's just- this new babysitter of yours is so-"

"Sweet? Shy, handsome, good with kids? If none of those are what you are about to say, then don't say it." She looked at you dumbfounded, glancing at your mom. "You're not gonna let her talk like this are you?"

Your mom shrugged, leaning against the kitchen counter. "She's grown. I don't dictate what she says. Besides, she's right."

"Unbelievable."

As the families dispersed, going home once the sun started to set, your mom looking exhausted as she cleaned the kitchen. "I've got it, go on to bed. You've had your stress fill for the day."

She gave you a soft thank you before shuffling away to the hallway, Bucky walking in from the chaos filled living room. "Make it out alive?" You teased, picking up the trash that littered the counter. "Barely. Need help?"

His hand rested on the small of your back, pink tinting his cheeks. "You could move the couch for me? Put this to use." You teased, fingertips running up the dark metal of his left arm before wrapping around his wrist.

You finished cleaning the kitchen and went to check on the state of the living room; Bucky laying out the blankets and pillows on the floor for the kids.

"Can we watch Nightmare on Elm Street?" Toby asked, looking up at you with hopeful eyes as you picked up the remote. "No, it's too scary for you." You said, clicking through the movie selections. "Please?"

Bucky chuckled when you rolled your eyes and nodded. "One scream out of any of you and I'm switching it to lullabies."

It didn't take long.

Not even 30 minutes into the movie you were switching it to Toy Story, ignoring the protests that sounded from them.

Another 30 minutes and they were all passed out, sprawled out on the blankets and snoring as you tugged Bucky with you to the kitchen.

"Knew that was gonna happen." You said, breathing a laugh and lifting yourself onto the counter.

Bucky moved to stand in front of you, your knees parting on instinct to let him stand between them. "Steve said he'll have your car done in a couple days. Want me to take you back to your apartment tomorrow? So, you don't have to take the train."

Nodding, you wrapped your arms around his neck loosely; pulling his lips to yours. You all but melted completely in his touch, cool, smooth metal on your right thigh a beautiful contrast to the warm skin on your left.

"I'm so fucking lucky..." He muttered against your lips before pressing his tongue against yours.

"Ew, stop eating my sisters face." You breathed a laugh at Toby's tired voice, looking over your shoulder at him. "Whst are you doing up?" You teased, turning slightly to see him better. "You know I don't like to admit when you're right..."

You were getting restless. Wanting more every time you'd get near Bucky; more of the sweetness of his kiss and gentle, adoring touches.

But hwahented things taken slow. Which you fully understood; and with the group of kids in the front room, it wasn't going to go far anyways.

"Scared?" He nodded softly and you slid off of the counter. "Calm that down and come watch some tv." You smiled at Bucky, gesturing to the strain against his athletic shorts.

Bucky's face burned as he watched you usher Toby back into the living room, staying back for a moment before following.

"Don't you dare tell anyone about this." Toby said, pointing a finger at Bucky that made him look to where you were holding the boy's hand from your spot, laid on the loveseat. "You're about as threatening as the neighbors ankle biter." Bucky retorted, sitting in the recliner.

You had turned some random TV show on, suddenly becoming extra quiet within an hour.

Bucky glanced from the screen to see you sleeping peacefully, Toby's hand barely hanging onto yours as Bucky stepped over one of the kids to grab the blanket from the back of the loveseat.

Gently laying it over you, he leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek; biting back a smile when you subconsciously tilted your head to follow his lips.

There's always tomorrow.

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

Taglist: @likeahorribledream @cxddlyash @iwannabekilledtwice @bookstan0618 @marvel-3407 @glxwingrxse @yliumy @pineprincess @makbarnes @cupcakehinch @doasyoudesireandlive @magicwithinnightmares @preferredrealty @andy-is-gay @stucky-my-ship

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #babysitter!bucky fluff #babysitter!bucky

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lazarettta · 3 years

Text

Misthios II

Characters (Mother Miranda, Reader, Lady Alcina)

Word count (3.1k)

Rating (M)

Warning (little NSFW, language)

Did you really think that Miranda was going to let you leave so easily? Again?

Anything italicized is a flashback...this is part two to Misthios

Your time with the Vikings was fun but all good things had to come to an end. Over the years, you hadn't been too keen on letting too many people in on your secret. Your friends and makeshift family were getting older and you weren't. You were still fit for battle and as young and strong as you were twelve years ago. You knew that you'd overstayed your welcome but you weren't ready to leave until there were too many comments about you not aging a day. It had taken you a week to get your steed ready for long travel and to make sure that you had everything necessary, including the coin to purchase more supplies should you need it.

You weren't above doing odd jobs during your travels if needed. The viking children ran alongside you and your stallion as you both trotted out of the village until you were on an open road. You saluted them before taking off into a run following the lead of your war horse, allowing her to dictate your travels until she decided that she needed a break.

You had all of the time and opportunity in the land.

You traveled like that for a few days until you were coming upon a village but the path was winding and would take some time but you had plenty of daylight and were in no rush. Everything was peaceful until you came across an overturned wagon and nearly trampled over a body laying face down into the soft ground. The dark puddle around him did not indicate that the man would be rising soon.

You were quick to draw your bow and arrow, a good distance from the fight and you had an advantage in case any of them came for you. There was a black flag on the ground near the wagon but it held an insignia that you didn't recognize but you knew royalty when you saw it. The soldiers had the upper hand but there were a few of them dead as well. On the other side, you saw one of the bandits jump on the back of a horse to leave.

Without much of a thought, you raised your weapon of choice and not a second later, you felt the smooth wood of the arrow slip between your calloused fingers and you watched proudly as it found a home in the base of the man's spine, effectively halting his escape but leaving him alive for the time being but he was not without suffering.

It was at that same moment the last bandit was struck down. The remaining soldiers turned to you with their swords raised but before anything else could happen, a sharp and clear but decidedly feminine voice stopped the misunderstanding before it could happen.

A woman with light-colored long hair stepped from behind a large oak tree with two foot soldiers in tow. She didn't seem to care about the ends of her dress being sullied by the mud and blood on the trail as she made her way towards you. You climbed down from your horse when she was closer, not surprised that you were taller than she was but she wasn't that much shorter than you really.

Most other women you met that were your height or taller were fellow warriors. Her eyes were what really startled you, they were so clear they were almost white. They did not have a clear color to them, not one that you could see.

“You are a very long way from home, Viking.”

“Yes, in search of a new one.” you glanced over her shoulder briefly to the soldiers dealing with the one who tried to escape, his agonized yelling startling a nest of crows nearby.

“You don't seem like the type to miss a killing shot.”

Your gaze fell back to her unwavering one and you fought the urge to fidget under her stare even though you were the one towering over her. Her posture was none threatening and her smile had a teasing tilt to it, but her eyes...they pierced your soul, pinned you. You were unsure if you wanted to run from them or figure out how deep they went.

“I figured your King and Queen would want one alive to question.”

“The King has been dead for a long time now.” The woman tilted her head back slightly as if looking at you in a new light and you straightened your back and pushed your shoulders subconsciously and the corners of her pale lips curled a little more. “Have dinner with me tonight, viking, as a token of my gratitude. Those bandits have been quite a torn in my side for a very long time now. Thanks to you, maybe now I will find their leader.”

The physical ache you felt when waking up was around your throat, well your whole neck. Your skin had long since healed over but it took the aches and bruises a while longer to go away. You don't know how long you've been unconscious but even without opening your eyes you knew that you were no longer outside on the side of a mountain which meant that she didn't kill you. But she still hurt you. You didn't know if she showed restraint because you both knew that killing you would be pointless and temporary or she truly didn't want to see you harm even if she was upset with you. You knew that it was the former.

Upset being the understatement.

You opened one eye then the other, wherever she put you it was warm if not a little moldy and it was definitely dark, you weren't quite sure if the torch on the other side of your cage helped any. Maybe it wasn't meant for you to use to see but to ensure that you wouldn't go completely insane in total darkness. It made more sense, you wouldn't want your prisoner to look around either lest they find something to use to escape.

You moved so that your back was against the stone wall, mildly surprised to find that it was a little damp. Your neck was still covered in dried blood but you didn't bother trying to scrape it off, knowing from experience that it wasn't the most pleasant feeling and one you chose not to deal with at the moment though you did pick away the random straws of hay from your skin as you'd been laying on it.

If you had to guess then you were in a basement, whether it was hers or not—you couldn't just sit there. Your backpack was long gone, you didn't have to look around your little cage to know that much. You checked for your gun not surprised to find that it was gone...she even took the damn holster.

You checked for your knife on your waist...gone. You checked the one that was hidden in your boots, or was supposed to be but it was gone too. Even after all this time, she knew you all too well. But even without weapons, a small cage like this wouldn't be enough to keep you. You just needed a plan but you had no idea where the hell you were. You reached up to feel your neck where you remembered her nails digging painfully into your flesh...

Gold plated armor, soft leathers and the finest silk that currency could purchase found themselves haphazardly tossed about all over the floor of the room. They reflected nicely against the small flames of the candles around the room.

The room was temporary, a small stop during your travels across the sea—this was merely a supply stop, but with the weather so severe, the waves were slaves to Poseidon's wrath. The ship was safer docked but she wouldn’t spend another night on board if she didn’t have to.

And didn’t, neither of you did. You were her personal champion—you went where she went. She pointed, and you left a path of bloody boot prints. Her wish was your command.

She laid bare before you, it wasn’t a sight that many were blessed with and no matter what sin you’ve committed at this woman’s whim (hell, even your own), you always thanked the Gods for giving you sight.

The fireplace is the only thing lighting up the entire room behind you both, you could feel the heat of it drying up your sweat but not all of it. You were straddling her, knees on either side of her waist—one hand on her waist and the other by her head, fingers interlaced with the hand that wasn’t reaching back clutching you tight, nails digging into your skin but that slight pain only fueled you.

Her light hair was out of its strict confines and complicated royal hairstyle, now splayed across her blemish free back and the pillows.

This was your reward; having her. You did exactly as she asked, you brought her the heads of those who crossed her and bathed in their blood and in the blood of their loved ones. You left no stone unturned simply because it was her wish.

And in return…you got her, however you wanted. But even trapped underneath you—she was never not in command. You placed your other hand next to her head as well, feeling her cool breath ghosting over your fingers turn sharp and unsteady when your hips snapped forward without warning. Her fingers tightening around yours. She tried to push back against you to take back some control but you met her attempt with untamed energy. Miranda's breathy chuckle tapered off into a mix of a growl and a moan when you did it again and again…

Shaking your head, you let it fall back on the hard wall behind you with your eyes closed. You've longed since buried those memories but they were fresh, as if they were made yesterday. The ache in your heart felt fresh too.

Then you felt it. No you felt her. Her presence was so strong, nearly suffocating and that feeling of dread was crawling up your spine again and you suppressed a strong shudder. You reluctantly opened your eyes, knowing that those eyes you fell so hard for would be looking back at you—the same eyes that tore to shreds. Even after all this fucking time...

You exhaled slowly and heavy, content to just stare at your boots, “I didn't expect to find you here of all places...”

“Would you have come if you'd known that I would be here?”

You looked up and saw that her startling bright eyes were staring back at you, still just as clear as the day you first met, “Why am I in this cage and not dead in a ditch? Besides the fucking obvious.”

She didn't say anything to you for a moment, simply standing there staring at you—drinking you in, it made your skin crawl, both good and bad. If she was bothered about you blatantly ignoring her question, it didn't show—or at least that damn mask she was wearing hid it away from you. All those emotions you'd long since buried and thought you dealt with came bubbling back to the surface like bile in the back of your throat but you kept a tight rein on it. Your explosive temper never dulled over time but you got better at containing it.

But no matter how good you were with restraining yourself, Miranda always knew. You could see it in her eyes. You hated her for it.

“I felt you the moment you arrived.” she said instead after long minutes of unblinking silence, she edged closer to your cell, unconcerned with the fact that you could lunge forward at any point and grab her. “I'm relieved to find you're still alive...and in good health?”

“Either kill me and ditch me somewhere, or just let me go, Miranda. I'm not doing this with you.”

“I cannot and will not do either, (Y/n).” she responded coolly after another minute of silence, keeping your gaze now that you've given it to her, “I just got you back, I'm not going to let you leave me so soon. Not again.”

“You didn't really give me a choice the first time!” you snapped back despite what you told yourself earlier about keeping calm and breathing, but seeing Miranda now—even more beautiful than she was before? It was too much at once. “You made that decision for both of us.” you said, much more quieter but she was close enough to have heard you perfectly fine and you were finally able to look away from those burning eyes.

“You're different.”

“The world is different.”

“Time has made you soft.”

You scoffed, “Would you like to borrow some of it? I mean...what the fuck is this? Where am I?” She regarded you calmly as if she was assessing you, but her eyes were roaming too much to be a simple assessment and you just laughed, sharp and unforgiving, you couldn't help yourself, “Do you feel guilty? Did you ever?”

“I don't have time to feel guilty!” she answered a little too quickly and you saw how her shoulders shifted slightly beneath those feathers, always a tell sign of hers that you never failed to notice and honestly you were surprised that you still even remembered her tales. She was so obviously different, you both were but this dance? While off tune and tense, was still your dance.

“Right, I see.” you tried to ignore it, you really did, but a little piece of your heart fell away at her admission because there was still a small part of you that still longed for closure.

“(Y/n)...”

“Do you even remember what you're supposed to even feel guilty for?”

“Stop it! You're not being fair!” she growled at you, pressing closer against the bars—if she pushed anymore she'd probably break the damn things, or materialize right through them but that didn't stop you from scrambling to your feet to meet her head on, refusing to let her have the full advantage.

“Neither were you! I...” you stopped abruptly, literally choking on your words and you forced yourself to close your mouth and Miranda watched every single emotion drain from your face as if you had flipped a switch and her hands balled into even tighter fists at her sides, unsure what to say and you had nothing left to say.

You two stood staring at each other, once again. Eyes locked but not a word more was said. She reached up, one hand wrapping around an old iron bar, her engraved golden nails clinking softly against the metal.

“Mother Miranda.” a firm but sinewy voice echoed around you both, calling for your attention and it was feminine but you couldn't see who it belonged to. She was just out of range of the cell entrance and you'd have to move closer to Miranda to see who it belonged to—and that wasn't something you were interested in doing, “I apologize for the interruption...but we have a problem.”

“What.” Miranda hissed, her voice no longer soft and velvet—the only way you could describe it was deity like. Stronger, harsher and it would've been scarier if you didn't know the woman behind the mask.

“That fool Heisenberg let that man thing escape the forest and he's now roaming in the village.”

“I see.” Miranda's eyes fell to you again, radiating more power than they did earlier. You'd been so busy arguing with her, you hadn't heard the other woman approach and you wondered how much of that she actually overheard, “When you are ready to talk, I will be waiting for you, my little warrior.”

“Stop calling me that!” you spat, glaring at her irritatingly, “I'm not your anything...perhaps your enemy. You'd do better by just letting me leave, Miranda because you and I both know that killing me isn't an option.”

“And I already told you. I'm not letting you leave me, not again.” she was suddenly right in front of you, inside of the iron cage and you had no fucking idea how she did that but she was too close but the stone wall behind you didn't give away, no matter how hard you pressed. Her eyes were softer now, and you actually had to crane your neck a bit to see them, even at an even six feet, “Learn the truth then you decide if you wish to leave or to stay.”

“The truth?” you scoffed, well aware that you two still weren't alone, “The truth has long since past to be of any interest to me.” you lied straight through your teeth all the while looking into her eyes, you saw a speck of emotion but it was hard to tell when they were so alive, “I don't care about your truth anymore, Miranda.”

“You may not...but I do. Did our love mean nothing to you?” you both ignored the startled noise behind you, “All those late nights and early mornings? I think about them often when this life permits me to...I...do have regrets, (Y/n)...and wishes, most never granted.” she admitted, quietly—her deity voice gone for the moment, “One of my biggest regrets and my biggest wish was you, (Y/n).”

You didn't know how to unpack that in this moment because Miranda suddenly had both her hands on the wall, trapping you as she leaned closer—you knew what she was doing, hell she even knew what she was fucking doing? Was it working? Like the fool you were—it was.

“Allow me time to settle this issue and then we will talk, (Y/n).”

You could see the uncertainty in her eyes, and you almost told her to go fuck herself...it was on the tip of your tongue but your heart was still as stupid as it was thousands of years ago. You kept your lips firmly pressed together, but nodded curtly almost reluctantly. She didn't smile, not really, but that familiar curve of her lips made you tense a little. You were a fucking idiot, and you knew it.

“Lady Dimitrescu will house you. I will send for you when I am ready.” she lingered for a second longer, seeming to want to say more. Suddenly she pushed herself away from you and walking out of your cell with ease, pushing the heavy door out of her way leaving you bewildered.

Had it been unlocked this whole time? She hadn't even bothered to retrain you, but she knew you wouldn't make a move because now she had now something to keep you behaved long enough and you agreed to it.

Ayyye Alcinnaaaa! Idk who's playing but Donna's house scary as shit. Y'all fuck with this story?

#resident evil 8 #mother miranda x reader #alcina x reader #mother miranda #lady alcina x reader #resident evil #resident evil village #lady alcina #lady dimitrescu #dis tew much #assassin's creed odyssey #I'm simpin hard af over here

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sylverstorms · 3 years

Text

Lavinia x MC (Cynthia) ----Cold Heat

Words: ~1100

Rating: Teasing at Mature, but probably T for Teens.

A/N: An alternate version of the bedroom scene with Lavinia at her Season 1 Finale. Ice she may be, but the passion between her and MC ignites.

When you see her seated in the armchair of your room –legs crossed, chin cocked, bathed in silvers and whites by the moonlight, every bit the ice queen she is— you don't know whether you want to want to kiss her or yell at her.

Probably both.

Definitely both.

“Hey there.” That is how Lavinia greets you, all cool smiles and roguish charm, as if the past five hours never occurred at all.

As if you didn't sit in that chamber, helpless, watching her fight a Faerie and get hurt for your sake, only to eventually realize it was all part of her plan. Your anguish, part of her damn plan.

“Huh. I thought you'd be all the way to New York by now.” the biting way the words leave your mouth, you may as well have told her to screw off.

“Oh. You're...mad at me.” Lavinia states. It isn't really a question.

“Of course not, I love being kept in the dark.” you scoff. You don't even bother turning the lights on as you root yourself there, against your door, as far away from her as possible.

“Curses.” she whispers under her breath. “Look, I know I should have told you about the... trickier parts of the plan.” You wish you didn't feel as weak as you do, looking into her icy eyes. “But everything worked out, in the end.”

“I guess it's fine since it worked out, yeah?” you ask, no small amount of sarcasm in your voice. “It's alright that I had to sit there and watch you get hurt over and over again.”

Lavinia's lips part soundlessly at that. For a moment, she appears speechless.

“I never imagined...” she trails off. Pauses. “I didn't think it would be this difficult for you, watching me take a few hits.”

You shake your head and exhale loudly. You'd rather not linger on that incident any longer, or the horrible feeling in your chest will remain lodged there and cost you your sleep.

“Cynthia.” Lavinia calls your name gently.

You hate how easily it breaks down your walls to hear her voice get this soft for you. Only for you. Try as you might to hold onto your anger as a means of fighting off your vulnerability...

“Cynthia, come here.”

You lose the fight. Your will crumbles. You are already pushing off the wall and walking towards her extended hand, like a ship lost at sea following the distant glow of a lighthouse.

Lavinia's fingers are cool when they wrap around yours, an anchor, steady, guiding you to sit in front of her, between her legs. Facing forward as you are, you can't see her beautiful face, only guess at what expression she must be making right now. Perhaps that is the whole point.

Those same fingers then move up your arms, ghost over your shoulders, tangle in your hair. You hold back the tremor threatening to wrack your body at her touch.

“...should I keep going?” she asks, chin hovering above your shoulder. Part of you wishes it tucks down, against your skin.

Tempted as you are to turn, you instead breathe out and leave yourself in her hands with a quiet “Yes.”

Lavinia rolls your head back, slowly, carefully, until it is resting on her shoulder. Deft thumbs press on the knots of tension at the base of your neck, down your shoulders...

A hitched sigh escapes your lips. You so willingly surrender to this fire the queen of ice kindles in you.

The whole world narrows down to just the two of you in the dark, basking in your proximity.

If this is a dream, you don't want it to end.

Lavinia massages slow little circles into the softer parts of your shoulders. It takes all you've got not to moan openly into your room.

God, the feel of her hands on you...

“Still good?” she asks, breath caressing the tip of your ear, her voice now taking a deeper, huskier quality.

A shiver echoes through you just from that.

“Yes...” you sound so breathless.

One of Lavinia's hands runs down your side to rest on your waist, while the other guides your curly hair away from your neck so she can lean closer. It all feels so surreal; you are relaxed against her yet tension lingers in your stomach and thighs, everything is too much and too little at the same time.

When you breathe, you breathe in the chill of her magic and spicy perfume. Her right hand is like a cold burn, dancing at the hem of your shirt. Her left comes to the column of your throat, as if to cradle or choke you at your request.

“You're so tense.” she husks in your ear.

A shaky exhale leaves you.

“...want me to help you relax?” Lavinia's lips trace the shell of your ear with the words now. The sensation is downright sinful.

The fingers on your belly tease just underneath the waistband of your slacks and oh God if she goes any lower right now—

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think perhaps you shouldn't be doing this with her when you haven't even kissed yet, haven't even sorted out what the two of you are. But you also need it, need her, really, really bad...

“Lavinia...” She presses a little tighter against you at the sound of her name, falling like a prayer from your lips.

“Yeah?” comes out almost as a sigh against your neck.

This is bad, because it's too good, because it arouses you too hard to know the queen of ice is as affected by this as you are. You feel her lips on the soft spot underneath your jaw and her fingers creep lower still...

Until a loud sound from downstairs has you both springing up and apart.

You only then recover enough of your mind to realize your friends and brother are still up, still moving about the house. Your door isn't even locked –they could walk in on you and Lavinia at any moment and it will already be bad enough without catching you in a compromising position.

Lavinia huffs a chuckle and runs a hand through her hair. You mirror the gesture, teeth sunk in your bottom lip as you straighten your clothes.

“I better go.” she says, a coy little smile playing at her full lips. Oh, how you want them on your own...

Lavinia opens the window and swings one long leg out. You approach to bid her goodnight, then pause once you look directly into her darkened eyes.

Her hand reaches for yours and softly tugs you forward. Her cool mouth lands on the side of your head, over your curly locks.

“Think of me.” she says. Winks.

And then she's gone, leaving you alone in your room and taking the thrill of her presence with her.

If one thing is for certain, it's that you'll think of her.

It's not like you dream of anything but her these days, anyway.

Ko-Fi

#lavinia le guin #lavinia x mc #lavinia lovestruck #lovestruck voltage #lovestruck ever after academy #fanfiction #creative writing #ice queen of our hearts

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milkybonya · 3 years

Text

i'm not the same boy you knew back then

Warnings: food mentions and some angst, party mentions

Pairing: Yedam x (gn)reader

Summary: where Yedam broke your heart in high school because he didn't know how to act but now he's desperately in love with you and wishes you still felt the same :")

word count: 5.8k

inspired by Walls by All Time Low (it has explicit language! be careful~~i've put a link for it at the veryyy end of this fic)

[a/n]: I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY FOR THE FLASHBACK PART OF THIS OML I'M SORRY FOR THE CHAOS AND MESS BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY

Hey there it's good to see you again, It never felt right calling this "just friends". I'm happy, if you're happy, with yourself.

"Isn't that Yedam?" your friend, sat beside you, asks. They point to somewhere behind your head, and naturally, you turn around to follow their finger with your eyes.

As the doors to the lecture hall swing shut, a familiar boy begins to walk quickly down the steps. While grinning, he decides on a spot near the back, far away from your almost front-row seat. You let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding and face the front.

"Since when did he go to our university?" your friend asks, also facing the front now.

"I have no clue," you admit.

You'd purposely accepted an offer at a faraway university to avoid having to see Yedam ever again after high school. High school had become one of the worst times of your life thanks to him.

Yedam's pov

As soon as I enter the hall, I find [y/n] with my eyes immediately. They look at me with a mix of shock, disgust and hatred, but seeing them fills me with so much joy that I can't help but smile.

Deciding not to bother them, I pick a spot near the back and sit down. I wonder to myself if switching to [y/n]'s school was the right choice...

[y/n]'s pov

It was obvious you were too much for me. Oblivious, I was young

Back in high school, you had the fattest crush on one of the school's most popular kids, and you hated yourself for it. It wasn't like you could control your feelings... but your heart was set on him. His smile made you feel so warm and you felt happy despite him not having the slightest clue who you were. You always watched him from afar, peering at him as he walked into the classroom while waving at all of his friends before taking a seat at the back.

By some chance, you got paired with him for an assignment. You thought he would be disappointed, since he had never spoken to you, but contrary to his somewhat intimidating aura as a result of him being a popular kid, he smiled warmly at you as you introduced yourself.

"I know you're [y/n]," he said quietly, looking down at the assignment instructions in front of him.

"How do you know?" you asked him.

He looked up and leaned in closer to you to whisper into your ear, only after being sure that no one was watching.

"It may not seem like it, but I do know my classmates."

When he moved back, he flashed you a grin before returning to the assignment instructions again. Your heartbeat was flooding your ears.

After meeting up several times to do the research and plan out the presentation together, you and Yedam somehow grew closer. You had always thought he was some sort of chic, cool guy, but he turned out to be super soft and sweet. The two of you laughed at each other's dumb jokes and procrastinated late into the night sometimes, only beginning your work when the café was about to close.

On one of those days, Yedam asked if you wanted to go to his place to finish the assignment.

"It's due in two weeks and we still have so much to do... plus we're so busy that we can only meet once a week," he explained, pouting slightly.

You agreed, feeling somewhat nervous and excited at the prospect of going to your crush's house for the first time.

His parents were home but asleep as it was late for them, so the two of you quietly went to his room.

In-between muffled giggles and late-night snacks, the two of you managed to get a lot of work done before you felt as though you'd hit your limit. After yawning and stretching, you told Yedam that it was time you went home.

"Do you live far from here?" he asked you.

You, in fact, did live quite far from his house, but you felt bad telling him this, so you lied and told him you lived close by.

He pouted and looked down.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to just sleep here... but I guess it makes sense for you to go home," he said, helping you pack up your things.

Yedam... wanted you to stay the night? How could you miss such an opportunity! Your crush! Wanted you to stay the night!!

Yedam noticed that you'd stopped moving, holding your pencil case in your hand as you thought about what to say.

"Is everything okay?" he asked you.

"Yeah... I actually... live kind of far," you mumbled, not wanting him to get mad at you for lying.

"You do? Then why did you say you live close by?" he asked, also taking his hands away from your backpack.

"I didn't want you to walk me home or anything," you explained. Yedam smiled at you, shaking his head.

"Don't worry about it now... do you have any clothes to change into?"

"Just my gym clothes... but they're dirty," you told him, shyly.

"Do you want to take something of mine to wear?" he asked you, already standing up to look through his closet without waiting for your answer.

You were going to say no, again, not wanting to bother him, but he had already pulled out some of his comfier clothes for you to wear.

After changing into them and walking back into his room, you avoided Yedam's eyes as he quietly lost his mind over how cute you looked.

"Um, so..." Yedam started, scratching the back of his neck.

"Would you be okay with sleeping in my bed? I'll go sleep in the livingroom-"

"No, no! I'll go sleep there-"

"No, I can't let a guest sleep on the couch!"

Both of you sighed, not being able to win against one another.

"Listen, it's either you sleep in my room and I go to the livingroom, or we both sleep in my bed," he said, pointing to his bed behind you.

You froze, trying to consider your options as your heartbeat grew louder.

"Well... I guess we're both sleeping here then," you said, in a tone that tried to sound confident but was a little shaky.

You plopped yourself face first into the bed to hide from your embarrassment, feeling the bed shift a few seconds later as Yedam joined you.

"Scooch over towards the wall. I'll sleep on this side so you won't fall off the bed at night," he said, pointing to the side of his bed that faced the rest of his room. You smiled at Yedam's kind gesture as you moved over.

He had turned off the light and it was dark now, and both of you lay side-by-side on your backs, staring up at the ceiling.

"Are you... asleep?" he asked you quietly a while later. You shook your head at first, but then realized he couldn't see you. So you said a quiet "no".

You felt Yedam shift as he turned to face you. You carefully turned your head towards him too, wondering what he was up to. It was hard to see in the dark, but he was just admiring your face. You looked away, feeling embarrassed, until you felt him shuffling closer to you.

It was a little nerve-wracking watching his figure tower over you in the dark. Blinking up at him, you parted your lips to ask him what he was doing, but he spoke first.

"Am I allowed to... kiss you?" he asked, quietly looking down at you.

Yedam... wants to ???? Your crush wanted-

You found yourself nodding before your thoughts could entirely be processed, and watched as Yedam lowered himself onto you with a small smile. His heart soared as he watched your reaction -- your eyes were squeezed shut so tightly out of nervousness.

Before his soft lips met yours, he found your hand under the blankets and held it in an attempt to ease you of your nervousness. He didn't know that it only made your stomach feel the effects even more intensely.

Your lips touched for only a moment, but it felt like a whole eternity. When he pulled away, he moved off of you quickly and shuffled over to his side of the bed again.

"I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry," he mumbled, looking away from you. You were confused.

"What's wrong?" you asked him.

"I... I was supposed to tell you I like you first but then now you're right beside me--wait not that I like you... wait I mean I do, but I didn't want to tell you like this--"

Hearing his unsure confession was all the confidence you needed to pull him closer, accidentally tightening his hoodie strings as you pulled him in to carefully press your lips against his again. He completely melted into your hands, then, wrapping an arm around your back and holding you close.

That was probably one of the last good memories you have of him.

After that, Yedam turned into a different person the next morning, avoiding your eyes and missing any trace of a smile on his face as he pushed a plate of breakfast towards you.

"Let's not walk to school together, okay? I'll be leaving first," he told you, leaving you alone in his own house.

You had no clue what was going on and no appetite to eat. After waiting a few minutes, you walked to school after him. You had no idea how to even get to school from his house, so after getting lost and arriving late, you finally managed to make it.

When you tried to approach him in class, he would turn his back on you and ignore you. It made you feel so small that you stopped even trying.

It was really hard for you to show up to school after that, because of how terrible you felt, but you still tried your best. Your friends knew something was wrong and they did their best to help you, but it didn't stop you from thinking about Yedam and why he was acting so strangely.

Until he texted you one day in the middle of class, asking you to meet him in an empty classroom.

You told yourself you shouldn't pay him any attention, especially after he ghosted you like that, but you still followed after him, curious to see what excuse he would give you.

In the classroom, you couldn't see anyone, so you thought Yedam hadn't arrived yet until you heard him call out your name from behind a file cabinet. By the windows.

"Come here, [y/n]," he said, motioning for you to approach him. He was smiling at you again, just like he did on those days when you'd study with him in the café. You told yourself to just turn around and leave, but your feet guided you to him.

You frowned up at him.

"What the heck have you been doing?" you asked him, tears already threatening to leave your eyes.

"[y/n], I-I'm sorry... you know how it is for me, with my popular reputation. Some kids saw us at the café and posted pictures of us, saying that I was going around dating a loser-"

He was holding onto your hands while wearing a pitiful expression, but you coldly pushed him away after hearing him out.

"So you've been acting weird because I'm tainting your reputation? Yedam, we never even dated! You gave me some... half-assed confession and... kissed me in the middle of the night and then ghosted me," you told him, sternly.

"I know, I'm sorry... It's so pathetic but I really do like you... I'm just really bad at this, I know, but I'm telling you now I like you-"

"In an empty classroom. Behind a file cabinet."

"Please, [y/n]. Date me for real... I promise I won't let you down."

You and your kind, innocent heart believed his promise. You believed him because his eyes were sparkling and he was holding onto you so tightly.

Yedam told you that you had to date him in secret, and that was just one of many red flags. He explained that if his friends found out, he would be teased and you would be hurt by their words, too. Nonetheless, you agreed. At school, you never spoke to him. All you got were stolen glances, Yedam winking at you every time you turned around in your seat. Somehow, that was enough to make your heart flutter.

You could only see each other in each other's homes, since even the risk of being caught out on a date was too much for Yedam to handle. The two of you would intertwine hands while watching a movie. You'd rest your head on Yedam's shoulder, or sometimes he would rest his head in your lap and you would gently stroke his hair, watching as his eyes squeezed shut tightly while he indulged in the feeling of your love.

Sometimes the two of you would listen to music together, quietly sharing earphones while staring out the window.

Sometimes you would just talk for hours into the night.

Yedam's smile would never leave his face when he was with you.

Except for when he was at school.

And you could handle it. At least you thought you could, until the final straw.

For Yedam's birthday, a few of his friends had gathered in his home, celebrating. You were also invited, of course, after you begged Yedam to let you come. He had told his friends that he invited you as a gesture of thanks for working on the assignment with him... it broke your heart to hear this lie, but you shrugged it off, again.

Everyone was feeling excited as they all started a game of spin-the-bottle. You felt incredibly out of place and already angry, even more so upon seeing a girl getting all handsy with Yedam, stroking his thigh with her hand and playing with his hair. She was constantly glued to him, but you shrugged it off, again.

After the bottle's mouth faced Yedam, the girl beside him dared him to kiss someone. How childish, you thought to yourself. You watched as Yedam locked eyes with you and started to stand up, making his way towards you with a small smile, but the girl beside him stopped him.

"Where are you going, damie? Isn't it me who you should kiss?"

Yedam looked back at her and then at you.

"I-"

"C'mon, it's your birthday!" she said, dragging him back down.

That literally is not an excuse and makes no sense, you scoffed to yourself, rolling your eyes.

The next few moments were a blur, but Yedam ended up kissing her and you felt like a piece of paper being torn in two. We can't even look at each other in public, you thought to yourself. You fought back tears and got up to leave. No one seemed to mind or care about where you were going, since none of these people were your friends anyway. Even Yedam was preoccupied, his lips on the mouth of this other girl.

You couldn't just shrug things off anymore. This was it. Now, it was your turn to ghost Yedam.

You hadn't told him, but your family were planning to move to another city soon. You told them to plan the move for earlier so you could leave that dreaded place and leave Yedam. Ignoring all his calls and texts, you transferred out the next week, and that was that.

I'm gonna break down these walls, I built around myself. I wanna fall so in love, with you, and no one else, Could ever mean half as much, to me as you do now. Together we'll move on, just don't turn around, Let the walls break down.

You can't focus in lecture as everything that happened with Yedam flashes before your eyes. Just as you're starting to live a normal life without him, he has to show up and allow of the trauma to resurface.

As soon as your class ends, you quickly pack your bags. Your friend does the same, understanding exactly what is going on. But it seems like Yedam and his feet move a little faster.

Just as you're about to leave your row, you look up to find Yedam standing at the end of it, a small smile on his face.

You sigh and turn around, telling your friend to do the same so you can leave through the other side. But Yedam just follows behind you quietly. He doesn't say a word and just follows you as you and your friend as you leave the lecture hall to go to your next class.

Suddenly, you stop. Your friend and Yedam stop, too.

You turn around, your fist clenched into a tight ball.

"Yedam, can you please stop following me? Do you not have classes of your own or things to do? Please leave me alone," you told him, turning your back on him again and walking forward.

Your friend didn't follow you, though, but looked back and forth between you and Yedam. So lost in your thoughts, you walk to class on your own, not noticing that your friend isn't following you.

Yedam's pov

After they say those words and leave, I feel my heart breaking in two. Of course I know how much I've hurt [y/n], but their words make me realize that I'll never be able to completely understand. I almost start crying right there and then...

"Yedam, right?" their friend asks me. I look at them and nod, confused.

"Listen, [y/n] hates your guts. They're not going to talk to you and hear you out, so I'll do it instead. I know [y/n] might regret it if they don't hear you out, even if they don't want to."

I smile at [y/n]'s friend. That sounds exactly like [y/n]...

"You've probably heard a lot of awful things about me, and it's all true. But... [y/n] probably didn't tell you about those nights we spent in each other's rooms... the times that we did get to spend with each other alone.... sorry, what I'm trying to say is that I've always loved [y/n]. Not even 'like', but I've always loved them. And I don't think I'll be able to stop... I know I was such a terrible boyfriend back then. I don't think I can say I even was much of a boyfriend... but I've changed. I can promise that I've changed. I know it must be so arrogant of me to ask if they'll give me another chance but..."

I trail off, my brain shutting down as I struggle to find anymore words to express myself. [y/n]'s friend nods after I trail off.

"I see... well, I've heard about your promises. I heard they couldn't be trusted but if you've changed, then maybe that has changed, too. [y/n] has a really kind heart, but I won't let them date a jerk ever again. So unless we both know for sure that you're different now, we are not letting you date them."

With that, [y/n]'s friend walks away and leaves me there.

[y/n]'s pov

In class, you feel completely empty, unsure of how to feel. You only notice that your friend had not been beside you this entire time when they take a seat in the spot beside you, apologizing that they're late.

"Where were you?" you ask them, looking up as they sit down.

"I was talking to Yedam," your friend tells you, never one to lie.

Your face fills with disgust at the mention of his name.

"Why would you do that?" you whisper loudly, causing some heads in the lecture hall to turn your way. You mumble an apology before returning to your friend.

"I wanted to hear him out," they say, casually opening up their notes.

"What did he say?"

"So you are interested, huh?" they ask you, teasing.

"No, I'm not!"

"I know, calm down! He just said something along the lines of how he's always loved you and does now, too, and that he's changed--"

"That is the most garbage thing I've ever heard," you say, interrupting your friend with a scoff. They smile, shaking their head at you.

When you return to your dorm after all your classes, you find a small gift bag hanging on the door knob to your room. Curious, you pick it up and notice it has your name written on the side.

You could recognize that handwriting from a mile away.

As if it's the side of a hot pan, you drop it, watching its contents spill to the ground. A pack of your favourite snack falls out, along with a neatly handwritten note, a CD player and earphones.

I guess it wouldn't hurt to look, you tell yourself.

Picking everything up and walking into your room, you sit on your bed and read the note over.

[y/n]!! ah, it doesn't make sense for me to be cute or excited in this note, does it? >.< please forgive me.... i'm a little nervous... here is that snack that you've always loved... do you still love it now, too? and here is something that i wrote for you~it's on the CD. just press play and i'll let the song do the talking... i wrote this after you disappeared.

- yedam

This song better be god tier if he's coming to leave it at my door, you think to yourself.

As the song fills your ears, it seems to fill your empty heart too. You can tell it's full of Yedam's sincere feelings and thoughts... or he's just doing a good job of acting while singing. You can't seem to tell, but you still tear up a little.

You hear the door to your room swing open, as your friend, who also happens to be your roommate, barges in.

"What are you up to?" they ask, placing some things on their desk. They turn around immediately when they hear you sniffling.

"ARE YOU CRYING?" they shout, sitting beside you and wrapping their arms around you.

"This... song... Yedam..." you croak, just handing them the earphones.

When they listen to it, they also go quiet.

"It sounds really sincere..." your friend tells you, quietly.

"I'm not the only one who feels that way?" you ask your friend, looking at them.

"You know him better than I do, so you're probably right," they tell you, standing up.

"Why did this boy have to show up and make a mess of my life again," you groan, hiding your face in your hands.

"Well, I have just the solution! I know you're probably going to think about him and not get any work done anyway, so should we just go to a party?!" your friend tells you, jumping up and down.

"A party?" you wrinkle your nose in disgust.

"It'll help you stop thinking about him! Please, we never went to any parties last year!! Let's go, just this once!" they beg.

After thinking it over, you agree. What's the worst that could happen?

Wearing one of your favourite fits and feeling good, you walk alongside your friend, who already has a groove in their step as the two of you make your way to the house where the party is set to be held. It isn't that hard to find, since you're just following the bright lights and loud music in the distance. It's a wonder the people in that house aren't being arrested for causing such a ruckus...

Finally there, you step inside and try not to bump into any weird people. The music is so loud its deafening, and you shrivel up at the sound of it. Your friend wraps their arm around you, pulling you in close and guiding you to the snack/drink area so you can take what you need and go to a quieter place.

Your friend did beg you to come today, so they won't force you to dance or do any things you don't want to do...

Now equipped with everything you need, you make your way to the basement, where it's a lot quieter despite being so busy.

"How's this for a change?" your friend asks you, grooving along to the distant sound of the music from upstairs.

"It seems like you want to dance," you tell your friend.

They shake their head.

"I'll stay with you toniiiiiight!" they cheer, hugging you tightly. You laugh.

"It's fine, just go up! The crowd doesn't seem too scary or weird down here," you tell them as you watch two people play mario kart in front of a TV.

After asking you 1000 times if it's really okay, they leave you there with a drink in your hand. You continue watching the two people playing mario kart, secretly rooting for the boy in orange because his fit looks really nice, even if you're only looking from the back.

He ends up losing and you let out a "noooo!" loud enough for the two to hear. When they turn around, you discover that the boy in orange had been Yedam all along!

I take back rooting for him... he deserved to lose!

Widening your eyes at the sight of him, you quickly turn away and try to navigate your way towards another room. To your surprise, as soon as you walk in, Yedam is in there, holding the door open at the other end and panting.

"[y/n]," he calls out softly, smiling slightly. You can tell he's testing the waters and wondering how to react.

You try to walk out of the room, but the door behind you has been shut by some drunken idiot! He's pressed up against the frame and no matter how much you push, the door just won't open.

"[y/n], if you want to leave, it's okay. I don't want to bother you," Yedam tells you, stepping aside from the other door and motioning for you to walk through.

You sigh.

"No, it's fine. I guess we're here for a reason now, or something," you mumble, sliding down the wall until you're in a comfortable sitting position.

Yedam smiles, closing the door behind him.

"Still caught up in all that destiny stuff?" he asks you, joining you in sitting on the ground but also keeping his distance.

You scoff in response. How does this kid remember everything about me?

"So... what are you doing in my house?' he asks you.

"Your.... house?"

"Yeah, this is my house. You didn't know?" he asks you, looking bewildered.

You think about your friend. They must have brought you here while knowing it was Yedam's house...

"Um... nevermind that. How... have you been?" Yedam asks you, wringing his hands.

"Me? I've been doing great until now. How about you?" you spit out your words sarcastically, but Yedam doesn't seem to mind.

"I've been... well... I'm not sure. It would be cheesy for me to say I've been feeling lost without you, but that's kind of how it is," he tells you, chuckling nervously.

"Yeah, super cheesy. It also doesn't make sense, Yedam," you tell him, avoiding his eyes.

"I know it doesn't, but to me it does. I know our relationship was a mess, but those times that we spent together were... something else. Probably some of the best times of my life, honestly," he tells you.

"And why... are you telling me this?" you ask him, curious to see how he'll respond.

"Because I know I'm in the wrong and there's no excuse for my past childishness, but... I've missed you. And I still do. I know I was really caught up in my reputation back then and I didn't open myself up to you properly, but I want to do that now."

He runs his fingers through his hair, and something inside you turns. You didn't realize just how much you loved it when Yedam did that until now... he looks so pretty--

No. What are you thinking?!

"I haven't missed you though, Yedam," you say.

He smiles sadly.

"I know. And there's no reason for you to. But I'm just... asking for a second chance in case you think there's anything left."

You gulp and look up at the ceiling. You hadn't even considered the possibility of dating Yedam again, but talking with him now is different. He's less cautious and seems to be a lot more comfortable with you.

Someone knocks on the door behind Yedam and Yedam tells them to come in.

"Oh, am I interrupting?" the boy asks, slowly backing away.

"It's fine, I'm just talking to [y/n]," Yedam says with a smile, gesturing towards you. You greet the boy and his eyes light up.

"[y/n]?! The one you always tell me about? Gosh... it's so nice to meet you!" the boy says, shaking your hand and sitting down in front of you.

"You put up with a lot of Yedam's antics, I've heard," he says, laughing. Yedam laughs along, but you're still in shock.

Yedam had never told anyone about you... but now this random boy knows everything?

"It was more than antics. I was... really bad to [y/n]. I'm surprised they haven't left yet," Yedam admits, leaning back.

"I transferred to your old high school after you transferred out, and this boy was always sad. He didn't talk to anyone but me, only because the teacher asked him to show me around. He told me everything about you and eventually told the rest of his friends, too. You were his biggest and only heartbreak... I swear everyone at our school knows about you," the boy explains.

"What did you tell them?" you ask Yedam.

"He told us how he had been dating you in secret because he was afraid to ruin his popularity, but that he regrets it a lot. A lot of his friends left him after finding out you dated Yedam," the boy explains. Yedam nods along.

You're in shock. The boy who was so secretive and insecure exposed himself as a heartbreaker?

"Anyways, I'm sorry to be interrupting. I'll leave now!" the boy says, standing up and closing the door behind him.

"You... told everyone?" you ask Yedam. He nods.

"I feel like it was the only thing I could do for you. You deserved to be known as the one who held my heart," he says, holding his chest and laughing at his own cheesy words.

You find yourself laughing along and loosening up.

A moment of silence stretches between the two of you, and Yedam breaks it by standing up.

"Do you wanna play mario kart with me? You seemed to be having fun watching," Yedam asks you quietly.

You nod, also standing up.

The two of you play for about an hour, screaming and yelling at the TV just like you used to in your bedroom when you'd play games together.

"I won!" you declare in glee, turning to Yedam to do your signature high five with him. His hands meet yours, and you only realize what you're doing only after its already happened. You awkwardly move your hands away, facing the screen again.

"I'm sorry..." you mumble.

"No, I'm sorry! It's really okay, [y/n]... if you feel uncomfortable around me, you don't have to--"

"Your song touched me a lot, Yedam. And now I feel like... I want to try again. Just like this game," you say, pointing to the screen that has try again written in the corner.

"Are you sure?" he asks you, slowly.

You nod, deciding you've made up your mind. You've seen a lot of green flags already -- enough to decide that it's okay to move forward.

Yedam smiles and looks down at his lap. Then his head lifts up quickly, his eyes lighting up.

"I can take you to that café you always wanted to go! They have one in this city... and there's a museum next to it too! Do you want to go there? I.."

As he continues talking, you realize that all of the things he's saying he wants to do were things that you never did with Yedam, even after one year of dating him. It was always stay-at-home dates and ignore-each-other-when-we're-at-school. Somehow, you feel excited, wondering what things will be like.

"[y/n]! I've been looking everywhere for--oh, Yedam? Hi!" your friend greets you both.

"Did you have fun dancing?" you ask them. They nod, pointing to Yedam with their eyes.

You get up and whisper into your friend's ear.

"We have a lot to talk about, but I think..."

Your friend doesn't even wait for you to finish before they say, "well, I have to leave early now. Yedam, can you walk [y/n] home? Great, thanks!"

With that, they disappear and you shake your head at your friend's strange behaviour.

Yedam is all smiley while still sitting on the ground.

"Do I get to walk you home now?" he asks you, standing up.

"I wonder what would've happened if you walked me home that day, too..." you mumble, thinking about the day you slept over at Yedam's in the same bed as him.

"What, do you want to sleep over today, too?" he asks you.

You shake your head.

"I don't want things to turn out like that again."

"You mean, you don't want me to kiss you like I did then?" Yedam teases you, sending you a wink.

"You--shut up!" you yell, chasing after him with a pillow.

This boy literally broke my heart, you think to yourself. He is testing his limits...

After you both calm down, Yedam walks you home. It's a little quiet at first, until Yedam speaks.

"Can... I hold your hand?" he asks you.

"This soon?" you say, still grabbing his hand anyway. He looks down at your hand in his and smiles.

"Yeah... you don't know how long I've been wanting to do this for," he admits, swinging your arm up and down as you walk.

You shake your head at him.

"Let's run!" Yedam declares, racing forward with your hand in his. You trail behind him, the sound of laughter escaping your lips and ringing in Yedam's ears. It leaves a bright blush on his face as he thinks to himself about how much he's missed your laughter.

The two of you slow down, panting.

"I'm so tired," Yedam wheezes, laughing at how weird he sounds.

"Do you want me to kiss it better?" you tease him. He raises his eyebrows at the comment. Maybe it's the adrenaline from all the running or the feeling of the night air, but a courage surges through you as you snake your hand around the back of his head and pull him towards you, pressing his warm lips to yours.

You pull away shortly after, feeling breathless again. A blush dusts Yedam's cheeks as he stares at you with wide eyes.

Your own stomach is full of butterflies, but you ignore it and walk forward.

"Are you not coming?" you yell to the boy behind you. He laughs and chases after you.

[a/n]: i just want to say that i do not condone getting back together with a toxic ex so soon... i was just really excited while writing and sped up the plot >.< but don't ever get back with someone who has hurt you unless you are 100% sure! please take care of yourself!!

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yemilnisu · 3 years

Text

INCORRECT HAIKYUU QUOTES FROM BUZZFEED UNSOLVED PT. 2

nisu entries:

a part two because i said so 🥴 i really enjoy these and you guys seems to enjoy it too i assume 💀 and i may or may not have a part 3 in my drafts ksksks

warning: swearing

「part 1」

Kenma: i don’t think anybody wants to spend any time here (earth)

Kuroo: that! so they (aliens) just blow it up.

Kenma: oh. *shrugs* if that happens, who cares?

Kuroo: i care because i live here!

Kenma: yeah, but then everyone's dead so nothing matters and that's kinda cool. i mean, what a privilege it would be-

Kuroo: you sound like a movie villain right now!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Suna: i'm not even thinking that. i'm tweetin' and i'm streaming. wait- do i have my significant social media followers?

Osamu: you don’t have any following at this point 'cause you're suna rintaro in the timeline where you're at nasa.

Suna: …oh. i don’t even wanna live.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Matsukawa: you know, this was supposed to be the season of respecting ghosts and every time i've tried to do that, you yell at me to disrespect them.

Oikawa: i'm telling you to be true to who you are.

Matsukawa: i mean, that is certainly valid.

Oikawa: (laughs)

Matsukawa: 'cause i am living a lie otherwise because we're talking to air!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Akaashi: oh, i see it. there's a bird right there.

Bokuto: oh, there's a bunch up there. hey, bros.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Nishinoya: you know, i didn’t walk down west cell block.

*nishinoya humming and walking to west cell block*

Nishinoya: it's nice over here, i like it.

(high pitched whistling)

(distant thudding)

Nishinoya: *stops*

Nishinoya: if that's somebody up there, make that noise again in your cell.

(distant thud)

Nishinoya: ha-ha i fucking hate this place. i really do.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Voice: (whispers) atsumu.

Atsumu: who is that?

Atsumu: *looking around for the voice* *lowkey scared*

Osamu: do you hear the little whispers?

Atsumu: please.

Osamu: oops. (laughs)

Suna: *behind the camera snickering because he was the one who suggested it*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Lev: oh fuck, i forgot the spirit box, shit.

Kenma: go get it!

Lev: my hands are full 🥺

Kenma: well, try your best.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Bokuto: *baby voice* it's a little cockroach. you seen any ghosts up here, fella?

Kuroo: (laughs)

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Ushijima: do you feel like you have someone else's thoughts?

Tendou: sometimes.

Ushijima: that wasn't the question. i think you misunderstood me.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kuroo: so right now, we’re in the captain's quarters.

Kuroo: is there anybody in here that wants to speak to us?

Bokuto: spill your beans, buddy.

Kuroo: what did you do on this ship?

Bokuto: he probably commanded it.

Kuroo: you know, i was asking him.

Bokuto: what'd you do on this ship?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tanaka: if you'd like us to leave and shut up, which frankly almost anybody who interacts with us for more than five minutes would like us to do, move something.

Nishinoya: spank us on the bottom!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sakusa: i mean, this sink is absolutely disgusting. this is maybe the scariest thing i’ve seen in all six seasons of this show.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Oikawa: *waving at his reflection*

Oikawa: always nice to see a friendly face.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sakusa: i don’t know why people think darkness is actually scary because i can’t see anything. it was scarier when the lights were on 'cause i could see you know filth, things falling apart.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Semi: (knocking) let's boogie, folks! little guy needs a win. ghost, that would be great. if you got a mummy or a vampire, also good. i think he'd also count that as sort of proof of the supernatural.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tsukishima: please haunt me! i’m begging you to haunt me! scare the shit out of me! do something! (laughs)

Tsukishima: how many times do i have to plead with air, with nothing? i’m speaking to no one right now.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Shirabu: if you don’t pop out, then i’ve wasted several years of my life. i mean, i went to college, and my major was not ghost hunting.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Osamu: what's 'tsumu doing in there? who the hell knows? he's probably gonna take out his little spirit box.

*meanwhile at atsumu*

Atsumu: i’m gonna fire up the spirit box now. i am shaking 'cause i’m so scared 😄

*back to osamu*

Osamu: it’s probably gonna say something that doesn’t sound like any words any human's ever spoken.

*back to atsumu*

(spirit box blares)

Spirit box: "do it"

Atsumu: oh shit!

*back to osamu*

Osamu: he'll probably respond to it like he's sitting across the table from a friend, playing scrabble.

*back to atsumu*

Atsumu: did you say ‘do it’ or 'tsumu?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sugawara: old timey jails, very fun to visit... and that’s all i’ve got to say about that *sips coffee*

Asahi: (chuckles) nothing about the ghouls?

Sugawara: there will be no ghouls, there will be dust, there will be noises that you, you know, pee your pants over.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

(bang)

Matsukawa: oh?

Hanamaki: ooh, a nice little drum hit.

Matsukawa: yeah, we got a beatboxing demon in here?

(bang)

Hanamaki: oh, shit, another one!

Matsukawa: *starts beatboxing*

Hanamaki: 🎶 my name is makki and i’m here to say. we’re the baddest ghost hunters in the usa. hunting demons and ghouls too 🎶

(unintelligible sound from the spirit box)

Hanamaki: what?

Matsukawa: *beatboxing*

Hanamaki: wait, hold on, we actually got a response!

Matsukawa: *still beatboxing*

Hanamaki: stop beatboxing! (laughing)

Matsukawa: huh, oh, sorry.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Koganegawa: *whispering* choo choo pickle pie.

Futakuchi: (wheeze) choo choo pickle pie, what the f--?

Koganegawa: i don’t know. i’m just thinking of a funny thing a ghost could whisper

Futakuchi: (wheeze)

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tendou: and by the way, if you want a little more one-on-one time with the tsutomu here, he'll be here alone soon enough.

Goshiki: …

Tendou: *backing away while keeping eye contact with goshiki *

Goshiki: it’s a long way to back out. you gonna keep that speed going?

Tendou: is the door behind me?

Goshiki: it’s close.

Tendou: *still backing away but carefully trying to avoid the door without looking behind him and eye contact still on goshiki*

Goshiki: did that work out the way you wanted?

Tendou: *still backing away*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kageyama: you gonna sit in that chair? we’re not allowed to.

Hinata: oh, yeah.

Kageyama: but we are the internet's paranormal bad boys.

Hinata: (chuckle) that’s right, were controversial.

Kageyama: we’re planning cheek to chair, baby. you ain’t gonna stop me.

Hinata: i’m sitting in that thing bare ass.

Kageyama: i’m gonna give that thing a high-five with my butt cheeks.

*later at the location*

Kageyama: yeah, not gonna happen, i’m not sitting on that.

Hinata: that looks like a death trap.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Shirabu: the human mind, if it’s looking for something, it'll find something. and he's going to find something. and it will destroy him.

*meawhile*

Goshiki: holy shit. it felt like something walked past me twice, one from the right side, once on the left side.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Akaashi: it’s gone quiet now and i’m afraid he’s dead.

TAG LIST

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kingsuckjin · 3 years

Text

Jimin's Body- Teaser

⫸ possessed Jimin x reader

⫸ Genre: horror, (Jennifer's body au)

⫸ Rating: M (18+ for eventual smut and very dark themes)

⫸ Warnings: (for this teaser only) demonic possession, blood, low self worth, mention of being a loner, question of a heart attack, embarrassing childhood story, Jimin might be being teased, hmmm Tae's house is haunted maybe?

⫸ About: This wasn't the party Jimin thought it would be. After the party you knew Jimin wasn't the person you thought he once was either... that is, if he’s a person at all anymore.

⫸ Words:1.8k

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

"Taehyung, stop fucking with everyone." You scolded as Jimin stared wide-eyed at the ceiling at the light that had just flickered out.

He had to look tough with you sitting in the circle right across from him on the brown, shag-carpeted floor of this basement that looked like it and its living room-like furniture hadn’t been touched or updated since the 70’s.

It was supposed to be a party, and there indeed was one upstairs blasting music but muffled by the floor above.

You were all supposed to be playing a childish and tipsy game of spin the bottle in the basement.

Jimin was supposed to kiss you. He had only come here because he wanted to spend time with you because you invited him, but so far nothing was going as planned.

"He's not fucking with anyone his house is haunted." Jungkook chuckled while Taehyung gave you a boxy grin.

Jimin couldn't tell if they were lying or not, he didn't really know anyone here but you and Seokjin, who had already passed out on the basement couch across the room, oblivious to everything happening.

Jimin also thought maybe they were all playing a joke on him, he hadn't said a word to anyone but you and Jin since he had got here.

"He's not lying, I saw a ghost once when I stayed over. I don't even believe in ghosts." The rather stoic guy named Yoongi spoke with his arms crossed.

"Tell them the story Tae." Jungkook urged.

Taehyung's eyes flitted around the circle to each person's face, possibly pausing to add anticipation.

"A woman died in this house."

"So what? People die everywhere, it doesn't mean a place is haunted." You spoke up, already seeming like you didn’t believe him right from the start.

"She was murdered," Taehyung added.

"Sure." You scoffed as you rolled your eyes.

"She was. Right here in the basement. She ran from the killer and hid in the basement and locked herself in the bathroom. She was supposedly very beautiful and vain. Sometimes if you look in the mirror and tell yourself how nice you look, she'll get jealous and appear, maybe she'll even steal your soul if you're pretty enough."

Although Jimin had been a little scared at first. He couldn't help but stifle a laugh and a smile at how cliché Taehyung's ghost story sounded and suddenly all eyes in the circle were on him.

"What? You don't believe me?" Taehyung raised his eyebrows at Jimin.

"No one does, Tae. Even if the house is haunted you're obviously dramatizing it." You scoffed.

"I believe it," Yoongi muttered.

"Go in there and do it Jimin." Jungkook urged pointing to a darkened doorway in the basement.

"Oh Jimin, you made her mad." Taehyung teased as he watched the light above begin to flicker back to life just before dying again.

Jimin could feel the "are you serious?" look on his face that he was now giving Jungkook. He didn't know any of these people but you, and you were the one he was afraid of looking like a coward in front of. He cursed at himself in his head for laughing at Taehyung's bad ghost story. He should've just stayed quiet like he always did.

"Go on." Jungkook urged again, ignoring Jimin's surprised look.

"Guys don't. This isn't how you treat new friends. Can we please go back to-"

"Too scared?" Yoongi now asked Jimin.

"No." He answered more confidently than he felt. Should he be scared? Probably not. Taehyung's story was shit and everyone in the room knew it. They were obviously just picking on him because he was a new friend and shy, right? Jimin didn't really have many friends until he started working at the restaurant with you and Seokjin, he was always just too shy and quiet for friends to really stick. But what if he simply just wasn't this time? What if he became the outgoing popular Jimin he always wanted to be and started over with these new friends. What if he pretended to be everything he wasn't? That’s why he came tonight, he thought if maybe he was all of those things finally, maybe you’d want him. He wasn’t about to mess up the charade he was doing okay at putting on now.

Jimin stood from his place in the circle of new friends on the floor, trying to stop his nervous legs from shaking.

"So what do I do?" He was wanting to prove them wrong, show them that he wasn't scared and this was all bullshit, even though he knew in the back of his mind that this was how every horror movie and story started.

"Jimin you don't have t-" you were interrupted by a smirking Taehyung. Jimin wondered how he could be so chill about this if it was real.

"Go in the bathroom, don't turn on the lights, look in the mirror, and tell yourself you're pretty and genuinely mean it."

"Oh, so you can all hear me and laugh at me?" Jimin saw a new ploy to their jokes.

"No ones going to laugh at you." Taehyung was serious as he looked Jimin in the eye.

"You've got more balls than I do, new guy." Jimin heard Yoongi say as he looked towards the dark basement bathroom. Something about their suddenly serious tones of voices and the way they were looking at one another now made the fear and nervousness in Jimin’s stomach rise once again.

"I swear if you're tricking him or you plan on actually making fun of him I swear I won't be your guy's friend anymore, I mean it." Your tone was deadly serious at the group and that gave Jimin some reassurance.

"It's not a joke," Taehyung replied in a way that took away any shred of confidence Jimin had left. What was worse, his new friends playing a prank on him and wanting to embarrass him or something actually happening? Jimin felt fucked either way but still made his legs carry him to the bathroom as he tried to shake off the unsettling feeling Taehyung’s story had left him with.

He wondered if they would stop him and tell him they were just kidding, but as he closed the door and the complete darkness took over the room, he lost any hope of that happening.

The bathroom smelled musty unlike the livable rest of the basement. Although it was a full bathroom with a sink, tub, and toilet, the walls were unfinished. It just felt like someone had given up on the room long ago.

Jimin placed his hands on each side of the cool, white porcelain sink and looked at himself thoroughly in the mirror in front of him. How was he supposed to tell himself he was good looking and mean it? Jimin felt like he was a timid, friendless, freak. Even this incident reminded him of a sleepover he had in first grade where he got scared and peed his pants and all the boys laughed at him. He knew you'd never want him, not when he was too shy to finally make a move, not when you had all of these cool guy friends.

Jimin placed his hand on his cheek and let his thumb drift over his lips. Have you ever once thought he was handsome? Just once? If you did you wondered what you thought about. Maybe you liked his lips and thought about how good they would feel pressed to yours… or even other places on your body.

Maybe you liked his hair and thought about how nice it would feel to run your hands through it. Perhaps his body? As a dancer, Jimin knew his body was in shape but was it good enough for you to imagine on top of you?

He finally came to the conclusion that maybe he had more in the looks department than most did. That was when he let the words pass his lips.

"I'm attractive."

The affirmation felt good, he had never once thought to do this before. He continued to look over his features and think about what you might like about him.

"My lips are nice, my hair is nice, my body is nice and I'm so attractive. I'm pretty."

Jimin began to understand that the others in that room weren't him, they were nothing like him. He had things that they didn't, many things they didn't. Even in the kindness department, Jimin had a leg up, after all, who sends a new friend into a bathroom to scare them? Did they even want to really be friends with him? Probably not. Perhaps they did this out of jealousy. They were probably jealous Jimin was better looking than them, he was a better person than them. They wanted you and couldn't have you, Jimin could.

All Jimin could see in the mirror was darkness all but the beautiful features of his face. He didn't feel the smirk that erupted on it, but he saw it in the mirror and it felt so right.

"I'm the most beautiful here. I am."

Jimin was so lost in himself that he barely noticed the shadow right behind him, reaching out for him with its dark, spindly fingers each tapered to a claw tip.

Jimin did however see the dark liquid begin to drop from his nose, run down his full pips and chin before dripping onto the white porcelain sink in front of him.

He doubled over with the sudden pain in his chest that hit him faster than a lightning strike. It felt like his heart was being tightened in a vice.

He collapsed completely onto the cold, cracked tiled floor in the dark grunting with a ringing growing overwhelmingly loud in his ears as he waited for the squeezing in his chest to pop his heart like a water balloon.

Could anyone hear him? Surely someone had to. What was happening? He wondered if he was suffering a heart attack. Was he dying?

The pain was so terrible and felt like it was lasting so long that Jimin had tried to dig his fingers into the tile until his knuckles turned white.

Over the piercing ringing, Jimin could hear soft whispers that didn't make sense at first. The whispering of a woman. The longer he listened as his vision began to fade, the more he was able to make sense of the words.

"Let me in. I can make your dreams come true. I can give you everything you want, just let me in Jimin." Whatever it was knew his name, and it knew about you and how much he liked you. it felt like whatever the voice was was burrowing around in his brain looking for something.

Jimin felt weaker and weaker as his struggling against the pain lessened the more he decided to give up.

"Fine." Jimin had struggled to say, but once he did, everything stopped. Everything turned black, even his thoughts of you had melted away into the darkness.

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murderousginger · 3 years

Text

Demons & Angels

Warnings: Menton of drug use. Smutty sexy things. They're criminals, guys, they do bad things.

Word count: 2211

Song here

(gif by @nofckingfighting)

You worked yourself up all afternoon to show up at his door. You'd had enough of Tommy Shelby and his attitude. You were sick of him brushing off your ideas, keeping you in the dark except for your small part in whatever plan he had. You were tired of hunting him down to speak to him and his words always being so clipped with you. He kept you at a distance, careful to not touch you as if dealing with a leper.

He might be the devil of Small Heath but you thought you had been friends well enough for him to spare you a look, a thought, a smirk. Something. And so you were on his doorstep that night, late enough to ensure he was home, knocking so rapidly that you almost knocked Finn in the head when he cracked the door open. Your anger waffled as Finn looked at you.

"Oh, sorry Finn," you say as you look to your feet.

"Why are you knocking like a copper this late, (Y/N)?" He asks, wide-eyed. "Arthur was 'bout ready to blow the door out."

"Sorry, I just wanted to talk to Tommy," you say, looking anywhere but at the child in front of you. "Is he home? Can I speak with him?"

A large hand grips the door above Finn's head and pulls the door wider. Arthur sticks his head out, scowling.

"Fuckin' hell, (Y/N)," he barks. "Why are you here at this hour? I nearly blew your head off. Come in, come in."

They both retreat and you come in, closing the door behind you. Finn is dressed for bed already and Arthur is half dressed, his shirt half buttoned, as if he was just about to sink into sleep himself.

"I came to talk to Tom," you say, regaining your conviction.

"At this hour?" Arthur squints. "He doesn't know you're coming, does he?"

You shake your head as you clasp your hands together.

"No, but-"

"This can't wait till mornin'?" He scratches the back of his head. "It's late, love, and I'm sure any business--"

"It's not business and I'm not leaving without talking to Tommy," you raise your voice a little, panic lacing through your tone as you realize you might not be allowed to see him. You'll lose steam by morning, unable to meet his eyes and tell him how you feel.

Arthur nods, his head down as he pauses before he looks back to meet your eyes, his voice calmer, softer.

"Right then," he nods to Finn, "you, off to bed. Now."

Finn does as he's told, eyes wide.

"Right," Arthur clears his throat. "Right. Well. Something I need to tell you first, right, is that Tom's…"

He trails off, his hand waving as if to catch words in the air to fill his mouth.

"Tom's not himself right now," he says finally, meeting your eye as if to push the meaning into your head.

"Not himself?" You repeat, dropping your chin to your chest.

"Yuh," he said, nodding more vigorously as you catch his words. "He's more, y'know, calm… right now. He's had a bit of opium to sleep and he might not be in full form."

"Opium?" You frown. "Why's--"

"He takes it to sleep," Arthur says as he shuffles in place. "He don't talk about it much. I think you'd be alright."

He squints as he smooths his mustache down.

"A woman shouldn't set 'im off like I do," he mutters to himself. "Come'n, love, I'll show you his door."

Arthur walks to the stairs and goes up them before you find your feet and follow, more questions than answers from the interaction. You both stop at the first closed door at the top of the stairs, and Arthur points to it as he steps away from it.

"He's just there," he said, continuing his walk down the hall. "Wait 'til I'm out of sight, or I'll set him off, and we don't want fuckin' war flashbacks tonight, love."

Your eyes widened as your hand froze over the doorknob.

"Just be easy," Arthur said, his hands gesturing wildly. "It's all a bit of a dream to him right now."

Arthur disappeared into his room as you stared at the door, uncertainty tainting your anger. You were used to unaffected, strong, stubborn Tommy Shelby. Who would this man be behind the door?

You finally took a deep breath and turned the knob, moving into a room of heavy sour smoke. It tickled your nose as you looked at the mostly bare walls. The only furniture was a wooden chair, an end table, and the small bed that Tommy Shelby lay across as he contemplated the ceiling as if you weren't there.

You closed the door, fidgeting as you sank into the wooden chair.

"Tommy?" You call, hoping it would snap him out of whatever was happening.

He frowns as he turns to you, scrutinizing you before he looks back to the ceiling.

"That's new," he says to himself with a shrug. "I suppose she's been on my mind but it's not normal to conjure."

"Conjure?" You ask, lost in his words.

"I see spirits, love," he says. "Not the living. You can be off now."

His words brush you off like a maid and rekindles your resolve.

"Why have you been pushing me away?" You ask as you sit on his bed near his feet with your arm propping yourself up as you watch him. He took a deep breath.

"Do you think I tell people things?"

He stayed still, a picture of calm waters, as he laid on his bed with his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling.

"And I do?"

"You're telling me now."

"No," you sputter, "I'm asking a question."

"People don't ask questions about things they have no care for."

"Have you always been this obstinate, Tommy Shelby?" You shake your head as you look to the ceiling.

A heavy silence fills the room as you both stare above to the blank ceiling. You fall into your head, the dark corners that you retreat to when you can't quite grasp those around you, and you start to shuffle through the worst explanations to fill the silence. This was a terrible idea. I'm a fool.

"I am cursed," he said, breaking you from your thoughts. "Everything I touch gets tainted. Broken."

You soften as you look over, your mouth shut in fear a response would silence him. His face is pinched, his eyes searching above him, as if he can't find the words. There's never the right words.

"You fit," he said. "You don't flinch at the violence. You don't flinch at the business. You've never given me the look."

He stops, finally looking down to his feet to look over you, through you. His eyes cover your every curve and he gives a slight nod before he looks back up to the ceiling.

"The look?" You whisper, afraid that anything louder would stop him, take him out of whatever trance had him. Whatever the opium opened in his head.

"Disgust," he said. "Fear. Loathing. You've never stopped looking at me like I'm just a man."

"You've never been anything else to me, Tommy," you say as his face drops, his blue eyes melt over you like clear skies.

"I am to everyone else," he lowed.

"Should I be afraid of Thomas Shelby, Devil of Small Heath?" Your eyebrow quirked up involuntarily, taunt thick in the air.

He smiled at his epithet on your lips, the words rolling out of your mouth. They didn't have the usual feelings behind them that he had grown used to. You knew the answer before you asked and nothing would change your certainty.

"I think I'm in love with you."

He says it like he isn't there, like his words aren't really attached and settling into the world around him. It just tumbles out of his mouth without thought. He mulls the words over once they're in the air as if he hadn't actually considered it before that moment.

Your heart catches in your throat, expanding, exploding in your chest. He looks down to you, mouth slightly parted as he looks over you again, his words settling into his brain.

"Odd," he says, watching you frozen in place as he sits up. "I've never placed that thought. But that would be why you're here now, innit? You've been in the back of my brain so long you've appeared. The opium conjures what I reject."

"Why reject me, Tom, when I've always been by your side?"

"Why poison the only good?" He breathes out. "I'm done with this talk. You're like a mirage, if I touch you, you're gone."

You sit frozen as he cocks his head and reaches out as if to move a curtain away. His fingers ghost over your lips as his mouth slacks and his eyes flare. Shock and anger fight over his features like lightning in a summer thunderstorm.

"I'm not disappearing, Tom," you whisper against his fingertips. "The opium didn't conjure me. You touched me and I'm still here, unbroken."

"Fuck."

It's all he uttered. Sharp. Succinct. He pulls his hand back as if he burnt himself on you.

"Kiss me."

He buries his face in his hand, muttering nonsense to himself.

"I'm telling you I feel the same," you rasp, your heart fluttering as the words fill you with a jolt of fear. "You can't confess your feelings and refuse to kiss me."

"I'm afraid to kiss you," he breaths out, flustered by his own words. His hand wipes his mouth and shakily hangs in his lap.

"Why?"

"Because if I start I don't know if I can stop."

"Who says I want you to?"

Tommy hesitates but his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing it softly. Your hand finds the base of his neck and you pull him to you, your kiss hungry. Tommy matches your passion, his hesitation dripping away in the flames as you taste the whiskey on his tongue and a sour taste you can smell in the air around you. You breath out a soft moan as he bites your lip and his hands cup your face as his kisses move across your jaw.

"That sound," he growls as he pulls you into his lap, "I'll spend forever in that noise."

You chuckle, but your breath hitches as he kisses the soft spot on your neck. You wrap your arms around him and squirm in his lap. His teeth rake the spot and you're seeing stars, fucking planets orbiting your head. You moan louder and he growls into your skin, ripples of pleasure shooting down your spine.

"You like that," he says like it's fact, and it is. Oh, it is.

Your dress is over your head before you realize, only the cool air causing goosebumps across your flesh makes you register it's disappearance. He presses you back, pulling you both backward before his hand finds your chest and he lays you flat on your back.

"Hell is the absence of that noise you make," Tommy mumbles as his hands run along your legs and his nose tickles your thighs.

He searches, tests you, settles there as if he's willing to do anything to keep that noise in his head. You moan lightly when he touches the right spot and grow louder as he dives in, his hands pressing into your skin harder as your body wriggles from the intensity of the feelings he gives you. He hums as you arch your back against the bed.

You hiss, bringing your hand to your mouth to bite as you push against him. There are other people in the house and you can't yell the house down. You look down to see the crinkle of amusement around his eyes and his hand reaches to pull yours from your mouth.

"Your brothers are in the house, Tommy," you whine, fighting to keep your voice down as your eyes roll back.

"They've heard worse, love," he said as he climbs your body, his words growling down your ear. "But I've never heard something so sweet. Moan my name again."

He got his way. Tommy Shelby always got his way.

When both of you collapse together, breathing hard in each other's arms, Tommy pulls you close to his chest.

"I broke my rule for you," he says as he kisses the top of your head.

"Tommy Shelby has rules?" You twist to look up at him. "I always thought you look at rules and pass them by."

"I am selective with which ones I follow," he says as he pulls your lips to his. "I just have the one I've never broken."

"And that is?" You smile lazily, tired and enjoying his touch.

"Don't endanger the innocent."

Your brows knot together as you open your mouth to protest.

"My hands on your skin put you in danger," he says before you can speak. "I've put a target on your back with my bloody hands."

You kiss him slow and soft.

"Well," you say as you pull back. "I guess the devil of Small Heath will just have to protect me, then."

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #storytime with murderousginger #promptmurderousginger

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just-like-playing-tag · 3 years

Text

A Letter from Norman reactions

Tonight I was feeling like reorganizing the notes I took after reading the novel for the first time. Just some random personal reactions I had after reading it; if anything catches your attention and you'd like to know more about a particular event from the novel, please feel free to ask and I'll be happy to help!!!

Under the cut because it's l o n g. That is, if Tumblr allows me to add a "read more", which has never happened before, but I'll keep hoping in it.

• Disclaimer: I'm suing anyone who ever said that the novel is all about NorEmma. I've literally put off reading it because I didn't want to get into something overly romantic while there's??? Nearly nothing about it that is romantic??????? Just a slight mention in that last chapter and that's it???????? Why are y'all like this

Prologue

• I need you all to know that the important letter™ through which Norman informed Emma about his plan starts with him describing the weather. I just think it's a relevant information.

• Ok I'm at freaking page 1 of “A letter from Norman” and. NORMAN IT'S A FREAKING LETTER TO EMMA NOT A SHAKESPEAREAN PLAY THERE'S LITERALLY NO REASON TO BE THIS POETIC

Maybe, I would get it if it was directed to Ray, but to Emma?????

Chapter 1

• Emma in 2038: Let's befriend ghosts

Emma in 2047: let's befriend demons

Seems like a logic consecution to me

• Ok but why has nobody ever mentioned the extremely precious Emma / Gilda moments in the novel???? My heart was completely melting that was the most adorable thing I've ever read??????

• The way Norman is constantly in awe of Ray is so adorable... Baby is so sweet I swear, he deserves the world

Chapter 2

• OK BUT THE SWEET EXCHANGE between Ray and Isabella before him and Emma go out at night?????? Ray is so pure is swear... He's a precious baby who didn't deserve all the shit he went through.

Reporting it in case anyone's curious; for context, Norman is sick, and Emma wants to go out look for a flower that she's read is going to help him feel better. Emma and Ray are convinced that Norman is going to die because babies are just that dramatic, and easily impressionable as well. They're seven here.

“ «Ray, I'm counting on you!»

Isabella pressed an hand on the boy's shoulder, who turned his face to her and diligently nodded, before continuing: «Differently from Emma, I don't think the flower is going to help Norman heal».

«What do you mean?»

«However, it's better than having to sit back and watch without doing anything. I too, like her, want him to heal as soon as possible.»

«Sure, I understand...» ”

NOW that hits so hard. You have to understand, this is after Ray had made the deal with Isabella. He had already started to plan the escape. In this occasion, he was on a very thin line: alone at night with Emma, outside the House, a child who knew the truth. Isabella knew those were the right conditions for him to attempt an escape, so she decided to test his loyalty; one misstep, and their deal - which was fundamental for the escape Ray was planning - would have ended.

But at the same time, Ray needed to go. Because, just like Emma, he just couldn't stand to lose Norman. And to see these three children caring so deeply about each other even at such a young age makes me honestly bawl. This is quite certainly my favorite thing from this series. And Ray deserves the world.

• Ray was so determined to save his two friends, he even considered for a moment, in the woods, to tell Emma the truth about the orphanage. I find it very nice how the novel hinted of all these times Ray almost revealed the truth, it really puts emphasis on how he was trying to find the best moment for the escape- but it also hints to how desperate he was to share this grievous burden he was forced to carry for the longest time.

• “ Ray, you must keep on living, Norman whispered to himself like a prayer. ”

I'm... I'M 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Doesn't help the fact that this bit was literally at the end of pages of Norman praising Ray and how brave he had been for so long.

• “ Nobody in the House would have wanted for Ray to pay with his life to amend the silence of all those years. ”

I love this bit. Nobody between the children ever hated Ray for speechlessly assisting to dozens of his siblings being lead to death, because they all immediately understood how much he was suffering, how powerless he must had felt, and also, even though it only led to him being even more hurt, how deeply he loved them all. It's really nice to realize that no children ever hated Ray- no one besides from himself. His siblings love him unconditionally, and that's precisely what he deserves 🤧🤧💕💕💕

• Norman: *adventures in a detailed description of Ray's features and gestures for no other apparent reason than the fact that he finds him pretty*

Chapter 3

• Ok I know people use to see Ray and Susan's interactions under the light of Ray having a crush on her but honestly? I think they make the cutest brotp. I never knew how much I needed Ray-having-an-older-sister content untill now.

• For real though!! What hits you really hard is to find out, even though he would had never ever showed it, how desperate he was to have somebody care about him, and to be loved. He literally grieves for losing someone that looks after him and is there to check on him in his lowest days- we know it's the thing Isabella never gave him. Man, this boy didn't deserve all the shit that happened to him. Tpn may have become an old known story for me, but Ray's sufferings in his early age will never stop tearing my heart apart.

• Ok, I wasn't ready for all this angst on Ray's part. I mean, I obviously know GF were hard times for him, but I didn't expect for him to take over the pov. Sis, how wrong I was. Now I'm crying.

• Coming to the realization that Ray's initial plan actually was to bring everyone in the escape, but he clearly had to give up on it after having realized it would have been impossible to save them 🥺🥺🥺

(I mean it was not impossible. He believed it was. But it wasn't.)

• Ok but. The last part of the Ner chapter. I really don't want to spoil it for anyone because it really was a beautiful chapter but I really need to say: Emma and Norman. The way it wasn't just Ray always being there for them, protecting them from afar; no matter their blissful ignorance, they have always been there for him too. They never abandoned that lonely boy, and they made it so that he could have a last reason not to give up. A single, dim light of hope in that pitch black, devastating world he was born in. I may or may not be crying my eyes out.

(Btw I had written this before the Ray special chapter came out, and it's kinda funny to look back at it now)

• The thing with the Ner chapter is: you enter in it after reading two chapters of normal, wholesome children's stories. There's a dark undertune in it, but it's very subtle and it doesn't interfere with the happy, cheerful atmosphere of these children facing adventures together with each other. But then the Ner chapter strikes, and the Ray pov arrives, and it's like being beaten with a bat in the stomach several times. Deep down, you had always known it; but you suddenly realize that all these children are going to die. And, even worse, there's one child who knows. There's one child who has to assist to everything powerlessly. There's one child, one freaking-nine-years-old who knows that all his siblings are going to die, and there's nothing he can do. That a single mistake could ruin the chances of making just two of his siblings survive, which is everything he's hanging to right now. One child who only needs to be loved. Well that... That hits hard.

Me expressing my thoughts: girl this form is shit you can't write something that is understandable to save your life can you

• Also can we please appreciate Norman taking so long to get out of the forest as it's a recurrent characterizzation of his character to be desperately willing to live just *French chef kiss*

• I really like how the novel underlined how Norman's choice of sacrificing himself corresponded to a betrayal toward his friends (when you think about it, Emma definitely felt betrayed). It's almost like in his last moments Norman chose to switch roles with Ray, taking on his shoulders the burden of being both the traitor and the sacrifice.

Chapter 4

• Norman: * “ He instinctively closed his eyes and abandoned himself to the sweet memory of that time he understood how deeply loved he was. ” *

Somewhere, Ray: Can't relate

• Emma: Norman, what you want to do when you grow up?

Norman: It's a secret.

Me:

• “ Ray woke up before everyone, as usual. ”

A remarkable detail. You'd think Ray, as a good depressed person as he is, would sleep more than the average. The truth is: he doesn't sleep at all.

• Norman: There's... Another person I like

Me:

• OK NOW WHY did none tell me about the nine (9) lines of Norman / Don interacting it was worth reading the novel solely for that.

• WHY DID NONE TELL ME ABOUT DON ALMOST STRANGLING NORMAN AND MAKING HIM LITERALLY PASS AWAY IT WAS TOTALLY WORTH READING THE NOVEL SOLELY FOR THAT

• Reading about Conny being there hurts a lot but reading about Sadie and Hao brings up a totally different kind of pain. Also who the hell is Cindy?

• Norman: Oh yes, Emma and Ray, my most dear friends, my closest siblings, the reason I wake up in the morning, my only reason to live, the ones I'd entrust my life with,

Also Norman: Dunnot in the last thirteen hours and six minutes they have been acting pretty sus, I'm kinda sure they're betraying me somehow ://

• “ «I agree, but it feels like you've fallen down a rabbit hole. You're restless, you constantly look off...» said the raven haired boy, distorting his mouth in an hardly intelligible grimace and giving his friend a meaningful look.

«Norman, about that mysterious girl...»

«No, you're mistaken! I...»

Norman, filled with frustration, raised up his voice, starting to lose the coolness that was usually characteristic of him.

«But I haven't said anything yet!»

That being said Ray, with slightly mocking doing, turned on his feet and went away, leaving Norman like that. ”

I LOVE THIS BIT SO INEXPLICABLY MUCH I'm always *so* in for Oreo finishing each other sentences / reading each other's thoughts. Here, Norman answered Ray's question before he could even expose it, because he already knew what it would have been. Equally, Ray knew what Norman was going to say even though he cut his answer halfway through.

I love how much on the same page they are, they really... Totally and fully understand each other even without words, and I find it so sweet. Seriously, their dynamic is so wholesome

• Norman's last birthday gift: the thing that matters the most to him: his family's happiness

Emma's reward: the thing that matters the most to her: her family's happiness

Some things hit harder than others.

• I don't know like. When you read the novel after the series has ended, everything hurts so much more, because you know these are all memories Emma has lost forever.

• So you made colorful clothing by "coloring old clothes"? Have fun realizing y'all have celebrated Norman's birthday wearing your dead siblings' clothes

Bonus this epic note I randomly took I completely forgot the context of:

• Isabella is a bitch. I don't give a fuck about your dramatic past woman, leave that boy alone

(When the protect Ray mood hits™)

#tpn #the promised neverland #a letter from norman #tpn norman #tpn emma #tpn ray #full score trio #oreo #tpn analysis #mine #I don't even like Stark I just used the gif for the sake of reactions #I should have used facepalming Ray™ instead #Let me know if you want my reactions for the second novel as well!!!#tpn novels

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monsterlovinghours · 4 years

Note

So... I found an interesting tweet and was wondering if you'd write something sexy for it.... "In Vietnam it's a popular belief that if you are single in your 20s there is a ghost following you and hindering your romantic life because it wants to be with you and I just want to tell my personal ghost to quit being a coward and fuck me already." Also I claim the ✨ Emoji, if that's okay?

That’s fine with me, Starburst! holy fucking moly this took me forever to finish and this turned out way longer than i had originally planned but fuck this is such a neat idea and it just kinda snowballed but it’s finally done hurrah!!!!

fem!reader, just bear with me i am soft and full of feelings and i need to self insert

Bitter tears stung her eyes as she unlocked the front door to her empty apartment. Her empty, cold, lonely apartment. Another unsuccessful first date, ruined before any real potential could be reached. Everything seemed to go wrong; first her car wouldn't start, then her Uber was late, the table next to theirs at the restaurant was noisy and obnoxious, and the movie they had wanted to see had been sold out. Her date hadn't offered any suggestions to further the date, just sighed and took her home. He didn't even try to touch her, barely looked at her, and that stung more than she cared to admit, to feel invisible and undesirable. If he was the first, second, or even the fifth, it might not have hurt quite so badly. But the numerous dates she had gone on since entering her twenties had all gone the same way, ending too soon without a single spark of chemistry. Was there something wrong with her? Was she that repulsive?

Sighing, she swallowed her tears for the moment and walked dejectedly to her bedroom, dropping her purse and keys as she went. Down came her hair from the careful twist she had pinned it into, Mediterranean blue waves spilling down her back, her dress shed and her shoes kicked off. Makeup removed and dressed in panties and an oversized shirt, she slipped into bed, curling up with a pillow hugged to her chest. Finally, she let the tears come, sobbing out her hurt, her frustration, her loneliness. She had thought that perhaps this would be the one that went somewhere, that she'd finally break the cycle and maybe, just once, she'd have the chance to feel wanted, to feel seen. To love and be loved, like everyone else. But no; either she was entirely unloveable, or some force out there was deliberately fucking things up for her. In desperation, she angrily muttered through her tears, "Whatever cosmic entity has decided that I'm going to be lonely and hurting forever, could you either fuck off or come fuck me yourself?"

Thud

Something fell from her desk, something relatively heavy, and she sat up with a start and a gasp, her heart hammering. Her journal had fallen to the floor, lying open on a date that was still several months in the future, and the pen that she kept tucked in the pages…was standing upright on the page, scribbling something onto the paper. Her heart rose up into her mouth, fluttering sickeningly. That...was...not normal. Slowly, she slid out of bed, approaching the journal as if it were a live thing, dangerous and fanged and unpredictable. The pen finished whatever it was writing and fell over, and she knelt to read the message it left behind.

i thought you'd never ask babe

She sat back, her eyes darting around the space as if she could catch a glimpse of the mysterious specter that seemed to be listening, watching. Her voice soft, hesitant and tremulous, she asked, "Is someone there?"

Instantly, the pen flew upright again, scratching something out just below its previous message.

been here the whole time sorry about your date.

"Oh my fucking god," she breathed, her pulse pounding in her ears. "Who...who are you? How long have you been here? Are you the one fucking with my love life?"

whoa one question at a time babes

To calm herself, she took a deep breath. "How long have you been following me?"

5 years

"Jesus." She let out a breath, unsurprised to feel her hands shake as she ran them back through her hair. "Why?"

its complicated id rather tell you face 2 face

Her brow furrowed, getting to her feet to switch on her light. "Okay. So come out and talk to me. Why are you hiding?” The pen scratched across the paper insistently.

invisible not hiding

“So...make yourself visible?” She crouched by the journal, noticing that the pen was digging into the paper so hard it was nearly tearing it.

Can’t until you say my name

“So what’s your name?”

Can’t tell you

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she groaned, throwing up her hands in exasperation. The pen suddenly flew across the room, where a poster that had been hanging on her wall swung loose, then fluttered to the ground. Her poster of the constellations. The pen was circling something, a name...the name of a star.

“Betelgeuse?”

Almost excitedly, the pen wrote next to the star, the words jagged and sloppy.

Two more times!!!

She paused, wondering if this was truly a good idea. “Beetlejuice.”

One more one more one more please baby gimme one more

One beat, then two, then she threw caution to the wind and spoke the word one final time. “Beetlejuice.”

Her light flickered, as if to announce the sudden appearance of a very real, very solid looking figure standing with their feet planted on her poster, wearing a suit of dirty black and white stripes and a grin that could light up a small town. “You said it! You finally said it! I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for five fucking years and you finally said my name!” Before she could speak or even breathe, he had all but lunged for her, wrapping her up in his arms, the smell of damp earth filling her lungs even as he tried to squeeze the breath out of them. Ineffectually, she squirmed in his over-enthusiastic embrace, trying to wriggle away, to take a minute to process what the fuck was happening and who the fuck was standing in her bedroom right now.

“Wait wait, hold on, so...your name is Beetlej-”

“Shhhhh!” He clapped a hand over her mouth, shaking his head vehemently. “Don’t say it. I’m sorry babes, but I’ve waited too long for this to go tits-up now.” He lowered his hand slowly, that grin resurfacing. “Okay, so I know you’ve got a lot of questions and you must be pretty excited to meet your own personal ghost but before we get to the boring stuff I gotta do one thing first.” Without giving her a chance to ask, his hands slid to her waist, pulling her to him even as he dipped her back and kissed her, his lips like ice, though surprisingly soft. What surprised her most was not the kiss itself, but rather her lack of aversion to it; she tried to tell herself it was because she hadn’t been kissed in so long that she was desperate for any kind of affection, even the strange, otherworldly, and rather abrupt kind. Oddly enough, she even found herself kissing him back, her fists gripping the lapels of his coat as he set her upright again. That Cheshire grin still hitched the corners of his mouth high, and his gaze raked over her like a physical caress, cool, white hands still curved in her waist.

"Alright. Fire away, babes, ask me anything."

"Um…" Her head spun, thoughts racing, heart still pounding a chaotic timpani in her ears. "Did...did you say 'my own personal ghost'?"

"I sure did. You're one of the lucky gals that gets a ghost attached to ya when you reach adulthood. And you've got the luck of the draw, sweet stuff, because you managed to snag the Ghost with the Most!" His thumbs hooked into his suspenders, though oddly enough, two hands still stayed clasping her waist.

"And you...you've been fucking with my dates...screwing around with my love life for five years?"

Her voice raised a bit in pitch, and he had the presence of mind to look sheepish. "Sorry about that, but none of those schmucks were good enough for you. I had to scare 'em off, you're mine."

"Excuse me??" She broke his grasp, stepping away from him as her brows knitted together in hurt and anger. "I've spent five years convinced there was something wrong with me, that I was repulsive or unattractive or unlovable, because no one ever made it past the first date, and you waited this long to tell me that it was you the whole time? Do you have any idea how worthless I felt after each failed date? How broken a-and defective I felt? How-”

“Hey hey, take it easy for a second, dollface!” He grasped at her wrists; until he grabbed them, she hadn’t realized how wildly she was gesturing. “Look, I tried. I’ve been trying since the moment I saw you to get you to talk to me. It ain’t exactly easy for the dead to communicate with the living. But you knew I was there, didn’t you? Hasn’t every house you’ve lived in felt just a little bit haunted?” She paused, thinking back to all the doors she had closed but hadn’t opened, the objects on the floor that had been sitting secure on a shelf when she’d left, the quiet moments when she couldn’t sleep when she swore she could feel eyes on her. Encouraged by her pause, he continued. “You breathers are stubborn, you just don’t wanna see what’s right under your noses. Until tonight, I barely had enough influence on the living world to push a piece of paper off the desk. But you...you called for me. You finally gave in and called for me.” He grinned again, and though the fangs should have made him seem frightening and demonic, he just seemed...relieved. “I was finally able to tell you my name, and let me tell ya, there hasn’t been a single sound in my very, very long existence sweeter than you calling my name.”

She took a deep breath in, processing everything he had told her, everything that had happened in...god, had it only been three minutes? “What did you mean when you said that...I was yours? What does that mean?”

He shrugged, pulling her closer, his hand pressing against the small of her back. “Means you’re mine, babe. It means that you’re my girl.” Something dulled the gleam in his eyes, and to her surprise, the green in his hair began to fade to a deep, shamed violet. “I was there for every night you fell asleep cryin’ over some guy who would have only hurt you in the end. It gutted me that I couldn’t do anything to help. You’re my baby, and I don’t like to see you hurt, and I really don’t like being the one to hurt you. But it had to be done. You didn't belong with any of them." He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut as his hair faded back to green, as if he were forcing the color to appear. "We're wasting too much time talking when I should be kissing you."

"W-We just met!" The outrage on her voice felt like a show, a dutiful proper response to finding a green-haired, handsy ghost in her bedroom. But she hadn't once tried to wriggle out of his arms, unconsciously leaning closer when his hand slid up her spine.

Beetlejuice shook his head, stepping into her, strands of pink peeking through the green of his hair as he felt her body against his, solid and oh, so warm. "We've known each other for years, honey. You may not have had a face or a name, but deep down you've always known I was there. If I was just some stranger, you'd have run for the hills by now." She wanted to argue, but as much as she didn't want to admit it, he was right. His presence felt familiar, like a memory from her past she had all but forgotten about, but the emotions attached still lingered. It was why she hadn’t struggled when he reached for her, hadn’t tried to shake off his grasp, had kissed him back. His grin widened when she didn’t argue or protest, and he pulled her close, her body flush to his; he all but purred at the way her lashes fluttered, her hands naturally settling on his shoulders, as if they had done this a hundred times.

“Let me kiss you,” he rasped, holding her chin in his hand. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long, babe, please...let me give you a real kiss.” There wasn’t much more than a fraction of a second of hesitation before she nodded, gaze flicking to his mouth just before the distance closed and her brought her lips to his. With that first urgent kiss out of the way, this one was softer, more patient, sweet, and when she felt his tongue trace the seam of her lips, she parted them without question. Oh, it was wonderful, more so than she had ever dreamed, to be kissed like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, to have hands pressed so close to her skin, as if she would slip from his fingers and shatter if he let go. She wasn’t quite sure how they had ended up on her bed, but the softness of the duvet embraced her as he laid her back, kneeling over her. She moaned as the tip of his tongue flicked against hers, the sound echoed as he tasted the first flickers of her pleasure, soft and tremulous, like the first stretch of the wings of a newly emerged butterfly.

“I wanna touch you,” he growled, his kisses trailing down her neck. “Fuck, you taste so good already, baby.” One of his hands rested at her collarbone, waiting for the invitation to slip lower. “Please, honey, let me pull your shirt up? Wanna feel just how warm you are under there…”

“Wait,” she said breathlessly, leaning up on one elbow. He seemed confused, perhaps just a touch annoyed, but he stopped. “All those years you spent following me around...did you ever…” She gestured to herself. He smirked.

“Of course not. Not that I didn’t want to, sweetness, but when I saw you for the first time, I wanted you to be able to see me back, y’know?”

“And when I...had...alone time?” She arched a brow, and his grin widened.

“Didn’t see a thing. Scout’s honor. Though, I definitely heard quite a lot. You know, you’re not nearly as quiet as you think you are.” Her cheeks flushed red, and she turned her head to the side in an attempt to mute the color rising in her cheeks. “Nope, huh-uh. Keep those eyes on me, babe.” His fingers gripped her chin again, bringing her gaze back to his. “I want you to keep looking at me, no matter what.” She nodded, and he grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. “Good girl. Now, lemme get a look at you.” Perhaps not quite as slowly as he should have, he grasped the hem of her shirt and lifted it, groaning as her breasts came into view, soft and tipped with dusky pink. “Oh fuck,” he nearly whimpered, and she moaned as his hips pressed into hers, seeking warmth and friction. “Such a gorgeous little thing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen you come in from the cold, saw these little beauties all stiff and hard through your shirt, and wanted to tease them with my tongue until I had you moaning and squirming.”

She shivered, letting loose a soft sound of want as he settled his weight more firmly over her, purring like a cat as he leaned down to kiss her nipples, first one, then the other. A moan left her as she felt his tongue softly lick at one stiff peak, her hand tangling in his hair, which to her surprise pulled an answering moan from him. Seems she had found a weak spot.

Oh, she had never dreamed that this would feel so nice, his mouth at her breasts, sucking, kissing, licking, teasing. His hands, still cool but warmer than before, squeezed the full flesh, kneading restlessly, and she arched her back, pulling her shirt off all the way and moaning. His scruff tickled her skin, made her shiver and break out in goosebumps, and she let her fingers drift through his hair, causing him to spill little growls and purrs against her skin.

"Ohhhh, baby," he groaned, lifting his head, his hair a deep rose pink, his pupils wide, drinking in the sight of her. "Baby girl, I've dreamt of this moment for five years, I wanted to make it so good for you. But I don't think I can wait." His hand slipped down her body, palm flat to her skin to touch as much of her as he could at once, then slid between her legs, inside her panties to cup her sex, the heel of his hand pressing into her clit. She keened, her toes curling, and he groaned in response. "Please, babe," he murmured, pushing the tip of his middle finger into her. "Please?"

"Yes," she said, with no hesitation, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, god, please."

There it was again, that mega-watt grin, his mouth split wide with joy. "Thank you, doll, fuck...oh, I've been wanting this for far too long." He sat up, and in the time it took for him to be upright again, his clothing-suit, tie, and all-had vanished, leaving him naked and visibly throbbing. His hands shook as he pulled down her panties, his cock twitching as he saw her bare for the first time. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, my god…” Nearly the same temperature as her now, he touched her, thumb rubbing her clit as he pressed two fingers inside. “Has any guy ever done this to you before," he asked lowly, his free hand sliding up her thigh as he watched his fingers slide in and out of her.

"No." Her answer came immediately with a shake of her head, hips rolling against his hand. "No one."

"I knew it." He grinned, withdrawing his fingers and popping them in his mouth with a deep groan. "Knew you'd wanna save this for me." Licking his lips to savor her, he crawled over her, grasping himself to guide his cock to her entrance. The tip pressed inside, and he groaned, shivering as he saw her teeth come down on her lower lip. "Feel okay?"

"Feels great," she murmured, reaching up to hesitantly cup his cheek in her hand. "You can move, honey, you won't hurt me." Her heart gave a funny little stutter as he nuzzled into her palm, as if craving her touch. He began to rock his hips, so shallow and gentle, widening her for him, though she could see the strain it put on him to go slow, the tension in his shoulders and the clench of his jaw. Any last doubts she had about him melted away as she fully understood the care he was treating her with. To wait so long for somebody, to be with them every second and watch them laugh and cry and hurt without you, to ache with the need to touch them and be near them, and for the object of your affections to not be able to see you, let alone touch you...she could only imagine how frantic for her he must feel, but he was taking the time to consider her comfort, setting a slow pace despite the fact that it must be torture for him. “Beej?” She spoke the nickname softly, and his gaze focused on her with laser intensity, teeth exposed in a grin. “You don’t have to take it so slow, I won’t break.” Her thumbs stroked over his cheeks, slipping down to cup the sides of his neck and trace his jaw. “I want you to...to feel me. I made you wait so long, honey, but you can make up for lost time now. Don’t hold back.”

A thousand expressions crossed his face at once, his hand sliding around the back of her neck to lift her head, pressing his forehead to hers. “Baby,” he rasped, sounding on the brink of some tremulous emotion, “are you sure? I want this to be good for you-”

“This is as much for you as it is for me. If...if we’re really meant for each other, then isn’t it my job to take care of you, too?”

Beetlejuice let out a soft noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, his lips pressing desperately to hers. “How did I get so fucking lucky to land a babe like you?” And with a snap of his hips, he was fully hilted, his eyes rolling back to the whites as she jolted in his arms, her wet warmth squeezing him, gripping him so tight. A string of curses left his lips, some in a strange language she suspected wasn’t from anywhere aboveground, and she lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, anchoring herself to him. “Fuck, that’s it, babycakes,” he crooned, his hips rolling, groaning with each delicious slide within her velvet. “Ohhh shit, you take me so well...yeah, fuck, you feel so damn good, sweet stuff. You doin’ okay?”

Oh God, was she ever. It was a little uncomfortable at first; while he was average in length, he more than made up for it in width, and there had been a strange burning as she stretched to accommodate him. But that sensation of fullness, of movement, of joining...was indescribable. It felt like breathing for the first time. Like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place. Like the ceasing of a lifelong pain she had grown too used to to notice until it was no longer there. “Yeah,” she answered, tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m great. P-Please, you can go faster.”

He looked stricken at the glisten of her eyes and the tremble in her voice. “You sure? We can stop if it hurts, babes, I don’t-”

“No.” Her hands shot up to thread through his hair, yanking on it to pull him down into a kiss, the first time she had kissed him. “God, no. It doesn’t hurt, honey, it feels...oh, you feel so fucking good…” To emphasize her point, she squeezed her walls around him, bucking her hips up, and he groaned, shuddering against her. “More, please, I need more of you.”

His mouth left hers, but his lips wouldn’t or couldn’t seem to leave her skin, kissing across her cheek, the delicate shell of her ear, down her throat. “Fuck, say it again,” he murmured into the hollow of her throat as his pace increased, pushing harder, faster, the sense of something on the verge of collapse filling the room around them.

She knew what he meant, and she smiled, combing her fingers through his hair, neck arching as her hair spread across the pillow. “I need you,” she repeated, her body meeting his, rising up as he pushed down, rolling and cresting and crashing like waves against the shores of her bedsheets. “I need you, please.”

Whatever splintering dam had been holding him back finally broke, and he latched his teeth into her throat with a cry, slamming into her with unrestrained passion, marking her at her pulse, her collarbones, even just under her jaw. She was his, his, and no one else could ever have her now. She had called him, accepted him, opened herself to him in so many ways, in ways he never dreamed a beauty like her ever would. Praise dripped from his lips like rain, showering her in attention and bite marks. Her back curved, her body alight with sensation, each nerve electrified as she held him tighter and tighter, curling herself around him and letting herself get lost in him. This was everything she had wanted, everything she had been missing, in the world’s most unconventional lover. Affection, pleasure, desire, playfulness, care and attention. Her heart melted, her entire self surrendering to him; she felt it now, felt the rightness of his claim. She was his, body and soul. She always had been.

His moans changed in pitch, his thrusts frantic, mindlessly chasing his pleasure as he took her hand, pressing it into the bed beside her head as his fingers wove between hers. “Babe, fuck, I’m gonna come...can I come inside you, baby? Huh? Can I fill you up, sweetness, fill you up and make you come with me? Please, baby girl, I’m so close…” He growled, nipping at her earlobe. “Let me make you mine.”

She nodded, almost too breathless to reply. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please, I’m already yours.”

He groaned, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling it back before releasing it. “Say it again. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m y-oohh fuck!” She cried out, cursing as his free hand began rubbing her clit, hard and fast, tripling her pleasure all at once. “I’m yours!”

“Again, babes…”

“Yours, Beej, I’m yours!”

“Louder, baby, scream for me!”

“Yours!”

With a shout, he broke, his entire body shivering as he came, cool and so deep within her she could practically taste it. The fingers at her clit didn’t let up, and moments later she was following him, her pleasure crackling through her, spreading like lightning across a stormy sky through her body. Her vision faded, dimmed, but the light of his smile and the sound of his voice remained clear as day, grounding her as the muscles in her body unfurled one by one, her body collapsing against the bed as the pleasure faded slowly. There was the sensation of something dripping down her thighs, something wet and just slightly cooler than her own skin, and a delicious little shiver went through her at the sensation, heightening the little aftershock tremors.

“Fuck,” he breathed, lowering himself to rest his head on the pillow of her breasts, “that was worth the wait.” His hands cupped them, pressed them together as he buried his face between them. For a few moments, everything was silent and still, his lips skimming her skin in little butterfly kisses as she stroked her fingers through his hair, catching her breath. Then, she heard something, heard his voice, heard a muffled voice murmur something that sounded suspiciously like, “I love you.”

“What was that?”

Lifting his face ever so slightly, but not looking up at her, he said loudly, “I said you have nice tits!” The words tumbled out of him a little too quickly, and the sudden flush of pink in his hair was a sign that he hadn’t meant for her to hear him, or perhaps he hadn’t meant to speak out loud at all. Either way, she didn’t press the matter, smiling secretly to herself. His kisses, however, became firmer, his tongue even darting out to flick against her skin, and she moaned, wriggling against him as his lips began to migrate south.

“Where’re you headed, honey?”

“God, I like hearing you call me that.” He grinned up at her, licking over her navel. “What, you didn’t think I was done with you, didja? No way, dollface, I’ve got five years of lovin’ to make up for.”

She could have made the argument that they had tons of time to make up for those five years, but as his fingers spread her open to allow his tongue to lap at her clit, the sentence was erased from her mind, her hips jolting up into his mouth. It had been worth it, she decided as his clever, hungry mouth sent her spiraling into one frenzied orgasm after another. All the heartache and tears and lonely nights had been worth it, since it had all lead up to him. For the first time, she felt wanted. Felt loved. Felt truly, finally seen.

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