#caution if u venture in

[sidsinning]

Reading horror/psychological/gore manga rn

I must be deranged bc this man is a green flag for me

He's so quirky silly babygirl

#caution if u venture in #every trigger warning under the sun #brutal manga #sidrabbles #hiroki dan

[luvrseung]

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬

## pairing(s)! motorcycle driver heeseung! x yn!

## synopsis! yn's life takes an unexpected turn when she catches her boyfriend cheating on her and she meets the mysterious Heeseung, a captivating man on a motorcycle. After a brief yet memorable encounter, he vanishes, leaving her longing for more. Months later, they cross paths again. Yn's mixed emotions and Heeseung's determination do they have a happy ending?

## genre! not too bad angst, fluff at the end ! Idk dude I just work here

## wc! 8.9k

## warning(s)! cursing, and not much else?? but if u feel like there should be a warning for anything else, please let me know asap!!

## a/n! THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC EVER EVERRRRR. its currently 4:15 am as i post this and i have class at 11! hahaha.. anyways. inspo hit me like a truck... well, like a motorcycle HEHEHE. ahem.. okay. i hope you guys like this i really enjoyed writing it! please send me any feedback! mwah mwah i love uu i go sleep now! also pls don't mind any typos or errors im so delirious rn thank u bye bye

You step out of the dimly lit restroom, returning to the bar, only to find an empty seat beside you, where your boyfriend was seated just moments ago. His jacket remains draped over the backrest, a silent testament to his brief absence. Curiosity piques your interest as you assume he must have also ventured to the restroom. Settling in, you rest your head on your hand, elbow propped against the sleek bar, and survey the vibrant club that surrounds you. The music's thunderous pulse reverberates through your chest, infusing the air with almost a tangible energy. A sensual blend of alcohol and alluring perfumes weaves a heavy tapestry which fills your senses. In this tantalizing environment, the crowd is a dynamic kaleidoscope of movement and emotion—dancers, laughter, clinking glasses, tendrils of smoke swirling upward—each contributing to the sensory feast. Among the sea of passion and revelry, a singular couple draws your unwavering attention. Their fervent embrace seems to defy the boundaries of time and space, an intense kiss that hangs on the precipice of necessity. In an instant, your heart plummets, and the couple reluctantly disentangles from each other. As your gaze locks onto their faces, the unfolding revelation leaves you breathless.

As you rise from your barstool, your steps carry a mix of uncertainty and disbelief, drawing you inexorably toward the pulsating heart of the dance floor. The scene before your eyes demands confirmation, and what you find shatters your world in an instant. There, under the chaotic spell of the music's relentless rhythm, stands your boyfriend, now a stranger, locked in a passionate embrace with another woman. Her arms are a seductive snakily coil around the back of his neck, and their laughter mingles with the infectious beats of the music, now assaulting your ears as you reach the realization of betrayal. A concoction of emotions—upset, betrayal, and the intoxicating fumes of alcohol—swirl within you, drawing you forward as the heat crawls up your face and flows into the rest of your body. Your feet guide you through the trembling beat, and, with a burst of fiery rage, you confront the pair. In an act of defiance and heartbreak, your open palm collides with your now ex-boyfriend's cheek in a resounding slap, the sound lost in the under the booming music that fills the club. The mysterious girl, who moments ago was dancing with him, stumbles back, her face etched with shock and disbelief. With your wounded pride, you retreat to the sanctuary of the bar. A final shot materializes before you, its amber contents beckoning with an illusory promise of numbness. You down the drink with the recklessness and no caution, the burn in your throat eclipsed by the feeling of your shattered heart.

You inform the bartender with a casual wave that the responsibility for the bill rests with the man you arrived with, an excuse that offers a semblance of dignity as you navigate your unsteady exit from the bar's confines. The city's nightlife swirls around you, a vivid blanket of neon lights and indistinct conversations. Perched on the curb outside the bar, you release a heavy, audible sigh that seems to resonate with the depth of your emotions. The exasperated "pfft" escapes your lips as you dismissively mutter, "What a waste." you recline, propping yourself up on your arms behind you, while your gaze ascends towards the night sky. It's as if you're summoning the attention of a god you don't even believe in, the stars and the moon bearing witness to your turmoil. Unbidden tears begin to well in your eyes, forming glistening pools that threaten to overflow. Yet, in a strange paradox, laughter bubbles up from within your heavy chest, as if mocking the absurdity of the situation. "He made a mistake… losing me? How stupid," you whisper to yourself, the words a bittersweet blend of self-affirmation and ironic amusement. Your tears, now fallen, trace glittering paths down your cheeks, their journey reflecting the city's glimmering lights. You cast your gaze downward, scrutinizing your ensemble—a striking red dress that billows around you, paired with towering, sleek black heels. In that moment of reflection, you realize that it was not you who was lost; it was him. Your attire serves as a poignant reminder that you are a treasure to be cherished, a realization that strengthens your resolve even as tears continue to fall.

Amid the quiet solace of your unspoken sorrows, the sudden roar of a motorcycle's powerful engine reverberates through the air, and your attention is instinctively drawn to the source. With a magnetic allure, the motorcycle glides to a stop not far from your lonesome, commanding your undivided focus. You study the machine as if decoding a riddle; its lustrous body gleams in pristine white, a stark contrast to the glinting silver rims of the wheels. The interior and seats, ensconced in shadowy allure, exude an air of enigmatic sophistication, cloaked in inky blackness. Seated astride this mechanical masterpiece is a man who embodies a paradox of rugged elegance. He possesses a commanding yet lean figure, an epitome of grace and strength that defies the bounds of convention. Draped in a formidable, protective black jacket, his attire is sending your brain into a frenzy. Fitting black jeans encase his legs, while black gloves envelope his hands with a subtle promise of concealed purpose. Each step echoing an aura of intrigue, he dons a pair of black Doc Marten boots, their resolute presence amplifying his enigmatic appeal. Atop the mysterious man’s figure sits a gloss-black helmet, its contours hinting at the mysteries that lie beneath.

With deliberate grace, he lifts the helmet from his head, revealing a crown of luxurious, dark purple locks. Your astonishment lingers in the air, and you can't help but be drawn to the allure of this captivating stranger. To call your fascination mere curiosity would be a gross understatement. Each of his features appears meticulously crafted, from his silver-clad ears adorned with earrings, to a proud and tall nose, and his eyes—those big beguiling orbs that seem to harbor a pool of secrets within. It's a visage that commands attention, the embodiment of an elusive charm that ignites your every sense. In a moment of serendipity, your eyes meet, the spark of connection bridging the gap between strangers. He saunters toward the store adjacent to the bar, a fleeting look of mischief dancing in his eyes. A playful wink and an enigmatic smile are cast in your direction, a wordless invitation that beckons with a magnetic pull. He dismounts from his motorcycle with an elegance that mirrors the grace of a dancer, setting the helmet upon the seat . As he disappears into the depths of the store, the intoxicating combination of your inebriation and the fragile state of your emotions conspire to form a whimsical yet irresistible decision. It's a gravitational force that leaves you with no choice but to step into the store and follow the purple-haired enigma, your heart beating in time with the uncharted journey that awaits.

As the convenience store door chimes melodically with your entry, a tingle of excitement courses through the air. The purple-haired enigma, the pull of destiny that brought you here, stands before you, a magnetic presence that seems to command every aisle. His striking figure exudes an aura that is both electrifying and tantalizing, and you can't help but gravitate toward him. With fluid grace, he reaches into the fridge to retrieve a drink, his movements a mesmerizing dance of confidence. You approach, and behind the cool, glass refrigerator door, your eyes lock in a seductive connection. He acknowledges your presence with a sultry smile that ignites the room. With an air of unshakable self-assuredness, you compliment his sleek motorcycle, your words laced with a smoldering charm. His response is a flirtatious grin, and as he rises to his full, towering height, he gazes down upon you, a titillating hint of promise in his eyes. "Thanks, ever been on a bike before, pretty girl?" he inquires, the huskiness of his voice sending electric shivers down your spine. Butterflies flutter wildly in your stomach as his words hang in the air. You return the provocative banter, testing the waters of this intriguing encounter. “Is this an invitation mr……?.”

“Heeseung. Lee Heeseung.” He introduces himself with a name that rolls off his tongue like a forbidden secret—Lee Heeseung. His playful response drips with allure, and you find yourself ensnared in the the moment. "And maybe it is an invitation… if you're willing to accept, Miss …..”? Your own name tastes sweeter than ever on your lips as you tease him with a hint of coyness, “Yn. Y/ln Yn. And why should I Lee?” Heeseung's perceptive eyes dart to the mascara-stained traces of tears on your face, his gaze tracing the invisible scars etched upon your soul. He tenderly points to your head, his words laden with a quiet understanding. "Judging by the mascara-stained tears on your face, I think a ride would fix whatever troubled that pretty little head of yours." A shy smile dances upon your lips, your heart pounding with a mixture of vulnerability and courage. "Got an extra helmet, then?" You say as acceptance to his offer. Heeseung's smirk deepens, his voice dripping with a seductive promise. "Good girl. Of course I do. You never know who needs a good ride." The air crackles with the electrifying energy of an adventure about to unfurl, as you and Lee Heeseung step into the thrilling unknown, united by the allure of the night.

In one hand, he clutches a tall, foreboding can of Monster energy drink, its vibrant, neon label a stark contrast to the other hand, which cradles a diminutive yellow box adorned with the endearing label "banana milk." The curious combination of his selections hints at the multifaceted personality of the man who has now become your enigmatic companion. With the transaction complete, the two of you emerge from the convenience store, and Heeseung extends a seemingly casual but unmistakably thoughtful gesture—offering you the little yellow box of banana milk. You accept it with a raised eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. "How'd you know I liked this, Lee?" you inquire, your voice touched by intrigue. A mischievous smile graces Heeseung's lips as he leans in a bit closer, and his response dances on the edges of flirtation, causing the butterflies in your stomach to stir with newfound hunger. "Pretty girls, like you, like banana milk," he teases, his words delivered with an artful charm that sends a shiver of excitement coursing through you. Grateful for his gesture, you return the enchanting smile, the air thick with an electrifying tension. As you both make your way toward the magnificent motorcycle that had initially captivated your attention, anticipation courses through your veins, setting your body aglow with excitement. You stand behind Heeseung, observing his every move with eager eyes. With practiced ease, he opens a concealed compartment at the back of the bike, revealing a second helmet that bears a striking silver star on either side. It's a unique touch that adds to the enigma of the man before you. Heeseung places your drinks within the compartment, where the second helmet once resided. With a smooth and assured motion, he secures the compartment and then offers you your designated helmet, a symbol of the adventure you're about to embark on together. As you accept the helmet from his hand, the magnetic connection between you deepens, and the night unfolds with the promise of thrilling secrets yet to be unveiled.

With the banana milk safely stowed and the helmet now snug upon your head, the night holds an air of mystery and excitement as you both approach the waiting motorcycle. Heeseung's slender frame moves with grace as he swings a leg over the sleek, white machine. He turns toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends an electric pulse through your veins. "Make sure you hold on, doll," he says, his voice dipped in a heady blend of charm and raw anticipation. His words are laced with a promise of thrilling adventure, and your heart skips a beat as you grasp the significance of this moment. You eagerly position yourself behind him, forgetting all about your ex boyfriend and the events that took place before. your arms wrapping around his lean waist, fingers instinctively clutching the fabric of his black jacket. The powerful engine roars to life beneath you, its growl a primal invitation to the night. Heeseung's gloved hands deftly manipulate the handlebars, and in an exhilarating surge of acceleration, you both glide out of the convenience store's parking lot and onto the main road. The world becomes a mesmerizing blur of vibrant colors and lights as the motorcycle snakes through the city's labyrinthine streets, framed by beautifully illuminated buildings that reach skyward, a testament to humanity's creativity. The cool night air rushes over you, and the city's pulsating energy envelopes you, offering an intoxicating taste of freedom and escape. As the wind whips through your hair, and the city's mesmerizing lights create a captivating painting, you can't help but feel that you've stepped into a dream. With every twist and turn, Heeseung's driving skill reveals itself, and you're reminded of the harmony between man and machine. In this exhilarating dance through the heart of the city, you're not just a passenger; you're a partner in a thrilling adventure, bound by the allure of the night and the enigmatic man who now shares it with you.

As the motorcycle effortlessly weaves through the city's enchanting streets, Heeseung's lean frame seems to meld with the machine, and you can sense his exhilaration in the subtle movements and graceful leans. Every curve and twist of the road is navigated with a fluidity that suggests an intimate understanding between rider and ride. The city's lights create a dazzling panorama around you, and you revel in the symphony of sensations that surrounds you. After what feels like an eternity of blissful exploration, the first hints of daylight begin to break on the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow upon the cityscape. It's a bittersweet reminder that this enchanting ride must eventually come to an end. With a quiet understanding, Heeseung steers the motorcycle to a stop in front of your home, and the engine's growl reluctantly gives way to the stillness of the early morning. As you dismount the bike, you can't help but feel a mixture of gratitude and a hint of longing for the adventure that has brought you closer. Heeseung turns toward you, his eyes holding a sparkle that mirrors the city's lights. "I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did, pretty girl,” he says, his voice a blend of sincerity and allure. "I did enjoy it, lee.” Your eyes lock onto his, and you can't resist a teasing smile. "I have to admit, I'm not sure if it was the city or the company that made it so enjoyable." He chuckles softly, his gaze lingering on you. "Perhaps it's a bit of both. I hope I made you forget what you were crying about earlier.”

With an air of anticipation, Heeseung closes the enchanting gap between you, his footsteps a playful dance that mirrors the rhythm of your heart. You find yourself drawn closer to him, a mix of curiosity and desire, hoping for a kiss that promises to be electric. But Heeseung, ever the tease, surprises you by gently capturing your hand in his gloved grasp. His lips brush against your knuckles, leaving behind a soft and lingering kiss that sends a thrill down your spine. A mischievous sparkle dances in his eyes as he takes a step back, though his hold on your hand remains. A mischievous smirk plays upon his lips as he takes a step back, and your hands, still intertwined, reluctantly part as the space between you expands. but the connection between your souls remains undeniably strong. Heeseung places your helmet back into the motorcycle's compartment, his every motion a graceful symphony of closure, yet the moment is still heavy with the sweet ache of parting. He retrieves the little yellow box of banana milk, and with a look that speaks of unspoken promises and possibilities, he adds to the enchanting ambiance. As you turn away to make your way inside, your heart swells with emotions, and it's then you hear his voice, soft and filled with affectionate playfulness, "Heads up, princess!" Your head snaps around, your eyes locking onto Heeseung seated on the motorcycle, revving the engine with a fervor that mirrors the passion between you. With a flourish, he tosses the banana milk to you, and you catch it . Your heart flutters like a love-struck bird, and you're left standing there, watching the back of his retreating figure with eyes filled with longing. As the cold morning air surrounds you, you're reminded of the warmth and excitement that has filled this magical night. With a heart full of happiness, you finally turn to head inside.

In the cozy sanctuary of your home, you close the door behind you with a gentle sigh, leaning against it as you bask in the afterglow of this night. The memories of what transpired outside are like a symphony of emotions playing in your heart, each note resonating with the tender and profound love that has blossomed between you and Heeseung. The room envelops you in its intimate embrace, illuminated by the soft, warm glow of the night. As you lean against the door, the walls seem to hold the echoes of the moments shared, and you're overcome by a sense of profound romance that fills the very air you breathe. The night was a love story written in the stars, a story of two souls drawn together by destiny and fueled by a love that's destined to endure. Despite breaking every single rule of stranger danger, you wish this night couldve lasted forever.

As you ascend the stairs to your room, a sense of contentment and longing accompanies you. The banana milk, a sweet reminder of an unforgettable night, finds its place on your bedside table, a silent guardian of your dreams. The room envelops you in its cozy warmth, the atmosphere carrying the residual fragrance of romance and adventure. In the dim light, you prepare for a soothing shower, letting the cascading water wash away the remnants of the night. Your thoughts, however, remain tethered to the enigmatic Lee Heeseung. Questions and desires swirl within your mind, like a gentle storm of emotions.

After the warmth of the shower, you don your pajamas from the night before, their familiarity a source of comfort as you slip between the soft sheets of your bed. Your body, tired but satiated, yearns for rest, yet your heart and mind remain restless, still inextricably tangled in the enchantment of the night. Thoughts of him, like whispers in the night, dance through your mind. "When will I see him again?" and "I wish we had exchanged information" echo in the chambers of your thoughts. Who is this mysterious man, Lee Heeseung, who has touched your heart so deeply? The unanswered questions propel you to flip open your phone, your curiosity overriding the myriad missed calls and texts from your unfaithful ex-boyfriend. Instagram becomes your portal to seek out the enigma named Lee Heeseung.

A sense of disappointment settles over you as your search on various social media platforms yields nothing. Lee Heeseung remains a ghost, elusive and untraceable in the digital realm. It's as if he exists only in the echoes of your memories, and the absence of any digital footprint only adds to his mystique. In your moment of quiet contemplation, a yearning for his presence intensifies. The desire to see him again, to unravel the enigma that is Lee Heeseung, becomes an undeniable ache within you. The thought that he knows where you live, and the lingering memories of your night together, offer a glimmer of hope that he might return. The idea that fate might bring you two together once more fills your heart with anticipation and longing. As you close your eyes and surrender to the night's embrace, you can't help but wonder when the stars will align, and the mysterious Lee Heeseung will reappear in your life.

As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the longing in your heart grew stronger. Spring had arrived, heralding the return of life and the vibrant colors of the world, yet it also marked the lingering absence of Heeseung, the man who had swept into your life as quickly as a shooting star and vanished just as abruptly. Every motorcycle that whizzed past you on the bustling streets of your city drew your attention like a magnet. A spark of curiosity ignited within you, and the questions were ceaseless. "Was that him? Does he still think of me?" These thoughts had woven themselves into the very fabric of your existence, haunting your every moment. The memories of that unforgettable night had become a bittersweet symphony that played on a loop in your mind.

Despite the love and support of your incredible friends, your loving family, and a fulfilling job, the void Heeseung had left in your life persisted. The allure of "what could've been" weighed heavy on your heart, like a melody left unfinished, a dance cut short, or a love story left untold. In the midst of your everyday life, the longing for the man named Lee Heeseung never waned. Your heart carried the echoes of his touch, the memory of his gaze, and the whispers of a love story that had never fully unfurled. With every passing day, your desire for his return only intensified, like a fire that refused to be extinguished.

It was a typical Tuesday, just like any other weekday, as you made your way into the bustling work building, greeted by the friendly faces of your coworkers who had also become your cherished friends. Jake, ever the playful one, couldn't resist bringing up the topic of your elusive Heeseung. "How are you, YN? Still no luck with this Heeseung guy?" he inquired with a mischievous glint in his eye. You let out a dramatic sigh, a playful air of exasperation in your response. "Unfortunately, no, Jake. Trust me, I would've told you if I had any news," you said with a chuckle. Jay, another dear friend of yours, joined the conversation, bringing with him a delightful surprise in the form of coffee for both you and Jake. With a comforting smile, he chimed in, "Don't worry, Ynnie, maybe he lives in a different town and was just there that night for you!" You couldn't help but offer an appreciative grin in response to Jay's attempt at comfort. His words were like a warm embrace, reassuring you in your quest for answers. Then, a new proposal surfaced, and it was Jay who initiated it. "Oh, by the way, Jake and I found out that there's been underground racing events in our city. We've been meaning to check it out. Wanna come with?" At first, you hesitated, but Jay's persuasive nature quickly took hold. "C'mon, YN!" Jake chimed in, adding his own brand of playfulness. "It'll be fun! Who knows, maybe you'll find Heeseung there! … or a different cute motorcycle guy at least." You let out a laugh that admitted defeat. "Okay, okay, I'll check it out with you guys. But if it's boring, you're buying me a burger." Jay quickly agreed to the wager. "Fine. Deal. But it won't be boring!" he declared with unwavering enthusiasm. "Mhm, we'll see," you replied with a sly grin, anticipating the playful adventures that lay ahead with your close friends, all while hoping that amidst the thrills of underground racing, you might find the one you longed for – or perhaps, something equally captivating.

As the workday drew to a close, you bid your colleagues and friends farewell, exchanging a series of cheerful goodbyes and promises to reconvene tomorrow. Last in line to receive your parting words were your friends, and it was Jake who left you with a playful reminder. "We'll pick you up at 10, ynnie~,” he declared with a mischievous glint in his eye. Your response was a melodious giggle as you affectionately ruffled his hair, a signal of your confirmation.

Once home, the weight of the day's responsibilities dissipated like a passing storm. Shoes were unceremoniously discarded, your bag and jacket flung haphazardly onto the floor, and with a contented sigh, you sank into the inviting embrace of your couch. Retrieving your phone, you embarked on a determined quest to research the underground racing scene, the glimmer of hope in your chest steadily growing brighter with every tap of your fingers.

The prospect of possibly encountering Heeseung again ignited a certain spark in your eyes, a fire of desire that refused to be extinguished. Yet, much like the elusive enigma of the man himself, your online investigation yielded no information about these races. It was as though the world had conspired to keep their existence hidden, a fitting scenario for events that were undoubtedly illegal. As you set your phone aside, your thoughts began to spiral in a torrent of what-ifs. What if Heeseung is there, but his interest had always been elsewhere? What if he's not present? What if he doesn't even notice you? These unceasing questions threatened to consume your mind, and you shook your head, as if such an act could dispel these relentless thoughts. Determined to quell the storm of uncertainties that raged within you, you took a deep breath and resolved to face the night with unwavering optimism.

With the plan in place, you had agreed that the guys would hang out at your place before the big race. Jake and Jay, after their workday, rushed home, got dressed for the evening, and then made their way to your doorstep around 7:30. You swung open the door in your comfy pajamas, greeting the duo with warm hugs and bright smiles. "Alright, guys," you chimed in, "I'm going to get ready now. You said we're leaving at 10, right?" They both confirmed your question with a nod, and you headed upstairs to prepare for the night ahead. As you left the living room, the two friends made themselves at home, lounging comfortably on your couch and taking charge of the TV. The anticipation for the evening ahead filled the air, and the sense of camaraderie between the three of you was a reassuring presence, setting the tone for the exciting adventure that lay just around the corner.

Upstairs in your room, you embarked on the grand battle that is getting ready for a night out. The soft glow of your vanity mirror cast a warm light on your determined face as you transformed your appearance for the evening. Your makeup was an elegant fusion of dark and bold, with a smoky eyeliner that accentuated your eyes and a luscious dark red lip gloss that heightened the allure of your lips. The result was a striking look that suited your features beautifully. You took a few moments to curl the ends of your hair, creating soft, cascading waves that reached down to your lower back. These curls were swept up into a high, sleek ponytail, with two delicate strands left loose to elegantly frame your face. Your outfit had been meticulously selected, not only with Heeseung in mind but also with the exciting prospect of possibly meeting someone new at this enigmatic race. Dark red leather pants, designed to hug your curves in all the right ways, were paired with a lace black tank top, adding a touch of sensuality to your ensemble. To complete the look, you adorned yourself with a black and white leather jacket that draped over your shoulders like whipped cream on a tantalizing sundae. In your full-length mirror, you admired the reflection of a confident and captivating woman, well aware of her own allure. A pair of sleek black boots adorned your feet, and you accessorized with a silver necklace featuring a delicate pendant and matching earrings, adding a touch of sophistication to your ensemble. To crown your transformation, you picked up your favorite perfume bottle, and with each spritz, a beautiful aroma enveloped you like a fragrant embrace. The battle of getting ready was won, and you felt like a queen in your own right. With a final glance in the mirror, you knew you looked stunning and were ready to face whatever the night had in store. With your purse in hand, you headed downstairs, prepared to join your friends who were patiently waiting for you.

"DAMN YN!" Jay and Jake exclaimed in unison as you descended the stairs, the sight of your stunning transformation leaving them momentarily breathless. A beaming smile graced your lips as their admiration washed over you. "Thank you, boys," you replied with a gracious nod, giving them a playful twirl to showcase your meticulously chosen outfit. "Do I look good?" you asked, a hint of playful teasing in your voice. "You know you do," Jay responded with a smile, but he was eager to get going. "Now, let's get moving! It's nearly 10:15." You waved off his concern with a nonchalant chuckle. "Oh, please, there's no way these things start right on time. We're fine. Now, let's make a quick stop at the convenience store so I can get a banana milk, pretty please~" you added with a hint of irresistible charm. The two boys, who had been lounging on the couch, rose from their seats with mock exasperation. Jake couldn't help but mutter a resigned, "Yes, ma'am…" as you playfully led the way, heading into the car where you sat in the backseat.

With a refreshing banana milk tucked safely in your purse, courtesy of Jake's wallet, the three of you arrived at the underground racing event. The venue was located beneath a highway bridge in an area you never even knew existed. you were struck by the sheer scale of the place, surrounded by towering structures that seemed to stretch to the heavens. This perspective, seeing the world from a unique angle, made you feel small in the grand scheme of things, a humbling realization that added to the aura of the night. Lost in your contemplation, you were momentarily unaware that Jay and Jake had already exited the car, with Jake gallantly holding the door open for you. He playfully addressed you, "Here we are, princess," and you responded with a light, affectionate hit on his arm, chuckling, "Oh, cut it out, Jaeyun." A playful exchange of names ensued between the two friends as you headed toward the gathering crowd at the starting line, eagerly awaiting the start of the race. You surveyed the bikers as they lined up in their positions, and your attention was drawn to a particular rider who was surrounded by a group of enthusiastic women. The throng of admirers made it difficult to see his face clearly, but you couldn't help but wonder if it might be Heeseung.

The announcer's voice crackled over the radio, calling on the racers to mount their bikes and prepare for the thrilling competition. Jay and Jake signaled that it was time to find your seats, with Jake instinctively taking your hand to guide you and ensure you didn't get lost in the bustling crowd. As you were led to the front row, you couldn't help but scan the racers one last time. The colorful array of bikes and their determined riders filled the scene with an air of excitement. But then, at the far end, you spotted a white bike, and your heart skipped a beat. Could it be Heeseung's bike? The memories of him came rushing back, and you pointed it out to your friends. "Wait, guys, that might be Heeseung's bike," you mentioned, your voice tinged with both hope and anxiety. Jake and Jay exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern. "You think so, YN?" Jay asked, offering a glimmer of doubt. "Maybe it's just a guy with the same motorcycle color as Heeseung, Ynnie. I mean, white bikes aren't that uncommon, right?" Jake reasoned, trying to provide a rational explanation. You shook your head, a familiar gesture you used to clear your thoughts. "Yeah, Jakey, you're probably right. I mean, I haven't seen him in months. It can't be him," you replied, trying to convince yourself as much as your friends. You felt a surge of anxiety but decided to push those thoughts aside and focus on enjoying the race. With the comforting presence of your banana milk, you took a sip and leaned back, hoping that this night would be an adventure to remember, regardless of the outcome.

As the man on the radio commenced announcing the racers' names, an air of anticipation enveloped the crowd. With each name called out, a symphony of revving engines filled the air, punctuated by cheers and applause from the spectators. The excitement was palpable, and you joined in, clapping and cheering for each racer. However, as the announcer neared the end of the line of racers and you waited with bated breath, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. The name you had been hoping to hear, "LEE HEESEUNG," didn't make an appearance. Instead, the announcer declared, "And last but not least, our reigning champion, ACE!" A sigh of regret escaped your lips, revealing your unspoken hope. You observed that the crowd cheered enthusiastically for this "Ace" character, understanding why he had garnered a legion of female admirers. The sense of anticipation still coursed through your veins, but you decided to put aside your initial disappointment and immerse yourself in the exhilarating atmosphere of the race, hopeful that the night would hold some surprises, even if Heeseung's name was absent from the list of competitors.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, Jake directed a question to both you and Jay, inquiring, "Who are you guys rooting for?" Jay was quick to respond, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "I'm rooting for the guy named Jungwon on that bright blue bike. He seems like an underdog, you know?" Jake couldn't resist poking fun at Jay's choice. "So cheesy," he remarked, provoking Jay to playfully flip him off. Turning to you, Jake's curiosity was evident in his expression as he asked, "What about you, YN?" You pondered for a moment, a mischievous glint in your eye as you gave your answer. "Hmm, maybe that Sunghoon guy, on the black bike. He seems hot," you added, punctuating your response with a giggle. Jay shook his head in mock exasperation, but he couldn't hide a smile. "I'm not even surprised." As the three of you continued to chat and enjoy the electric atmosphere, the announcer's voice broke through, "RACERS, START YOUR ENGINES!" The crowd erupted into cheers, blending with the powerful roar of the motorcycles.

"READY…SET…GO!" The announcer's command was met with a symphony of revving engines, and in an instant, the racers sped off on the manmade track, weaving between the imposing pillars of the bridge above. The sound of the engines and the fervent cheers from the crowd captivated you, and your gaze remained fixed on the racers as they disappeared into the distance, the race now in full swing.

The race unfolded with an intoxicating blend of speed, skill, and sheer adrenaline. The racers zipped around the tight corners and weaved through the narrow gaps between the bridge's pillars, their powerful machines roaring like wild beasts. The air was filled with the intoxicating scent of gasoline and burnt rubber, adding to the sensory overload that engulfed the crowd. The race was paired with commentary by the announcer, “In the lead is ace! Are we surprised? That white bike is a godsend!”

As the racers maneuvered with lightning precision, the crowd couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer spectacle before them. Spectators cheered as their chosen favorites powered through the track, and collective gasps echoed through the audience whenever a close call or a daring move occurred. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the shared excitement of everyone in attendance. Another comment was made by the announcer, “Woah! Look at jungwon pulling through and passing ace on his left! Will this be the first race he wins?”

“I told you guys. Always root for the underdog,” Jay chimes, but your eyes are glued to sunghoon and his black bike.

Amidst the collective fervor, you found yourself mesmerized, your eyes locked onto the racers as they sped past. The world outside the race ceased to exist for those moments, and you were drawn into the raw energy of the event, feeling the vibrations of the engines in your chest and the rush of the wind in your hair. “Here come’s sunghoon! Passing jungwon on his right, and making his way towards the finish line!” Says the announcer.

The announcer's voice crackled through the speakers, adding to the electrifying atmosphere. "WOAH, WOAH!! HERE COMES ACE RIGHT BEHIND SUNGHOON! WHO WILL WIN? THE TWO ARE SIDE BY SIDE, WILL IT BE A TIE? THE FINISH LINE IS RIGHT THERE, AND… ALMOST A PHOTO FINISH! BUT THE WINNER OF THE RACE IS SUNGHOON!"

As the crowd erupted in joyous celebration, the cheers of the spectators seemed to reverberate in perfect harmony with the racing engines. You were swept up in the excitement, joining the chorus of voices, and even rising to your feet as you cheered for Sunghoon, the victor of the race. The thrill of witnessing such a close contest was invigorating, and you couldn't help but be caught up in the jubilation around you. With a playful tone and a hint of what-ifs, you turned to your two friends and exclaimed, "Damn, we should've bet on it. Missed opportunity!" The boys laughed along with you, the infectious joy of the moment drawing them into the celebration. Together, you stood and cheered for Sunghoon, basking in the shared experience of witnessing an extraordinary race and its exhilarating conclusion.

The exhilarating atmosphere of the race drew you, Jay, and Jake, along with the rest of the crowd, to approach the racers as they dismounted their bikes. The audience showered the racers with an array of cheers and encouraging words, from "good job!" to "you'll win next time!" to admiring comments about their impressive machines. As you and your friends navigated your way through the dispersing crowd, you found yourselves face to face with Jungwon, the racer who had been your friend Jay's underdog favorite. Eager to express your admiration, you initiated the conversation, addressing him with warmth, "Hey, Jungwon, right? You were so cool! I thought you were gonna win for a second there!" Jungwon's face lit up with gratitude, and he replied with a sincere smile, "Thank you so much! I thought so too, but I had nooo chance against Ace and Sunghoon." Jay, ever the enthusiast, extended a firm handshake in that classic man-to-man fashion. "Bro! I was rooting for you from the start. You'll see me at the next race," he proclaimed with enthusiasm, earning a "thank you" from Jungwon. With that, the three of you moved on to the next racer, Sunghoon, eager to share your appreciation with the winner.

Sunghoon leaned casually on his sleek black bike, a striking figure with an air of confidence that immediately caught your attention. Up close, you couldn't deny how incredibly handsome he looked, and you were taken aback by his allure. Summoning your courage, you approached the winner, introducing yourself in a soft, friendly tone, "Hi Sunghoon, I'm YN. Congrats on the win, handsome." The compliment had its intended effect, and Sunghoon's eyes focused on you. "Well, hello, Miss YN. Nice to meet you," Sunghoon responded with a smirk, revealing a sharp canine tooth and a dimple that sent a shiver down your spine. You felt yourself blushing in response to his charm. Sunghoon's flirtatious banter continued as he inquired, "You were rooting for me, pretty girl?" He leaned in a little closer, his voice dripping with playful seduction. You met his flirtatious challenge with a sly smile. "Maybe… maybe not," you replied, adding a teasing playfulness to your tone. He feigned disappointment, a twinkle in his eye as he teased, "What a shame, I was gonna offer you a ride." Playing along, you flirtatiously touched his arm, your confidence growing with every word. "Oh, come on, Hoonie, of course I was rooting for you," you confessed with a playful eye roll, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. Sunghoon rewarded your playful admission by tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and for that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to the two of you, engaged in a playful dance of flirtation amidst the post-race excitement. The nickname you garnered for him was definitely working in your favor.

You were so deeply engrossed in your conversation with Sunghoon that you remained oblivious to the intense gaze fixed upon you from the second-place racer, Ace. He watched you with something akin to jealousy, uncertain whether he should approach. Leaving you and Sunghoon in your own world, Jay and Jake made their way over to Ace to offer their congratulations. Jake, always one for humor, attempted to lighten the mood with a lighthearted comment. "Hey, man! You were so cool out there. Second place is still good. Don't be discouraged. I'm sure all these girls still want you," he quipped, though he hadn't realized that Ace's attention was on him. Ace's initial jealousy quickly transformed into a friendly demeanor as he responded, "Yo, thanks for that, haha. Almost won, but I'll win the next one for sure." Jay chimed in with an encouraging pat on Ace's shoulder before the two of them began to walk away. However, Ace couldn’t keep it to himself. He called out to Jay and Jake, nodding in your direction while still engaged in conversation with Sunghoon. "Hey, do you know that girl?" he inquired, his interest piqued. Jay answered without hesitation, a friendly tone in his voice as he looked back toward Ace. "Yeah, that’s yn! We're friends. She came here with us," he explained, his focus now shifting as he moved away from the racer, joining Jake in heading back in your direction, leaving Ace with his thoughts as you continued your conversation with Sunghoon.

As the evening wound down and Jay and Jake were ready to head home, you and Sunghoon decided to exchange numbers, creating a playful connection. Sunghoon, with a charming wink, remarked, "Call me when you wanna ride, beautiful." Your response was just as flirty, "I'll call you when I want to, Hoonie," and you playfully blew him a kiss. As you began to walk away, ready to rejoin your friends in the car, Sunghoon made his way over to Ace, eager to share his little victory. "Bro, I just got the hottest girl's number, and—" Sunghoon began, but before he could finish, Ace roared away on his bike, his jealousy simmering beneath the surface. With your two friends already in the car, you confidently made your way toward them, your spirits high. For that moment, Heeseung had slipped from your thoughts, and the excitement of connecting with Sunghoon filled your mind. However, just as you were about ten feet away from Jay's car, a white motorcycle suddenly cut in front of you, blocking your path to your friends. Startled, you took a step back, your heart racing, and realized that the rider was one of the racers. You cautiously addressed him, "Oh, Jesus Christ, you scared me. Ace, right?" His helmet obscured his face as he nodded, and he proceeded to take it off, revealing his identity.

Your heart sank as the white helmet came off, revealing the vibrant purple hair that had grown longer since you last saw him. The shock washed over you like a tidal wave, and your eyes scanned his familiar face, unable to believe that he was standing there before you, just as he had been months ago. His eyes, large and twinkling, bore into yours, the same way they had done when you first met. "H-Heeseung?" was all you could manage to stammer. The excitement you had felt only moments ago had evaporated, replaced by a rush of tears welling up in your eyes. Every emotion you had held back for months now poured out, glistening like rivers of glittering light. The overwhelming flood of feelings left you lost and unsure of how to proceed. Heeseung spoke, his voice breaking the silence, "Yn, I missed you pretty girl.” But you couldn't handle it. The anger and sadness mixed inside you, driving you to act on impulse. "I can't do this right now, Heeseung. I-I gotta go," you uttered, your voice quivering with raw emotion. You turned and ran towards Jay's car, where the two boys had witnessed the entire interaction. Climbing into the vehicle, you were met with a barrage of concerning questions from your friends. "I'll answer once you start driving. Please. Please start driving," you implored. Jay promptly obeyed your request and sped out of the lot, the car now on the road, the boys eager to ask their questions.

Jake spoke up first, his voice tinged with disbelief, "Yn, who was that?" "Heeseung…" you replied, your voice quivering. "Oh my god, what?!" Jake exclaimed. "Heeseung? Like in, Heeseung Heeseung?" Jay asked, his surprise mirroring Jake's. "Yes, Jay. Heeseung Heeseung. Oh my god, what was he doing there?" you lamented, your words spilling out in a mixture of confusion and emotion. "Wait, isn't this what you wanted, Yn? Why are you so upset?" Jake inquired, trying to make sense of your reaction. You paused, a heavy sigh escaping your lips before you responded, "…because… where has he been? I've spent months, nearly half a year wondering when he'd show up—waiting for him like some lost puppy. And now all of a sudden, I see him today, surrounded by a crowd of girls, only talking to me because I was hitting it off with Sunghoon? I just… I just don't know what's going on. And just now, he says he missed me? Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. He knows where I live; if he missed me so much, he would've visited. I waited months, guys. MONTHS. I just… I'm so—" Jay cut off your rambling rant, his voice filled with understanding and empathy. "Yn, my love, it's okay. Let's get you that burger." In your teary, emotional state, you couldn't help but let out a faint laugh, appreciating Jay's attempt to lighten the mood. Jake reached his hand to the backseat to comfort you, and you clung to it as he gently rubbed circles into your hand. As you sat there, feeling a whirlwind of emotions and confusion, you were grateful that your friends were by your side, offering their support and understanding in your time of need.

With the comforting presence of your friends and the burger in your stomach, you finally arrived home. Jay and Jake had offered to spend the night with you, but you assured them that you appreciated their support but wanted some time alone with your thoughts. Feeling too drained to remove your makeup and outfit, you flopped onto your couch, face-first, and screamed into a throw pillow. The weight of the day and the unexpected encounter with Heeseung left your mind in a tumultuous state. As you lay there, lost in your thoughts, exhaustion overcame you, and you drifted into an uneasy slumber. Some odd hours later, you were startled awake by a persistent knocking on your door. At first, you attempted to ignore it, hoping the person would go away, but the knocking persisted. Reluctantly, you dragged yourself up and went to inspect the door through the peephole. What you saw on the other side took your breath away: a head of purple hair, Heeseung, standing at your doorstep.

Anger surged through your body as you swung the door open, and a torrent of questions spilled from your lips, "What do you want? Why are you here? Why did it take you so long to see me?" The frustration that had been simmering inside you for months finally found its voice, and it was directed squarely at the person who could provide answers. Heeseung began to speak, attempting to explain himself, but you couldn't bear to let him finish. The words tumbled out of you, fueled by the emotions that had been building up over time. "No, Heeseung. Do you know how long I've been waiting for you? How much I wished every motorcycle that passed me on the street was you? I've been so…" The emotional dam broke, and tears cascaded down your cheeks as your voice quivered with pent-up pain and frustration. Heeseung, rather than offering words, brought you into a gentle embrace, his strong arms wrapping around you, and his hand softly patting your head. His voice was a soothing whisper in your ear, "Shh, shh… I'm here now, pretty girl. I'm here. I'm sorry." His comforting presence and reassuring touch allowed you to release your bottled-up emotions. You allowed yourself to cry in his arms, feeling a mixture of anger, relief, and longing all at once. Despite your anger at him in this moment, you couldn't deny that his embrace was warm and welcoming, and it offered a sense of solace that you hadn't realized you had been yearning for.

You and heeseung were now sitting on the couch, cuddling in the darkness of your living room. You decide to break the silence, “Can we talk now, hee?” He begins to play with your hair, offering you a quiet hum in response. “Where have you been? Why haven’t you visited me?” You ask the questions that plagued your mind the most. "Yn, I'm truly sorry for disappearing like that. I had my reasons, but I understand how much it hurt you. I needed some time to sort things out in my life. It's not an excuse, but I want you to know that I've missed you every day, and I regret not being there for you. I'm here now, and I want to make it right, if you'll have me" he answers. “How do I know you’re telling the truth, heeseung? I mean, the first time I saw you today, you were surrounded by all these girls, and how do I know you won’t leave again?” You ask. "I understand your doubts, baby, and I don't blame you for being cautious. The girls today were just fans, and I was trying to keep a low profile. I promise you, I won't disappear again. I want to make it up to you and prove that I'm committed to being in your life. Actions speak louder than words, and I'm willing to show you through my actions that you can trust me." You let out a quiet sigh, “I want to trust you heeseung, I really do. But Im so scared of getting hurt again. Why did you decide to help me out that one day? The day we met? Do you do that to other girls? "I completely understand your fear, Yn. I helped you that day because you seemed like someone genuinely in need, and I felt a connection with you from the start. I don't do that for other girls; our meeting was special and unique. I can't promise you won't ever get hurt, but I can promise that I'll do my best to be there for you and be honest with you. I want to make things right between us. Seriously, my pretty girl” heeseung claims, shifting his body so you guys are face to face now.

As Yn looked into Heeseung's eyes, she saw a sincerity she hadn't seen in a long time. Her heart was still cautious, but the warmth of his embrace had melted some of the ice around it. "Let's take it one step at a time, my “love Heeseung said gently. "I won't rush you, and I'll do my best to earn your trust. We can figure this out together, princess.” Yn nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She was unsure of what the future held, but for the first time in months, she felt a glimmer of hope. As the night continued, they talked, laughed, and shared stories. Yn realized that Heeseung had changed, and maybe she had too. They both had scars, but perhaps together, they could heal. The story of Yn and Heeseung wasn't over; it was just beginning. And for the first time in a long time, they both felt like they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

“Lee Heeseung, if you disappear on me again, I swear to god. Don’t forget I still have sunghoon’s number!” You playfully hit Heeseung. “Okay, okay! Message received ma’am! Now I have a question.” You respond with a hum. “Now who was that boy holding your hand earlier? At the race? Hm?” You laugh and respond teasingly, “Baby, that’s Jake. You really don’t have to worry about him. He’s like my little puppy!”

“My love, you do realize how wrong that sounds?” Heeseung laughs.

© luvrseung - do not plagiarize, repost, translate, copy, or alter any of my content please and thank you.

#enhypen #enhypen angst #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen ff #enhypen niki #park sunghoon #enhypen jake #heeseung x reader #heeseung #heeseung imagine #enhypennetwork #ficscafe #enhypen jay

[allisluv]

Hii can u do something with finnick with reader who is insecure about her looks so she stops eating? So he is very worried and gives her something? I'm sorry if it's something triggering, I just wanted to ask. Hope your doing ok girl love ya! ❤

i promise you this, i'll always look out for you -- finnick o'dair

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

word count: 600 words

content warnings: illusions to an eating disorder / disordered eating, a brief mention of weight, feeling insecure, finnick being sweet. please note that i am not trying to romanticise eating disorders and you are responsible for what media you choose to consume. please read with caution and put your mental health first!!

Finnick O’Dair notices the small things about you; like how your bottom lip trembles just before you’re about to cry or how you push around your food on your plate without really eating anything. 

It doesn’t worry him, not to begin with. At first, he just assumes you don’t have much of an appetite, but then he notices you skipping out on meals and staring at yourself for far too long in the mirror. 

Finnick has never been one for confrontation. It takes him weeks to gather up the nerve to voice his concerns.  

He lays awake for hours on end, tracing patterns down the slope of your shoulders and mulling over his words. Eventually, he drifts off and once he wakes up, your cold side of the bed is what prompts him to sleepily walk through the hallways of your shared home. 

He ventures farther into the kitchen, where he finds you curled up on the sofa in the living room, cradling a book as the television plays in the background. The sun shines through the open patio doors and your hair keeps getting caught in the breeze. 

Finnick flops down on the sofa, careful not to sit on your feet. You glance up at the shift in weight and offer him a weak smile as he leans over to press a kiss to your temple. “Hi honey. Have you eaten anything today?” 

His question catches you off guard and you can feel your eyebrows knitting together. “I– wait, what?” You splutter, abandoning your book altogether and setting it down onto the coffee table. You forgot to mark your page in your haste to brush him off. “Of course I’ve eaten!” you protest, pouting out your bottom lip like a child. 

Finnick can feel guilt eating away at the edges of his chest as he asks, “Honey, what did you have?” He threads his fingers through your hair and gently grips your chin between his finger and thumb, angling your head to get you to meet his eye. “I’m not mad at you, just worried, honey. You’ve not been eating much lately.”

For a split second, you consider crawling out of his lap and lying through your teeth, but it’s Finnick you’re talking to. It’s your Finnick. Your bottom lip trembles and you furiously blink away the tears gathering on your waterline. “I just… I hate the way I look, Finnick.” 

His heart shatters into shards of glass that stab through his ribcage. “What do you mean you hate the way you look, baby? You look beautiful.”

You hesitate. “I don’t feel it.” 

Finnick frowns, and rubs soothing circles down the skin of your hip-dips. “How about we do this, honey?” He makes sure you’re listening before he keeps going. “If you’re feeling insecure or upset or just having a bad day, come and find me; I’m willing to show you all day every day how beautiful I think you are. We’re gonna start small because I know this is gonna be hard for you; what’re you feeling like this morning?”

“I’m not hungry,” you insist, winding your arms around his neck as your stomach growls. Talk about bad timing. 

Finnick arches a teasing brow. “Nice try baby, but that’s not gonna work. How do waffles sound, hm?” 

You shrug your shoulders and thread your fingers through the golden locks of his hair. “I guess you could twist my arm.” The weight in your chest eases as he pecks your cheek and for the first time in weeks, you feel heaps better now that you know you’re not alone

#grace talks🐚🌷 #the hunger games #thg #headcanons #hcs #finnick odair #blurb #fem!reader #gn!reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair fluff #blurbs #finnick odair angst #finnick odair imagine

[literallyjustanerd]

Tease (Fives X Fem!Reader)

You're a student at Coruscant U. The boys of the 501st are guest speakers for a class on galactic politics. But one particular ARC trooper gets more than he bargains for when he starts checking you out...

My first time attempting anything close to smut, hope y'all enjoy! Lmk if it's good enough that you'd want a continuation ;) This also may be partially inspired by a dream i had oops

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: eye-fucking, teasing, showing off, making out, hints of both dom reader and dom Fives, suggestive ending

Rating: 18+ (minors DNI please)

Credit for the Fives divider to @freesia-writes with helmet art by @lornaka !

You have to stifle a yawn as you settle into your desk, stretching out heavy limbs. Your last lecture after a long day of classes. Galactic Relations and Conflict wasn’t really relevant to your major- you’d picked the elective on a whim, but it had proven to be your most interesting class this semester by far. Today promised to be no different: your lecturer had pulled some strings and arranged for some pretty interesting guest speakers.

You hear them before you see them: boisterous laughter echoing down the hallways. Then, the boys in blue file through the door. The one in front corrals the others into order as they come to stand at attention at the back of the hall. Five in total- two ARC troopers, two lieutenants and their Commanding Officer. Armour proudly polished where it isn’t scuffed or dented, painted helmets slung under their arms. Two things hit you in quick succession as your eyes cross the five identical faces. One: these clones are nothing like the carbon copies you’ve seen on your holoscreen. As alike as they look under their haircuts and tattoos, they’re individuals, plain as day, from how they style themselves to the way they stand and speak. Two: one of them is looking your way.

There’s a cool confidence in his demeanour, an effortless assurance to his movements, and he’s not at all embarrassed to be caught looking: though he’s still in conversation with the others, his eyes don’t waver from yours for a moment. It gives you ample time to take in the view, and what a view it is. The angle of his brow highlights the tattoo at his temple, and from there you follow the sharp cut of his jaw down to the well-kept goatee at his chin, up to the inviting curve of his mouth. Solid, square shoulders shift when he laughs at something another clone says. There’s a stray curl falling over his forehead you want to tangle in your fingers. You fight the urge to bite your lip as your eyes venture lower, sweeping down a broad, thick chest to his deliberately cocked hip. You force yourself to look away. Can’t be caught ogling the trooper, like the self-proclaimed “bucket fuckers” you see on your social media feed, lining up at 79s every weekend. You’re not that desperate. Subconsciously, though, you realise you’ve straightened in your seat, pulled your shoulders back. You’re even toying with your hair. 

You cringe internally, chastising yourself for looking so eager. Calm down, you think, it probably doesn’t even mean anything that he’s looking. The lecture isn’t due to start for another ten minutes, and among the smattering of early students, you’re the only one in the front row. He’s just getting a look at his audience. But when you chance another look up at the ARC trooper, you find his gaze still locked onto you, even as the clone beside him continues to speak. Cockiness is a trait you usually find irritating. But much to your dismay, instead of scoffing when he arches his brow and quirks his mouth in your direction, you feel your pulse quicken and your skin heat.

He winks, and your mind is made up in an instant, caution thrown to the wind. It’s been too long since you’ve taken a break from your studies and had this kind of fun. If he wants to play the game, you’ll play. And you’re not going down without a fight.

You bring your eyes back down to your desk and pretend to be deeply focused on laying out your datapad for taking notes. Hot as blaster fire, his gaze still burns on you, but you refuse to give in. You’re no stranger to this dance, and you’ve gotten pretty good at it, even if you do say so yourself. Your lecturer enters soon after and begins the talk, introducing your guests. You get your first taste of the ARC trooper’s deep, gravelly voice when he steps forward in turn, as well as his name. Fives. It loops in your mind as you wrap your lips around it, trying it out. As Captain Rex takes the podium, you make your first move. Slowly, deliberately, you cross one leg over the other, and lean your elbows on your desk, shoulders pulled proudly back. The stars must have aligned for you this morning: you’d picked one of your lower cut shirts, and it frames your cleavage perfectly. A few carefully counted seconds later, you tilt your head away from the podium back to Fives.

Oh, yeah. You’ve got him. 

He’s looking. He’s staring. His gaze has darkened, intensified. When his eyes roam down low and creep back up, you feel it like it’s his fingers on your skin. Your body warms under the stare, liquid heat pouring over you, pooling at the top of your thighs. Not wanting to seem too self-satisfied, you allow yourself a small, restrained smirk. A twitch of your eyebrow, just to gloat. Such a small gesture, but it lights a fire in Fives’ eyes. You’re enjoying the game, but you want to stretch it out, so you leave him hanging, and go back to listening to Captain Rex, your stylus working across your datapad, dutifully taking notes like you’d been paying attention the whole time.

You don’t let up on Fives, though. As his brothers each take their turn to answer questions from the cohort, you pull out every trick up your sleeve. Mussing your hair, adjusting your top. You swear you see his upper lip twitch into a growl when you shift your legs, gliding one foot up and down your calf. He has his arms folded now, the end of a thumb jammed into his mouth, chewing on the tip in a way that makes you hungry to replace that thumb with your lips. He makes no attempt to hide his want: he’s undressing you with his eyes, and you’re quickly getting drunk on the power. The killing blow comes when Fives has to wrench his attention from you long enough to take his turn at the stand. You can see him struggling to keep his focus on the rest of the lecture hall and away from you. At first, you feign innocence, letting up the act for a few short minutes, playing nice, giving him a reprieve. And in truth, it’s not hard to actually stop and listen to his words: he speaks with confidence, cracks a few corny but endearing jokes, and answers the audience’s questions with a thoughtfulness and insight that catches you off guard. Shit, you think, swallowing down the flutter in your chest, he might have the edge on you. 

But in the end, he will get no mercy from you. The third time he gives in and glances in your direction, he finds you with your stylus poised at the corner of your mouth. Your pulse throbbing, you grind your thighs together, making a show of it. Your tongue darts out for just a moment and, soft and delicate, you press the stylus past your lips, teasing the tip. The effect is instant. Fives chokes on his last word, stifling a groan that quickly turns into a string of coughs. His eyes are blown wide, his cheeks several shades darker as he tries to regain his composure and remember what he had been saying. 

You win.

You back off for the rest of the lecture, content to enjoy the feeling of his eyes on you and the playful glances you exchange from the moment he leaves the podium. He takes your little trick in stride, and even gives back what he gets, a sway in his hips as he walks back to rejoin the other clones, taking it slow to give you ample time to enjoy the view from behind. All too quickly, though, the talk ends, and so does your fun. You shoot Fives one last wink as he and his brothers leave the hall, and he fixes you with a cutting smile that’s equal parts charming and dangerous. You gather your things and leave with the other students, with full intention of returning to your apartment to take care of the ache between your legs alone. The memory of Fives’ gaze lingers on your skin, drawing an involuntary shudder. 

The train home is going to be torture.

But you don’t make it to the station. You don’t even make it off campus. You’re rounding the corner away from the lecture hall when you hear him. He clears his throat, and your nerves thrill when you turn to see Fives leaning heavy against the wall, one hand propped on the inviting curve of his hip. The pathway he stands in is seldom-used, small and quiet, and the shadows from the towering buildings throw his face into shadow. His voice is pitched low when he speaks, thick and sweet, dripping like syrup.

“Quite a show you just put on,” he purrs, and the words go straight to your cunt. “What’s your name, gorgeous?” You give him your answer, careful to keep your voice in check while the rest of you quivers with anticipation. Fives repeats it, the sound rolling heavily off his tongue.

“Thought this gig was going to be boring,” he muses, “you certainly proved me wrong. Thought it would only be polite to return the favour. Show my… appreciation?”

The curling grin on your face is all the answer he needs: a thick hand on your waist pulls you into the alleyway, cold brick at your back and hot breath on your neck. You’re trapped in an instant, bracketed by his arms on either side. His lips hover an agonising inch from your skin, sparks of honey-sweet electricity dancing along your shoulders and down your spine.

His body is still angled away from yours, yet the tiny, twitching roll of his hips draws an answering thrust from you all the same. The lack of friction tears a tiny groan of frustration from your throat before you can stop it, and Fives’ chest rumbles with his answering chuckle. The end of your rope dangles so close. It would be so easy to just give in and let him win. Your defences weaken further when the warmth against your throat sharpens, searing breath giving way to the scorching wet heat of his lips at the top of your jaw. The dizzying thrill of finally feeling him against you is what gives you the strength to regain control. A firm hand at his cheek shifts his mouth away from your ear and onto your lips, kissing him hard and merciless. He moans when your fingers dip low to scratch teasingly through his goatee, and the sound sets your every nerve singing symphonies. In an instant you know you’d do anything to hear that sound again, to feel the high of him melting under your touch. With dwindling patience you reach out, grabbing at the belt of his armour and trying to pull him flush against you. He resists, breaking your kiss just barely and tutting against your lips.

“No need to rush, mesh’la,” he taunts, settling a warm, gloved hand on the swell of your hip. He’s firm but gentle, coaxing you back into the wall with just enough pressure to tease you. You recognise the Mando’a, though you can’t quite place its meaning. You find you don’t much care- not when Fives is kneading at your waist and mouthing at your collarbone. 

“We’ve got plenty of time Besides…” With one fluid movement, he forces your legs apart, pressing one thick thigh between your own. It's your turn to moan, trying to shift your hips, though Fives' grip keeps you maddeningly still. ”You gave me a whole lot of grief back there. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

You swallow thickly, the shifting column of your throat catching against Fives’ teeth and making you gasp. This one might be harder to win than you thought. A devilish grin slides onto your lips.

You still won’t go down without a fight.

#fives x reader #fives x you #clone thirsting #clone thots #sw tcw fanfic #arc trooper fives #x reader #reader insert #sw tcw #drabble #fem reader #fives smut

[bloody-bee-tea]

24 Days of Beetober 2022 Day 19 - God of Lightning Part I

Nie Mingjue thinks that while some kind of caution should be exercised here, it hardly justifies the way they are all just standing around the shielded room.

They had all been baffled to find it in the carnage of Lotus Pier, standing proud and strong and with not a single scratch on it but this level of fear is hardly warranted.

“Someone should go in,” Nie Huaisang says, fluttering his fan in front of his face and he doesn’t react when Nie Mingjue glares at him.

“Yes, someone should,” Jin Guangshan immediately agrees but they all know he’s not going to be the one to do it.

The Lans are clearly not keen on stepping into something that is clearly a prison—not even to mention that Lan Xichen is not with them because he’s too busy taking care of Meng Yao—and Jiang Fengmian or his wife are no longer alive to tell them about this room.

“I will do it,” Nie Mingjue says with a sigh because someone has to and of course his suggestion is met with enthusiasm from all side.

“Fucking hypocrites,” he mutters under his breath because he just knows that depending on what he will find inside the other Sects are going to fight over the right to get something out of it as well.

Despite the way he is disgusted with is fellow Sect Leaders Nie Mingjue doesn’t let it distract him from his mission. He has absolutely no clue what he’s going to find inside of the room; it could be a well-guarded treasury, it could contain cursed items or it could indeed be a prison for someone or something.

It’s best to stay on his guard until he has a better understanding of what’s going on, and so he reaches out with Baxia first when he arrives at the door. For all the protective magic around this room it doesn’t seem as if there are any wards that are supposed to keep him out.

Great. That probably means this room is supposed to keep something inside.

Nie Mingjue motions for the others to stay on their guard even as he pushes the door open. Nothing immediately jumps towards him, so he carefully ventures inside. It takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the dimmer light inside of the room but he notices right away the figure in the middle of the room.

Nie Mingjue raises Baxia in warning but he is only met with a low laugh.

“That’s not going to do anything,” the person says and Nie Mingjue isn’t sure if the voice simply has that much depth to it or if the wards are distorting it.

“Who are you?” he demands to know and is met with a mockingly raised eyebrow for his trouble.

Now that Nie Mingjue’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, he notices the wards all around the person, effectively caging them in and Nie Mingjue amends his question.

“What are you?”

“Better,” the person decides and steps up close to the barrier, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at Nie Mingjue. “You’re not Jiang.”

“I am Nie,” Nie Mingjue gives back, a frown on his face. “Nie Mingjue.”

“A Sect Leader,” the guy nods. “I remember. She thought you too young and bull-headed to lead.”

“What are you?” Nie Mingjue asks again, though he can already tell from the amount of wards in this room that he is speaking to something much more powerful than he could imagine.

“My name is Jiang Wanyin,” is the answer he gets and it seems as if Jiang Wanyin wants to say something more but Nie Mingjue immediately falls into a deep bow.

“It is an honour,” Nie Mingjue says and is met with a confused chuckle.

“You know who I am?”

“You’re the God of Lightning. We Nies have not forgotten the old ways,” Nie Mingjue says in explanation and he is appalled when the sheer audacity of the Jiang Clan hits him. “They have trapped you here?”

“They have,” Jiang Wanyin sighs out. “They have taken my power and used it for their own.”

“Zidian,” Nie Mingjue breathes out as he comes up out of his bow. “Everyone thought it was a spiritual weapon blessed by the God of Lightning.”

“Not quite,” Jiang Wanyin drily says and Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“They took your own powers from you.”

“They did. And then they imprisoned me here to make better use of me. Where are my captors now, though?”

“Dead,” Nie Mingjue tells him and he doesn’t feel quite as sorry about that anymore as he did before.

“I see,” Jiang Wanyin says and turns his back to Nie Mingjue. “So I guess you are to be my new captor?”

“No!” Nie Mingjue is appalled at the mere suggestion. You do not trap a God, no matter how desperate you are for power. “We came across this room in the carnage of Lotus Pier. We didn’t know what was inside. We will set you free as soon as you tell us how to.”

“Right,” Jiang Wanyin says, clearly not believing a thing Nie Mingjue has just said. “I take it there was a war? I did hear screaming.”

“There was. The Wen Sect declared war on the cultivational world.”

“Mh. And Zidian saved you all?” Jiang Wanyin then assumes and Nie Mingjue winces.

“Not—quite,” he admits. “Yu Ziyuan died before the war really started. The Wens sent some of their forces here to burn Lotus Pier down and she and Jiang Fengmian died defending it.”

“Trying to defend it, I take it,” Jiang Wanyin muses. “So what now?”

“How do I free you?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Wanyin seems honestly surprised by that question.

“Why would you?”

“Because you’ve been trapped here against your will, I take it? Why wouldn’t I free you?”

“You are aware of the power I give to those who hold Zidian?”

“What good did that power do to Yu Ziyuan and her Clan?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and he shakes his head. “I have all the power I need right here,” he then says and raises Baxia. “I do not wish to control you or keep you captive for any longer. So tell me, how do I free you?”

“You say nice words,” Jiang Wanyin tells him, his gaze unwavering on Nie Mingjue and he notices for the first time how bottomless his eyes seem. It’s almost as if Nie Mingjue is gazing into the night sky itself. “But everyone has changed their answer yet, when they came into contact with my power.”

“So Zidian is the way?” Nie Mingjue asks, not trying to refute Jiang Wanyin’s words. He guesses there is nothing he can say to convince him that he doesn’t mean him any harm. He will simply have to show him.

“Zidian is the way. My power has to be returned to me to set me free. It’s the only thing that can break these wards.”

“Alright, that might be a problem,” Nie Mingjue admits. “Yu Ziyuan died and we don’t know where or if she had Zidian with her.”

Jiang Wanyin stares into nothing, and his voice sounds detached when he speaks again.

“It’s in the water, sunken deep into the lake.”

“You can feel it?”

“I can get faint impressions from it,” Jiang Wanyin says with a shrug, seemingly coming back to himself. “Impressions about the surroundings and from the wearer themselves.”

“That’s how you know what Yu Ziyuan thought of me,” Nie Mingjue says with a nod. “Alright. But if it’s in the lake—we Nie are no water people. I can swim well enough to not drown but diving that deep—”

“Ah, yes, the Jiang were quite good with that.”

“And they are all dead,” Nie Mingjue says with a wince. They had just burned the last batch of disciples and even if some of them survived they haven’t come forward yet.

“The young daughter, too?” Jiang Wanyin asks and Nie Mingjue curses his own stupidity.

“Jiang Yanli is alive and well.”

“She’s a good diver,” is all Jiang Wanyin says and Nie Mingjue nods.

“Understood. Give me a moment.”

Nie Mingjue turns around and leaves Jiang Wanyin behind in his prison, even though it pains him to do so. But if he wants to get him out of there he has to convince Jin Guangshan to allow him to ask Jiang Yanli for help.

And there is only one way Jin Guangshan is going to agree.

“That took quite some time,” Jin Guangshan immediately drawls out when Nie Mingjue is close enough. “We all thought you’re conspiring against us by taking whatever is inside for yourself.”

Nie Mingjue doesn’t need to look at Lan Qiren to know that he is spouting absolute bullshit but he still bows deep. He wants something, after all, so he tries his best to keep his temper in check.

“The Jiangs have imprisoned a God,” he tells them outright and stuns everyone into silence. “We need Zidian to free him. It’s the source of his power. But according to the God it has sunken deep into the lake. I would ask you to allow Jiang-guniang to dive for it.”

Nie Mingjue is keeping his words deliberately vague; he needs Jin Guangshan to think that he can simply take Zidian for himself and take the power of the God with it as well. But Nie Mingjue has met Jiang-guniang before and he trusts her to do the right thing.

“A God, you say,” Jin Guangshan muses and Nie Mingjue can already see the greedy glint in his eyes. “It would only be right if we return his power to him, of course,” he goes on and Nie Mingjue only barely manages to not scoff.

If Jin Guangshan were to decide this freely, then he wouldn’t return shit to Jiang Wanyin.

“Yanli, my dear,” he calls out sweetly, and Nie Mingjue clenches his teeth together when he realizes he brought her here to witness the destruction of her own Sect.

Jin Guangshan truly is a despicable human being.

Nie Mingjue locks eyes with Nie Huaisang for a moment, and he can tell that he is burning with questions, but there will be time for those later. Right now it’s more important that they get started on finding Zidian.

“Yes?” Jiang Yanli says when she steps forward and Nie Mingjue has give it to her, she’s trying her hardest to not let it show how this must hurt her.

“There’s something I would like you to do,” Jin Guangshan says and it seems he only doesn’t reach out for Jiang Yanli because she’s very wisely not standing close enough for that. “Go with Mingjue now and bring me Zidian, alright?” he says, a threatening undertone to his voice and Jiang Yanli raises her chin just a little bit, just enough to read as defiance for anyone who cares to look.

“Of course.”

Clearly, Jin Guangshan is not looking because he smiles indulgingly at her as he motions for her to go to Nie Mingjue.

“Follow me,” he gruffly says and leads her back into the prison.

Jiang Yanli clearly recognises the room.

“I was never allowed in here,” she tells Nie Mingjue in a hushed voice. “Mother was very adamant.”

“You’re allowed in here, now. Because I do need your help.”

Nie Mingjue only intends to explain the situation once they are inside the room but as soon as he steps into it, he’s met with a furious Jiang Wanyin.

“You’re no better than that bitch,” he hisses and Nie Mingjue thinks that there should be sparks around him right now, if only Yu Ziyuan hadn’t taken his power for herself. “Do you really think he’ll set me free?”

“Of course not,” Nie Mingjue gives back and he tries to sound as even as possible. “But he wouldn’t allows Jiang Yanli to help otherwise. And since she married out to Jin Zixuan she needs her Sect Leader’s permission to help another Sect Leader. It’s politics, as much as it sucks,” Nie Mingjue says because since his father died he learned quite a bit about that.

And it’s not always nice, and Nie Mingjue doesn’t always want to do it but he certainly learned to play by the rules by now.

“If you used to get impressions both from Zidian and Yu Ziyuan then you have to know that Jin Guangshan is a slimy bastard who can only be motivated to do things that are for his own gain. Of course he intends to keep Zidian to himself but we’re not going to give it to him, are we, Jiang-guniang?” Nie Mingjue asks, turning to Jiang Yanli now.

She is still staring at the cell, horror clear as day on her face.

“Are you—have you been in here for all this time?” she asks and Jiang Wanyin scoffs.

“And for long before that,” he bitterly mutters. “Zidian is an heirloom, is it not?” he mocks and Jiang Yanli’s eyes fill with tears.

“If we give it back to you, will that free you?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” she nods once and Nie Mingjue is surprised to see some of Yu Ziyuan’s steel in her. “What do I have to do?”

“Zidian fell into the lake. We need you to get it out. And then preferably not give it to Jin Guangshan but to me instead,” Nie Mingjue tells her.

“Do we know roughly where it is? The lake is big.”

Nie Mingjue turns questioning eyes on Jiang Wanyin, who closes his eyes for a brief moment and then points towards their left side.

“Over there. It’s not in the deepest part of the lake and there are some—lotuses around, I think,” he thoughtfully says and Nie Mingjue wonders how it must feel to connect to Zidian—no matter how faintly—and only meet the cold, silent nature of water.

“I might know a place that fits,” Jiang Yanli says and bows deep to Jiang Wanyin. “I know it probably means nothing to you but I do apologize for my family’s atrocities. I will do my utmost to set it right,” she declares and then turns to Nie Mingjue. “I will try to find it. If I do, I’ll give it to you. Please do not betray him as well.”

“It’s not my intention to,” Nie Mingjue replies and watches her go.

“Her demeanour is all Jiang but her spine is all Yu,” Jiang Wanyin casually remarks and Nie Mingjue turns back to him.

“Are you going to make her pay for her family’s crimes?” he asks because for all that Jian Wanyin seems calm right now, Nie Mingjue knows about the vengeful side of the Gods.

If he should wish to destroy her or all the Sects it would not only be in his right, but also in his power.

“As far as I am concerned, my captors have died. If she and you keep true to your word, there is no need for me to strike against you.”

It’s much more reasonable than Nie Mingjue really expected from the God of Lightning but he’s not going to argue against it.

“Thank you.”

“Do not thank me yet, you have still to prove yourself,” Jiang Wanyin says, his piercing gaze boring into Nie Mingjue’s soul it feels like and when he turns around it’s a clear dismissal.

And Nie Mingjue is not going to overstay his welcome, so he flees.

Tip me

#bt writes #mingcheng #24daysofmingcheng22 #canon divergence #gods and goddesses #hurt/comfort #pre-relationship #imprisonment

[bybdolan]

a while back u mentioned doing some reading about tswift’s persona circa debut & how perception of her has changed since? or something like that (sorry i cant remember the specifics😭) anyway i was wondering if u could pls share some of the articles and whatnot that u read bc it sounds so interesting!! <3

The articles I was referring to back then were "Taylor Swift is A Feminist's Nightmare" on Jezebel and Why Taylor Swift Offends Little Monsters, Feminists, and Weirdos on Autostraddle. Both are kind of jarring to read now, in 2023, because the vision of feminism present here is one that I think many people have started to question in recent years. They end up being honestly fascinating pieces of recent pop culture history (and even American history as a whole!) because of it, though. Yet, they are insanely mean-spirited, unfair, plain weird (the way people talked about Taylor's virginial essence or whatever... uh...), and also clearly biased (both authors seem to be big Gaga fans and part of their issue with Taylor is her winning AOTY over Gaga in 2010), so proceed with caution! What intrigues me about them on a Swiftie history level though is that they are great examples for the way Taylor's adolescence (specifically her sexuality) was talked about in the media and as far as I can tell this really laid the ground work for the slut shaming in later years (that painted a "she can't keep a man" narrative but, as far as I know, never ventured into the "she has been ran through", explicitely sexual kind of slut shaming, but correct me if I am wrong. I am also not saying one is worse than the other). Since Taylor has been writing and talking more and more about her growing up and her transition from girlhood into womanhood, and with the fandom's discussions reflecting that, it is interesting to look back and see some rather extreme responses to the way she handled all of those thing in the public eye.

#ask #anonymous #re: the whole girlhood womanhood thing #it becomes very apparent from these articles #(and i do think that despite their inflammatory and mean nature they do represent that part accurately) #that Taylor was only perceived as a Girl during that time #not the whole not a girl not yet a woman fetishized version of girlhood #the miley mention in one article makes this especially clear

[drmflm]

—summary: you watched him grow from a toddler to a man, you were there protecting him in the trees when he needed an escape. and now, when it’s time he no longer needs protection, you let him go with a heavy heart.

—pairing: human!yoongi x druid!reader (familial)

—word count: 2k

—genre: fluff, angst

—au: nature, comfort

—rating: pg-15

—warnings: character death (not main leads), implied

—collab: the superache summer collab with @pjmsdior and @sunshinejunghoseokie ! thank u cam for the lovely banner!

—note: i know this seems kinda funky, but essentially the reader and yoongi don’t really know one another, but they care about each other very dearly. so when ur reading this, keep in mind that yoongi doesn’t really know the reader is there till he leaves.

The first time you met your summer child was the spring of 1998. You were aimlessly wandering among your forest, helping a faun who had strayed too far from her mother, bringing her closer to the edge of the forest where the rest of her family was heading.

Holding her in your arms, you heard a strange noise coming from the edge of the forest, which startled the rest of her family—who quickly thanked you as they ran off with her. Curious and defensive, you stepped forward, investigating the strange, obviously human, noise that startled your friends.

Beyond you, was a human family settling into a cozy cottage which had laid empty for years now. There was a beautiful human female, a muscular human male, and a little human boy who stumbled around in the grass. As you investigated, another strange sound came from a bundle in the female’s arms, which upon closer inspection, revealed another, smaller human. This one was much smaller than the little human in the grass—too little to reveal whether it was a girl or boy.

They seemed kind, a happy family who kept to themselves in their little cottage, never disturbing the harmony of the forest, so you left them be, letting your friends know that humans now resided in the area and to approach with caution.

And all was well, for a while.

Meeting the little human was an intriguing first for you. One day, his parents took him on a stroll through your trees, and as they talked and smiled, you got to see them up close. They were a happy family, but something strained against you—an artificial energy thrust before you, stemming primarily from the human female.

Her face was taut with ailment, her black hair wiry and thinning, and the sickly sweet smell emanating from her skin made you feel dizzy in the mind. This was where she belonged, here in the forest. She was diseased.

When they left, you watched the little human follow his parents, and you felt something deep within you, break.

Watching them was beautiful, watching the little humans grow up was fascinating. Seeing them play in the sprinkler or mischievously grabbing berries from their mother’s garden was beautiful. It always made you smile whenever he came to see you, or whenever you saw him.

But as time went on, twisting and curving around you like the vines in your forest, you began to understand that the human world was just as messy. It was filled with intricacies and nuances you couldn’t understand, but feared equally.

It was a powerful thing, human suffering. It permeated the air thickly, just as the smell of illness and death came hand in hand. It skipped the beat of the human heart, and it manifested in distance, so much distance.

Your summer child had painted skin, and he himself seemed sickly. As his mother followed you into the forest, venturing up into the realm of spirits, you watched as your perfect group of humans shattered, and left was the thick smell of suffering.

You weren’t sure who reeked of it more—the boy who was forced to endure the tragedy of his grief, or his father who suffered under the weight of loneliness and anger at being left behind. Either way, as the woman settled in the trees, another aimless voice that gently echoed in the winds, you knew that some things would never be the same again... and for better or for worse you were wary, gentle arms reaching out across the forest border, urging your summer child to come back home, where it was safe.

As the boy grew up, he became more and more gloomy as time went on. Every day he sat in the trees, listening and yearning for someone to talk back to him, making friends with the trees and learning to love the creatures that lived there. He respected even the ants which crawled upon the forest floor, appreciated the deer and the nests that rested in trees.

Instinctively, you found yourself leaning more towards him, often lingering in the branches of trees above him, sometimes hoping he’d venture far enough to find your own tree. But he was too young to do so, so you watched from afar, smiling at the sweetness you found there.

He had such charisma, his voice was soft and beautiful like his mother’s echoes, his hair was dark and reminded you of his melancholic nature.

He had such a soft and gentle musicality to him as well. The energy of his music brightened up the plants which surrounded him, and for a while it felt like the forest was truly alive and magical once again. Even more so when he was older, and his voice became deeper, richer, and more emotional.

Yes, he slowly closed off his heart and feelings the more he grew, but under the cover of the trees, in the echoes of the winds, and in the privacy of your home, he laid bare his heart and his desires, his dreams and fears and flaws that he could not confide to anybody to.

And as his sibling rejoined his mother, and as his father became less and less prominent, fading into the background in a storm of shattered glass—you held out your arms and let your forest swathe him in love and protection, to let him know that his family was here. Always.

And maybe it was tough, to continuously be the victim of back-to-back atrocities, but he was yours, and even in the snow when he was cozied up inside, it was like he would always be there, that little piece of summer that travelled around all year.

So when the day came when he eventually grew up past his due, you held your breath in anticipation as he slowly ventured deeper and deeper till he met with you. Or rather, your tree. It was different than most, a soft birch in a plethora of other species, but it was home. It was thin and willowy, with wispy green tea reaching for the sky. But as he neared the beaches leaned over him, looking over in a gentle embrace.

And maybe he noticed, but his eyes never strayed far from the trunk, where the bark was peeling and the gentle black spots mesmerized eyes.

You urged him to take a leaf, to take a part of you and to keep it close. After all, a parent’s love will never die. You took that boy in with all his flaws, and you made him yours. His mother was happy, and so were you.

And now, it was time to let him go. He needed to explore the avenues of life without the burdens of his childhood weighing him down. He was forever part of you and you knew he would never be afraid of nature—his nature again.

But after spending this time together, a part of you was sad to see him go. And perhaps that was the human in you that, with every passing day, grew larger and larger the more you cared for him.

So before he left, you crafted a note from your bark, and the sap from your leaves, and you let the magic of love write the things in which you would never have the chance to say.

You would miss him dearly, because even though he never met you, this forest adopted him into its depths, you let him stay in the crevices of your heart.

So you wrote to him, you let yourself miss him and you let yourself worry for him because you needed him to know that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t need to be afraid anymore.

He was in your thoughts, always. His mother was proud of him, his sister adored him, and there was no resentment for him buried in their trunks. There was no animosity. Only the purest, kindest, most affectionate love was held in this forest for him, and as the trees gradually opened their branches upwards from where they cocooned him, and the animals scuttled away as the sun dipped, you smiled.

The note fluttered down, right into his hands, and you relished in that moment when he smiled, soft lips curving upwards to whisper a small thank you, as his tears gently washed the words away.

He would always be your summer child, always.

For a really long time, you thought about him, so when he came back a man, you knew it was him. Whether it was by the same shape of his nose or his sparkling brown eyes, you knew he had returned. And trailing behind him, was a little human, holding onto his hand tightly.

“I spent so much time here, it felt like the animals were my friends,” he whispered, and the little girl’s eyes began sparkling. Just like her father, she had a beautiful curiosity that brightened the world around her.

How long would that last?

“Do you think they will become friends with me too?” She asked, and your heart sank as you remembered that she would one day lose that energy.

He smiled, “I know they will.”

He looked on, before bringing her along a familiar path, towards a familiar tree. You smiled as the little girl looked at you with wonder, and held the same beautiful sparkles as her father.

“This was my home,” he said softly, smoothing out her hair. “A long long time ago, my mother sent me a letter out of magic, and she promised me that this forest will always be here for me.” You smiled at that. Sure, a part of you was sad that he never knew you as yourself, instead thinking you were his mother, but it made you warm inside to know that he always remembered you, that he always cherished his time in your forest.

So with another whimsical burst of magic, you let the wind sweep through your leaves, a swirling display of colourful greens and autumn leaves, letting them rain down upon them like a parent patting their child’s shoulder.

You let your voice sing in the wind, wondering how he could do so much for all those except for him, letting him know that he could always come in. He was your summer child, and though you had another to love in your tiny family—you always hoped he would come back, to curb the winters with that little light that always glowed in his eyes.

You wished him well, a fond joy leaping inside your chest at the childlike wonder in his expression. As they made a home in that familiar cottage, you watched as he coaxed his child into the door before looking back once more.

As the latch slowly clicked shut, you looked from him to the door, where a small wooden sign gently clanged.

Summer Child Estate.

© svt1117 2022 . all rights reserved.

#c;all #ficscafe #btshoneyhive #purplearmynet #yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenario #min yoongi #bts suga #bts yoongi #bts scenarios #angst #bts angst #fluff #bts fluff #c;fics

[chena-h]

It’s more than a feeling. It’s you. 

Genre: Fiction, Slice of life, Short story

Word Count: 2.4K+ words

Synopsis: Vernon rushes through school and work to plan a surprise for her dearest friend, Phoebe. 

Vernon fixed her eyes on the clock, wishing she could command the flow of time with her stare. The bell rang shortly thereafter. She quickly got on her feet, moving much like a man on a mission. She zipped out of her class, yanked her bike from the lot, and sped to her job with an enthusiasm she didn’t believe she could possess. The shift proved uneventful, as it always did. She hardly bothered looking her manager in the eye as she collected her pay. The old fart peered over his newspaper as Vernon crossed the parking lot, checking over her shoulder before entering and promptly exiting a discount store. The girl shoved the spoils of her trip well into her backpack and went off, vanishing over the horizon.   

Old, dusty work boots clomped down the street as she ran out of the garage to the front of the townhouse. Vernon stopped along the steps, leaning against the handrail to catch her breath. Despite herself, she reached for her phone rather than her keys. Her forehead wrinkled upon seeing no response to her text. With a shrug of her shoulders she set her worries aside, grasped her keys and ventured into her apartment. She tried to soothe her nerves by insisting to herself that it wasn’t a big deal; she’d pulled some strings, bought herself some time. With any luck, she’d hear back well before either of her fathers could drag her into one of their horrible, nauseatingly tedious borefests. 

 After dropping her boots into the basket, Vernon paused. Her nose crinkled at the  overwhelming stench of artificial lavender. Her dark, jaded eyes combed over the scene. The floor looked positively immaculate; the furniture in their living room was well beyond pristine. The kitchen appeared as though it had been prepared for a home owner’s digest. Vernon grimaced at the dining table, unnerved by the clarity of her reflection. Everything about the state of the apartment served to morph her hope into a desperate faith. Her plan needed to work. It just had to. 

Vernon left her bag on one of the kitchen chairs. She strolled over to the hallway closet, carefully prying the sparkling doors open (really pulled out all the stops, didn’t they she thought). Vernon sat on her haunches, looming over a sea of cardboard boxes. She tipped the lids, eyeing each of their contents keenly until she found what she’d been looking for. With expert caution, she withdrew a long, narrow wooden box and gently placed it on the kitchen table. Vernon then continued to walk around the rooms, gathering supplies - her crafting mat, a few brushes, her watercolors, glitter, a set of thank you cards from her father’s office (not like these would ever see the light of day she assured herself), and the bottle of rose gold metallic ink she’d bought the weekend before. 

With her tools spread out across the table, Vernon began to practice her strokes. She hesitated at first. It had been years since she’d written with a brush. Much to her relief, it didn’t take long for her muscle memory to return. Vernon studied her sample cards with a meticulous eye. She held each one up to the light, evaluating the sheen of the ink. Having made her decision, she pulled out her final card from her bag. Using her free hand, Vernon splayed the card flat against the table. After a few deep breaths, she dipped her brush into the inkwell, cleaned off the excess, and wrote with a deft hand. 

The muffled sounds of a rowdy yet happy-go-lucky ringtone began to blare from her backpack. Vernon leaned over, flipping her phone open to read the message. 

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ K cool see u there  ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

The ends of her lips curled upwards. It was just as she’d hoped. Vernon punched in a number. With roguish glee, she raised the phone to her ear, eager to grace her fathers with the bad news about their dinner plans.  

  ***

The late afternoon sun began its descent, casting the plaza in a warm glow. The shadows of the palm trees stretched far across the mall’s parking lot. Vernon sat with her back to the fountain. She rocked on her heels for a bit, elbows resting on her knees. Her hands trembled as she clutched the phone in her hands. She’d traded her signature outfit for something a little more de rigueur as her fathers would have said (at least, relatively speaking). She’d even gone to the trouble of attempting to reign her cluster of cowlicks and split ends into something approaching a presentable hairstyle. Sallow cheeks tinged a faint pink as she shook her head in disbelief. The lengths she’d taken for the occasion were a bit outside her realm of comfort, but, for her, it was all but necessary. While she waited, Vernon entertained herself with thoughts of how the rest of the day could go. Before she could finish carving out a scenario in her head, a loud and cheerful voice bellowed her lovingly crude nickname from afar. 

“VERMIN~!” 

The churlish butch looked up. Phoebe - or Ferbie, as she insisted on being called when they first met - her spry, effervescent partner-in-crime waved her arm in a joyous frenzy. Rich, brown ribbons of hair bounced around her face as she sprinted towards Vernon. Phoebe came dressed in her favorite outfit: her pair of dirty white sneakers, a set of baggy, sunbleached overalls worn over a pink ringer bearing the print of a smiling grapefruit with sunglasses riding a rainbow wave. Phoebe slid beside Vernon, draping herself over the girl's shoulders. “Gotcha!” she bragged, accentuating her embrace with a tight squeeze.The two swayed back and forth.

“You sure did,” Vernon said, turning away to cover her bashful grin. She rubbed her wrist, her fingers pulling at the bracelets Phoebe made for her several summers ago. Turning back to face her, Vernon tipped her head back. “You ready, partner?”

“Uh, yeah! Always,” Phoebe replied gleefully. She pulled back slightly, lips puckered as she made a face. One Vernon knew all too well. She waited as Phoebe’s bright, sparkling eyes examined her from top to bottom. “Hmm,” she hummed, “What’s with all the, uh…,” Phoebe paused, waving her hand in Vernon’s general direction, “What’s with all this?” 

Vernon waggled her eyebrows, awarding her friend’s curiosity with a cryptic smile. “Your guess is as good as mine,” she answered wryly. 

“Hmm–” Phoebe repeated. She leaned forward, bringing her face closer until they were mere inches apart. Her eyes narrowed as her stare intensified, cheeks puffed out in a facetious pout. After a few seconds, Phoebe nodded conclusively. “You look good. I’ll figure it out.”

“Of course you will. Now, let’s go.” Vernon smacked her knee, rising to her feet with gusto. Phoebe followed suit, keeping one arm slung over Vernon’s shoulders as they stepped through the doors of the mall. 

***

Vernon returned from the cafe, carrying their regular set of drinks – a plain iced coffee for herself and a technicolor, overly sweet monstrosity topped with whip cream, syrup, and sprinkles for Phoebe.

Soft, impatient hands took a break from banging a beat on the table to reach for the sugary concoction. “So,” Phoebe drawled, “Theater competition, huh?" She stirred her straw slowly, watching as the layers of color blended together.

Vernon knowingly rolled her eyes. “Don't get me started,” she grumbled. “Can’t believe I got dragged into another one of these damn things.” She took a long sip, stealing a quick glance over her shoulder while Phoebe wasn’t looking. 

“Hm. Yeah. What a shame.” Behind steepled fingers, her smile turned devilish. “Is this gonna be anything like the first one?” 

Vernon groaned, wiping her hands down her face. “God, I hope not.” 

"Where's it at?" Phoebe pressed as she dipped her finger into her mound of whip cream. 

Vernon gazed at the ceiling, biting her lower lip in feigned concentration. "I think they said Jackson."

Phoebe’s hands flapped in excitement. "When is it happening?"

Vernon shook her head then went for another sip of her coffee. "Nope. Nuh uh. That's all you're getting out of me, Ferb."

"Aw, come on?! No way!” Phoebe leaned back into her chair, crossing her arms and frowning.”I didn't get to go to the last one,” she whined. “Jerk."

Vernon waved her off. "Deal with it. Besides, you would just sit there trying to make me corpse the whole time."

"But that’s part of the fun, Verm!” she giggled. “Anyways, I’ve seen you on stage before. You don't need my help choking."

"Piss off.” Vernon ducked her head once more to hide her smile. “You'll just have to contend yourself with this rehearsal, okay?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes dramatically. "Fine, fine. Whatever you say, partner."

Relieved to have put an end to her line of questions, Vernon nodded. She dug into her bag, then dangled an oversized print out of a crown across the table. "Here. Put this on."

Phoebe’s eyes widened as she examined the prop. "Ooh! Fancy.” She daintily opened the crown, then gently placed it on her head. The band sat still for a few seconds before sliding down over her eyes. “Oh! Uh, Vermin, I think this one's a little too big."

"That's precisely the point, Ferb. The role calls for it. Now, keep it over your eyes. Close them, too, if you would be so kind."

Phoebe’s eyes narrowed as her lower lip jutted out in suspicion."O-kay. Is this–"

"A vital, central aspect of your character’s design?” Vernon interjected. “Why yes,” she paused to adjust the fit of her crown, “How did you know?"

Phoebe couldn’t help chuckling. "Pfft. And that was totally, 1000% what I was gonna ask you.” She took one last sip of her shake before pushing it aside. “Alrighty then. Anything else you need from me, Mr. Director?"

Now that Phoebe’s eyes were closed, Vernon rose to her feet. "Just sit there, and wait until you hear my cue - Oh, and no peeking. "

"Okie dokie!” she beamed. Confusion pinched her brows together one last time. “Wait a sec, if my character has no lines, why do y–"

"Ferb, think of this as me working on my stage fright."

"Hm...Ok.” She snapped her fingers to convey her understanding. “Got it." 

Vernon held back a sigh of relief. She snuck another glance behind her. The act was just about ready to start. Her now clammy fingers tapped the sides of her thighs. Vernon steadied herself with a few quiet breaths. "Alright. Three, two, one." 

With a pace that matched the quick rhythm of her heartbeat, Vernon reached the cafe before the servers could shout her name again. The tray wobbled in her hands as she returned to their table. She jerked her head back to keep her crown from falling forward. Once at the table, Vernon set the tray down almost silently. She stole a glance at Phoebe as she reached down for her bag. The girl had taken to swaying in her seat, slapping the beat from before on her thighs. Vernon stared a little longer than she intended before refocusing on the task at hand. With careful hands, she placed the card on one side of the tray. Then, she quietly stuck a candle in the center of the dessert. Lastly, she held her lighter over the candle, flicking the spark wheel a few times until the flame held. She watched with pleasure as the wick caught on fire. 

Vernon raised her eyes. Phoebe had stilled, hands folded together while she twiddled her thumbs. Vernon sat down and began her recitation, her voice flowing with a rich tenderness. “To me, fair friend, you never can be old, for as you were when first you eye I ey’d, such seems your beauty still.” She paused, watching fondly as a smile brightened Phoebe’s face. “You can look now.” 

As if to avoid rushing the moment, Phoebe slowly pushed the crown back up. She blinked until her vision came into focus. Her eyes widened in a combination of surprise, disbelief and wonder. The first thing to grab her attention was the cake - small, white, dusted with coconut flakes and topped with fruits as well as spirals of meringue. A lone, neon pink candle burned at the center. Phoebe rushed to meet Vernon’s gaze, a question in her eyes.

 “Aren’t you going to make a wish?,” Vernon whispered softly. “The wax will melt into your cake if you wait too long.” 

“Yeah, right…” Phoebe breathed. Her round eyes shone wistfully. A short, quick breath put the flame out. Phoebe turned her focus to the card, raising it delicately to her face. She turned the card between her fingers, marvelling at the glitter that lined the rose petals painted on the front and back. Phoebe graciously opened the card, almost as though she feared damaging the spine. Her eyes moistened as she read the handwritten note. She drew the card closer to her face, tilting it repeatedly to watch the ink catch the light. She looked up to find Vernon watching her with a cautious, yet caring smile. 

“Happy birthday, Ferbie.” Vernon said, her voice hushed so only Phoebe could hear it. 

The girl flew out of her seat, card in hand, and rushed to the other end of the table. She bounced on her heels, hands slapping the front of her thighs. 

Vernon stared up in bemusement. “Wh–”

“Get up!” Phoebe commanded. 

“What for?” 

“Okay, okay, okay, nevermind. Push your chair back, then.” Phoebe’s hand flaps grew restless. “Hurry up, push it back!”

“Alright, alright, I’m pushing. Take it easy.” The instant Vernon brought her hands down, Phoebe hopped onto her lap, wrapping both arms around her neck and squeezing tightly. Overwhelmed with joy, Phoebe raised her head and screeched, rocking them both from side to side, kicking her feet. 

Vernon, cheeks now thoroughly flushed, turned away and laughed. “What? Did you think I’d forget?”

Phoebe gave her another tight, but affectionate squeeze. “I love you, you big jerk!” she squealed, brushing her cheek against Vernon’s head, making a thorough mess of her hair.   

Vernon closed her eyes, savoring the success of her plan. While Phoebe remained in her lap, eating her cake and gushing over the card, Vernon checked her back pocket. The tension in her shoulders eased as her fingers graced the pair of tickets she’d printed in advance. Vernon wrapped an arm around Phoebe’s waist and sighed contently. While she doubted her friend could ever fully come to know it, Vernon hoped this gave her a glimpse into the depths of her love, and all that she meant to her. 

***

 Bronze eyes reel me in

 Fire springs from your mouth, dancing

 As you sing off key

 It’s customary to give this a name

 I guess I’d like to call you 

Home

#chena fic #original writing #short story #slice of life #creative writing #writeblr #original work #my ocs #chena's donutsteelz

[mikalara-dracula]

if u haven’t already could u do 🌙 for shin and subaru?

🌙 Nights/Staying up late with Shin—

Warning: 18+ content below; don't read if you're a minor and aren't comfortable with slight NSFW. This is a fictional work and should not be taken seriously.

Caution: Unfortunately, Tumblr has a history of admins quarreling over completing carbon copy asks due to users sending the same request(s) to multiple admins, thus, resulting in unintentional plagiarism. With this, please DO NOT send the same request to multiple blogs as it can cause unintended plagiarism discord to other blogs across Tumblr. The word “plagiarism” stems from the early 17th-century Latin word, “plagiarius,” meaning “kidnapper.” So please, do not send in the same request to multiple blogs and make admins appear to be “kidnapping” other people’s work when it isn’t their intention. If this is to occur with any of my posts, please contact me so we can work something out.

Hi there, Anon!

Thank you so much for requesting! I’ve linked you to Subaru’s version of this scenario. Hope you enjoy reading them. Feel free to request again anytime! :))

🌙 = Nights/Staying up late with them (Subaru)

🌙 Mm, nights with this man are something else.

🌙 Like, it’s quite an adventure, and this really depends on his mood.

🌙 He can honestly go from being sweet to a fucking tease.

🌙 And damn, if it’s a full moon. Fuck.

🌙 Anyways, in general he’s quite fun to be around, and because it’s nighttime, he believes it can spent doing scandalous things you don’t do during the day.

🌙 Is into watching movies with you, but there's a twist to this.

🌙 You watch the movie while he watches you.

🌙 And if by chance you picked out a horror movie, he's the biggest tease possible.

🌙 In fact, he'll try to scare you while you're watching it . . . and even after.

🌙 Cuz he sucks like that.

🌙 And because it's nighttime, he only finds it easier to scare you.

🌙 He'll try to stage things that connect to the movie you watched just to freak you out.

🌙 For example, if the victim in the movie heard a lot of strange sounds in a quiet atmosphere, he's gonna do the same and make you think it's some monster/ghost when it's not.

🌙 “Quit it, Shin! I know she’s not real.”

🌙 If you pick out a romance movie, he's not into it at all even if he's not watching it.

🌙 He'll make the smartest comments about it and call it stupid and cliche.

🌙 Omg—never watch an erotic movie with him.

🌙 He's the worst when it comes to this and his teasing never ends.

🌙 During an intimate scene, he’ll criticize the guy and might even get ideas.

🌙 “Damn, that’s something we can try out after the movie.”

🌙 “Shin!”

🌙 And to make matters worse, he might not even say he’s going to try out it with you, and he’ll just try it (all with your consent of course!).

🌙 If you guys are not watching a movie, he likes to go on walks with you in the forest, mostly because he can be alone with you.

🌙 It also gives him the excuse to change into his wolf form since he likes to change into it a lot.

🌙 Might even give you a ride in this form since his wolf form is pretty grand in scale (bigger than an average wolf since he’s supernatural).

🌙 He likes to venture a lot in his wolf form with you riding on his back. He’s quite fast and really likes to catch the breeze.

🌙 And sometimes he likes to challenge himself by trying to jump a cliff and land on the opposite side with you on his back.

🌙 You can’t recall how many times he’s scared you by doing this. You always scold him about it afterwards.

🌙 You get that he’s supernatural, but seriously, it’s a lot to take in since some jumps seem impossible to make. He’s all about taking risks, but would never allow you to get hurt.

🌙 Might even coax you into having sex with him in the woods, especially after turning back from his wolf form since he’s naked.

🌙 “Shin, someone might see us.”

🌙 Smirking, he’d add, “Hm, let’s give ’em a show then.”

🌙 Now, let’s talk about how he acts if it’s a full moon.

🌙 His mood swings are honestly all over the place since he’s having a hard time controlling himself.

🌙 And to top it all off, he’s horny af, but he’s trying to conceal that.

🌙 Does all sorts of things to get your attention.

🌙 Such as calling your name, making you turn to him to ask what he wants, but he says it's nothing, it’s all an excuse to see your face.

🌙 Might smack/clutch/grab your ass just to throw you off guard, it’s mostly because he likes to see your reaction.

​​🌙 Likes to walk by you and randomly poke your side just to throw you off as well.

🌙 Is also into starting random makeout sessions with you.

🌙 Also likes to drink with you and if he’s had too much, he might get a bit mean.

🌙 But tbh, it’s kinda hot.

🌙 Likes to drink with you as well and make drinking bets.

🌙 Loves playing dirty confessions over drinking and teases you endlessly.

🌙 During this game, you both take turns to confess something dirty and if you don’t want to, you take a shot instead.

🌙 So, he’s always trying to get you to confess your dirtiest thoughts of him, and tbh you end up doing so due to getting drunk.

🌙 While you’re still sober, he’ll even try to mess with you about your thoughts regarding him and trick you into confessing something you don’t want him to know.

🌙 Isn’t opposed to a wild night of sex if you’re in the mood.

🌙 And having sex with him on a full moon is an adventure itself since he’s full of surprises due to being so riled up.

🌙 He's dominant, so expect to be spending a lot of time beneath him.

🌙 Rounds with him feel endless and he’ll continue to the point where you can’t get enough.

🌙 He’ll tease you about your arousal too and time your climax. He gets it right every time.

🌙 Like ask @liannelara-dracula .

🌙 Don’t expect it to be sweet though, he’s all about being rough and hot.

🌙 Is pretty sweet after rough sex, telling you you're beautiful as he runs his hands through your hair.

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers headcanons #shin tsukinami #tsukinami shin #diabolik lovers shin #subaru sakamaki #sakamaki subaru #diabolik lovers subaru #anime #anime requests #anime headcanons #diaboys #dialovers #diahell #diabolik brothers

[neon-junkie]

Is there a fanfic trope/topic you want to write about but it might be a lil too smutty?

there's a fic that i've started drafting, but ive had to put it on pause. i received some slut shaming comments after i posted the rifle fic, and because people can't handle... *checks notes*.... grinding on an intimate object, then i doubt they can handle a pred/prey, sex pollen, gangbang fic

more details under the cut (very nsfw. u have been warned)

the fic is set around the pred/prey and sex pollen trope. you are an alien (species not specified) who goes into heat twice a year. thanks to modern medicine, youre able to suppress those heats and continue as normal.

however, after a very sleepy crosshair accidentally takes your meds instead of his own, you discover that when humans take your supplements, it has a reverse effect on them. basically, they get sex pollen, and have to fuck to calm down the effects.

crosshair gets the relief that he needs, and the batch soon find out since you two weren't exactly quiet. you explain what's happened, and they all raise a brow at each other. they wanna try it too.

so, ever since the crosshair incident, the batch like to take your meds every so often and go into this sex pollen state, then fuck you silly until they feel better :)

---

that's the back story. the actual fic begins with you chilling on the marauder alone whilst the boys have popped into a local town to do some shopping. on the way back, hunter comms you to inform you that they'll be back soon, and asks if you want to "have a game of cat and mouse?" which is slang for 'can we take your supplements and fuck you like crazy?'

you agree, and they give you a head start. you exit the marauder and begin venturing into the forest that the ship is parked in. the boys have to split up and hunt you down, and their reward for capturing you is fucking you until they feel better. the supplements give them heightened senses and whatnot, kinda like the A/B/O trope dynamic.

---

the smut: spoiler warning if you want to keep the actual plot a surprise

---

to your surprise, crosshair finds you first. he's positioned up in a tree, and using an attachment on his rifle, fires a net at you and captures you. hes cocky af about finding you first, and using a knife, cuts part of the net and your lower clothes to free just your pussy. he fucks you whilst you're still tangled up.

crosshair is eventually nice, and frees you once he's had his release, then sends you off to be tracked down by the next clone.

echo finds you next. i havent planned how he captures you, but he does. he has you ride his cock, and whilst he's bucking up into you, tech stumbles across you two.

tech can't wait, and begins touching himself whilst watching you ride echo. he also can't keep his hands to himself, and begins fingering you with echos cock already inside you. tech makes some comments about how youre greedy, and then says he wants to try something.

tech lines himself up, and manages to slide his cock in. tech and echo share you, fucking you at the same time, with caution since they dont want to hurt their lovely lady.

after they've had their fun with you, youre found by wrecker, who makes a comment about how tech and echo have already prepped you to take his thick cock. he picks you up and slides into you, bouncing you on his cock.

wrecker realises how easily he can lift you, and rather than bucking up into you, he begins moving you on his cock, using you like a fleshlight.

hunter is the last to find you, and your supplements always overly affect him, given that he already has heightened senses. he's a mess, and informs you that he wanted to be last, and has been watching you ever since crosshair first found you.

needless to say, he's pent up, and horny as hell. hunter enjoys cutting your remaining clothes off, then fucks you in the mating press position, making regular comments about how he's 'pushing everybody elses cum out of your pussy to make room for his.'

you enjoy some very messy, sloppy, heated sex with hunter. once he's come down from his high, he carries you back to the marauder, where the boys are already there.

youre then taken care of. they help you shower, wrap you up in some comfy clothes and blankets. they check over your body to ensure that youre okay, and you eventually fall asleep due to exhaustion.

the end :0)

#nsft #very nsft #to do

[leviaju]

forgiveness

pairing: belphegor x GN! reader, hints of everyone x reader

words: 8.1k+

genre: angst, fluff at the beginning and a bit at the end if u squint

warnings: mentions of mc and lilith’s death, foul language

preview: “I’m sorry,” He begins, voice much weaker than anticipated. “I know that will never cut it, and it will never be enough, but I’m sorry.” 

“You’re right, Belphegor. It won’t cut it.”

hey guys what up. so... i’ve done a lot of thinking about belphegor’s dynamic with MC, and, like many others, was really bothered by the sudden switch after... he killed them. u know. typical stuff. i wanted to fill in the gaps!!! if im being completely honest, this has sat in my wips for.... like half a year. it’s my first time writing for obey me, so i hope that everyone’s not too terribly ooc LOL

anyways yeah. i mention how belphegor killed mc a couple of times, so proceed with caution! hopefully, if i get any ideas, the next stuff i write will be a lot lighter. hope you enjoy! (also requests r open soooooooo)

The weight on your chest crushed your rib cage, threatening to snap your bones like they were nothing more than twigs. All you could see was the pitch black of eternal night, and whether your eyes were opened or closed you couldn’t tell. What commanded your attention was the searing pain in your lungs, growing exponentially every half-second, and the unrelenting grip that was slowly shattering your esophagus. No matter how hard you struggled, squirmed and fought against the weight holding your body down, there was no use. It was pointless. The pain spread from the raging fire in your lungs to the tips of your fingertips, and everywhere felt as if you had been set aflame. Slowly, a light illuminated the force keeping you down. 

You couldn’t make out much, save for the cackle that rang insufferably through your ears, and the intense eyes that were staring you down. 

They held no remorse. 

-

Bones ache as you rest against your bed, finally allowing the tension in your muscles to melt away. You’d never mistake this feeling for regret of a busy day, having spent so much time with the people you care about, but it certainly took its toll on you. 

It began with Satan, who’d asked you the night before to accompany him on an early morning walk. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence — he’d invite you to join his morning routine on every day off, and you’d never refuse — hence, at the wonderful time of 7:00am, you were venturing around the Devildom, hand in hand with the Avatar of Wrath. The two of you would walk, occasionally resting on a park bench for longer than either of you would like to admit, for about an hour and a half before you took an official break. The time was filled with pleasant chatter and comfortable silence. Every so often he’d squeeze your hand, and when you’d look over, the fondest of smiles crossed his face. It was a reminder of how glad he was that you joined him. 

At around 8:30, he took you into a café for breakfast, and two of you spent only about thirty minutes there chattering away happily. For the most part, he was vividly and excitedly discussing a book he’d just finished the night before…

Until you were interrupted.

“Hello, lovely!” Asmodeus wrapped his arms around you from behind, just before pressing a kiss on your cheek. Satan sighed, resting his head in his hand as he watched the interaction. 

“My selfish older brother’s been hogging you all morning, I couldn’t help but want to whisk you away!”

Despite the glare Satan was sending his way, Asmodeus took a seat next to you, happily engaging in conversation as he completely ignored his brother. He told you that the mall was opening in about an hour, and Asmo desperately wished to get his perfectly-manicured hands on a new makeup product being revealed that day. 

“But of course I can’t go alone! How positively dreary that would be.” His fingers twined with yours as he looked at you hopefully, and you ran your thumb across his hand. A sheepish smile crept its way onto your lips, and you looked over at Satan. He simply nodded, flicking his hand as a gesture for you two to leave, and Asmodeus didn’t hesitate. He was quick to stand and pull you with them, holding tight to you as he whisked you away. You called out to Satan, now alone at the table with a reluctant smile on his face as he waved goodbye. 

“Thanks for breakfast! Get home safe!”

You almost missed the chuckle that left his lips, the café door closing behind you. 

Asmodeus kept you until noon. He got a hold of the lipstick he wanted almost right away, but insisted on buying an outfit to match the colour. Regardless of what you’d initially thought, the outfit wasn’t for him.

“Oh, we’ll look positively stunning together!” He exclaimed after about two hours of forcing you in and out of changing rooms, putting his hands all over you to “adjust the clothing” as he deemed necessary. Near the end, you could feel soreness deep in your muscles creeping in from such an active morning, but Asmodeus’ cheery face and constant flirtations helped you forget about it almost completely. 

It wasn’t until you got home that you truly felt the effects of on-and-off walking since early in the morning. Be that as it may, your stomach was growling, loudly reminding you that it was now past lunch. As much as you wished to give up on food for the time being and instead head to your room to collapse, the pain in your belly was enough to urge you to cease any arguments, instead ready to try and ignore the ache in your bones in order to quell the angry rumbling of your stomach. 

Unfortunately, when you finally made it to the kitchen, there was no food prepared. Instead, what you found was a dejected Beelzebub, frowning softly as he once again was at the receiving end of a lecture from the eldest of his brothers. As quiet as possible, you snuck into the kitchen, trying to listen in on their conversation. 

There was silence, followed by a sigh. 

“It’s easier to simply ask what’s going on as opposed to trying to eavesdrop, MC.”

You jumped, then bashfully made your way into the kitchen, a sheepish grin on your face. Lucifer was rubbing his temple. 

“Beelzebub was supposed to be on lunch duty, but ended up ‘taste-testing’ to the extent that he ate it all. Again.” Lucifer sighed. The typically perfect eldest brother was being run ragged, if the bags forming under his eyes told you anything. “So, instead of working on the papers I have to get finished for tonight, I’m stuck making lunch while he cleans up.”

Beelzebub’s frown tugged at your heartstrings, and in spite of the exhaustion clawing relentlessly at your bones, you relented. 

“Why don’t I help? Four hands are better than two,” you proposed, and a small smile graced Lucifer’s face. He lifted his hand to brush the disheveled black hair out of his face, and your chest ached just a bit at the sight. You made a mental note to drag him to bed for a nap the next time you saw him like this.

“That would be more than welcome. Please, if you may.” Already you turned to start working, but Lucifer’s voice made you pause. 

“But no feeding Beel. He’s eaten more than his fill already, he can wait until we’re all done.”

Needless to say, every so often you’d slip Beelzebub a piece of chopped vegetable or cooked meat, and he’d very happily (but quietly!) munch away, his expression radiating warmth and joy. And Lucifer, who seemed to almost be omniscient at times, never once mentioned it. Once the three of you were done cooking, Lucifer placed his hand on your head, patting you gently. 

“Good work, MC. I must leave now, but I trust that the two of you will be able to clean everything up. Your help was much appreciated. You will be paid back in kind for all of your hard work.”

If nothing else, the slight blush on Lucifer’s face as he ever-so-gently pressed his lips to the crown of your head was more than enough payment. 

“Thank you.” Beelzebub cleared his throat, washing the dishes as you dried them. “I… Thanks for helping. And feeding me.”

His smile warmed your heart, and you nodded, bumping your arm with his gently. The small bit of pink that dusted his cheeks compelled you to coddle him, but you resisted the urge. Barely.

“Anytime, big guy.”

After you ate lunch, the only thought in your mind was the prospect of curling up under your covers and passing out. The fretful, broken sleep the night before wasn’t helping at all in keeping you awake, and that on top of the rest of the day’s events had you yearning for the feeling of your pillows. 

Unfortunately, you hadn’t even made it through the door when your phone began to blow up, one notification after the other in quick succession.

GGKKJFLFJG

MC

CMOE QUIC K

PLS

SUPE R RARE EVENT IN MONONONOKE 

PELASE 

YOU HVE TO BE PARTNERED WIHT SOMEONE TO GTE THE PRIZE

MC

MC

PL E A S E

HURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHHHUUURRRRRYYYYYYYYYYY

You found yourself in Leviathan’s room, sat in his lap as he explained the event to you. Your half-asleep brain did its best to keep up with his quick speech, but that, along with the warmth of his chest against your back, became the most soothing lullaby. 

“Hey! Normie! I agreed to let you sit here so I could easily help you through the event, but if you’re going to fall asleep on me, I’m pushing you off—“

“I’m awake! I’m awake. 

...Now, what was I supposed to do?”

The unintentional giggle that escaped your lips at his expression caused Leviathan to huff, exasperated, despite the flush of his face. Diligently, however, he thoroughly explained the event, for the second time, and the method to obtain the rare prize: a level 2000 I’m Going To Murder You So Hard That You’ll Come Back To Life Just To Die Again Death Sycthe, the strongest weapon ever released in the game. It was a partner event, which explained Leviathan’s desperate and urgent request for aid. You didn’t mind though. While yes, you’d probably never be able to get to his level of gamer, you were more than happy to go along for the ride. It made him happy! 

Leviathan rested his chin against your shoulder as he played on his phone, focused to such a degree that the usually easy-to-fluster demon was completely unphased by your proximity. Your phone, set to AutoFight, rested untouched near Leviathan’s leg, abandoned on the floor. You watched him expertly take out enemies that would have one-hit KO’d you through heavy eyelids, and every time he beat a wave of enemies, his attention would momentarily avert from the screen, looking at you from the corner of his eye expectantly. A kiss on his cheek was more than enough to motivate him to continue on, albeit with a pink glow on his cheeks until his attention was once again completely wrapped up in the game at his fingertips. 

-

“Levi! I said open up, goddamnit!” 

The pounding against the door was enough to distract Leviathan from his game, subsequently killing his character in the process. He groaned, cursing the demon who interrupted the two of you as he gently lifted you off of his lap, before getting up to open the door. 

“The hell do you want?!”

To be completely honest, you were so wrapped up in watching Leviathan play his games that you had forgotten about your weekly movie night with Mammon, who had come over to his younger brother’s room to drag your ungrateful ass  back to your own. Leviathan had cleared the event in Mononoke Land hours ago, but not wanting you to leave just yet, invited you to keep watching him play. Setting aside how tired you were, how could you say no? You’d wanted to spend time with him, too. 

Unfortunately, you lost track of time, and your phone, battery completely drained from the event, rested uselessly in your pocket. A consequence of this happened to be missing the countless messages and calls Mammon had sent your way, before he began his hunt for you throughout the house. The last place he checked was, of course, Leviathan’s room.

“Come on, human, I ain’t got all day. No one keeps the Great Mammon waiting!” 

“Except for MC,” you heard Leviathan mumble under his breath, and a laugh escaped you before you had the chance to slap a hand over your mouth. Mammon flushed deeply, before striding into his brother’s room. 

“Hey, wait, you moron! I never said—!” 

The force of Mammon throwing you over your shoulder wasn’t enough to hurt, but it certainly was enough to leave you breathless for a moment. “Let’s go, fragile human. I picked the perfect movie already.” Mammon’s words came out in a bashful mumble, but he had enough courage to lift his head and smirk at Leviathan as he carried you out of the room. All you could do was smile apologetically at the blue haired demon before Mammon turned, bringing you out of sight. 

Mammon was all complaints as he carried you to your bedroom, but you knew it came from a place of love. Even though he’d never admit it, you could tell he was hurt by you unintentionally ignoring him. Because of this, instead of demanding he let you down, you allowed him to hold you like this, not a single complaint leaving your lips. 

When he brought you to your room, you were set on the bed you’d missed dearly and he went to put the movie in the player. 

“Hey! No sleepin’ on me, alright? I wanna watch the movie with ya, and I can’t if you’re passed out, now can I?” 

And so here you are now, bed frame creaking as Mammon climbs onto the mattress. Rubbing your eyes, you nod, and lean into him once he gets close enough for you to. 

“Seriously, I’m gonna hafta have a serious talk with Levi,” Mammon grumbles, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you in so that you’re almost in his lap. He pulls the blankets over the two of you as you rest your head on his chest, and hum quietly in return. “He used up all your energy, and now we won’t be able to get to enjoy the movie as much! Honestly…”

The vibrations of Mammon’s words can be felt through his chest, and you simply cuddle into him more and try to train your bleary eyes on the television screen. The Avatar of Greed shuts up completely when you take his hand in yours and press a gentle kiss to it, before doing your best to focus on the movie. As time passes, however, the idea of giving into your whims grows more than tempting, and oh-so-easy for you to do. 

-

“Hey! Yo, MC! Seriously… You’re hopeless.”

A chiding, yet gentle voice draws you from the confines of rest. You puff air from your nose in response, cuddling closer to whatever it was that had been so comfortable in the first place.

“MC… Come on. Ya gotta wake up, ya didn’t even watch any of the movie! It was really good, y’know.”

Mammon’s hand rubs circles on your back as you mumble incoherently, a noise to acknowledge the fact that he‘s been talking, and that you are indeed awake now. 

It takes a good amount of time, as well as some gentle encouragement from Mammon, to get you to finally open your heavy eyes, and even longer for you to be able to apologize to him for missing out on the movie he was so excited to watch. He pouts a bit, but the blush on the highs of his cheeks lets you know that he didn’t mind all that much. You smile and yawn, and his chuckle resonates in your ears. 

“I gotta go now, otherwise Lucifer’s gonna kill me for staying so late. Sorry I woke ya up, but ya look so tired now that you’ll probably fall back asleep right away.”

And so, after a quick goodbye and a kiss on the cheek (which made Mammon turn the prettiest shade of red), you close your door and… sigh. If you had been able to stay asleep, the fact that you aren’t in pajamas and haven't brushed your teeth wouldn't be that much of an issue. Now that you‘re slightly more conscious, however, it’s hard to convince yourself to simply climb back into bed. Your breath is bugging you a bit, and the jeans you’re wearing certainly aren’t at all as comfortable as your pajama pants.  For that reason, to your own dismay, you begin getting ready for bed — properly this time. 

A small “finally…” tumbles from your lips after you finish your nighttime routine. Lacking any form of grace, you plop into bed once more and pull the blankets to your chin, nuzzling into the pillow. Your bed still smells like Mammon’s cologne, and you hum softly to yourself before closing your eyes and waiting for sleep to take over once more, and hold you hostage until late in the morning. 

Alas, sleep seemed to be evading you now, similar to how you had ignored it during the day. The mattress you lay on simply isn't comfortable anymore, and the blankets that hug your body cause you to overheat. Unfortunately, if even one limb is out of the blanket, you get so cold you start shivering. None of your typical sleeping positions are anywhere near as effective as they typically are, and you’re left to wrestle with sleep alone, hoping to beat it into submission so you can finally get some proper rest. 

After about 45 minutes of tossing and turning with no results, you finally relent. The nap you’d taken while watching the movie royally fucked you over, and you groan. Eventually you decide to give up on trying to fall back asleep, and huff as you sit properly on your bed. 

Blanket dragging behind you as it drapes from your shoulders, you slowly make your way through the silent hallways of the House of Lamentation. The only sounds floating through the walls were the light buzz of electricity running through the wiring of the house, and your own footsteps as you began walking up one of the many staircases in the large building. 

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been walking, the passage of time different at night to a hazy mind, but eventually you arrive at your favourite area in the house, second only to your lush bedroom. There are no artificial lights, only the gentle cast of the night sky providing the ideas of shape in the planetarium. You’ve never seen stars so vibrant and bright, and there are so many more in the Devildom than anywhere you could go back home. Even though the only light comes from the stars, it’s enough to create soft, fuzzy edges around everything in the room; this includes the bundle of various blankets mussed in the centre of the floor. Slowly, cautiously, you make your way towards the pile. 

Since you’d arrived in the Devildom, the planetarium at the top of the House of Lamentation became your safe haven. Your room, without a lock on the door, was way too easy for intruding demons to enter without permission, and on nights when everything became too much for you to handle, you’d head up to the planetarium to clear your mind. There’s just something so calming about a starry sky on a clear night that releases you of your fears and anxiety, and helps you get a grip on the situation around you. 

After freeing a certain someone from their attic-based captivity, however, you learned that the planetarium was a place favored not only by you. Since he’d been freed, you’d been kind, but there were still fears plaguing your mind, reminding you of everything that has transpired between the two of you. It’s something that you can’t escape, following you even - especially - in your sleep, when you wished you’d be the most at peace. It makes sense, considering the sin he embodies, but you wish it wasn’t like that nonetheless. 

Once you’d learned that this was one of his favourite rooms in the house, especially on nights when he can’t fall asleep, you found yourself avoiding this area. It’s not that you hate him; it’s the opposite, really. Nevertheless, you can’t help but feel the tightening of his fingers around your neck, and the burning sensation in your lungs that’s screaming for oxygen, and the desperation to alleviate the seer of deprivation. 

Still, you trek on. Closer and closer to the pile of blankets, your gut cries to you to run away. You ignore it. The nearer you get to the nest of blankets, the faster your heart beats, the more lightheaded you feel. But you continue. 

Eventually you get close enough to make out the shape of a familiar pillow, the cow print on the case worn and well-loved. From the moment you walked in the room, you knew he was here. All the same, you walk on, and the only sounds in the room are the gentle taps of your clothed feet against the tile, and the quiet noises of your quickened breaths.

You’ve avoided being alone with him since… Since you… Since the event. Your heart screamed at you to forgive him, to love him just as much as you love his brothers. That said, there’s nothing in you that can stop your stomach from churning whenever he gets too close. 

Butterflies beat aggressively within your heart and stomach, and it’s years before you get within his range of sight, but you sit down on the floor, holding the blanket tight to your body. 

There’s one beat, 

two beats,

three beats of silence before you can hear him sucking in a breath through his teeth. In your peripheral you can see his lips parting, closing, parting again as he tries to find the words. He heard you walk in, and was pleasantly surprised when you didn’t immediately bolt in the opposite direction. However, this proximity leaves him with an entirely new predicament. He wants to talk to you, he wants to laugh and joke with you the way his brothers do, but one look at your face and he notices the dark bags under your eyes, and the frown that tugs at your lips as you stare up at the stars. He can hear your heart racing, and feel his own in the tips of his fingers. He opens his mouth again, but the crack in his voice betrays his usual collected personality. 

“I’ll go,” Belphegor begins, begrudgingly starting to gather his blankets. His body freezes when his eyes pass over your figure and you’re looking right at him, through him, and he swears he can feel the blood in his veins stop pumping. Your expression is unreadable, almost scary, and he’s never in his life been in fear of a human until this moment. 

The seconds pass as years do, both of your bodies chilled to the bone but neither of you able to look away. In the end, the one who casts their gaze somewhere else is you, and he exhales loudly. 

“Don’t.”

Your reply is simple, but he’s stuck in place. Slowly, he nods, sitting down again the way he had been prior, and pulling his beloved pillow close to his chest. He can’t breathe, the tension suffocating. It doesn’t help that now you refuse to look at him. 

“... If you want,” he replies dumbly, staring at the floor. He feels trapped in place, afraid to move and scare you off. Despite every nerve in his body screaming at him to leave you be, he stays. You told him to, after all. Slowly, you sit down, his blankets creating a low wall between the two of you.

It’s only now that he gets a good look at you. You're tired, he knows, watching as your eyelids droop and your lazy movements when you get more comfortable under your blanket, but there’s more to it than just that. You seem so fragile, like sugar glass, breaking with even the slightest amount of pressure. He feels he can reach over and shatter you with the gentlest of touches, and that thought alone roots him in place. Since you came back, he’s never seen you without a smile. Your genuine smile was the prettiest, he decided rather early on, one that lights up your face and brightens those around you. Belphegor really, truly loves your smile.

He knows there was a point in time, not long ago, where he could have made it so no one saw it ever again. He can’t help but be grateful he didn’t succeed when he sees you smiling at his brothers. 

That’s never the smile you show him though. It’s not for lack of effort; you certainly try, and he loves you for that. But the smile you show him is always plastered on, and he knows you’re doing it for his sake. With Belphegor, your smile never reaches your eyes. Be that as it may, you’re never weak around him. Fake smiles prove exactly how strong you really are, but your heart races every time he enters the room. As much as he wishes your palpitations are out of excitement, he knows better than to give himself false hope. 

That’s why he’s so taken aback when he looks you over and you seem so vulnerable. Never, not in a million years, would he ever let himself believe that you’d allow yourself to look weak in front of him, not after what he did. Even so, here you are, shaking, knees drawn into your chest, and his heart soars because you’re showing him a new side to yourself. It aches at the knowledge that you’re feeling so vulnerable because of him. 

His eyes burn holes in the side of your head. You know he’s watching you, studying you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Not when the hands he uses to pull the blankets over his body are the exact same ones that led you to your untimely and violent demise, and not when every time you look at his face, you can also see Mammon’s above you, sobbing as he tries to will you not to fade away into nothingness. 

There’s no putting it nicely. You were murdered, and Belphegor was the one who killed you. As much as he tries to pretend it never happened, to act around you the same as his older brothers do, you would never forget. Neither would he, regardless of the effort he puts into pushing the memory out of his mind. His chosen way of coping was to laugh with you, to get close and have you forgive him without acknowledging the situation. It was too painful to talk about, after all. He willingly, happily snuffed out the life of someone his brothers love, and someone he’d find himself loving too. You became someone who changed him, helped him grow and be better. It was easier, simpler to act as if you’d met him the same way you’d met any of his brothers. 

Belphegor killed one of the last remaining parts of his past, a part that, while once warm and light, mutated and infected him, causing his anger to grow out of control, like a weed that suffocates any flower that tries to flourish. He killed a descendant of his sister, and the fact that you’re here now is more of a second chance than he thinks he could ever deserve in all his millenia of living. 

And yet, here you are. Scared and shaking, but here. The silence has stretched on for longer than he’d like; he wants to be able to love you, openly and happily, but knows it won’t happen. It can’t, unless he does what he thought was the very last thing he’d do. 

“I’m sorry,” Belphegor begins, voice much weaker than anticipated. He can hear your heartbeat pick up, and he curses himself mentally. Your lip between your teeth, you remain silent. His nerves force him to speak more. 

“I know that will never cut, and it will never be enough, but I’m sorry.”

There’s more silence. He feels like he can’t breathe, the tense atmosphere forcing its way around his throat and tightening its grip. He doesn’t know how long it takes you to even contemplate replying, let alone allow yourself to respond. Belphegor’s ears ring almost deafeningly loud. He can’t take it.

“You’re right.” 

His eyes, which he trained to the ground, dart up to your profile once more. You pause, wetting your lips. 

“You’re right, Belphegor. It won’t cut it.”

There’s not enough time to process your words before he really, really looks at you. Almost fearlessly, you meet his eyes. 

Almost fearlessly. 

The shaking of your hands betrays the strength of your voice. Belphegor’s chest aches. 

“But…”

There’s a pause as you speak. He can’t look away again, even as your eyes meet the stars once more. There’s no chance he’ll miss a word you say, even if it tears him apart.

“It’s… it’s really difficult. I know you know that, but…”

Each time you pause, Belphegor’s mind begins storming. He can’t figure out what you’re going to say, or how you’re going to react, and it drives him crazy. He’s usually so good at reading people, but you’re an enigma. It sends a chill down his spine. 

His throat is caught. Even if he had words to say, they wouldn’t be able to come out. So he sits in silence as you find your own. 

“I don’t want you to feel worse than you do.” You lick your lips. “Or maybe I do? I… I really don’t know. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about you, Belphie.”

The nickname tugs at his heart, more than he could ever admit. He wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to do anything other than look at your melancholy face, knowing he’s the problem. He wants to run and hide, to sleep forever. He can’t, though. Not when you’re here. Not now. 

Knuckles turn white as he clutches desperately onto his pillow. His breath shakes as he draws in air. 

“I want to love you. I want to love you as much as I love your brothers, and care about you as much as I care for them…”

You struggle to find the words. 

“... But it’s hard.”

You curse your lack of eloquence. Now, of all times, when your words are the only thing that enable you to communicate how you truly feel, they fail you. This might be your only chance to ever properly show Belphegor how you feel, what makes you so conflicted every time he walks into the room with a smile on his face, and yet all you can say is “it’s hard”. Obviously. 

A breath finds its way into your lungs, and the sound of your lips parting in the otherwise silent planetarium echoes in your ears.

You continue.

“It’s hard because every time I see your face, or I hear your voice, or I-”, you falter, heart catching in your throat, “or you touch me, I can’t help but be reminded of what happened.”

Belphegor doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from your form. The grief that settles into his face perfectly matches your own, eyebrows upturned and bottom lip quivering just the slightest bit. Even the trembling of your hands is replicated in his own. He’s never seen you like this, so incredibly vulnerable, and it tears him apart inside to know that he is the cause of it.

A shuddery breath comes from Belphegor, and you fight your instincts to check if he’s okay. You know he isn’t.

The silence deafens you, thundering in your ears so harshly that you're tempted to place your hands at the side of your head to muffle how quiet it is. You don’t, however, and whether it’s because you don’t want to look crazy, or because you’re afraid you might shatter if you move, you’ll never know. Do you want him to talk? Do you want him to say anything? Do you want an apology?

If you had an answer for that, you’re sure that things would have patched themselves up much quicker than this. You caution a glance at Belphegor, and the weight pressing down on your chest gets heavier at his expression. It feels almost as if you can inhale the guilt he feels, the emotion radiating off of him in waves.

“I… Logically, Belphie, I get it.” Again with that cursed nickname. Usually, hearing it from your lips makes Belphegor feel warm and goddamn near giddy, but now it only seemed to drive the knife in his gut further. 

“I understand what happened and why you did it. I may not agree… but I get it, you know?” You swallow.

“In the end, I’m still here. And… and I’ve come to learn that you’re nothing like that anymore. You’ve grown, and changed, and the guilt and anger that consumed you took control, and that's why you-- that’s--” 

You pause, clutching the blanket around you to try and ground yourself. The shakiness in your voice is not missed by Belphegor, and even if it had been, there’s no way he’d be able to ignore the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. Slowly, subconsciously, one of your hands comes up to rest against your neck, a phantom of the grasp that once threatened to crush you.

“S-So… I understand why you did it. And I’m alive, and we’re friends, so it should all be okay, right?” Belphegor casts his glance away.

“But Belphie… as much as I want to forgive you, I also know that I’m never going to be able to forget what happened. It’s there in my dreams, and it’s there in your smile, and it’s there every single time your arm brushes mine and I flinch like a total loser.”

A weak chuckle makes its way out of your chest, and the halfhearted smile that follows forces a tear from your eye. You’re quick to wipe it away, hopefully quick enough so that it goes unnoticed by Belphegor.

It does.

What he does notice, however, is the frustration that holds tight to the edges of your sentences. The frustration is not directed at him, no. You would be yelling if that were the case, and maybe that would be easier for him to hear. No, this frustration is directed at yourself. You’ve been trying so hard, and all Belphegor has been doing is running away. His teeth dig so hard into his bottom lip, trying desperately not to show any anger he feels at himself, that he tastes iron.

“And then we became all buddy-buddy, you know? Like I was never lied to, or used, or manipulated, or-- or--”

Belphegor is torn from his self-pity when you continue, and he almost wishes you’d stop speaking. The thought that you might break him with your words has him shaking, and a feeling similar to fear courses heavily through his veins. Please, stop. He wants to go back to running away.

But you continue, as you always have.

“And I’m left not knowing how to feel. I’m so mad at myself for being such a coward and not being able to just get over it like everyone else, and I’m so fucking pissed that I can’t just exist around you like I do for everyone else. I mean, I used to be terrified of Lucifer, too.” Another fragile laugh, and you sweep the hair from your eyes with a shaky hand. Belphegor swallows hard.

“But I… I can’t pretend like nothing happened. As much as I want to be near you, and hug you, and take naps and play pranks on Luci with you… I can’t. I can’t act as if what I feel isn’t real, and what you did didn’t happen. It’s so hard, Belphegor.” You sigh, and finally look at him once more. He can’t meet your gaze, slumped over himself and hugging his pillow so tight to his chest it seems as if he wishes to disappear into it. “Especially because I really, truly want to understand why everyone loves you so much. And I want to love you, too. I want to know why Beel smiles every time you’re brought up in conversation, and I want to smile just the same. But… But right now, I can’t.”

Talking has gotten easier. The words that used to escape you have become accustomed to being used again, and confidence has restored in your gut. You sit a bit straighter as you watch Belphegor carefully, a sad smile lifting your cheeks. 

Belphegor knows that this is when he should swoop in, say something so intellectual that you’re caught off guard, and he can save you from… himself. This knowledge does nothing to save him from himself. He can’t even open his mouth to mime a sentence, let alone actually speak. The thought of how pathetic he must look settles under Belphegor’s skin, and he can feel his irritation rising. Not at you though, never at you. Not even when… When it all happened. His anger was misplaced, but he has never been angry at you.

Finally, when the quiet becomes too much, he forces himself to meet your gaze. The way you look at him, just as vulnerable and bare and scared as he is… he feels safe. He knows, even though your words sear his heart, that you never mean to hurt him, especially now. You’re being honest, and simply expect the same from him.

Belphegor inhales a deep breath, before willing himself to speak.

“I thought--” he croaks, and quickly clears his throat. Fuck. “I thought that if… if I could pretend that nothing happened, then I wouldn’t have to face any consequences.”

He curses audibly. Just how pathetic can he sound? Belphegor’s voice is hoarse and quivering, and weak. “Weak” is never a word that he would have used to describe himself, but now it echoes hauntingly against the confines of his skull. One of the most powerful demons in existence, and he finds himself quaking before a mere human. He cares for you, though, and he cares for you viciously. Something in Belphegor knows that he’s never going to be able to prove that to you unless he pushes his way through this.

So he forces himself to continue, even with every cell in his body desperately screaming at him to stop.

“I did what I did out of a place of guilt… and regret. I couldn’t stand the fact that it was because of me, that it was my fault, that I’m the reason that Lilith--”

Belphegor stumbles over his own words, and he sets down his pillow before he accidentally tears a hole through it. Instead he braces himself on the cool floor, in need of something steady to hold onto. This whole conversation shook him to the core. He can hardly believe he’s talking about his sister. She’s a topic that he’s avoided even around Beelzebub…

But if Belphegor ever wants even the possibility that you’ll forgive him, he knows he has to. Everything is on the line. His blunt nails press against the tiles and he focuses on steadying his voice.

“I couldn’t accept that it was my fault.” A newfound steadiness weaves its way around his words, and he finds himself sitting a bit straighter. “I’m the one who introduced her to the human world, and kept bringing her back. I’m the reason she suffered, and why the war started, and why we fell, and why she…” Belphegor coughs. “In the end, I couldn’t accept that I’m the one who killed her.

Your heart yearns to tell him that no, he’s wrong, it’s not all his fault. You know it won’t help right now, though, and that it isn’t your time to speak. Settling back a bit, you let your blanket fall from your shoulders. 

Belphegor’s heart stutters, and pounds so hard that he feels like it's trying to tear through his chest. Even so, he doesn’t miss the way your hand reaches out to smooth over his own, and for a moment he feels himself wanting to melt just from the simple touch. 

Belphegor pulls away. He doesn’t deserve your comfort, not yet.

“So… So when you said that you’re a descendant of Lilith, I-- I couldn’t help myself. I jumped at the chance to get to know you, learn about what makes you similar and what makes you different. Her blood flows through your veins, and I was quick to ignore what I did in favour of getting to know you, and… and inevitably, becoming just as fond of you as my brothers… but that can’t erase what I did.”

The feeling of understanding floods you and you find yourself nodding at his words. To be completely honest, even now, you’re scared. Your heart beats for many reasons, fear one of them, but you don’t run away. Not anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to even if you wanted to.

Your hand, abandoned next to Belphegor’s, lay dormant. The need to comfort wills you to once again place your hand on his, but you don’t move. When he’s ready, if he ever is, you’ll be there.

Just as he’ll be there for you.

“I killed you, MC. And in doing that, I killed Lilith. Again.”

Countless emotions storm their way through Belphegor’s conscience, despair clawing at his throat, regret snapping his back, and guilt slowly crushing him under its weight. How is it that one can feel so empty, and yet so filled to the brim with misery?

“And not only that, but if I succeeded… I would have completely missed out on getting to know you, and caring about you as much as I do now. It would have been a loss that I never would have understood, but know for a fact that I would have felt. Even… Even when I was proud,” he spits out the word as if it’s poison, “of what I’d done, watching my brothers’ hearts break at the sight of your body… Even then, I felt it. The ache. It’s so fucking stupid.”

His tone, now bubbling with anger, stills you. It’s not directed at you, and you know this, but despite yourself, you freeze. Belphegor notices, and quickly clears his throat, relaxing his shoulders. He allows your heart a moment to slow as he regains his composure, and you find yourself breathing again.

“I know that me saying sorry is never going to cut it.” Belphegor turns his body to fully face you. He’s no longer running from his feelings, or from you. He knows he can’t anymore. Hesitantly, he lifts his trembling hand to place over yours. The muscles in your fingers tense, and he pauses to gauge your reaction. When you slowly nod your head once, he delicately places his hand on yours, using his thumb to gently begin massaging the tension away. “And I know that even if I do everything right from here on out, that there’s a chance that you won’t ever forgive me. And I understand why.”

Your heart sinks at his expression, his gaze locked on your joined hands. As aloof as he normally is, you can see none of that on his face now. When you turn over your hand he quickly pulls away, but your shaky movements to bring his hand back and intertwine your fingers urges him to go on. 

“But I want to try. And really try this time. I want you to be honest with how you feel, whether I’m frustrating you or scaring you or anything like that, and… and I want to be honest with you too. I…”

Belphegor trails off, but you squeeze his hand. He draws in a slow breath. 

“No matter what happens, no matter how you feel, we’re stuck together for the next few months. I want to spend that time getting to know you, and I want us to be as close as you are with any of my brothers… but I also want you to know that you shouldn’t feel forced. If it’s ever too much, I need you to tell me, and I promise I’ll back off.”

The smallest of smiles makes its way onto your face as you quietly agree. Belphegor doesn’t allow himself to try and figure out if it's genuine, out of pity, or sadness, but in spite of everything, it makes him feel a bit lighter. Just a bit.

“This won’t fix everything right away,” you say, and he now knows that your smile is a combination of the three. Along with this, though, Belphegor also knows the small sparkle in your eyes is hope, and he’s willing to take that hope and nurture it for however long he must.

“I know,” he sighs, but even he can feel the small tilt of a smile on his face, “but I’m willing to take as much time as you need to decide how you feel about me. And… And if you decide you hate me, which is fair, and that you never want to even be in the same room as me, I’ll respect your wishes.

Until then...Until you decide that you really, truly hate me, I won’t stop trying.”

There’s no way of telling how long his words linger in the air around the two of you, circling around your heads and making their way through your body. Even so, Belphegor diligently watches you, wanting to make sure he’s not overstepping his bounds. He even contemplates letting go of you, but is reassured when slowly, almost unnoticeably, you begin smoothing out the lines on the back of his hand with your thumb.

As much as you want to tell him that you could never hate him, you also know you can’t promise anything. Still, for now, just as much as him, you’re willing to try. You stay in silence, more comfortable than you’ve ever been in his presence, gently caressing the hand held in your own.

Eventually, Belphegor clears his throat once more. The vulnerability has made him tense and rendered his voice weak. 

“Can… can you hug me?” He all but whispers, fragility making his body quiver once more. He was completely open about his feelings for the first time in a lifetime, and the intensity of it left him craving affection. He knows how unfair this is to you, but he can’t help himself. He wishes to be held, for his fears to be quelled by someone so much stronger than him. “If you don’t want to,” he falters, speaking quickly, insecurely, “I won't even touch you. I-If you do, I promise I can keep my hands behind my back, and I won’t even--”

His words end abruptly as he feels you release his hand, and his heart sinks. He debates running away again, until he hears you moving towards him, and he finds he’s frozen in place. Slowly, but surely, with more courage circulating through your veins than you’ve had all night, you make your way over the blankets that divide you and position yourself right next to Belphegor, pulling him into your chest. Even now, he can feel how quickly, persistently your heart races, and yet you stay. True to his word, Belphegor rests his hands on the ground behind his back, but he doesn’t stop himself from nuzzling into your chest… and he cries. The complete, uninhibited release of his emotions hit him like a truck, and he sobs heavily into you, tears slowly but surely staining your shirt. You adjust yourself so you can hold him closer, slowly and reassuringly rubbing his back as he lets go of everything he’s been holding on to for longer than you can even imagine. This is a man who’s run from his emotions for centuries, and the fact that he’s willing to face them for your sake comforts you, cradles your heart and presses gentle kisses against the cracks. You know that you’re not going to wake up tomorrow with everything okay, but for now… for now you’re comfortable with his touch. Heaving in a deep, steadying breath, you reach down just enough to take Belphegor’s arms, and guide them to rest his hands on your hips. At this silent permission, he slowly, delicately wraps his arms around your waist, despite craving your body closer, wanting to hold you tight and never let go. He cradles you like you’re made of the most brittle glass, and you smile. The gesture touches your heart, and… and you feel safe. You know that all he wants to do is embrace you as tight as he can, but he doesn’t, even with permission. 

Here, in Belphegor’s arms, you feel safe. Here, where Belphegor’s grip on you is so gentle that it wouldn’t even crumple paper, you feel loved. As he cries into your chest, holding you as if you were an antique, hope slowly fills your heart.

Everything is far from perfect, but it’s still on the right track, here in the quiet planetarium.

#tw: death #tw: murder #obey me #swd obey me #swd belphegor #belphegor x reader #obey me fanfic #obey me x reader #swd #shall we date #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me angst #obey me fluff #obey me smut #otome game #fanfic #ju writes #obey me lucifer #juwrites

[dearestones]

An Abnormal Flavor (U-1146 Scenario)

Warnings: It is recommended that you read my Abnormalities Series on my ffnet and Ao3 accounts; mentions of kidnapping and torture, possible hints PTSD.

Anonymous Request: CAW: If it's okay, a prompt set in your Abnormalities verse. 3803 finally told 1146 what happened to her in Cancer's captivity. He's dwelling over it as he tries to get her thise new best glucose pops she's been wanting for awhile but seem to be out everywhere.

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Normally, U-1146 wouldn’t have paid attention to the sale and consumption of icy cold glucose, but there had been talk of a new flavor. He had tried asking a few civilian cells about the news, but they had either been too intimidated or too confused to answer him. Luckily, however, he had come across a relatively new erythrocyte who was all too willing to point out several locations that had announced and were subsequently selling them.

He was warned, however, that due to the popularity of new glucose pops, that he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

Ravenous red blood cells were nigh infamous in their pursuit of sweet treats.

When asked why he was trying to find this famed new flavor, he had simply tipped his hat forward and wished the cell who helped him a good day. Before the cell could venture further into their inquiry into the matter about the new glucose flavor, 1146 was already well on his way to a small, but well received convenience store within the crease of the left elbow.

To most cells, the well matured neutrophil appeared as if he were on a mission to kill any unsuspecting bacteria. To a point, most cells would be correct. However, while his stride was efficient and quick, his shoulders straight and relaxed in only a way that a soldier can be, his eyes were hooded and his fists were deceptively flush against his sides.

Once in a while, his fingers trembled lightly against his thighs as he continued on his way—as if they were itching to clench into tight fists.

Yet, no one actually noticed.

And no one could have seen the contemplative turmoil that writhed in his eyes.

It had only been a few hours ago, but he could distinctly see the trail of tears running down his favorite red blood cell’s cheeks… how her voice wavered, yet did not stray from the topic of what happened to her…

His fingers reflexively clenched tight into fists.

“Sir? Mr. Neutrophil?” The cell behind the cash register looked up at the immune cell, her eyes flickering between caution and concern. Before she could question why he looked like he was on the prowl for bacteria, the neutrophil straightened up and tried his utmost to look like a regular customer.

(It was already an abnormal situation for everyone involved. Neutrophils didn’t frequent convenience stores simply for the fact that they subsisted off of bacterial remains and not like glucose or nutrients like other cells).

Knowing this, 1146 scratched the back of his neck, his skin already heating up from embarrassment. It was bad enough that he had been caught off guard and now, the normal cell looked like she was about to faint if he so much as breathed a little too hard in her direction.

It was an improvement from other cells who would take only one look at him before running away or avert their gazes.

“A friend of mine heard about the new flavor of glucose. Do you have some in stock?”

1146 hoped so.  

After her confession, 3803 had been so distraught. In a fit of confusion layered with despair, he had done his best to comfort her. Tea had seemed to do the trick, but the image of her face puffed up and melancholic invaded his thoughts. Red suited the apples of her cheeks well, but after what he heard and how her eyes continued to shimmer with unshed tears… He was stumped as to how he could help her without defaulting to a measly handkerchief and tea.

Hence, his earnest pursuit of the new flavor of glucose.

If she hadn’t been on duty, he would have requested that she accompany him, but alas, he would have to resolve to meet her at the heart.

“Is your friend… a neutrophil?” The cashier couldn’t help but ask skeptically.

“No,” 1146 shook his head. “My friend is a red blood cell who’s a little bit preoccupied at the moment. I thought that getting her the new flavor would—”

Honestly, what was he expecting would happen? That she would automatically be happy and forget all the terror she felt during her kidnapping and torture? That she would instantly heal? He knew that it hurt 3803 sometimes to interact with NC-1998—a fact that NC tried to respect in his own way.

“—would cheer her up,” 1146 lamely finished.

At first, he thought that would be the end of it, but the cashier chuckled knowingly. Confused at her reaction, the immune cell cast a questioning glance in her direction, but she was already grabbing a recyclable cup and filling it with.

“Let me guess, your little lady friend is upset with you?”

The mischievous glance sent an uncomfortable heat rising up his neck and into his cheeks. An interpretation like that was the most probable, yet the most impossible at the same time. She could never think of him like that.

AE-3803 would never think of him like that.

She was hurt too much.

Clearly discomfited by the topic, 1146 tried to steer the conversation away by mumbling, “It’s nothing. Really. She had a bad—” Horrible. Terrifying. Utterly inhuman. “—experience with another cell and I’m hoping that this might… lessen her burden.”

The other cell hummed a little, as if lost in thought as she sprayed a generous helping of whipped cream, thus obscuring the new flavor from prying eyes. There was a garnish of sprinkles on top before a spoon was inserted gently on the side.

“You know—” The cell placed the cup into 1146’s hand, her eyes piercing his with a stern, but maternal look in her eyes. “—I think that your little lady cell is happy to have you as her dear friend. Bit unorthodox, I guess, but happy.”

1146 didn’t know where she was going with this.

He cocked his head to the side, eyes furrowed in confusion, and hoped that she didn’t think he was too incompetent to answer.

She nodded, as if already knowing that he was accepting her words of wisdom—whatever they were—before sending him off with a small smile.

“No need to pay me,” she claimed as she practically shooed him out the door. “I wish you and your lady friend luck!”

Awkward in his movements, 1146 tipped his hat towards her before heading out the door. He was making his rounds through the veins leading to the heart when he realized that he hadn’t asked the cashier what flavor the new glucose was. It would take too much time to go back to the store… so he supposed that both he and 3803 would find out together.

At the heart, 1146 immediately found her.

Despite the lively crowd quickly entering through the proper channels, the young red blood cell opted to sit on a nearby bench, her hands clasped tightly atop her lap. Although she had left him in what was supposed to be high spirits, it seemed that the dark tone of their previous conversation still left an impact on her. Even so, 1146 couldn’t help but feel relieved to see that her face wasn’t marred with fresh tears. Still, her shoulders were tense and her brows were furrowed.

Not all was well with her.

Careful to announce his presence by walking a little more heavily than he would normally, 1146 slowly approached his friend. As he neared, 3803 breathed out a large sigh—as if she were emptying herself clean of all the memories of their earlier conversation—before finally looking up and gracing him with a smile.

It was small, somewhat subdued, but was still there.

Hopefully, this new flavor of glucose would garner an even bigger smile.

Without saying a word, 1146 handed the cup over to his friend.

At first, 3803 cocked her head to the side, but as she dipped the proffered spoon into the whipped cream, she asked, “Is this new flavor of glucose?” Eyes glimmering with excitement, she tentatively licked the cream and nearly moaned in delight at the sudden rush of flavor. “You shouldn’t spoil me so much, Mr. Neutrophil,” she lightly scolded.

1146 nodded, a smile of his own settling over his lips.

“In light of recent events—” 3803’s shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly. “—I think I should spoil you more often.”

In spite of herself, 3803 found herself biting out a laugh.

“What flavor is it by the way?”

“I never did quite ask, but I suppose it’ll add to the surprise.” 1146 surprised 3803 by patting her gently on the shoulder. “Enjoy… you definitely deserve it.”

3803 mulled over his words, her hand idly stirring the whipped cream further into the sweet treat.

The words that came out next were hesitant, but held the steady cadence of a cell who was resigned to her fate. She knew him too well at that point to know that he would let things be. It was almost concerning that he wasn’t hounding her for more information… “Will you… Do you want to talk about…”

1146 shook his head. “We don’t have to dig up the past if you don’t want to. I trust whatever boundaries you set up with NC. I trust that you’ll come to me if you’re ever in need of help. I trust you and I will keep on trusting you.” He paused, thinking hard before adding, “I’m grateful that you put your trust in me.”

For a moment, 3803 seemed stunned into silence before resolutely nodding.

“Thank you. For everything.”

She finally dug deep into her glucose, which allowed her spoon to sink deep into the treat while simultaneously garnishing her spoonful with whipped cream.

When she pulled it out, the red blood cell almost dropped it out of sheer amusement and irony.

The coloring was almost similar in hue and intensity like that of a former cancer cell’s eyes.

And when she tentatively licked the confection, she found the flavor to be reminiscent of that of limes.

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If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

HATARAKU SAIBOU (CELLS AT WORK) MASTERLIST

#cells at work #hataraku saibou #caw #caw anon #anonymous request #anon #ae-3803 #3803 #ae3803 #u1146 #u-1146 #1146 #nc-1998 #nc1998 #series of abnormalities

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

hi!! can i request willex and “cuddle”?

- @julieandthequeers

(i cried at 9am reading touch starved willie i LOVE your writing)

this was for the send me a ship and a prompt game and these responses are super late but i am simply going ahead with it as though nothing happened (also I LOVE U SO MUCH)

so here ya go this is a follow-up to touch-starved willie which you can read here, this installment is also available on ao3 here

--

Alex is doing his best with Willie.

He’s been doing his best the whole time, obviously, but it’s hard. Willie won’t talk to him, or to any of them, about what happened in the in-between time. It’s just a mystery, from when Alex said goodbye to him outside the Orpheum to when Julie broke Willie’s curse on the street corner where they freed Nick from Caleb’s possession, all of it this blank, empty picture frame where Willie won’t connect any of the dots.

So Alex has been trying not to push him. At first he was trying to give him space, because that’s what Alex knows he’d want if he was in Willie’s position. Which, in hindsight, was stupid, because Willie is nothing like Alex at all.

Since the night when Alex checked on Willie before bed, and something in Willie cracked open and, bright and burning, spilled out of him right into Alex’s hands, Alex has realised he has to do his best in a different way.

So he’s doing what he can. Pressing their legs together on the couch, when they’re sitting in the garage. Putting his arm around Willie’s shoulder when they’re walking. Running his fingers through Willie’s hair when they have a quiet moment alone.

It seems to be working, for the most part. Willie’s eyes are brighter, his smiles are easier. Whatever weight was on his shoulders seems to be easing off. He still won’t talk to them about anything Before, but he’s more like himself, even if it’s a different self to the one Alex met when they first escaped from the dark room.

(He feels like Willie’s time away is sort of a dark room of its own. He gets why Willie doesn’t want to share it.)

One night when they’re finishing up from dinner, Willie comes up to Alex, asks him quietly, “Hey, hotdog, can I talk to you?”

He looks sun-touched, and glowy. He’s been spending a lot of time skating at the beach, down by the pier, which honestly makes Alex relieved and anxious in equal measure. Relieved, that Willie feels safe enough to venture further from the house than he did, because for awhile, he wouldn’t even let Julie out of his sight, let alone go exploring on his own. But anxious, too, because Alex still worries that something will happen to Willie, even though he doesn’t want Willie to be scared about it any more. There’s been no sign of Caleb, but still. Alex can’t help but worry.

“Oh,” says Alex. He glances back over his shoulder, but Luke and Julie are clearing the table, and Reggie’s started the dishes. Catching his eye, Reggie gives him a big, soap-sudsy thumbs-up, which Willie definitely sees. Alex dies a little inside. “Yes, sure, let’s just - move somewhere else.”

Willie stifles a laugh, but it seems nervous, flighty, like his lungs are too much for his body. So Alex nods up the stairs, and follows after Willie.

Willie takes him to the spare room, the one Willie’s sort of made his own.

(Luke pretended to throw a fit about being Ray’s least-favourite son-in-law, but they all knew it was to save Willie from having to share the already crowded studio with the other three restored-to-life boys. Alex thinks this is reasonable, since that studio bathroom is definitely at capacity with the three of them.)

Willie turns to Alex as soon as they’re both inside with the door closed, and he looks resolute, but there’s an edge of nerves to his movements. Sighing, Willie runs his slender hands through his long hair.

Alex forgets what he’s thinking about for a moment. He’d seen guys, before, when he was alive, attractive guys even. After all, it hadn’t taken dying to work out he was gay. But whenever he saw Willie it just seemed like whatever he’d felt with those other boys had been a mistake, an imitation. Willie was the prettiest boy he’d ever seen.

“You said I could ask,” Willie says finally. His hands are clasped behind his head and he presses his elbows together, partially obscuring his face from view as he exhales. “You told me to.”

It takes Alex a scrambly moment to work out what he means. “Yeah. Yeah, I - is this...?” Are you asking? he wants to say, but he doesn’t know if his own asking that would defeat the purpose.

Willie grips his own hair for a moment and then shakes himself, puts his arms down. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m asking for cuddles. Lame as that feels. Could I have a hug? Please?”

“Not lame,” Alex reminds him softly, smiling, even though it absolutely makes his heartbeat triple. Maybe he’s the one who’s lame. “Of course.”

“And I want to talk,” Willie says, just when Alex starts to reach for him, so he pauses. “I - can I tell you about what happened? I was worried about making you worried. But you told me not to worry about that, anymore.”

Alex feels a lump in his throat. Willie really listened to him. When Willie looks at him, resolved but a little haunted, Alex realises how much Willie must trust him, to ask for both those things at once.

“Okay,” he whispers, then hastily adds, “only if you want to, obviously.”

Nodding, Willie rubs down his own arms with his thumbs. “I do want to, I think. I think I’m ready.”

Willie sits on the edge of the bed. Alex sits down next to him. Almost instinctively, he realises he’s reverted to that same jumpy caution he had around Willie for weeks after they were reunited, but that was exactly what had caused the problem last time, so he takes a deep breath and pulls Willie close.

The warmth that blooms in his chest must be nothing compared to how Willie feels, because Willie’s body melts, practically turns to putty in Alex’s arms.

Willie’s been there for Alex through so much, listened to so many anxious rants, helped Alex express himself in so many ways he never felt able to before. It’s just what Willie’s like, and always has been, right from the start. It’s a relief to be able to finally return the favour.

“Talk to me,” Alex murmurs, hiding his face in Willie’s hair.

Willie reaches for one of Alex’s hands, and links their fingers together, one by one, his fingertips tapping Alex’s knuckles like they’re piano keys. He takes one last deep breath. And then he talks.

#willex #julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfiction #alex mercer #willie jatp #not touch starved willie... my kryptonite.... #my fic #mine #julieandthequeers #Anonymous

[writer-mind]

Writing Tips

IN RESPONSE TO Acknowledged Answered Protested

INPUT/JOIN CONVERSATION/ASK Added Implored Inquired Insisted Proposed Queried Questioned Recommended Testified

GUILTY/RELUCTANCE/SORRY Admitted Apologized Conceded Confessed Professed

FOR SOMEONE ELSE Advised Criticized Suggested

JUST CHECKING Affirmed Agreed Alleged Confirmed

LOUD Announced Chanted Crowed

LEWD/CUTE/SECRET SPY FEEL Appealed Disclosed Moaned

ANGRY FUCK OFF MATE WANNA FIGHT Argued Barked Challenged Cursed Fumed Growled Hissed Roared Swore

SMARTASS Articulated Asserted Assured Avowed Claimed Commanded Cross-examined Demanded Digressed Directed Foretold Instructed Interrupted Predicted Proclaimed Quoted Theorized

ASSHOLE Bellowed Boasted Bragged

NERVOUS TRAINWRECK Babbled Bawled Mumbled Sputtered Stammered Stuttered

SUAVE MOTHERFUCKER Bargained Divulged Disclosed Exhorted

FIRST OFF Began

LASTLY Concluded Concurred

WEAK PUSY Begged Blurted Complained Cried Faltered Fretted

HAPPY/LOL Cajoled Exclaimed Gushed Jested Joked Laughed

WEIRDLY HAPPY/EXCITED Extolled Jabbered Raved

BRUH, CHILL Cautioned Warned

ACTUALLY, YOU’RE WRONG Chided Contended Corrected Countered Debated Elaborated Objected Ranted Retorted

CHILL SAVAGE Commented Continued Observed Surmised

LISTEN BUDDY Enunciated Explained Elaborated Hinted Implied Lectured Reiterated Recited Reminded Stressed

BRUH I NEED U AND U NEED ME Confided Offered Urged

FINE Consented Decided

TOO EMO FULL OF EMOTIONS Croaked Lamented Pledged Sobbed Sympathized Wailed Whimpered

JUST SAYING Declared Decreed Mentioned Noted Pointed out Postulated Speculated Stated Told Vouched

WASN’T ME Denied Lied

EVIL SMARTASS Dictated Equivocated Ordered Reprimanded Threatened

BORED Droned Sighed

SHHHH IT’S QUIET TIME Echoed Mumbled Murmured Muttered Uttered Whispered

DRAMA QUEEN Exaggerated Panted Pleaded Prayed Preached

OH SHIT Gasped Marveled Screamed Screeched Shouted Shrieked Yelped Yelled

ANNOYED Grumbled Grunted Jeered Quipped Scolded Snapped Snarled Sneered

ANNOYING Nagged

I DON’T REALLY CARE BUT WHATEVER Guessed Ventured

I’M DRUNK OR JUST BEING WEIRDLY EXPRESSIVE FOR A POINT/SARCASM Hooted Howled Yowled

I WONDER Pondered Voiced Wondered

OH, YEAH, WHOOPS Recalled Recited Remembered

SURPRISE BITCH Revealed

IT SEEMS FAKE BUT OKAY/HA ACTUALLY FUNNY BUT I DON’T WANT TO LAUGH OUT LOUD Scoffed Snickered Snorted

BITCHY Tattled Taunted Teased

The 8 Steps of a CHARACTER ARC

1) Hero: Strength, Weakness, and Need

This happens in the setup of the story, when the main character’s ordinary world is being introduced. First, the main character’s strengths must be displayed; we must be given a reason to like them, or if not exactly “like” them, empathize with them, and be fascinated by them. The reader needs to bond with the character, feel concerned about how it all turns out for them. Or in other words, feel that the main character is worth experiencing the story. There are easy traits that do this: courage, love, humor, being in danger, being unfairly treated, being highly skilled at something, having a powerful noble goal. (Courage is the one they all need. If the character doesn’t have the gumption to actively pursue what they want, they are automatically a background character.)

After this, still in the beginning of your story, let the character exhibit what needs to change. Show their weaknesses of character and self awareness.

And lastly, hint at what they NEED to learn. Sometimes this is even stated to the character, and they don’t understand it, refuse to believe it, or condemn it. Like “A Christmas Carol”, when Scrooge’s nephew says his speech about Christmas and how wonderful it is, and Scrooge replies “Bah Humbug!"

2) Desire: This is the moment when the character knows what they need to pursue, in order to obtain what they inwardly want. It is not the inciting incident or catalyst, the event in a story that disrupts the ordinary world and calls the hero on an adventure. This is a separate step entirely, occurring after that catalyst has shattered life as the main character knows it. They believe obtaining this goal will calm whatever inner turmoil or conflict they’re battling. And always, they’re not quite right.

Think of Mr Fredricksen: His goal is to get the house – a symbolic representation of Ellie and the life he shared with her – to Paradise Falls, which he believes will heal his grief and guilt. It won’t. Once he obtains it, the achievement feels hollow. But I’m getting ahead of myself. So on we go!

3) Plan: Once in Act Two, the character is going to scramble for a plan of action. The inner want has solidified into a tangible goal, but they need a strategy to achieve it. This also spells out for the reader what to expect in that second act.

4) Conflict: What’s going to try stopping them? A hero with a goal is one thing, but to make it a story we need something that stands in the way. An obstacle. A force of opposition. If we didn’t have obstacles, books would be as interesting as "Harry Potter and the Trip to the Grocery Store.” (Although honestly, I’d probably read that.) After the catalyst has changed everything, after the character crosses the threshold into Act Two, everything from here on out will be laden with conflict. This is usually when enemies, or more accurately forces of opposition, begin to appear. Everything is accumulating to complicate the main character’s pathway to achieving what they want. The forces of opposition come from not only the villains, but from the actions that have to be taken to achieve the desire. Whatever this action is, it’s exactly what the main character is not suited to do, an action that pressures their flaws, exposes them to exactly what they need to become but can’t right now.

Like Stitch being forced to be the family dog. He’s not suited to this task.

5) Battle: The forces of opposition are amping up, growing stronger, fighting with greater intensity. The main character is taking the punches and working around them, relentlessly plowing forward. Hero and allies are usually punching back too.

6) Midpoint: This is the event where they first encounter what they need to learn, what they need to become. Something happens that forces them to behave in this new, life-saving way. But once they’ve seen it, they don’t know what to do with this knowledge.

7) Dark Night, Revelation, Choice:

This is always the darkest point in the story, where all seems lost, and death – of a literal or spiritual nature – is in the air. And in this moment, something usually happens that makes the main character wake up to what is wrong, and what they need. More often than not, this revelation will arrive from the “love story” or relationship of the plot, and will be the thing that helps them pull themselves out of despair and see the light. And once this is uncovered, once the revelation of the truth about themselves is recognized, they are faced with a choice. Of course, they’ve been faced with choices in every beat of every scene, but this is the big choice that is going to determine if their story has a happy ending or a tragic one. The choice is this: “You are being faced the truth that you need to heal. Are you going to choose what you need, let your old self die, and become someone better?” And always, always, always this is a hard choice. The revelation must be significant to them. And it’s never easy. It can’t be. We don’t write stories about heroes who make easy choices. Villains have it easy. Are you going to adopt this new way of living, adopt this truth, and let your old self die? Or are you going to stay the way you are (which feels safer and is much less challenging) but end up stuck in a sort of living death? Most of the time, of course, they choose the right thing.

This moment is usually always the saddest scene in the thing. Like this scene with Stitch.

8) New Life: This is their changed life. After experiencing the trials of the story, after realizing what they need and choosing to be reborn, they are going to be different people – and are going to live a different life. This is what follows the statement “And every day after …” What has changed? Show the audience how things are different, how things are better, because they want to see that. This is the resolution, the wrapping up of everything we’ve been through with the main character, and having this in the story is often what gives that feeling of satisfaction after seeing a really well-told story.

Ways to un-stick a stuck story

Do an outline, whatever way works best. Get yourself out of the word soup and know where the story is headed.

Conflicts and obstacles. Hurt the protagonist, put things in their way, this keeps the story interesting. An easy journey makes the story boring and boring is hard to write.

Change the POV. Sometimes all it takes to untangle a knotted story is to look at it through different eyes, be it through the sidekick, the antagonist, a minor character, whatever.

Know the characters. You can’t write a story if the characters are strangers to you. Know their likes, dislikes, fears, and most importantly, their motivation. This makes the path clearer.

Fill in holes. Writing doesn’t have to be linear; you can always go back and fill in plotholes, and add content and context.

Have flashbacks, hallucinations, dream sequences or foreshadowing events. These stir the story up, deviations from the expected course add a feeling of urgency and uncertainty to the narrative.

Introduce a new mystery. If there’s something that just doesn’t add up, a big question mark, the story becomes more compelling. Beware: this can also cause you to sink further into the mire.

Take something from your protagonist. A weapon, asset, ally or loved one. Force him to operate without it, it can reinvigorate a stale story.

Twists and betrayal. Maybe someone isn’t who they say they are or the protagonist is betrayed by someone he thought he could trust. This can shake the story up and get it rolling again.

Secrets. If someone has a deep, dark secret that they’re forced to lie about, it’s a good way to stir up some fresh conflict. New lies to cover up the old ones, the secret being revealed, and all the resulting chaos.

Kill someone. Make a character death that is productive to the plot, but not “just because”. If done well, it affects all the characters, stirs up the story and gets it moving.

Ill-advised character actions. Tension is created when a character we love does something we hate. Identify the thing the readers don’t want to happen, then engineer it so it happens worse than they imagined.

Create cliff-hangers. Keep the readers’ attention by putting the characters into new problems and make them wait for you to write your way out of it. This challenge can really bring out your creativity.

Raise the stakes. Make the consequences of failure worse, make the journey harder. Suddenly the protagonist’s goal is more than he expected, or he has to make an important choice.

Make the hero active. You can’t always wait for external influences on the characters, sometimes you have to make the hero take actions himself. Not necessarily to be successful, but active and complicit in the narrative.

Different threat levels. Make the conflicts on a physical level (“I’m about to be killed by a demon”), an emotional level (“But that demon was my true love”) and a philosophical level (“If I’m forced to kill my true love before they kill me, how can love ever succeed in the face of evil?”).

Figure out an ending. If you know where the story is going to end, it helps get the ball rolling towards that end, even if it’s not the same ending that you actually end up writing.

What if? What if the hero kills the antagonist now, gets captured, or goes insane? When you write down different questions like these, the answer to how to continue the story will present itself.

Start fresh or skip ahead. Delete the last five thousand words and try again. It’s terrifying at first, but frees you up for a fresh start to find a proper path. Or you can skip the part that’s putting you on edge – forget about that fidgety crap, you can do it later – and write the next scene. Whatever was in-between will come with time.

41 Emotions as Expressed through Body Language unique

Awed

-Slack

-jawed, raised eyebrows, staring

-Frozen, slack body language (Self? What self? There is only Zuul.)

-Take a step back and put a hand to his heart

Amused

-Smiling and throwing back her head laughing

-Slapping her thighs, stamping her feet, clapping her hands

-Shaking her head (That’s so wrong!)

Angry/Aggressive

-Sharp movements, like shaking a fist, pointing, slashing, or slamming a fist on a table

-Flushed face, patchy red blotches

-Tension in neck—chords standing out, veins throbbing—and jutting or tucked chin

-Arms akimbo, or clenching fists

-Entering someone else’s space and forcing them out

-Poofing up with a wide stance (I am big! Very big!), arms wide (Bring it!)

-Lowered eyebrows, squinting eyes

-Teeth bared, jaw clenched, snarling

Annoyed

-Pressing lips together into a thin line

-Narrowing eyes sometimes with slight head tilt (Why do you still exist?)

-Rolling eyes, often paired with a long-suffering sigh

Anxious

-Fidgeting, such as tearing grass into little pieces, playing with a ring, or chewing on a pencil

-Biting lower lip, swallowing unnecessarily

-Quickened breathing or holding breath

-Darting eyes

-Pallor, sweating, clammy palms

-Unusually high-pitched, “nervous” laughter

-Hunched shoulders

-Pacing

Attentive

-Slow head nodding with a furrowed brow

-Leaning forward, toward the speaker, and sitting up

-Taking notes

-Looking over the top of her glasses

Bored

-Resting his head on his palm, peeking out between the fingers, maybe even slipping so his head “accidentally” hits the table

-Tapping toes, twirling pencil, doodling, and otherwise fidgeting

-Staring out a window, or at anything remotely more interesting (Which is everything …)

Confident

-Arms clasped behind body

-Head lifted, chest out, standing tall

-Walking briskly and making firm, precise movements

Confused

-Tilting head with narrowed eyes

-A furrowed brow

-Shrugging

Contempt/Superiority

-Lifted chin (The better to look down the nose.)

-Pursed lips, sneering, slight frown

-Circling a shoulder, stretching her neck, turning away—anything to indicate she doesn’t see the person as a threat or worthy of her attention

-Grabbing her lapels, or tucking her thumbs in her waistcoat (See this clothing? It is much nicer than yours.)

-Dismissive hand-waving

Cynical/Sarcastic/Bitter

-Twisted lips or a half-smile

-Sneering, sometimes with shaking the head and other defensive body language

-Pressed lips with a slight frown

-Eye rolling

Defensive

-Crossed arms, legs, crossed anything, really (Well, maybe not fingers … or eyes …)

-Arms out, palms forward (Stop!)

-Placing anything (sword, shield, book, backpack) in front of her body

Disgusted

-Crinkling his nose

-Curling his lip and/or showing the tip of his tongue briefly

-Flinching back and interposing a shoulder or turning away

-Covering his nose, gagging, and squinting his eyes shut—hard—for a moment. (It assaults all the senses.)

Displeased

-A plastered-on fake smile (You suck; but I can’t tell you that. So here: a fake smile! Enjoy.)

-Pouting or frowning (I’ll cry if you don’t give me what I want—don’t test me, I will!)

-Crossed arms and other defensive/frustrated body language (I will not let that terrible idea influence me!)

Distressed

-Wide eyes and shallow, rapid breathing

-Beating the walls, or huddling into a corner

-Clasping hands over his head protectively

-Rocking himself

-Handwringing

-Running his hands through his hair

Earnest/Passionate

-Leaning forward, nodding, wide eyes with strong eye contact and raised eyebrows

-Hand on heart, or presented palms-up, or otherwise visible

-A double-handed handshake (I really want to make sure you understand me!)

Embarrassment

-Blushing

-Stammering

-Covering her face with her hands or bowing her head (I’m so embarrassed, I can’t look!)

-Difficulty maintaining eye contact, looking down and away

Excited/Anticipation

-Rubbing hands together (I can’t wait to get my hands on it!)

-Licking lips (It’s so close I can taste it!)

-A vigorous, pumping handshake (I can’t wait to get started!)

-Jumping up and down (Look at me being literal here! I am jumping for joy.)

-A wide and easy grin

Flirty

-Eye play, like winking, looking up through the lashes, over the shoulder glances, and eye catching

-Preening, like hair flipping or smooth, clothing straightening, spine straightening, etc.

-Striking a cowboy pose, with his thumbs gripping his belt tight

Frustrated

-Shaking his head (You are so wrong!)

-Massaging temples (My brain—it hurts.)

-Clasping his wrist in his opposite hand, behind his back (Bad arm! No biscuit.)

-Running his hands through his hair (All this frustration is making my hair mussy. I can feel it.)

-Grabbing onto something like armrests, or white-knuckled interdigitation (Restrain yourself!)

Happy

-Smiling and laughing

-Eyes and nose crinkling

-Swinging her arms, spinning loosely, dancing, jumping

Impatience

-Quick head nodding (Get on with it!)

-Toe/finger tapping (Hear this? These are seconds. Wasted. Listening to you.)

-Sighing, checking the clock/sundial/freckles (Time. It is moving so slowly.)

Jealous

-Tight lips, or a sour expression

-Narrow eyes locked on the perpetrator, to the point of a stare down

-Crossed arms, and additional frustrated, angry, possessive, or bitter body language

Lying

-Scratching their nose, ear, neck, miscellaneous part of face

-Sudden change in behavior or demeanor, including shifty eye contact, lots of long blinking, shrugging

-Ill-timed smiles or laughter (This is how I normally smile, right? Right???)

-Additional anxiety body language

-Shaking head no while saying “yes” (I can’t believe I just lied.)

-Licking lips, covering mouth, touching mouth, etc.

Overwhelmed

-Both palms to forehead, fingers splayed (This gives me a headache.)

-Covering eyes with one hand (If I can’t see the world, it can’t see me …)

-Eyes wide and staring into space, hands gripping the table in front of her (… Woah.)

Playful/Friendly

-Winking

-Waggling eyebrows

-Tiny shoves or nudge

Pleasure

-Head tilted back, lips parted slightly, eyes wide or closed

-Slow, languorous movements, stretching (such as arching her neck or back)

-Slight flush, quickened breath and pulse

Possessive

-Handshake with arm clasp

-Putting hands on or around someone’s shoulders, neck, waist, back, or even just the wall near them

-Standing in someone’s personal space, body positioned toward that person

-Any one-sided act of intimacy, like running a knuckle down someone’s cheek

-Staring down any who get too close

Proud/Dominant

-Chin up, chest out, shoulders back

-A painfully hard handshake that not only squishes the bones, but also forces his hand on top

-Leaning back with his hands behind his head, and his feet up

-Strong, unblinking, focused eye contact

Reluctance/Resistance

-Arms crossed, sometimes with fists (Not happening.)

-Dragging feet (But I don’t wanna!)

-Pinching nose (You want me to do what now?)

-Clamping hands over ears (La la la la!)

Sad/Upset

-Droopy body (and anything held, like a sword), bowed in shoulders, wrapping arms around self

-Slow movements with hesitation

-Bottom lip jutting out and/or quivering

-Crying, sobbing, body shaking, sniffling, wet eyes

Secretive

-A tight-lipped smile (My lips are zipped.)

-Hiding her hands in her pockets (What has it got in its nasty little pocket?)

-Looking away

Scared

-Hunched shoulders, shrinking back from others (Don’t hurt me!)

-Wide eyes and lifted eyebrows (The better to see them coming.)

-Shaking, trembling, or freezing

-Rocking from side to side, sometimes holding self (It’ll all be okay, self, it’ll all be okay.)

Shame

-Slumped shoulders (Don’t look at me.)

-Trouble meeting your gaze, looking down and away

-Burying her face in her hands or bowing her head (I can’t face the world right now.)

Shocked

-Hands covering her mouth, or mouth hanging open, sometimes with a gasp (If I had words, I would be saying them.)

-Freezing and staring with wide eyes and eyebrows raised (Diverting all resources toward staring.)

-Smacking a palm into his forehead (Clearly, my head isn’t working right, or I wouldn’t have seen that)

Shy

-Avoids eye contact, or has only fleeting eye contact (Eye contact means you might speak to me.)

-Keeps a fair distance from everyone, and will back away if someone steps closer (Space invaders!)

-Folded arms, head down, and other defensive body language (If I make myself small, they can’t see me.)

Smug

-Slight, close-lipped smile (occasionally one-sided) and sometimes one raised eyebrow (I know something you don’t know.)

-Chin slightly tucked, Mona Lisa smile, raised eyebrows (I know better.)

-Finger steepling (I am so smaaaht.)

Suspicious/Skeptical/Disbelief

-Narrowed eyes, sometimes with a sidelong glance or raised eyebrow (Perhaps if I look at it out of the corner of my eye, I will catch it unawares.)

-Rubbing his eyes (I can’t believe what I’m metaphorically or literally seeing!)

-Shaking his head (I—I don’t believe it.)

-Blowing out cheeks (Well , I don’t know …)

Tired

-Rubbing his eyes, eyes staring into space, raised eyebrows (Raising my eyebrows helps keep my eyes open.)

-Yawning and/or stretching (I am tired—see? Tired! Too tired to care!)

-Almost nodding off and jerking awake (Cannot. Stay. Awa—snnnnurzzzz.)

-Gritting teeth to stay awake (Cannot—yawn—dang it!)

Thoughtfulness/Thinking

-Steepling fingers (I will think better if I center myself and focus.)

-Pinching nose, sometimes with closed eyes (Focus, focus—I just need to focus.)

-Tugging on an ear (This will help me remember!)

-Stroking a real or imaginary beard (People with beards look smart.)

-Furrowed brow, narrowed eyes, sometimes tilted head and pressing lips together (I can’t see it—I will try harder!)

-Resting his chin on his hand (Thinking makes my head heavy.)

Triumphant

-Hands clenched and held above head while grimacing (She is invincible!)

-Head tilted back with a yell (She is fierce!)

-Arm pumping in the air, jumping (Woohoo!)

Some words to use when writing things:

winking

clenching

pulsing

fluttering

contracting

twitching

sucking

quivering

pulsating

throbbing

beating

thumping

thudding

pounding

humming

palpitate

vibrate

grinding

crushing

hammering

lashing

knocking

driving

thrusting

pushing

force

injecting

filling

dilate

stretching

lingering

expanding

bouncing

reaming

elongate

enlarge

unfolding

yielding

sternly

firmly

tightly

harshly

thoroughly

consistently

precision

accuracy

carefully

demanding

strictly

restriction

meticulously

scrupulously

rigorously

rim

edge

lip

circle

band

encircling

enclosing

surrounding

piercing

curl

lock

twist

coil

spiral

whorl

dip

wet

soak

madly

wildly

noisily

rowdily

rambunctiously

decadent

degenerate

immoral

indulgent

accept

take

invite

nook

indentation

niche

depression

indent

depress

delay

tossing

writhing

flailing

squirming

rolling

wriggling

wiggling

thrashing

struggling

grappling

striving

straining

Appetite -

craving, demand, gluttony, greed, hunger, inclination, insatiable, longing, lust, passion, ravenousness, relish, taste, thirst, urge, voracity, weakness, willingness, yearning, ardor, dedication, desire, devotion, enthusiasm, excitement, fervor, horny, intensity, keenness, wholeheartedness, zeal

Arouse -

agitate, awaken, electrify, enliven, excite, entice, foment, goad, incite, inflame, instigate, kindle, provoke, rally, rouse, spark, stimulate, stir, thrill, waken, warm, whet, attract, charm, coax, fire up, fuel, heat up, lure, produce, stir up, tantalize, tease, tempt, thrum, torment, wind up, work up

Assault -

attack, advancing, aggressive, assailing, charging, incursion, inundated, invasion, offensive, onset, onslaught, overwhelmed, ruinous, tempestuous, strike, violation, ambush, assail, barrage, bombard, bombardment, crackdown, wound

Beautiful -

admirable, alluring, angelic, appealing, bewitching, charming, dazzling, delicate, delightful, divine, elegant, enticing, exquisite, fascinating, gorgeous, graceful, grand, magnificent, marvellous, pleasing, radiant, ravishing, resplendent, splendid, stunning, sublime, attractive, beguiling, captivating, enchanting, engaging, enthralling, eye-catching, fetching, fine, fine-looking, good-looking, handsome, inviting, lovely, mesmeric, mesmerizing, pretty, rakish, refined, striking, tantalizing, tempting

Brutal -

atrocious, barbarous, bloodthirsty, callous, cruel, feral, ferocious, hard, harsh, heartless, inhuman, merciless, murderous, pitiless, remorseless, rough, rude, ruthless, savage, severe, terrible, unmerciful, vicious, bestial, brute, brutish, cold-blooded, fierce, gory, nasty, rancorous, sadistic, uncompromising, unfeeling, unforgiving, unpitying, violent, wild

Burly –

able-bodied, athletic, beefy, big, brawny, broad-shouldered, bulky, dense, enormous, great, hard, hardy, hearty, heavily built, heavy, hefty, huge, husky, immense, large, massive, muscular, mighty, outsized, oversized, powerful, powerfully built, prodigious, robust, solid, stalwart, stocky, stout, strapping, strong, strongly built, sturdy, thick, thickset, tough, well-built, well-developed

Carnal -

animalistic, bodily, impure, lascivious, lecherous, lewd, libidinous, licentious, lustful, physical, prurient, salacious, sensuous, voluptuous, vulgar, wanton, coarse, crude, dirty, raunchy, rough, unclean

Dangerous -

alarming, critical, fatal, formidable, impending, malignant, menacing, mortal, nasty, perilous, precarious, pressing, serious, terrible, threatening, treacherous, urgent, vulnerable, wicked, acute, damaging, deadly, death-defying, deathly, destructive, detrimental, explosive, grave, harmful, hazardous, injurious, lethal, life-threatening, noxious, poisonous, risky, severe, terrifying, toxic, unsafe, unstable, venomous

Dark -

atrocious, corrupt, forbidding, foul, infernal, midnight, morbid, ominous, sinful, sinister, sombre, threatening, twilight, vile, wicked, abject, alarming, appalling, baleful, bizarre, bleak, bloodcurdling, boding evil, chilling, cold, condemned, creepy, damned, daunting, demented, desolate, dire, dismal, disturbing, doomed, dour, dread, dreary, dusk, eerie, fear, fearsome, frightening, ghastly, ghostly, ghoulish, gloom, gloomy, grave, grim, grisly, gruesome, hair-raising, haunted, hideous, hopeless, horrendous, horrible, horrid, horrific, horrifying, horror, ill-fated, ill-omened, ill-starred, inauspicious, inhospitable, looming, lost, macabre, malice, malignant, menacing, murky, mysterious, night, panic, pessimistic, petrifying, scary, shadows, shadowy, shade, shady, shocking, soul-destroying, sour, spine-chilling, spine-tingling, strange, terrifying, uncanny, unearthly, unlucky, unnatural, unnerving, weird, wretched

Delicious -

enticing, exquisite, luscious, lush, rich, savoury, sweet, tasty, tempting, appetizing, delectable, flavoursome, full of flavour, juicy, lip-smacking, mouth-watering, piquant, relish, ripe, salty, spicy, scrummy, scrumptious, succulent, tangy, tart, tasty, yummy, zesty

Ecstasy -

delectation, delirium, elation, euphoria, fervor, frenzy, joy, rapture, transport, bliss, excitement, happiness, heaven, high, paradise, rhapsody, thrill, blissful, delighted, elated, extremely happy, in raptures (of delight), in seventh heaven, jubilant, on cloud nine, overexcited, overjoyed, rapturous, thrilled

Ecstatic -

delirious, enraptured, euphoric, fervent, frenzied, joyous, transported, wild

Erotic -

amatory, amorous, aphrodisiac, carnal, earthy, erogenous, fervid, filthy, hot, impassioned, lascivious, lecherous, lewd, raw, romantic, rousing, salacious, seductive, sensual, sexual, spicy, steamy, stimulating, suggestive, titillating, voluptuous, tantalizing

Gasp -

catch of breath, choke, gulp, heave, inhale, pant, puff, snort, wheeze, huff, rasp, sharp intake of air, short of breath, struggle for breath, swallow, winded

Heated -

ardent, avid, excited, fervent, fervid, fierce, fiery, frenzied, furious, impassioned, intense, passionate, raging, scalding, scorched, stormy, tempestuous, vehement, violent, ablaze, aflame, all-consuming, blazing, blistering, burning, crazed, explosive, febrile, feverish, fired up, flaming, flushed, frantic, hot, hot-blooded, impatient, incensed, maddening, obsessed, possessed, randy, searing, sizzling, smouldering, sweltering, torrid, turbulent, volatile, worked up, zealous

Hunger -

appetite, ache, craving, gluttony, greed, longing, lust, mania, mouth-watering, ravenous, voracious, want, yearning, thirst

Hungry -

avid, carnivorous, covetous, craving, eager, greedy, hungered, rapacious, ravenous, starved, unsatisfied, voracious, avaricious, desirous, famished, grasping, insatiable, keen, longing, predatory, ravening, starving, thirsty, wanting

Intense -

forceful, severe, passionate, acute, agonizing, ardent, anxious, biting, bitter, burning, close, consuming, cutting, deep, eager, earnest, excessive, exquisite, extreme, fervent, fervid, fierce, forcible, great, harsh, impassioned, keen, marked, piercing, powerful, profound, severe, sharp, strong, vehement, violent, vivid, vigorous

Liquid -

damp, cream, creamy, dripping, ichorous, juicy, moist, luscious, melted, moist, pulpy, sappy, soaking, solvent, sopping, succulent, viscous, wet / aqueous, broth, elixir, extract, flux, juice, liquor, nectar, sap, sauce, secretion, solution, vitae, awash, moisture, boggy, dewy, drenched, drip, drop, droplet, drowning, flood, flooded, flowing, fountain, jewel, leaky, milky, overflowing, saturated, slick, slippery, soaked, sodden, soggy, stream, swamp, tear, teardrop, torrent, waterlogged, watery, weeping

Lithe -

agile, lean, pliant, slight, spare, sinewy, slender, supple, deft, fit, flexible, lanky, leggy, limber, lissom, lissom, nimble, sinuous, skinny, sleek, slender, slim, svelte, trim, thin, willowy, wiry

Moan -

beef, cry, gripe, grouse, grumble, lament, lamentation, plaint, sob, wail, whine, bemoan, bewail, carp, deplore, grieve, gripe, grouse, grumble, keen, lament, sigh, sob, wail, whine, mewl

Moving -

(exciting,) affecting, effective arousing, awakening, breathless, dynamic, eloquent, emotional, emotive, expressive, fecund, far-out, felt in gut, grabbed by, gripping, heartbreaking, heartrending, impelling, impressive, inspirational, meaningful, mind-bending, mind-blowing, motivating, persuasive, poignant, propelling, provoking, quickening, rallying, rousing, significant, stimulating, simulative, stirring, stunning, touching, awe-inspiring, energizing, exhilarating, fascinating, heart pounding, heart stopping, inspiring, riveting, thrilling

Need -

compulsion, demand, desperate, devoir, extremity, impatient longing, must, urge, urgency / desire, appetite, avid, burn, craving, eagerness, fascination, greed, hunger, insatiable, longing, lust, taste, thirst, voracious, want, yearning, ache, addiction, aspiration, desire, fever, fixation, hankering, hope, impulse, inclination, infatuation, itch, obsession, passion, pining, wish, yen

Pain -

ache, afflict, affliction, agony, agonize, anguish, bite, burn, chafe, distress, fever, grief, hurt, inflame, laceration, misery, pang, punish, sting, suffering, tenderness, throb, throe, torment, torture, smart

Painful -

aching, agonizing, arduous, awful, biting, burning, caustic, dire, distressing, dreadful, excruciating, extreme, grievous, inflamed, piercing, raw, sensitive, severe, sharp, tender, terrible, throbbing, tormenting, angry, bleeding, bloody, bruised, cutting, hurting, injured, irritated, prickly, skinned, smarting, sore, stinging, unbearable, uncomfortable, upsetting, wounded

Perverted -

aberrant, abnormal, corrupt, debased, debauched, defiling, depraved, deviant, monstrous, tainted, twisted, vicious, warped, wicked, abhorrent, base, decadent, degenerate, degrading, dirty, disgusting, dissipated, dissolute, distasteful, hedonistic, immodest, immoral, indecent, indulgent, licentious, nasty, profligate, repellent, repugnant, repulsive, revolting, shameful, shameless, sickening, sinful, smutty, sordid, unscrupulous, vile

Pleasurable -

charming, gratifying, luscious, satisfying, savory, agreeable, delicious, delightful, enjoyable, nice, pleasant, pleasing, soothing, succulent

Pleasure -

bliss, delight, gluttony, gratification, relish, satisfaction, thrill, adventure, amusement, buzz, contentment, delight, desire, ecstasy, enjoyment, excitement, fun, happiness, harmony, heaven, joy, kick, liking, paradise, seventh heaven

Rapacious-

avaricious, ferocious, furious, greedy, predatory, ravening, ravenous, savage, voracious, aggressive, gluttonous, grasping, insatiable, marauding, plundering

Rapture -

bliss, ecstasy, elation, exaltation, glory, gratification, passion, pleasure, floating, unbridled joy

Rigid -

adamant, austere, definite, determined, exact, firm, hard, rigorous, solid, stern, uncompromising, unrelenting, unyielding, concrete, fixed, harsh, immovable, inflexible, obstinate, resolute, resolved, severe, steadfast, steady, stiff, strong, strict, stubborn, taut, tense, tight, tough, unbending, unchangeable, unwavering

Sudden -

abrupt, accelerated, acute, fast, flashing, fleeting, hasty, headlong, hurried, immediate, impetuous, impulsive, quick, quickening, rapid, rash, rushing, swift, brash, brisk, brusque, instant, instantaneous, out of the blue, reckless, rushed, sharp, spontaneous, urgent, without warning

Thrust -

(forward) advance, drive, forge, impetus, impulsion, lunge, momentum, onslaught, poke, pressure, prod, propulsion, punch, push, shove, power, proceed, progress, propel

(push hard) assail, assault, attack, bear down, buck, drive, force, heave, impale, impel, jab, lunge, plunge, press, pound, prod, ram, shove, stab, transfix, urge, bang, burrow, cram, gouge, jam, pierce, punch, slam, spear, spike, stick

Thunder-struck -

amazed, astonished, aghast, astounded, awestruck, confounded, dazed, dazed, dismayed, overwhelmed, shocked, staggered, startled, stunned, gob-smacked, bewildered, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, horrified, incredulous, surprised, taken aback

Torment -

agony, anguish, hurt, misery, pain, punishment, suffering, afflict, angst, conflict, distress, grief, heartache, misfortune, nightmare, persecute, plague, sorrow, strife, tease, test, trial, tribulation, torture, turmoil, vex, woe

Touch -

(physical) - blow, brush, caress, collide, come together, contact, converge, crash, cuddle, embrace, feel, feel up, finger, fondle, frisk, glance, glide, graze, grope, handle, hit, hug, impact, join, junction, kiss, lick, line, manipulate, march, massage, meet, nudge, palm, partake, pat, paw, peck, pet, pinch, probe, push, reach, rub, scratch, skim, slide, smooth, strike, stroke, suck, sweep, tag, tap, taste, thumb, tickle, tip, touching, toy, bite, bump, burrow, buss, bury, circle, claw, clean, clutch, cover, creep, crush, cup, curl, delve, dig, drag, draw, ease, edge, fiddle with, flick, flit, fumble, grind, grip, grub, hold, huddle, knead, lap, lave, lay a hand on, maneuver, manhandle, mash, mold, muzzle, neck, nestle, nibble, nip, nuzzle, outline, play, polish, press, pull, rasp, ravish, ream, rim, run, scoop, scrabble, scrape, scrub, shave, shift, shunt, skate, slip, slither, smack, snake, snuggle, soothe, spank, splay, spread, squeeze, stretch, swipe, tangle, tease, thump, tongue, trace, trail, tunnel twiddle, twirl, twist, tug, work, wrap

(mental) - communicate, examine, inspect, perception, scrutinize

Wet -

bathe, bleed, burst, cascade, course, cover, cream, damp, dampen, deluge, dip, douse, drench, dribble, drip, drizzle, drool, drop, drown, dunk, erupt, flood, flow, gush, immerse, issue, jet, leach, leak, moisten, ooze, overflow, permeate, plunge, pour, rain, rinse, run, salivate, saturate, secrete, seep, shower, shoot, slaver, slobber, slop, slosh, sluice, spill, soak, souse, spew, spit, splash, splatter, spout, spray, sprinkle, spurt, squirt, steep, stream, submerge, surge, swab, swamp, swill, swim, trickle, wash, water

Wicked -

abominable, amoral, atrocious, awful, base, barbarous, dangerous, debased, depraved, distressing, dreadful, evil, fearful, fiendish, fierce, foul, heartless, hazardous, heinous, immoral, indecent, intense, mean, nasty, naughty, nefarious, offensive, profane, scandalous, severe, shameful, shameless, sinful, terrible, unholy, vicious, vile, villainous, wayward, bad, criminal, cruel, deplorable, despicable, devious, ill-intentioned, impious, impish, iniquitous, irreverent, loathsome, Machiavellian, mad, malevolent, malicious, merciless, mischievous, monstrous, perverse, ruthless, spiteful, uncaring, unkind, unscrupulous, vindictive, virulent, wretched

Writhe -

agonize, bend, jerk, recoil, lurch, plunge, slither, squirm, struggle, suffer, thrash, thresh, twist, wiggle, wriggle, angle, arc, bow, buck, coil, contort, convulse, curl, curve, fidget, fight, flex, go into spasm, grind, heave, jiggle, jolt, kick, rear, reel, ripple, resist, roll, lash, lash out, screw up, shake, shift, slide, spasm, stir, strain, stretch, surge, swell, swivel, thrust, turn violently, tussle, twitch, undulate, warp, worm, wrench, wrestle, yank

[lovemademoisellebelle]

Uh oh... did we do that?

Pairing: Draco x y/n

Warnings: underage drinking, mild swearing

A/N: been reading and writing fan fiction for years but I've never uploaded any of my own work, so please be nice! any feedback is highly appreciated. P.S. this sounded and looked a lot better in my head 

inspired by Emma Watson dancing in The Bling Ring, endless amounts of videos on DracoTok and the vibes that 212 by Azealia Banks gives me

Slytherin common room party – think low-key green lighting, firewhiskey, Draco in an all-black suit that kinda thing 

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

In the hundreds of years since Hogwarts’s conception, not once have the Slytherin house hosted an ‘all houses invited’ party. Sure, they were invited (and rarely came) to the Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor parties, but they never thought to return the favour. That is until Pansy’s raging crush on a Ravenclaw boy in the year above prompted her to throw an all-inclusive rager, much to the dismay of her Slytherin classmates.  

Naturally, this caused some concern from the other houses, as the new spread around the Great Hall the morning of the so-called ‘unmissable’ event. There was a palpable buzz of deliberation from the separate tables, with the clearly same queries on everyone’s minds.

“I don’t know Ron – I mean, these are the Slytherin’s we’re talking about,” Hermione cast a furtive glance to the sea of emerald robes on the far side of the hall, much to Ron’s dismay.

“Oh come on ‘Mione, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Oh I don’t know, how about humiliation from Malfoy’s smug face when we realise it’s a prank, or maybe a fight where irreversible hexes are thrown around?” Harry quipped, clearly sharing Hermione’s caution.

Ron and y/n shared a knowing look, both being the more carefree members of the group.

“Here’s an idea,” y/n explained rationally, “how about we just show up anyway – fashionably late, of course – and if the whole thing turns out to be some big joke, we can host our own impromptu party in the common room? That way it won’t be a complete waste of time… or alcohol.”

It was Harry and Hermione’s turn to share a look, knowing no matter how hard they tried they were inevitably going to give in eventually.

“Fine,” Hermione grumbled, “but if it all turns pear shaped, I’m sending you both to the hospital wing with a nasty bat bogey hex.

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

The much-awaited night had finally rolled around, and y/n felt that nervous but excited anticipation that she often felt before occasions such as tonight’s. All day the latest gossip of the party could be heard between the older Hogwarts’s students. At one point, Madame Pince had to usher around 20 students out of the library for whispering ‘too loudly’ about the event. Multiple classmates had come up to y/n throughout the day, all asking the same question: ‘Are you thinking of going tonight?’ As usual with Hogwarts, news never failed to travel fast.

“Are you sure this looks ok?” Hermione twisted her hips side to side in the dorm’s full-length mirror, trying to discern if the length of her skirt showed to much leg or not.

“’Mione, are you kidding? You look incredible, seriously. Ron’s gonna flip when he sees you, won’t be able to take his eyes off your a-” y/n’s sentence was cut short by a well-timed pillow being tossed at her head by Hermione, who had started to form a pink blush across her cheeks.

With both of them re-checking your outfits and makeup in the mirror, y/n and Hermione did a quick, pre-party shot for luck and headed down to the common room to meet the boys.

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

By the time they had arrived at the Slytherin common room, the party was already in full swing; couples were spotted around the corridor outside, claiming to ‘need some air’ whilst making out against the stone walls, and the pungent smell of firewhiskey with a slight cut of something sweeter (butterbeer?) hit them like a brick wall as the group entered. The room was encased in dark green lighting, highlighted by the murky lake shimmering some light into the otherwise darkened room.

It seemed as if almost every student – 5th year and above – were present, either seen dancing and grinding on the makeshift dancefloor at the back, loitering around the drinks table in search of another drink or, if you were Pansy Parkinson, sat on one of the plush sofas on the lap of a Ravenclaw boy, who looked equal parts satisfised and confused about his current situation.

Either way most people were already fucked, or at least on their way.

“What were you saying earlier about a prank Hermione?” Ron smirked smugly, as he grabbed her hand and pushed his way over to the drinks table with a blushing Hermione trailing after.

Y/n couldn’t help but think, maybe tonight will be fun after all.

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

An hour later, and y/n could definitely feel the numb tingling of the firewhiskey spread throughout her body, offering a pleasant release from the previous week’s stress. Though not yet brave enough to venture onto the dancefloor, she swayed her hips lightly to the music as she chatted happily with Luna in the corner – apparently the Ministry were behind the recent surge of wrackspurts in the air, using them to control our minds.

“Well well, if it isn’t Weaslebee and Scar-head polluting my common room,” a little ways across the room however, Ron and Harry were having less of a pleasant time.

Turning around to see the towering, slender figure of Draco Malfoy with his signature smugness, flanked by his usual cronies Crabbe and Goyle. Stood tall in his black turtleneck and blazer combo, with his platinum hair perfectly styled (of course), Draco was unsurprisingly catching the attention of most of the girls (and a fair amount of guys) in the room. Wherever he moved, eager eyes tended to follow, with the hope of him glancing their way. Harry and Ron, however, were unfazed.

“Malfoy,” Harry briefly and glumly acknowledged Draco with the turn of his head, before turning back to people watch.

“You know, I’ve always heard that Gryffindor parties are supposed to be some of the best,” Draco taunted, “but I have to say your lot seem pretty boring to me. I mean, I thought you were supposed to be the ‘fun ones’”. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind him, always quick to boost his ego.

“This is nothing,” Ron countered, the alcohol only intensifying his competitive nature, “you should see the way y/n and Hermione get when that bloody muggle song of theirs plays – they go mad.”

“Yeah right,” the blonde scoffed, “they’re both too stuck up to ever actually have fun.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll prove it to you!”

“C’mon Ron, let’s just leave it-”

“No Harry, there’s no way I’m losing this argument. Oi Lee,” Ron hollered to Lee Jordan, the trusted DJ at every Hogwarts party, “put on that song – you know – that one muggle song… can’t remember the bloody name now,” Ron started to trail off.

Luckily, Lee was able to decipher Ron’s drunk slurs, “You got it Ron.”

As soon as the first few beats thumped out of the speakers, y/n let out a squeal of joy. Searching for Hermione, they caught eyes from across the room and both knew what they had to do; meet on the dancefloor between them and let loose. Both being muggle born, the two girls shared a love of muggle music that their magical born friends didn’t. It bonded them when they first became friends and now had influenced even those who weren’t muggle born to enjoy it too.

As the beat dropped, the girls started to dance. Bopping their heads from side to side, they swung their hips in time with the music. With her back to Hermione’s chest, y/n let her head roll back onto her friends’ shoulder as they drunkenly laughed for no apparent reason. Y/n’s black mini dress had begun to ride up her thighs slightly, meanwhile her hips continued to roll and grind suggestively – neither girls remotely aware of anyone around them, nor the shock of particularly their Slytherin classmates, who weren’t used to seeing this side of them.

Especially not Draco Malfoy, his jaw slack as his eyes were entranced in the girl’s direction.

“Uh oh,” Harry teased, “looks like Malfoy’s got his eyes on your girlfriend.”

“Um Harry,” Ron stared at Draco’s face in disbelief, with a slight hint of amusement, “it’s not ‘Mione he’s looking at.”

Unaware of the intense gaze from her long-time enemy Draco Malfoy, y/n continued to dance seductively.

Draco’s initial expression of shock had now turned into his signature grin, his icy blue-grey eyes trailing over y/n’s curves. His eyes expressed admiration (something rare for someone who usually showed distain for almost everything) and apparent attraction for the girl. His head filled with lewd thoughts as he yearned to know more about her – until now he thought he’d had her sussed, but now he started to question his good-girl perception of her. His hand rubbing at his jaw slightly, completely entranced by every swing of her hips.

“Godric, he’s looking at her as if he’s in love with her,” Harry uttered, entirely bewildered by the look on Malfoy’s face – it was a look of attraction and almost tenderness that was starting to scare him.

Ron brought a hand up to his forehead, “Uh oh… did we do that?”

hey, if you managed to get all the way to the end, thank u sm!! any feedback is appreciated. I have an idea for part 2 if anyone wants that :) 

#harry potter #draco malfoy #dracotok #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco

[certifiedceraunophile]

KLAROLINE DRABBLE

GLORIA SANGUIS

Sneak Peek

Again FAIR DISCLAIMER

This is a completely self-indulgent wish fulfilment fic, the writing style here just picks a tangent and runs with it, switches when it wishes to and takes a u-turn when it feels like it, I’ve allowed myself a lot of leeway and decided to forgo my usual pretentious way of writing and basically this is just one big “Ah fuck it who the hell cares I’m just here for the Klaro-love” kind of fic. So proceed on your own volition

And as for the plot, to quote my previous post your stepping into a

*deep breath*

Fanatsy AU meets Alien AU meets Royalty AU meets Future AU meets Time Travel AU meets Inapropriate dirty talk in front of family members AU meets World War 3 AU meets Colonized Mars AU meets Family Sitcom AU meets SMUT 

*releases breath*

*Catches lost fucking breath*

And Honestly at this point I’m basically the author version of that one John Mulaney meme where he goes

“No one knows what the horse is going to do next, least of all the HORSE”

So yeah,

Proceed with Caution

You have been Warned

——————————————————————————

Earth, New Orleans, 2014

Let it be on record, in her own voice, for all of her subjects to know, that she loathes this, she loathes this with a passion.

An if that’s too ambiguous of a statement, she loathes it with a passion she may or may not employ debating the merits of her skin’s fluorescence in water colours as opposed to oil paints in her husband’s studio, a studio that is as vast as the ‘fiefdom’—which is putting it generously—she walks the streets of at this very moment.

Let it also be known that the anarchy of this city, which is basically an inter-faction wrestling ring for the supernatural, that her husband tried to rule will forever be a staining moment of his past.

She has tried to ignore this tiny smear of history that has turned translucent as time rubs against her memories each day eternity demurely follows behind her, she really has, but she’s found that she simply can’t let him off gently, she’s found she can’t let him forget and she has always found she has to drag him through the mud every time she’s reminded of Klaus’s less than complimentary interlude with Kingship to obscure that one disrespectfully dirty stain with camouflage, she’s never let him forget Klaus Mikaelson at amateur hour calling three streets and one marsh his ‘Kingdom.’

Oh he loathes it more when she reminds him it took him 12 years to hold said ‘Kingdom’ with the power that is a jesting parody with which she rules the entire world.

Those conversations do escalate very quickly, usually ends up with her pinned beneath him being reminded of the fact that never mind the pantomime of power he constructed and deluded himself with in New Orleans, he instead directs her attention to the fact that it may have taken him two entire centuries love, but nonetheless he is after all the one and only man in all the seven realms of Gaia who can make His Queen, His Empress beg on her knees for mercy every night, naked and needy, with tears in her eyes and a moan on her lips.

That remains his biggest accomplishment sweetheart, conquering you who has conquered all,

He silences her with a bruising kiss when she reminds him she is nothing so inert as to be conquered, and then proceeds to exalt his Empress.

She of course has told him fucking her to oblivion every time the topic comes up does not erase the decades of ignominy that was his ‘King of New Orleans’ venture, but usually at this point he just clamps a hand on her mouth and proceeds to pound into her in earnest. But if he thinks leaving her deliciously sore and sated the next morning is going to impede her in any way from bringing up his version of an embarrassing childhood memory every opportunity she gets, well he has to know by this point it’s always he who enables her.

But on a more prudent note, she concedes it’s been centuries since she’s been this under-prepared, doesn't matter that she’s in New Orleans in her husband’s—No at this point in time Future Husband’s home turf, doesn’t matter that she was sent 700 years into the past three days ahead of schedule, and most definitely does it not matter that the day the universe chose to send Grand Empress Caroline, Sovereign of the Seven Realms, Goddess of the Undead and Keeper of the Gates of Gaia was on the day of Gratia Cantantes.

The day of Gratitude, when her people flood the gates of her Aerial Gardenia chattering heartbeats on their sleeve, bated breath and craning necks, to stand in her presence. To thank their saviour, to touch their foreheads to the ground in remembrance of her favour and grace, for her devoted Vampires to celebrate the Quarter Quell’s Harvest, for Bonnie’s witches to accept the Elder’s Blessing, for the Wolves to have their venom sanctified by her Husband, and for Her World to celebrate it’s existence.

TBC

#my works #my edits #klaroline manip #klaroline smut #klaroline future fic #klaroline fanfic #klaus mikaelson #klaroline edits #caroline forbes #klaroline drabble #kc fandom #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline Drabble #otp: caroline i’m not you’re british muffin #otp: caroline my love #otp: i shot him and now he thinks we’re engaged #mr. klaus forbes