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moonjxsung · 8 months

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Where the Storm Looms

*This fic is part 2 to “When the Rain Stops.” You can read part 1 here.

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader

W/c: 13k

Warnings: smoking, drinking, mention of cheating, mention of masturbation, mention of casual sex, brief mention of calories, nipple play, unprotected sex, bulge kink, creampie, squirting

Synopsis: Now living in the city he despises, Minho is determined to find you again- despite the sacrifices he’ll have to make.

18+. mdni!

•

They say if you love something, you have to set it free. And if it comes back to you, it’s yours.

So what implication can be drawn if you go searching for it- for three months and 13 days straight?

Minho isn’t sure.

The city is just as grimy as he remembered it- teeming with the sounds of pushy street vendors, bumper-to-bumper traffic and conversations of plummeting stocks at every corner. The coffee is overpriced, and the people dress in gray slacks even on laundry day. The girls are pretty- they’re decent in bed, they work good jobs and they can carry a conversation well as long as it involves their respective companies or an ex-boyfriend.

But none of them are you.

Minho feels stupid for thinking about it this extensively. A random hookup in his bar as a result of bad weather conditions- one you never even bothered saying goodbye to him after, and yet he’s still hung up on you.

That stupid game. He should've never let you fix that arcade game. Maybe then you wouldn’t have stayed so long, wouldn’t have kissed him back even though he’s the one who initiated it. Wouldn’t have let him fuck you on the pool table, moaning his name over and over again like a prayer permanently etched into his memory. But he didn’t stop any part of it- in fact, he didn’t want to. Minho knows he wouldn’t have been able to deny you anything you asked for that night, not with the way you looked at him through wide sparkling eyes, scared you’d angered him, when all he really wanted was to keep you safe. Safe from the storm, safe from people with ill intent. He’d pour you a hundred cups of Diet Coke on the rocks if you asked, or be a chance card in another game of pool you’d inevitably lose at. He’d make love to you repeatedly on any surface inside the dive bar, kissing you every chance he got like it would be his last. Because you changed something in him that night- and he’s determined to find you again.

“Still waiting on that garlic bread. And we have another order for fettuccine.”

Minho nods once, drizzling a pan with olive oil and prepping the ingredients that sit in disarray on the counter in front of him.

Tales from the hotel kitchen.

So maybe getting his job back as a private chef was a harder feat than he’d originally anticipated it to be. But Minho’s sudden assimilation back into city life meant he had to make adjustments- sacrifices. And although he’s still technically the owner of the little dive bar 6 hours out of the city, he recently signed co-ownership off to Jeongin, who’s been practically running the place while Minho does some soul-searching in the city.

Of course, the soul he’s searching for is nowhere to be found.

Coffee shops, bookstores, convenience shops, dive bars... Minho recently read there are nearly 2 million people in this godforsaken city at any given moment of the day. That’s a 0.0000005% chance he’ll run into you again. Coupled with the fact he’s already run into you once before, and slept with you, the odds are considerably lower. But nonetheless, the objective remains.

Sometime after the initial run-in, Minho also realized he knows nearly nothing about you. You never spoke of an occupation, or a significant other, or even your favorite color. He does know you live in the city, you’re vulnerable against married men and you can use a screwdriver like a cellphone. The rest is left to his wandering imagination.

“Minho, your bread is burning,” a voice interrupts, and he snaps out of the daze he’s in to lower the heat on the oven. Minho’s sous chef Seungmin sighs in irritation, practically pushing Minho aside to retrieve the loaf from the oven himself.

“Do you want me to take over for the evening? You seem really distracted and we’re super busy out there.”

“No, I’m fine,” Minho says, his eyes darting briefly to the window across from him.

Dark rain clouds loom over the afternoon sky, but it doesn’t rain- in fact, it hasn’t rained once since that night. At first, he sees it as some sort of blessing, attributing the mostly-clear skies to your presence somewhere in the city. Perhaps where you go, the sun follows.

But he quickly realizes that it’s more of a curse, this constant storm looming over him, taunting him with promises of darkened clouds and rainfall, only for the nighttime to bring clear skies once again.

It never rains anymore. Sometimes Minho thinks he imagined you, that night in his bar.

Maybe he imagined the rain, too.

The ceiling of this apartment is in desperate need of some TLC, Minho thinks, as he lays in bed that night with hands folded over his chest. It’s riddled with cracks and imperfections, running along the drywall like a design choice. But it’s not a design choice- it’s a result of the shitty architectural integrity of this crowded city. Everyone’s so desperate to live out here they’d put up with leaky roofs and cockroaches before they’d live in the suburbs. Minho thinks back to his apartment in the suburbs, where his three cats are currently being taken care of by a friend, and the biggest pain point is patching up thumbtack holes when he moves things around. It’s spacious, a lot bigger than this dump, and it’s a hell of a lot cheaper.

There’s no set time Minho has dedicated to being out here. “When the time is right, I’ll leave,” he told his friend, averting his gaze to avoid raising suspicions about his intentions out here. But to most, it’s clear Minho is going through something. His hair is visibly longer, the silky ends of it now resting just above his shoulders. He can’t be bothered to care about what he wears, knowing very well that he doesn’t blend in with the other city-dwellers when he’s in jeans and a baggy t-shirt. But without the bar to dress up for like he used to, he doesn’t find reason in trying.

Minho’s also well aware that he looks like a complete lunatic, coming out to the city like this to search for a hookup. If your paths do cross, there’s a likelihood you’ll call the police and have him arrested for stalking. You could also have zero recollection of who he is, or that you ever hooked up with him. You could have a boyfriend, be married by now, or just not interested in Minho. Maybe you regret that night. Maybe you lied about being from the city. You could be on the other side of the world by now, and he’d have no clue.

But he feels it- he feels you, in this city, at every corner he turns. He sees traces of you in the people who smile at him when he passes them by. He sees you in the people who hold doors open for him, the baristas who make foam hearts in his lattes every morning, even the businessmen when they catch themselves admiring the beauty of the buildings on a smoke break. He sees you in all things good, when he’s reminded momentarily that the world has more to offer than boxing him in the confines of a dark bar out in the suburbs. And while he’s not completely in love with life all over again, it’s a start.

The hotel patrons give their compliments to his cooking, and he’s reminded of his days as a private chef again, chasing the sweet high of people fawning over his entrees and desserts. When he calls Jeongin to check up on the bar, he remembers the view out the window by the kitchen- nothing but a parking lot, empty most days, or plagued by truck drivers and prostitutes.

Sure, his apartment window in the city faces a brick wall, but he can escape at any given moment of the day to be part of the towering skyscrapers and city lights that stay on all night. It’s then that he feels bad for Jeongin, who doesn’t have the same luxury all the way out there.

Of course, Minho also remembers the sex from that night. It plays in his head on a loop, often echoing in his brain at the worst of times. The way you’d called out his name was all but intoxicating, chanting it in the empty space of the spare room like you’d done it a hundred times before. Your fingers looped through his hair, massaging his locks in praise while your moans did the rest. Your lips on his, smiling when he teased you about the game of pool- teasing him back, like the complex woman he knew you were.

He remembers the way your hardened nipples felt between his fingers, memorizing their feel with his nimble hands while he pressed his third erection of the night against you, a confession that this is what you do to me.

The way you took him with complete ease, undoubtedly craving him, too, gushing with arousal as he fit so perfectly inside you.

“You’re so big,” you’d said to him, and Minho isn’t sure he ever felt confident in his girth until it was inside of you, thrusting in and out like he was trying to make his semen catch, painting your walls white while you squirted on his still-hard cock.

He can’t get off with girls from the city unless he’s thinking of you and him, in the bar, bent over the pool table. He also avoids the spare room of the bar now, getting hard almost instantly at the sight of it.

It’s embarrassing, and he knows it, tucking his now-softened cock back into his boxers and reaching for tissues on his makeshift cardboard box nightstand. The shame washes over him as he folds his hands over his chest again, eyes locked with the shitty drywall ceiling. Have the cracks gotten bigger? He’s not sure of the large one to the left, caving in toward the window in the shape of a backwards L. If it rains, the roof will surely leak. How do you fix a leaky roof? Is it ever going to rain again? Where are you?

On a random Tuesday in the middle of the month, Minho runs into Jisung again.

He’s out by one of the tall buildings in the financial district, one hand shoved in the pocket of his suit while the other brings a turquoise-colored vape up to his lips.

Of course he vapes, Minho thinks. He’s just as predictable as he’s always been.

“Is that the Lee Minho?” Jisung says, blowing a cloud of strawberry-scented smoke into the air. Minho shrugs, saying nothing as he approaches Jisung.

“What are you doing all the way out here? Lost ownership of the bar or what?”

“No,” Minho replies, a stoic expression on his face. “I’m living here.”

“You’re living here? You? Avid hater of city life and all things that inhabit it?”

“Yeah,” Minho says, counting black spots on the concrete below him. “Not permanently. Just looking for something.”

“What are you looking for?”

Minho swallows momentarily. He knows he could bring up your name, and Jisung would probably know where to find you. After all, the two of you bonded over your love of the city before you almost went home with him that night. But he refrains, suddenly feeling a little jealous and overprotective. It’s the reminder that Minho was technically a second choice- maybe you’d just slept with him to get some relief for the sexual tension you felt with Jisung. You did lecture him when he cockblocked you, after all.

“Seeing if the apartments are better out here,” he settles on saying. “They’re not.”

Jisung chuckles. “Yeah, well, I could’ve easily told you that.”

He slides his vape back into the pocket of his suit, adjusting the buttons as he begins to speak again.

“When was the last time I saw you, anyway?”

Minho blinks nervously. His mind races with options of what to reply, but Jisung is faster.

“That storm!” He finally exclaims, clapping enthusiastically. “When we were stuck there while it rained fucking cats and dogs out there. You, me and Miss ‘hard to get’.”

“Right,” Minho says, his pulse quickening a little at the mention of you.

“Can you believe she backed out like that? I went back to that hotel with blue balls like you wouldn’t believe. I bet she’s a good fuck, too, the way she’s persuaded so easily.”

Minho grows irate, doing his best to refrain from lashing out at Jisung to defend you. The way he speaks about you like you’re disposable, like you weren’t only swayed by him because he puts on this act, one where he’s single and nice. Both polar opposite of the sleazy man standing in front of Minho right now.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jisung says. “I ran into her like a week after that, anyway.”

Minho feels his heart stop. He finally makes eye contact with Jisung, voice hitching in the back of his throat as he searches for words to say. What were you doing? What were you wearing? Were you with anyone? Did Jisung try to pursue you again? Was there any trace that you were as changed by Minho as he is by you?

“You did?” Minho queries.

“Yeah. She remembered me, for sure. Said she googled me and found out I was married. That’s the problem with women these days- they fucking google you. Who does that?”

Minho observes the way Jisung snorts with laughter, shaking his head like he’s not a serial cheater himself.

“Where was she?” Minho asks, quickly aware of the way the question comes off as a little too bold.

“Uh… I can’t remember. Think we were in the parking garage off 7th. She was all dressed up like she was going to work or something. Must be a private investigator with the way she stalks her potential hookups.”

Minho laughs internally at the irony.

“Why do you ask?” Jisung chimes in again, sounding a little skeptical of Minho’s behavior now.

“Nothing,” Minho says quickly. “Just curious.”

Jisung nods slowly, not taking his gaze off of Minho. He’s visibly tense, thoughts circling his mind as he tries to recall the buildings on 7th.

“I should get going,” Jisung says, pulling his vape back out to take another hit, much like the nicotine-addicted cheater Minho sees him for.

“Good catching up,” Jisung finishes, exhaling a cloud of smoke into his face. “Catch you later.”

And as Minho leaves, he turns back around to Jisung, pausing momentarily before speaking again.

“Oh, Jisung?”

“Yeah?”

Minho cocks his head slightly.

“Your wife really deserves better.”

The parking garage on 7th is a shithole. It’s a narrow, almost cylindrical building, filled back to back with rows of fancy cars. Minho remains parked on the third floor, sat in his car like he’s staking out the place, eyes darting over every passerby in hopes you’ll be one of them.

But they’re all middle-aged folks, blabbering into their cellphones with briefcases in hand, no sense of purpose for the life they’re living aside from money, and maybe their fancy cars.

He sighs, reaching for a cigarette and cupping his hand over the lighter to set it ablaze. Smoking is a recent development. Minho doesn’t think he’s chain-smoked like this since his culinary school days, when he’d spend late nights preparing for exams and practicing his plating techniques. It’s not that the cigarettes relieve him, nor does he even care for the flavor. But he does it as a form of sacrifice. The city keeps you from him, and consequently, he’s pulled back largely from things he actually enjoys, choosing to mirror the actions of the city-dwellers. Smoking, casual sex, drinking, dressing down, hardly ever eating full meals. He’s become reduced to a product of the disdain he feels for himself, spiraling further with every cruel reminder that you’re not his.

When his car stakeout passes the three hour mark, Minho is all out of cigarettes. He’s also starving, and dying for a beer. So he pulls out of the lot, most of the spaces vacant now, anyway, and starts the painful trip back to his apartment. The streets smell like sewage with his windows rolled down, but his own car reeks like a cheap casino. With one hand hanging loosely over the door of his car, Minho speeds down the crowded streets, groaning when he’s promptly halted by a red light. Cars press their horns impatiently as nobody seems to move. Minho glances to the right of him, scanning the streets that begin to darken as night falls. And then he sees it- a dive bar. It’s a city dive bar, of course, tainted by its rustic gentrifying decor and teeming with hipsters. But he’s sure you’re in there, knowing you probably regularly finish work and hit up the nearest bar to down Diet Cokes and chicken wings. In a frantic motion, Minho puts the car in reverse, using one hand to steer as he makes an illegal u-turn. The cars around him honk angrily, shouting profanities and pulling up to fill his spot. But he crosses several lanes to reach the bar, a sense of anticipation bubbling inside him already.

The place is much fancier than Minho’s, albeit much smaller. An open bar makes up most of the dive bar itself, a sleek laminate wood finish surrounding the series of draft beer dispensers. The wall above the bar is plastered in license plates from all different regions, and the patrons around all appear to be tourists judging by the way they take photos of it. There are several bartenders working tonight, the nearest one to Minho being a heavily tattooed gentleman with bleach blonde hair.

“What can I get you?” He asks enthusiastically, holding a pen and pad in his hand. Minho’s not sure he’s ever seen a bartender write down an order for a single beer.

When the bartender makes his way to the tap, Minho sits on one of the circular red stools. They’re a little too tall for his liking, swiveling around erratically while he catches his balance and glances around at the patrons. He’s the only one alone here, standing out even more in his loose jeans and an old jersey.

“That’s $12,” the bartender says when he returns.

“Can I just run a tab?” Minho asks, scoffing internally at the steep price.

“First drink’s upfront payment,” the bartender replies, flipping a tablet around to Minho for his payment details. Minho swipes his card and confidently smashes the ‘no tip’ button, earning a little eye roll from the bartender. These bars are nothing like his back home.

When the bartender moves away to attend to another patron, Minho swivels around on his stool, scanning the bar for a sign of you. There’s not a single cup of coke on any of the tables here. Everyone’s happily sipping away at whiskeys and vermouths, their drinks clutched closely in hand as they chat about their boring lives. Minho tunes in briefly to a conversation about someone’s broken toe and sighs, wishing so badly he had you to converse with. You’d probably laugh at all of Minho’s jokes about the people here, agreeing with his presumptions of them. See him? He’s definitely compensating. That guy there needs to cool off the vodka seltzers. She’s definitely not interested in him.

As he takes a sip from his mug of beer, it suddenly catches his eye. The arcade game, tucked away in the back of the bar like a little secret. It’s neglected, probably no one around old enough to know how to operate the thing. Minho rises from his seat, making his way to the game and smiling at the sight.

It reminds him of you, the giant black display of Galaga, decorated with whimsical drawings of aliens and Galaxian Flagships. He pulls out a quarter, slotting it in the machine, because of course you have to pay at this one, and slots it in, waiting for the thing to start up.

Only it doesn’t, the game not even emitting so much as a hum from the monitor. He smacks it a few times, partly in efforts to start it up, and partly to reclaim his last quarter. But it’s a moot effort- the game is completely dead.

Minho makes his way back to the bar, frustrated at the deja vu of broken arcade games and the memories they bring back to him.

“Your game’s broken,” Minho says to the bleach blonde bartender.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. That thing’s been dead for months now.”

“I put a quarter in. Swallowed it and won’t spit it out.”

“Yeah, it does that. Sorry, man.”

“Sorry? You should be. That thing shouldn’t be down here if it isn’t working.”

The bartender narrows his eyes as he mixes another drink for a patron.

“Yeah, well, people don’t usually try it. Again, sorry man. Not really anything I can do about it.”

Minho is angry now, his ears flushed a crimson shade as he speaks, not in any mood to reason with the bartender.

“Look man, just give me my quarter. Can’t you key the machine or something?”

“We don’t have access to it. It’s from some local vendor. You’re welcome to go find a few pennies on the ground if the 25 cents means so much to you.”

“What the fuck kind of behavior is that for a bartender?”

The other patrons and bartenders have noticed now, quieting down as they watch Minho down a few more sips of his beer angrily.

“Look man, you’re gonna have to leave. I can’t have you in here acting like this.”

“I want my quarter.”

“I can’t get your quarter, dude. It’s gone. Get out before I call the police.”

“Why don’t you hire someone to fix the machine, then? There are people in the city who do that, you know. I know someone who’d get it fixed in seconds. She’d be able to get the fucking quarter out, too.”

“Call the police,” the bartender says to another, and Minho raises his hands up in surrender.

“Relax, I’m leaving.” He chugs the rest of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as the other patrons look on in shock. Nearby, a different bartender has a phone clutched in his hand, ready to dial the cops like they’d requested.

“Tell me one thing,” Minho says before turning around.

The man says nothing, eyes narrowed in fear as he waits for Minho to finish.

“You guys sell Diet Coke here?”

The bartenders look around at each other nervously, confused at the question.

“We only have Pepsi,” one chimes in.

And Minho nods, understanding.

“Take care,” Minho says, waving them off as he finally exits the bar.

“I need you to come back for a little bit,” Jeongin says into the receiver one morning. He sounds panicked, like he might break down at any moment. Minho knows he wouldn’t request this of him if it wasn't something serious.

“Okay,” Minho replies. “What happened?”

“The place was robbed last night. By a group of guys. Nobody’s hurt, but they did have a knife on them. Cleared out one of the registers.”

Minho sighs, suddenly feeling awful about being out here. What is he doing out here when the business he owns is being threatened? Even worse, putting Jeongin and the other staff at risk while he embarks on the futile task of searching for what’s already gone? There’s no good explanation for it. It’s selfish- sure, he’s finally chasing after what he wants, but it’s a selfish task nonetheless.

“I can be there this evening,” Minho says, already mentally preparing himself for the six hour drive out there. “Just close up for the day. Make sure everyone gets home safe and knows they’ll be paid for the day anyway.”

Jeongin understands, hanging up on his end of the line and closing up the bar.

As Minho tosses his cell phone aside, he looks around the apartment, sighing heavily when he observes the state of things. His stuff is still stored away in cardboard boxes, the apartment looking more like a showroom than a space lived-in by him. The walls remain bare of any form of decorations, the tiny excuse for a kitchen is void of dishes and cutlery, even his toiletries are in travel bags, like he’s ready to go home at any given moment. And he just might be, after this week’s events.

The drive home is as excruciating as he remembers it. Exiting the city means sitting in miles of traffic, alongside impatient city-dwellers who somehow voluntarily make the commute everyday for their jobs. Minho briefly wonders if you’re in the traffic, too. You’re a little impatient, he remembers, thinking about how you demanded a phone charger from him that night in the bar. Only your impatience is something he’d gladly put up with in traffic like this, probably taking the opportunity to play his favorite songs for you and listen to you talk his ear off. He sighs to himself, wishing so badly you could fill the empty leather seat next to him, currently inhabited by empty cigarette boxes and discarded takeout boxes.

Six agonizing hours later, the sun’s beginning to set as Minho pulls into the familiar parking lot of the bar. Waning beams of sunlight reflect off the old bar sign, almost luring Minho inside as the nighttime chases closely after. When he unlocks the door and makes his way inside, it’s like he never left. The red booths are vacant, the peeling vinyl of their seats still scattered across the floor like he remembers. Bottles of alcohol neatly line the shelves behind the counter, which don’t reside far from the shiny mugs and glasses inside the cabinets. Minho runs a finger over the counter, well impressed with the state of the bar since Jeongin’s taken over. It’s impeccable, almost better than it was when Minho first left.

“Minho?” A voice calls, and a figure peeks from around the corner.

It’s Jeongin, who looks different in casual wear for the day, sporting a pair of sweatpants and a simple black t-shirt. He’s wearing his signature pair of thick framed glasses, running a hand through his hair as he takes a seat on one of the barstools.

“It was this register,” he says, gesturing to the one closest to Minho. “I think it was roughly $300 in there. They all had dark jackets and I couldn’t see their faces.”

Minho nods, opening the register to investigate, and then slumps back in the stool behind the counter.

“I’ll take the remaining cash to the safe. Let’s stay closed for a few days while I file a police report. They’ll probably want to poke around in here, and I don’t want any of the patrons to panic.”

It’s Jeongin’s turn to nod, making a mental note of Minho’s instructions. After a brief pause, he speaks again.

“How’s the city?”

“The city is…the city.”

Jeongin chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

“Are you working?”

Minho nods. “Not my private chef gig. But it’s a restaurant. I have a sous chef, which helps. It’s nothing special, though.”

There’s a moment of silence as Jeongin traces the table pattern with his fingers. He wants to ask more from him- he wants to know why Minho’s out there in the first place, why he even agreed to sign co-ownership off to Jeongin when this was his bar he was so proud of for all those years. But there’s seemingly no courteous way to go about it- any which way, he feels like he’s overstepping. Minho is usually on the quieter side, only confiding in his colleagues when it’s something that affects the business.

“Minho, are you…” he begins, his voice wavering in fear that he’ll unintentionally offend.

“Have you found what you’re looking for?”

Minho is silent, and for a second, it’s hard for Jeongin to gauge his reaction. His eyes remain locked on Jeongin’s pupils, trembling in discomfort as he thinks back to you. He thinks of the city, of the bar fight, of the hours spent in a dingy parking garage and the cracks in his apartment ceiling.

Jeongin begins to take back his question, disappointed in himself he’s even chosen to utter the inquiry. But Minho finally does give an answer, albeit a vague one.

“Not yet,” he replies, swallowing nervously before continuing. “You’ll be the first to know.”

When Jeongin leaves, he takes the cozy atmosphere of the bar with him, and the place now feels colder, more unfamiliar. Minho looks out the window at the darkness that envelopes the parking lot, feeling a sense of unease in knowing he’s going to leave it all behind again. This bar needs him, it needs stability. It needs someone to look out for the people who are vulnerable to sleazy married men or robbers. As he pockets the cash to transfer to the safe, he glances at the yellow Pac-Man game, sitting proudly where it has for the past three months since its repair. Little ghosts dance along the display screen, prompting users with ‘press A to start’.

Minho simply walks past it, knowing very well there’s little joy in a game that only brings back painful reminders. He makes his way to the back office, where the red leather couch and desk still remain. The cash is deposited in the safe, and the keys in the file cabinet- third drawer from the top.

Minho feels a gravitational pull to the spare room upstairs- he knows he shouldn’t, very well aware that he’s only hurting himself by picturing you up there. But still he does. Hands shoved in his pockets, he makes his way up the creaking stairs and through the little hallway.

The room is just as suffocating as he remembers it. The same old pool table sits in the middle of the room, and at the back where the arcade game previously lived, there’s a rectangle on the carpeted floor where it once sat, contrasting a bright untouched green to the older, worn down carpet. Minho doesn’t leave the doorway; he just stands, observing the room in all its mundane appearance. His eyes remain on the spot you’d previously hoisted yourself up to sit on the pool table, and he can almost see himself looming over you, too. From this angle, it doesn’t feel like it ever happened. It plays more like a cheap movie where a famous scene was shot. Like a figment of his imagination.

Have you found what you’re looking for?

He hasn’t, not yet. But seeing the potential of this old room, in the bar he owns, Minho knows it’s finally time to stop searching.

Back in the city, Minho’s days are numbered by the countdown. Two days until he’ll leave all this behind, for good this time.

The kitchen is busier than normal on this gloomy Thursday, more staff than usual working floor while others make trips up to hotel rooms for delivery.

Minho drizzles pans with olive oil in between plating a shrimp scampi, tonight’s special. The air is thick and fragrant with seafood and Parmesan cheese.

“I need a lava cake for room 302!” Seungmin exclaims to Minho in a rushed tone.

“On the cart by the door. Second row.”

Cooks work diligently in their respective areas, and Minho wipes his brow with the back of his sleeve. It’s a stressful role, no doubt, but he still feels a sense of sadness knowing he won’t be back to cooking like this once he’s back in town. He tries to mentally prepare himself for days of mixers and signature cocktails again.

“Minho, get out of here and go take a lunch,” Seungmin says as he reappears from behind the door. “That way the schedule doesn’t rearrange.”

Seungmin is a blunt sous chef, but he’s dedicated to his work. Minho knows he’ll have no problem working his way up to a head chef role one day. He appreciates his attention to detail and ability to work with difficult patrons, and he’d certainly entertain the idea of bringing him to work at the bar back home if he liked.

“On it,” Minho says, already pulling off his apron.

“Oh, and can you bring a Diet Coke to table 6 out there? I brought regular on accident.”

“Yup,” he says plainly, grabbing a clear glass from the clean stack and filling it at the fountain.

Minho thinks back to his apartment- this might be his last day at work, but he still has a generous amount of packing to do when he gets home. He’s relieved he kept most of his stuff in boxes, or else he’d easily be stuck here another week.

Minho counts boxes in his head, balancing the glass in one hand and his apron in another as he exits the kitchen to the seating area. He’s seldom out here, only really passing through when he gets in for the day. But he’s not in charge of serving guests, and the whole thing suddenly feels a little uncomfortable to him. Quiet jazz music plays overhead as tables fill the room with noise of their conversations, everyone dressed up with legs crossed neatly under white tablecloths.

Minho looks around frantically as beads of condensation on the glass wet his hand- where the hell is table 6?

A family sits at the back, every member paired with their drink of choice. An older couple sits closer to Minho, two cups of coffee steaming in front of them.

And by the window, two women deep in conversation- one of them passionately sharing tales of work or perhaps a lover.

And the other one, you.

Minho thinks he’s hallucinating for a moment, when he first observes you sitting there. You’re nodding as the other woman talks, a smile pulling on your face as she exaggeratedly makes a hand motion during her story. You’re not dressed like the other city-dwellers here, looking starkly more beautiful in a sweater and a pair of jeans. You’re the only one in here wearing jeans, aside from Minho. He smiles when he takes notice.

Another server passes Minho in a rush, shoving by him with a tray of food in hand.

“Oh sorry,” he says, eyeing him a little confused. “Did you want me to take that? I know you’re on lunch.”

Minho grips the coke firmly in his hand, shaking his head almost immediately. He’s never refused something so fast in his life before.

“No, I got it,” he says, finally taking the first step toward your table.

Minho glances down at his appearance briefly, fixing the collar of his shirt as he approaches you. He’s a little more dressed up for his last day here, a pastel blue button-up tucked into his jeans, his now long hair parted down the middle. He wishes he could tuck back into the bathroom and see himself more clearly, but he knows he’ll lose you if he doesn’t make his move now.

Minho’s thought of this moment so many times, replayed the conversation in his head like a speech he’s been waiting to give. He wants to proclaim his adoration for you, giving you a romantic explanation of how he’s searched for you all these months and never stopped thinking of you. And in an ideal scenario, you’d say the same, kissing him in front of all the restaurant-goers here and leaving back to town with him to live happily ever after.

But he’s never considered the idea of a friend being present. Or being crunched for time on a 30-minute lunch break. It’s all happening so fast, and his head spins with anxiety as he approaches you.

You’re still in conversation when he sets your Diet Coke down at the table a little too hard, hoping to get your attention. You don’t so much as look his way as he does, and he lingers by your table for a moment as he thinks.

“Do you need a straw?” Minho asks, eyes darting over your face briefly. Your hair is a little longer, too, but you look the same. He’s sure you’re not a hallucination.

“No thank you,” you say, finally glancing over at him to give a small nod.

And just like he’s lost for more words, you seem to be too, lips parting slightly as you keep your gaze fixed on his.

“Thank you for lunch,” you say to your colleague at the end of the meal, who’s been passionately talking about her recent project at work for the last hour.

You tuned her out after the first 15 minutes, being completely awestruck when the server delivered your requested Diet Coke to your table.

Either the brain fog from work is finally starting to catch up with you, or you’re simply too tired. But the server looks exactly like Lee Minho, the bartender you slept with a few months ago. Normally, you’d tuck away and hide at the sight of running into a hookup again. But Minho wasn’t just a hookup to you.

He’s lingered amongst your thoughts for the better part of those three months, the polite action of protecting you from sleeping with a married man and letting you seek shelter in the storm remaining some of the nicest things someone’s ever done for you.

He wasn’t just a hookup, not with the way he spoke of his hopes and dreams and asked about all of yours. And then he fucked you like a husband, the feeling you got from him bending you over the pool table like that still sending chills down your spine.

Your colleague pulls her scarf and coat on, nodding as she gestures to the door. The lunch rush has died down by now, and most of the tables are vacant as the streets bustle with people returning to work.

“I’m gonna grab a meal to-go,” you tell her. “I’ll meet you back at the office. Thank you again for lunch!”

Fortunately for you, she doesn’t question it, leaving you to order as she heads back to the office.

Minho is nowhere to be seen, only one server present on the floor as it’s more empty now.

“Can I help you?” A voice asks, and you’re met with the warm smile of the singular server.

“I… I wanted to give my compliments to the chef,” you say, sounding a little unsure of yourself.

“I’ll be sure to do that, thank you very much,” he replies, bowing when he finishes.

“I meant my personal thanks,” you clarify, and he furrows his brows in response.

“Uh… sure, I can ask him. Do you know if it was the head chef?”

“His name’s Lee Minho,” you say with a smile. “He’s probably the head chef.”

Minho’s sous chef runs his kitchen like the navy, you quickly learn, as he ushers for you to leave soon after Minho exits the kitchen due to the impending dinner rush.

There’s no time to catch up with him, only being able to utter a short “thanks for the meal,” as he waits for you to speak.

But he recognizes you, his gaze staying on yours a little too long as he nervously bows.

“Y/n,” he says in response, the action saying nothing and yet so much at the same time.

And you smile back at him, relieved he still remembers.

As Seungmin calls for him a second time, you pull a pen from the pocket of his apron, scribbling your address on a napkin from one of the tables.

He nods back at you, napkin clutched in hand, as he makes his way back to the kitchen.

And for a brief moment, neither of you can make out the implications of the action. An invitation for sex? A date to catch up? The details are blurry to both of you. But you hope he shows, and Minho already knows he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

As you fix your hair in front of the mirror that evening, memories of Minho play in your mind like they did after the night you spent together. You know you had to leave- it wasn’t something you decided lightly, but you and him are fated for different things. And who are you to intervene where the stars align? Minho deserves someone who will be available for him, someone uncomplicated and willing to inhabit the place he loves so dearly.

You, on the other hand, have a historical bad run with men, and so pursuing Minho would be uncharacteristic. But also unfair to him. It’s clear from that night that your worst traits will always remain the most significant parts of you- impatience, judgment and naivety. And while Minho comes off as curt, he’s anything but. He’s too good for you. You’re just a byproduct of this city- everything he despises. It would be over before it even started.

Minho shows at exactly a quarter to nine, knocking twice at the door as he waits out in the hallway for you.

When you unlatch the door, he perks up from nervously staring at the carpeted floor, adjusting his collar and clearing his throat. He looks more casual than you’ve probably ever seen him before, in a striped gray and black top, layered with a black collared shirt and dark ripped jeans. He also looks particularly handsome tonight, but also different, noticeably thinner in his face where his cheekbones protrude generously, his hair a little longer now.

“Hi,” Minho says plainly, his gaze fixated on yours in an almost trance-like state.

“Hi,” you reply, unsure of where to start. “Come in, please.”

You step aside, ushering him into your apartment and shutting the door behind you both. Minho looks around, impressed with the state of your apartment in comparison with his. There are cherry wood bookshelves lining the walls, filled top to bottom with stacks of old novels and textbooks. Colorful modern paintings decorate the walls, which are admittedly much taller than his own, and cozy lighting fills every room in the space.

Minho bows a little, handing you a bottle, and you smile in amusement as you scan the contents. A single liter of Diet Coke.

“You remembered,” you say, endeared by the simple action.

“So you don’t waste your calories,” he replies with a small smile, echoing the statement you told him so many months ago.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” you tell him. Minho takes note of the shakiness in your voice, a little relieved that you seem to be as nervous as he is. It’s certainly not a matter of picking up where you left off when you both have your walls up like this, but he prefers the silence to your absence any day.

You disappear into the kitchen, pouring both of you glasses of Diet Coke as Minho settles on the edge of the couch. He folds his hands in his lap and blinks nervously, trying so hard to remember everything he’s wanted to confess to you since returning here. But in this proximity to you, in your own home, everything suddenly seems like a bad idea. He feels dramatic, overbearing, trying to make sense of this. Maybe he shouldn’t have come.

When you return, Minho takes a deep breath, quietly thanking you for the beverage when you place it on the coffee table in front of him. And then as he feared, a silence washes over both of you.

You take a sip of your coke, waiting for him to speak, and similarly, he waits for you. You’d forgotten, briefly. That Minho is inherently a quiet guy. It’d been you who brought his walls down, challenged him to a game of pool and even instigated the argument when he told Jisung to leave the bar. As he blinks at you a few times, you realize it may be his way of asking you to do it again, to help him feel comfortable again.

“Your Italian food is on par with your chicken wings,” you say to him, finally breaking the silence. “Think you need to add shrimp scampi to your bar menu.”

Minho smiles, and the whole room seems to brighten up when he does. His eyes turn to little crescents, his grin flashing you the skewed front teeth you were so endeared by when you first met him. His presence feels like the bar did- safe, familiar.

“It’s not my best work,” he replies. “It’s just a temporary job. But I do have a sous chef here, which is a plus.”

“The one with the nice smile? I know, he almost kicked me out for asking to see you. He’s very deceiving.”

You and Minho share laughter, recalling how Seungmin yelled at you several times at the restaurant today. When your laughter dies down, he swallows nervously, unsure of how to proceed.

“Thanks for… giving your compliments today,” he says. He really wants to say ‘thank you for seeing me again’.

“I knew I recognized you,” you say back to him. “I was surprised to see you here in the city. I guess I just wanted some confirmation it was really you.”

“It’s me,” Minho says sheepishly. You smile at him, feeling a little sorry at the way his tone sounds so unsure.

“What are you doing in the city, anyway?” You ask.

Minho isn’t sure what to say. In an alternate timeline, he’d like to tell you he came for you. But he knows he’ll come off as a creep, and the last thing he wants is to lose you again.

“Just wanted a break from the suburbs,” he settles on saying.

“Do you like it?”

He toys with a frayed hem on the throw pillow beside him, shaking his head a little hesitantly.

“If I say no, you’ll think less of me.”

He regrets the words as soon as they leave his lips, not wanting you to think he came here for you to pity him. In fact, the reality is quite the opposite.

“I would never think less of you,” you assure him with a gentle smile. “You’re allowed to have your opinions.”

Minho nods, not entertaining the subject anymore.

“How’s the bar?”

“It’s okay,” Minho says, sighing a little as he thinks back to recent events. “It was robbed just the other night.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you say to him with widened eyes. “Is everyone… okay?”

“Everyone’s okay,” he affirms. “Just lost some money. I’m working with the police on it, so hopefully we’ll have someone arrested if we’re lucky.”

You nod at his words, feeling disheartened at the mention of the robbery. Although you’re not particularly fond of the suburbs, the bar is a sacred space for you, and knowing he and the staff were put in that situation makes you uneasy.

“How’s work?” Minho asks, and you chuckle at the question.

“Nothing special. I did get a promotion last month, but I’m only making a few dollars more than I was last time we met. Nothing to write home about.”

“We’ll congratulations anyway,” Minho says, raising his glass of Diet Coke. “Well deserved.”

“Thank you,” you say, clinking your glass against his and letting the cool carbonated beverage soothe the nerves still present in your demeanor.

“Oh, you’ll never believe it! I ran into Jisung out here,” you say to Minho with a scoff. “He tried to pursue me again, the bastard. I’m pretty sure he was even wearing a wedding ring this time. I had to tell him I found out he was married on-”

“On Google,” Minho finishes your sentence. “He told me.”

“You saw him too?”

“Yeah, just the other day. He’s just as obnoxious as he was three months ago.”

You smile at Minho, briefly reminded of the way you were able to bond with him as a result of Jisung’s antics.

“I never got to say thank you,” you say a little quietly, averting his gaze. “For that night. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you there to help me.”

He looks down, pondering your words for a moment.

“You left without saying goodbye.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to. Trust me. But I figured…” your voice trails off, trying desperately to decipher how to word your sentiment politely.

“Figured what?” He says, looking back up at you. His eyes tremble a little in anticipation for your reply.

“I figured we’re just different people.”

Minho nods, pursing his lips together as he replays your words.

“And by that you mean that you’re a successful member of the city, and I’m just a bartender.”

Your face drops at his words, suddenly panicked that he’s come here because he’s angry at you. You would never think less of him for being a bartender- hell, you wouldn’t even think less of him if he was unemployed. You’re not sure you could think less of him if you tried.

“That’s not what I mean. And you know that.”

Minho narrows his eyes a little, challenging you.

“Then what do you mean?”

“I mean,” you begin, sighing before continuing to speak. “That I’m everything you despise. I let people down. I’m not inherently a good person, the way you are. You know how I stormed in there demanding a phone charger? Fighting you at the bar because you wouldn’t let me sleep with a married man? That’s the kind of person I am. I’m impatient, and naive and I’m nothing like the girls you’re used to.”

“How do you know what I’m used to?”

“Come on, Minho,” you say, and the conversation finally begins to sound a little more natural between the two of you. “You said it yourself- I’ve never lived without the notion of wanting to migrate as soon as possible. Who’s to say that doesn’t apply to people, too?”

“You’re nothing like you say you are,” Minho interrupts, and you can feel yourself getting frustrated at his words.

“How would you know that? Because you slept with me in a bar? I’m not this dream girl you think I am, Minho. I was looking out for you. You deserve better.”

Minho says nothing for a moment, swirling Coke around in his cup and watching the bubbles fizzle away as they hit the rim of the glass. He shakes his head a little to himself, and then he begins to speak again.

“You want to know why I came out here again?”

You remain silent, already knowing what he’s going to say. But to your surprise, his answer is a little more complex.

“I came out here because I wanted to. I wanted to work as a chef again. I wanted new colleagues, I wanted a different view and I was tired of being stuck in that little bar.”

You don’t reply to his statement, waiting for him to continue.

“And do you know why finding you was something I held onto so dearly?”

“Why?” You ask, the question coming out in a shaky tone. He takes a deep breath before he answers.

“I wanted to thank you. I wanted to tell you all about it. To tell you that you were right- sometimes, simple isn’t better. Sometimes you have to go back and make amends before you can move forward again. I wouldn’t have done any of this if someone really cool didn’t walk into my bar and make it clear to me. I guess part of me just hoped you were changed by it, too.”

Your expression softens at his words, feeling awful for the way this conversation has gone so far. It’s not your intention to hurt him- in fact, you feel particularly protective of Minho.

“I came looking for you, too,” you say after a moment of silence, and Minho perks up at your words.

“You did?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “I visited your bar. Twice since that night. I asked for you both times. The guy said you weren’t there anymore. I think after the second time, I took it as a sign to stop trying.”

“Jeongin?” Minho says, furrowing his brows together in visible confusion.

“He was blonde, a little small. Freckles.”

“Felix,” Minho says, chuckling lightly. “He’s a new hire. Jeongin would’ve told you differently. I have co-ownership with him now.”

You nod, folding your hands in your lap.

“I was changed by it,” you say, finally letting your gaze meet his. “I never stopped thinking about you. But it scares me. In so many ways, you’re everything I tried to run from when I left the suburbs. I don’t think I was ever good enough for any of it- all I cared about was money, and my work and finding an apartment with a nice enough view of the city. I didn’t care about the memories I made there, or that there’s genuinely good people. I didn’t even visit my parents very often. You reminded me that there’s more to it than just that. There’s more to the past than its negative aspects. So thank you, too.”

Minho is quiet for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts of what to do- how to keep you around. But in this moment, it’s clear to him- he has to let you go. He said what he had to say. He’s done the search, all three months of it, and he found you. He validated his own emotions and made sense of yours- you were just as changed by it as he was. But maybe that’s enough- perhaps the rest is just wishful thinking.

“Looks like we felt the same about it, then,” he says with a small smile, sitting up from the sofa and making his way to peer out the large glass window in your living room.

“And by the way, you definitely succeeded with the view out here. Mine’s just a brick wall.”

You chuckle, making your way over to the window and standing next to him to take in the view, too.

“It’s nice, right? All of the east side is visible from up here.”

“See that down there?” Minho points. “Visited that dive bar the other day. It sucks if you’re wondering.”

“CJ’s? Yeah, it’s kind of a shithole. They don’t even serve Diet Coke.”

Minho chuckles lightly, a little sadness evident in his tone.

“You know, maybe if you swung by and fixed their little arcade game, they’d supply you some. Probably something to do with all the ABC’s.”

“The what?” You query, furrowing your brows together and chuckling as he speaks.

“The little gidgets inside. You know, with the pins.”

You pause to think for a moment, mentally mapping out the circuit inside.

“The EPROMs,” you say finally.

Minho feels his breath hitch in his throat as you utter the acronym. It sounds so unfamiliar, and yet so familiar to him at the same time. He suddenly remembers that night, in the spare room, hearing you say it for the first time.

“The what?” He replies gently, not removing his gaze from the window.

“The EPROMs,” you clarify, a little louder this time.

“Say it again,” Minho breathes, a small smile painted on his face now.

“EPROMs?” You question, turning to face him, visibly confused.

“Yeah, those. What’s it stand for, anyway?” Minho finally asks, turning to face you. You face him, too, endeared by the curiosity he’s displayed for that game repair since the first night you met.

“Erasable programmable read-only memory,” you explain, aware of how close he is in proximity to you now. His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back up again, his plump lips pulling into a knowing smile as you speak. He knows he’s wandering into dangerous territory now, but he can’t help it- not when it’s you who makes him feel like this.

“God, it sounds so sexy when you say it,” Minho says sheepishly.

And he knows he shouldn’t entertain it- he’s well aware that his intention is to walk out of here and get on with his life, comfortable with the knowledge that you’d sought him out, too. But he can’t help himself when you’re this close to him, talking circuit repair so intelligently and erotically.

So without another question to stutter, or a fight to be had, he closes the gap between you two, pressing his lips onto yours and kissing you one last time.

You don’t protest the action, instantly tangling your hands in his tresses and reciprocating with the same hungry, passionate kisses he delivers. Maybe it’s the long hair, or the ripped jeans, but part of you also wonders if he’s been dying to kiss you tonight as badly as you’ve been craving him. The flavor is reminiscent of the bar to you, on that pool table like the first time you kissed him. He tastes like mint, enveloping your tongue with hints of Diet Coke while he nibbles on your bottom lip between kisses.

Without any sort of end goal in mind, your hands snake down to his collared shirt, which you tug on hungrily, and then begin to push off his torso. Minho smiles into the kiss, reaffirmed that you want him just the same, and he pulls away momentarily to complete the task of pulling off his button down.

Underneath, his striped t-shirt is cut off generously at the shoulders, completely exposing his arms to you. You almost gasp at the sight of his toned arms jutting out, veins running along his forearms and flexing with each movement. Minho chuckles softly when he takes notice, amused at your reaction.

When his button down shirt is fully off, he kisses you again, hands finding their way to your waist as he pushes himself against you, desperate to feel you against him. You walk backwards, cupping his face between your hands and leading him toward your bedroom.

For a fleeting moment, you’re nervous to take it any further than this, the last person you slept with being Minho himself. You can’t remember which undergarments you wore, or what your bedroom decor looks like to anyone except yourself. But Minho’s kisses shut you up, his lips moving against yours with desire and passion, and you don’t want to do anything except this, right here.

When you’ve made it to the bed, you pull away, crossing your arms over your torso and pulling your sweater off over your head. You’re in a lacy black bra, you realize, because of course you thought to dress for him. Minho blinks a few times, crossing his own arms over his torso and finally pulling his shirt over his head.

It’s then that you realize you’ve never seen Minho without his shirt before- he wore that white button down in the bar, only allowing you to see a generous amount of his collarbones. But standing in front of you like this, he’s breathtaking, his toned torso and his sharp collar bones complementing his sculpted thighs and arms so perfectly.

When he takes notice of you staring at him, one hand flies down to his mid-torso, where he spreads a palm out over the skin, seemingly in an attempt to cover something. You take one step forward, gently placing a hand over his and moving it so that his torso is exposed again. And across his tanned skin, a pale pink scar catches your eye, not very noticeable from your previous distance, but definitely perceptible when you observe his body long enough.

“Minho,” you coo, running your hand along the scar and tracing it with your fingertips. “You’re beautiful,” you say to him after a moment, smiling up at him sincerely.

Minho’s heart almost stops in its place, overwhelmed with his emotions for you, to be here with you, the desire to make love to you eating away at his mind like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

And if it is, he’d die a happy man.

His lips crash against yours again, hands snaking down to your jeans, where he unbuttons them, your hands meeting his to help pull them down. While you take over, he unbuckles his belt, snaking the leather out from around his waist and undoing his buttons. It’s then that he pushes you gently against the bed, hoisting your legs up so that you’re at a comfortable angle, finally propping himself above you and working kisses down your neck. He nibbles your flesh between his teeth the way he did before, beginning to work purple bruises around your throat. And you let him, without protest, because you’re desperate for a reminder that he’s here, that he’s yours. Minho smiles against your neck when he feels you moan softly at the sensation, satisfied with the way you melt at his touch.

“Minho,” you call, and he brings his lips to press a chaste kiss to yours again.

“What is it, baby?” He coos gently, pressing a series of kisses to your lips before you speak again.

“I never should have left,” you reply, toying with a strand of his hair around your fingers in a pleading manner. Your chest is heavy with guilt, tears almost pricking at your eyes as he looms over you like this.

He chuckles softly, kissing you for a moment before grazing his lips over yours again, speaking just above a whisper.

“I’m here,” he says. “I’m right where you left me.”

And it’s your turn to kiss him, crashing your lips against his again as tears fall from the corners of your eyes. Minho takes notice when the salty taste of them dance along his tongue, kissing them back up your face and holding you a little closer to him. His hands wrap around the small of your back to find the clasp of your bra, skillfully undoing it with one hand and pulling away from you to discard it on the floor. It’s Minho’s turn to stare, running one hand down your clavicles until he’s grazing your nipples with his fingers.

You feel your breath hitch in your throat with anticipation, before he finally dips his middle finger down over one of your hardened nipples, earning a stifled gasp from you. He works little circles over your nipple with one finger, the gentle stimulation making you gasp into his mouth as he kisses you again.

And then he moves back to your neck, kissing over the bruises he sucked into your flesh, trailing lower and lower until he’s just above your breasts. You look down at him with bated breath, almost clenching at the way his lips exhale little breaths against your nipples, making them even harder. With his eyes on yours, he finally lowers himself, latching both lips around your breast and sucking.

Your back arches up into him instinctively, the feeling of his teeth grazing your skin sending divine shivers up your spine. In a sudden motion, his tongue swirls around your bud, the cold sensation causing you to moan fervently. He smiles with your flesh between his teeth, while your hands tangle themselves in his hair and massage him encouragingly.

It feels so primal, so natural to have his mouth all over you, your legs pressing together to calm the ache between your legs. He takes his time on one breast, only coming up to press a kiss in the valley of your breasts and then moving to give attention to the other one. You could stay here for hours, like this, if it wasn’t for the pulsing reminder in your groin that you want to feel him inside of you.

“Please,” you say gently, pressing your legs together and squeezing in efforts to relieve yourself.

Minho chuckles softly, letting go from your nipple with a gentle sucking sound, a string of spit hanging from his lips as he looks up at you with hooded eyes.

“I want to feel you inside me again,” you admit shyly, tenderly running your nails along the back of his neck. Minho’s lips meet yours again, and his hands quickly find their way to the hem of your underwear, sliding them down and pulling away to discard them on the floor.

He’s promptly reminded of how needy and vocal you are, smiling down at you as you pull his face back to yours and swirl your tongue around his. But truth be told, he’s just as needy as you are, equally reminded of how much he’s touched himself to the thought of this and secretly prayed he’d be able to make love to you again. And now here, his lips on yours, it’s finally happening, his rock-hard erection proof that it’s always been you.

As you arch up into him, one leg wrapping around his to push him even closer against you, your hand snakes down to his erection, palming him through his boxers. Minho groans at the contact, his lips parting a little as he winces in pleasure.

“You’re so hard,” you say with a smile, pleased at his evidently equal desperation for you.

“All for you,” Minho replies, running one hand down your stomach to rub little circles on your clit, causing you to moan in pleasure.

“Ah- fuck,” you breathe out, contorting against him, desperate for him to fill you up. “Please, Minho, want to feel you inside me,” you pant against him, pleading for the second time now.

He remains like that for a moment, working little circles onto your clit as he observes the way your eyebrows arch up in pleasure.

“Want me to fill you up?” He asks, cocking his head with yours as you grasp his forearm.

“Yes, please,” you reply, trying your best to stave off your orgasm until he’s inside of you.

And without teasing you any further, Minho pulls away from you to slide off his boxers, his cock springing up against his abdomen in anticipation for you. You prop yourself up on your elbows, in awe at the sight as he tosses his boxers aside and leans down to kiss you again.

“Lay down,” Minho orders sweetly, and you do as you’re told, exhaling once to calm your steadily beating pulse.

“Is this still okay?” Minho asks, caressing your shoulder with concern as you wait for his next move.

“Yes,” you say, giving a half smile to him when he rubs his thumb along your cheek lovingly. He smiles back at you, giving one small peck to your lips before hoisting himself up and wrapping one hand around his cock.

You watch as Minho wraps his slender fingers around the base of his cock, pumping a few times before leaning down to kiss you tenderly. The sensation causes him to breathe a few gasps into your mouth, Minho also trying his best to stave his release until he’s inside of you.

“Gonna put it in now, okay?” He asks, breaking away to part your thighs. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

But you don’t- not when you’re this wet for him, this desperate to finally feel him fill you up again, like you’ve fantasized for so long.

A strand of his hair falls into his face as he finally guides his cock inside of you, rubbing your clit as he thrusts in fully and bottoms out. You gasp at his size, almost having forgotten just how thick he is, the stretch making your head spin with pleasure. When he gauges your reaction, he begins to move with you slowly, giving gentle thrusts while you wrap your arms around his back.

The bed creaks as he moves in and out of your sopping pussy, emitting lewd sloshing sounds as he leans down to kiss you, your tongues and mouths doing much of the same. You can hardly kiss him back, your lips already dribbling strings of drool in fucked-out satisfaction from him filling you up like this.

“Fuck… baby… you’re so tight,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure.

“Feels so good,” you breathe back, gripping his shoulder a little bit when he picks up his pace. “No one fucks me the way you do,” you say to him, and his cock twitches inside of you at the admission.

“Fuck,” Minho says again. “I dreamt of you for so long,”

“Me too,” you say, reaching up to move a stray piece of hair out from in front of his eyes between your heavy breathing. “I wish I came looking for you again. God, I wasted so much time.”

Minho kisses you, burying his lips in the crook of your neck to caress the bruises he’s already left.

“I never stopped searching for you,” he breathes out against your skin. “It’s you, it’s always been you.”

His words make your heart flutter as he continues to thrust in and out of you, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust now. Your moans get louder as he picks up the pace, digging his nails into your waist as he holds you in place. Between kisses, he caresses your thigh with his hand, positioning it up and bending your leg at the knee beside him. You moan instantly at the new angle, his length caressing every inch of your pussy, his girth stretching you out with every thrust inside of you and tickling your pulsing clit as he moves against your hips.

“Good girl,” Minho says, smiling against you as he kisses you. “Take me so well.”

Your nails dig into his back as he thrusts a little faster now, the rhythmic motion sending shivers up your spine.

“I’m close,” you breathe out, and judging by the way Minho’s cock twitches inside of you, he is too.

“Will you do that thing again?” You ask in a shaky voice between moans, and Minho lets out a breathy chuckle.

“What thing, baby?”

But he knows very well what you’re referring to, having replayed it in his head every time he got off without you. You don’t respond to him, instead intertwining his hand in yours and bringing it down to your abdomen, where you sprawl his palm across your navel and give it a little push. Minho groans at the feeling of your warm abdomen under his palm, remembering the way you reacted last time. And he’s eager to please you, to do it exactly how you liked it before.

Without teasing you any further, Minho presses down on your stomach, observing the way you moan when he does, and then thrusts a little faster. He can feel his length sliding in and out of you under his touch, locking his gaze on the bulge in your abdomen that appears with every thrust.

“Min, I’m so close,” you say, gasping desperately and digging your nails into his back.

He presses down a little harder, burying his face in the crook of your neck and moving even faster, moaning every time he can feel himself move against your abdomen.

And as he brings his lips up to meet yours, you finally let go around him, making a mess of your sheets as you cum around his cock, your clit pulsing in syncopation with your entrance as he fucks you through your orgasm. Minho finishes just seconds after, emptying his milky white release inside of you, both your juices spilling into each other and coating the bed in your arousal. He doesn’t pull out immediately, slowing his thrusts for a few minutes as he kisses you much gentler this time, your lips still glistening with the exchange of saliva.

When he feels you shiver against him, Minho finally slides out, turning over to lay on his back and catch his breath. The two of you remain like that for a few minutes, catching your breath and wiping beads of sweat off your forehead as you do. After a moment of silence, he turns to you again, a worried expression on his face.

“I promise I didn’t come here to have sex with you,” Minho says. “I wasn’t lying about wanting to tell you all about it. I guess I just happened to-”

“Min, I know,” you say with a small smile. “I didn’t think that’s why you came here.”

He lets out a silent chuckle, and you mirror the action, smiling back at him before laughing silently. The two of you remain sore and wearied, your languid bodies a comfortable distance away from each other on the soiled duvet.

Still, Minho extends a hand out from beside you, palm facing up and shifting his gaze onto yours out of his peripheral vision.

Your hand meets his, intertwining your fingers together, the delicate embrace a reminder that he’s here, right where you left him.

“Can’t you just stay another week?” you say to Minho, leaning down to press another kiss to his already swollen lips.

You lie on top of him as he lays back on your couch, his hands tucking strands of hair behind your ear as he smiles up at you.

“It’s just for a little bit, I promise. I just have some unfinished business out there.”

“I don’t want to lose you again,” you say in a whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your fingertip.

“You won’t lose me,” Minho replies, his tone turning serious at your words. “You’ll never lose me.”

“What am I going to do without you?” You ask him, feeling yourself grow increasingly more panicked at the thought of being away from him again. You’ve spent the better part of three months searching for each other, desperate for some closure to this fleeting thing- and now he’s leaving, and you can’t help but feel like you’re doing something wrong by letting him leave like this.

“You’re going to be the woman you always have been,” Minho says with a smile, stroking your hair gently. “You’re going to work your job, and fix things and be absolutely remarkable wherever you go. And I’m going to finalize a few things out there and then meet you right back here in the city. And we’ll lie on this couch, and we’ll pick up right where we left off.”

You smile at him through pricking tears, feeling them begin to fall as he reaches a thumb up to wipe them off your cheek.

“Hey,” Minho says to you reassuringly. “You know- I was thinking a lot about the bar.”

You nod at him, trying to hold back the rest of your tears as he speaks.

“We have contract negotiations coming up next month. And I was thinking of… maybe…handing it off to Jeongin.”

You sit up a little, eyes widening at his words.

“Complete ownership? But you love that bar, Min.”

He shrugs a little, blinking a few times as he pauses.

“I want to cook. And I think being out here made me realize I need a change of pace again.”

“You mean like… moving out here? To the city?”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, throwing his head back a little before meeting your gaze again.

“Maybe. Just something I’ve been thinking about.”

You chuckle too now, cupping his face in your hands as you sit up to look at him.

“You know,” you begin, thinking for a second before continuing to speak. “This really cool bartender told me once that sometimes you have to go back and make amends before you can move forward again.”

His lips flicker down to your smile and back up to your eyes as you speak, a visible sparkle in your pupils as you look down at him. “Whatever you decide to do back there, I’m here with you when you go forward again. As a bartender, or a chef, or whatever you decide. I’ll be right where you left me.”

And he doesn’t have to ask you twice, knowing in his heart, you’re already here with him- every step of the way.

Minho leaves bright and early that morning, grasping your hand firmly in his as you make your way down the concrete steps of your apartment building to where his car is parked.

He looks more angelic than you’ve ever seen him, his smile illuminating the space around you as he holds you in his gentle embrace on the sidewalk. The two of you say nothing, only speaking through the tender touches of your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, face tucked in the crook of his neck as he holds you. He presses kisses to the top of your head, reminding you through hushed whispers that he’ll be back as soon as possible. And you know he will, feeling completely enveloped in his loving trust as he holds you, as he promises not to lose you again.

When he pulls away to look into your eyes, tears prick at the corners of your eyes for the third time this morning, and Minho chuckles lightly, reaching up to wipe them away with his thumb.

Before he can say anything, he feels it, finally.

The gentle caress of droplets on his face- not your tears, not his, but the sky above, showering you with little raindrops for the first time in three months and some days.

At first, Minho thinks he might be hallucinating it, when he looks up to squint his eyes back at the cloudy sky. You do the same, feeling the familiar kiss of raindrops on your skin. And then, as if the sky’s taking notice, it begins to pour, warm rain showering you both in the hazy atmosphere of the city sidewalk.

Minho laughs up at the sky, shaking his now damp hair as he looks down at you again. All this time he’s waited for the rain, thinking maybe he’d imagined it that night in the bar- the same night he ran into you. But as the raindrops graze his skin and glisten under the light of the city, he realizes it was very much real, as are you, standing right here in his arms. And like everything falls into place, so does the rain over the city, washing away the doubts he held onto for so long.

“It’s finally raining!” Minho exclaims, holding you closer to him as he tilts his face up to the sky again.

You watch him in admiration, laughing at the way he embraces the sudden downpour, also remembering the first night you met him because of the storm like this.

The city-dwellers around you begin to seek shelter under the cement roofs of the high rises, but you remain there on the sidewalk, warm in each other's embraces, content with the sudden turn of the weather. When he looks back down at you, his hair is now completely soaked, stringy pieces falling into his face as he continues to laugh.

“Minho,” you say through gentle laughter of your own. The rain comes down violently now, drenching the two of you as he holds you closer to him.

“Where have you been all my life?”

And he smiles down at you, the familiar beam of his giggle instilling the same safety and comfort as the first night you met in his bar.

“Right here,” Minho replies, leaning in to kiss you again.

“I’ve always been here.”

This time, you make no effort to escape the rain, comfortable in the way it looms over the city, much like how Minho looms over you- fortuitous, and with promises of new beginnings.

#skz smut #Lee know #Lee know smut #Lee know fic #stray kids hard hours #skz #stray kids #skz scenarios #stray kids x you #Lee minho #lee know scenarios #Lee know x reader #fanfic #smut #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #Spotify

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channelinglament · 1 year

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Aeon of Unity.....the first aeon....they were there since the beginning they gave life to all and showed every life they created love and protection but when a threat known as honkai arrived they gave there life to seal it away in another world unknowingly becoming the object of its obsession now millions of years later you've returned and your already showing your creations that love and protection they missed oh so dearly but it seems your divine power has weakened so it's only natural your creations offer some hell right

Low on credits not anymore cause Asta, herta and Himeko have generously donated millions to your mailbox

Not enough resin to continue farming calyx for material's don't worry gepard and bronya have already sent the silvermaine guards to farm as many supplies as you need

Simulated universe giving you trouble well guess what now you can pick 2 paths and you get a bonus curio named [Divinity derived from unification] that buffs all characters depending on how devoted they are to you (you one shot gepard twice with Serval)

Even though they've given you all there love and you give it back 100 fold they still hear you speak of other worlds.....what are honkai, what's a archon and why does the broken claymore in herta's collection give himeko an uneasy feeling and make yoy cry the first time you saw it while saying "your sorry"........they may never know that your loved by not just them but beings of elemental and universal divinity.....maybe one day you'll meet all of them you are the great unifier after all

WOWIE

This is a big brain moment here

This is amazing

Also I think I accidentally altered it a bit- while I was writing- I was rereading it and just noticed that, so I am sorry 🙇

You had all three games installed. You played all of them. Everytime you saw a reference to the previous game, you either squealed of happiness, either cried if sadness.

They all saw you as their Aeon. Aeon of Unity. At some point it is true, as they exist ONLY on your device. Only on your account. Nowhere else. Whatever you do with them, will be there permanently. You can kill them, by deleting your game. You have all 3 games. All the universes. You "unite" them all. So, in a way, what they call you is not a lie.

You gave them life when you downloaded the game.

When you first installed Honkai Impact, you didn't expect Honkai to do...all that. Then you payed Genshin. All that amde you feel sad. Considering they all are alive (well...not exactly-) you can't help but feel sympathy towards them.

You gave them your everything, your love and affection. You did truly love them. At some point, you couldn't continue helping them out. No matter what you do, new "bosses" and enemies get in. They get injured, they die, they revive, and the cycle continues. No. That's not what you want. You want them to be free. To be happy..

So you did what you thought was best. You decided to free them from this "nightmare".

You deleted this games

You did regret it, you felt bad, but.. You reassured yourself that it was for the better.

Plus, now that they're.."dead". When you tried downloading again...they were just a bunch of codes. They weren't themselves anymore. They were not aware.

"I'm so sorry"

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

Later, new game came out.

Honkai: star rail

You downloaded it.

They became aware aswell..simialrily to previous game.

The guilt of.."killing" their other counterparts..or their other selves was eating you away. They WERE alive. And you had "unalived" them.

So you promised yourself to not repeat this mistake again. This time, you will talk to them and explain your worries. They could help you, while you help them.

You don't need to worry about them dying anymore, as your healers, Bailu and Natasha have the best healing light cones and artifacts. You don't need to worry about damage aswell.

You don't need to worry about them dying because of a string enemy. You can easily ascend them, because you always have resources now.

If in the past you never talked about this and tried to farm it all by yourself..now

Now, that you talk to them about it.. they help you out with it.

You need credits to ascend something? All donated to you.

You want another character? The crystals are donated aswell, while during the ten pull you get to E6 them. You get their light cones. And 4* are coming in aswell.

You need materials? Silvermane guards are doing it for you, and your characters are doing it aswell!

You make them all strong. You make sure they're able to defend themselves in a fight, while staying at full health.

You've seen video of a person who defeated Kafka without even giving her a single turn? Yeah that's how the fights go without you. While you're here, the game doesn't always let them do that (meme teams are best trust me-)

Oh, the SU is too hard? Dw they got you!

You grace them with your presence, you make them healthy, you make them strong, you CARE about them. You LOVE them

So all they ask of you is your eternal love and attention. Though, you already give it to them.

Sometimes, they hear you crying behind..whatever separates your..worlds

You say sorry, when you look at strange glider. Or a broken claymore. Some feel stable emotions looking at it. (Welt and Himeko)

When Traiblazer hears a strange female noise coming from nowhere saying "Let's explore this area later" you laugh..and cry a bit?

You laugh, and it flutters Trailbazer's heart!

But when you cried? They were confused. Didn't you laugh a moment ago?

Anyways, they're bathing in your attention and affection. They will give you their everything, just ask them!!

Ah, how they wish you came to their world!

Well, it's not a problem anyways..Herta and Aeons found a way to bring you here..

for now, you will see them when you're asleep. For them, you're in SU, but to you..you're just dreaming..right?

They never keep a secret from you, but.. no

This isn't a secret..this is a surprise! You will be happy aren't you oh dear Aeon?

Soon, you will finally be united with them.

Meanwhile the..other worlds..

They are not exactly "dead", since they were never quite "alive" to begin with

They're stuck in some void...

They've seen your attempts to come back to them, and they're grateful for it. They know your reason for..."killing" them

And right now, they're trying to find a way to contact you..you seem to be moving on from them, focusing on other world. Oh nononono...

That's not how it supposed to be..focus on ALL of them..

It seems they need to pay hsr a little visit... hopefully, you will smile at them the way you always used to

#yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr #hsr x reader #hsr #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #self aware au #yandere self aware hsr #self aware honkai star rail #self aware hsr #sahsr #sahsr x reader #sahsrau #aeon reader

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blackgirl0nline · 2 months

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Feyd Rautha- “Warrior Sexuality”

Exploring the intimate effects of culture through a focused analysis of Dune Part Two

CW: discussion of Feyd Rautha’s abuse at the hands of his uncle

In “Ur-Fascism” (Eternal Fascism) by Umberto Eco there is a paragraph on fascist sexuality that I think applies to Feyd Rautha

First, a minor note that I’m not exactly saying the Harkonens are fascistic only that this comparison came about because of the black sun that the Harkonen homeworld (Geidi Prime) orbits, which produces a black-and-white world of harsh politics where only those cruel enough to grasp power are rewarded.

This is a world where you are either powerful or weak- and to gain that power you must be harshly cruel. Additionally, this is a slave culture with a clear and degraded underclass whose lives are on the line every second of their existence in the Harkonen sphere. This is a warrior culture with cruelty at its heart. So how is Feyd Rautha’s sexuality informed by this setting?

Eco says, “since both permanent war and heroism are difficult games to play, the Ur-Fascist transfers his will to power to sexual matters,” So, Eco is focusing on the transfer of cruelty from the political to the most intimate realm. From the most public sphere to the private.

He goes on to say “This is the origin of machismo (which implies both disdain for women and intolerance and condemnation of nonstandard sexual habits, from chastity to homosexuality).” Notice this disdain is why Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam even sends Margot Fenring in the first place. Mohaim is a motherly figure. That Feyd murdered his mother (with seemingly no consequences) implies a very degraded place for women in this society

Consider there are no non-slave Harkonen women we can see. No wives, mothers, sisters. Only the Benegesserit- with their independent power are unharmed. Feyd still holds a knife to Lady Fenring’s neck, she still has to prove herself powerful enough to overtake him.

This is the only way normative sex happens on Geidi Prime- one partner must overpower the other. Love cannot exist here- as it necessitates an interpersonal equality of partners. Even a parent-child love is not possible. Feyd must kill his mother, the same way he almost kills his brother and threatens to kill his uncle.

This is also the reason for his “sexual vulnerability” from the books due to his uncle abusing him. The kiss he forces on his uncle should not be seen as loving. All Harkonen sexuality is domination. Attempting to gain power over his uncle in the same way he abused Feyd.

Eco finishes with “Since even sex is a difficult game to play, the Ur-Fascist hero tends to play with weapons — doing so becomes an ersatz phallic exercise.”

Here I bring your focus on Feyd's knives and his seeming ecstasy in fighting. He caresses his knives and licks them. There is something almost overtly sexual about his relationship with them. They’re introduced in the same scene as his cannibal harpies.

Off topic but are the cannibal harpies also sexually involved with Feyd? He calls them his “darlings” offers them gruesome gifts, and they seem to lounge in a sort of happiness?

They still take on the position of pets, they’re dressed the same, look the same, and never speak like the other slaves. But they seem prized in a sense. They eat human flesh- and so perhaps possess their own deadliness - and from that earn Feyd’s… adoration? Food for thought.

But the “ersatz phallic exercise” is first practiced in the scene when he offers his "darlings" flesh. There are many coital details before the battle. Consider the black paint across his naked body. Showing off his form as a vehicle for war. Nothing carnal is far from brutality.

Even his seduction by Margot Fenring- that he threatens her with that phallic object- that she says he “craves pain” right after he faces the Gom Jabar. There is some sort of sadomasochistic itch. Lastly, consider the intimacy of battle. When he fights the “last Atreides.” Seeing that his opponent is not drugged, he removes his shield. He makes himself vulnerable (also notice the slightly vulvic entrance to the arena like he’s participating in something vital/ sexual).

Perhaps because he craves pain, and the threat of an equal opponent is made more exciting if that equal opponent can equally harm him (note at the end how close the two are as Feyd holds him to his chest- the smile and wink in at his opponent the refusal of outside interference).

In conclusion, Feyd participates in Umberto Eco’s “ersatz phallic exercise,” as a natural extension of Harkonen cruelty infecting every sphere. That’s also why I found this post especially true to the character there is something very inherently sexual about Feyd’s relation to fighting.

Thanks to my Twitter mutuals who asked me to put this in a more readable format, so I got to clear up some spelling and punctuation errors in the original thread.

If you enjoyed this piece consider buying me a coffee here: https://ko-fi.com/bakhita

#feyd rautha #dune part 2 #dune movie #dune 2 #feyd rautha harkonnen #house harkonnen #margot fenring #geidi prime #austin butler #frank herbert #i cant stop thinking about his bald head

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magics-neptunes-things · 4 months

Text

Collide (7)

Hi guys ♥

We come to the end of this series that I really enjoyed writing. I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did and I thank again all those who took the time to comment or like the different chapters.

It was a big work and I'm kind of sad that it ends to be honest, but I think it's better to finish it this way :)

Enjoy ♥

TW : Kidnapping, hurt, angst, fear.

PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5 I PART 6

______________________________________________________________

Your rehabilitation is going well, even if you find that the time is long to be completely honest. After four weeks you had the right to have your cast removed to make you put a splint, which has already helped you move a little better by yourself. After that you were able to start a rehabilitation, allowing you to quickly find the pitch. You miss playing football terribly and you don't know how you will do when you have to retire permanently. But you’d rather not think about it for now, focusing on the idea of playing again as soon as possible.

To pass the time during your rehabilitation, you started painting more than before. You are not tired enough to go to sleep after your workouts so you get tired using your concentration otherwise. You paint a bit of everything, without it being very precise. Landscapes, objects, memories of your childhood… You paint a bit of everything that goes through your head.

Leah likes to come and join you in your studio, apparently finding yourself with your long white shirt and painted hands particularly attractive. You’re not complaining, of course. You wouldn’t know why you feared Leah’s eyes on your painting until you really let her into your studio. Maybe because she knows a little about the subject and because what you paint is something you consider intimate. You never really let anyone see what you were painting. But again, Leah is different.

********

You come back from training, which you were able to participate in for the first time since your injury. Your leg is back as muscular as before and you managed to recover to play the last games of the season, including a very important England Cup final for the club.

You’re also at the same point with Chelsea to win the championship, which also means a lot to Arsenal. And for Leah, coming back on a double win would be something exceptional for her. And you hope that you and the team will be able to offer this to all of you. Your teammates are relieved to have you back and you are happy to be able to help them too. It's not yet a question of you going back to a game entirely from the beginning, but playing the joker of the second half suits you perfectly for the moment.

So you’re back from practice, lying on the couch in your living room watching Love Island. Alessia isn't with you tonight, stating that she intended to offer herself a good hot bath, certainly with a multitude of bath salt and candles.

You and Leah managed to sit on the couch, lying next to each other after dinner. Leah seems to be captivated by the screen but you are not really. Your gaze must weigh on her at least a minimum since she ends up turning her eyes on your face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" the blonde wonders.

"For nothing" you mumble by biting your lower lip.

Your fingers gently push back a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear. This isn't really the truth, since you have an idea that has been in your head for some time and you don't know how to propose it to Leah. Your lie doesn’t work at all about Leah arching an eyebrow.

"Since when you try to lie to me?"

You laugh slowly, letting your fingers slide over her jaw. You may have seen her daily for months, but you doubt that you will ever tire of the perfection of her facial features. You hit her gently on the nose when she pretends to bite you though.

"If I offer you something and you find it too strange, you agree to act like you didn’t hear anything?"

Your question seems to surprise Leah, whose attention you now have. Her curious gaze scrutinizes you attentively.

"Is it something sexual?" she grins.

"No, you horny teenager boy" you laugh

"What is it then?"

You feel the curiosity in her voice too and you briefly wonder what she can think of before answering her. But when you open your mouth to offer her what you have in mind, you abruptly reverse.

"No nothing, forget it. It’s a bad idea"

You feel a little blushed and you hope that Leah will accept what you just said. But you also know perfectly well that it won’t.

"But tell me!" exclaims the blonde rising suddenly, almost throwing you on the ground.

"Leah!" you laugh-shout when you catch up to her size to stay on the couch.

"What is it? Tell me!"

To support her request, Leah sits on your stomach, thus preventing you from moving if ever the idea came to you to run away in the kitchen. And you have to admit that it came to mind for a few seconds.

"No" you answer smiling and shaking your head.

"You leave me no choice."

With an evil smile, Leah starts tickling your ribs, causing your uncontrollable laughter. You try to escape, but between her muscular strength and the loss of yours through laughter, you end up accepting the idea that you have no chance to escape.

"All right, all right! I’ll tell you."

Satisfied, Leah immediately stops her torture session and patiently waits for you to catch your breath to be able to answer her.

"I was wondering if you would accept that I make a portrait of you"

You see curiosity give way to surprise, then reflection on Leah’s face. You don’t do much portrait to be completely honest, you once made a replica of a wedding photo of your parents for their twentieth wedding anniversary and that’s it.

And a Raven portrait, but you’re not sure that matters.

"You want to paint me?" wonders Leah

"Only if you fully agree with that. You have the right to say it’s weird"

"I don’t think it’s weird"

Leah smiles at you and you immediately know that she means what she’s saying to you. She’s still sitting on your belly and you’re gently sliding your fingers down her legs, mechanically reshaping the scar from her surgery last year.

"Like a Titanic painting?"

"I imagined it with a little more clothes to be honest" you laugh softly. "But sincerely, how you feel most comfortable"

"That would be amazing" ended up answering Leah after a few seconds of reflection.

You smile at her and pull her against you, kissing her lips. When the pretty blonde lies on top of you and you turn your attention to the TV screen, you are in truth once again not focused at all on what is happening there. Your mind is already thinking about the canvas you are going to make and what you want to bring out on it.

********

When you can finally play an entire football game, Leah’s portrait is almost complete. What started out being a little intimidating quickly became a special moment between you. You feared at first that the way you represented her would not suit her. However, you have pushed this fear into a corner of your head since you will not allow Leah to see the canvas until it's finished. Despite her self-confidence, Leah seemed almost shy to you at first. It must be said that the look you put on her in those moments is different from the stolen looks you give her when you watch television, or when you admire her sleeping when you wake up before her.

But you have an excuse to admire her as much as you want now and you never get tired of it. The truth is, you’re almost disappointed that this is over. You loved spending hours looking for the perfect color mix for her eye or hair color. And having her with you in your painting studio also makes you happy.

Over time, Leah has become familiar with your lair and seems to enjoy spending time there too. When you tell her that you no longer need her and that she can go do something else, she often comes back to you with other things to do. To make her feel more comfortable than a simple chair, you bought an extra sofa despite Leah’s protests that it’s frankly not necessary.

The following Tuesday, after training, Leah goes to spend time with her family. Well, Amanda asked you to be here too, but you still want Leah to spend time alone with her family. So you go from time to time, but today Leah goes alone directly after training.

"I’m gonna miss you" says Leah, hugging you.

You may be exaggerating your goodbyes, but you don’t care. You enjoy your embrace, Leah’s arms around your waist while yours are around her neck. Just like you enjoy her kisses on your cheek, on your jaw and in your neck.

"I’m going to miss you too" you smile as you take her face in both hands to put a kiss on her lips.

"Oh God" whines Katie joining you at the exit "You will see you again in maximum four hours, don’t you think you’re a little too much?"

"Five if I beat them all" Leah smiled mischievously as she picked you up again, kissing you in the hollow of your neck.

You laugh when you hear Katie sigh desperately, then turn around when you hear the building door open again, probably in search of some moral support.

"Caitlin comes kiss your girlfriend to get her off my back, please" Leah says when she sees the Australian coming with Kyra and Steph.

"I’m not as needy as you are" Katie snorts

You see Caitlin rolling her eyes but approaching Katie who discreetly passes an arm around her waist to train her to her car. When you see Alessia finally arrive, you know that you will not be able to postpone your little separation very longer.

"Write to me when you arrive?" You ask Leah despite the fact that she does it every time.

"Sure" smiled Leah.

After a few kisses exchanged (Alessia must practically tear you from Leah’s arms), you find yourself in the Mercedes of the blonde in the direction of your building.

The ride is full of discussion, laughter and songs. With Less' promise of homemade pizzas, you know you’re going to have a great night. Lia is supposed to join you a little later to spend the evening with you, just like Manu.

"Shit, I left my phone in your car. Sorry, can I have your keys please?" you sigh when you come out of the garage.

If Leah had been with you you wouldn’t have cared, but this time it’s different. You take back the keys of Alessia’s car in the hands with an excuse smile and you go back quickly. After retrieving your phone, you return to the elevators and press the button on your floor by sending a message to Leah informing her that you have arrived home.

You take the time to put your bag in your apartment and grab a bottle of water in your fridge. You are filling the bowl with Raven’s croquettes when you hear the characteristic sound of something crashing into Alessia’s apartment, making you roll your eyes. This is clearly not the first time and probably the last.

"I don’t know if we’ll ever meet someone as clumsy as Auntie Less" you tell Raven.

The latter throws a reproach glance over her meal, without taking care to stop eating.

"I never said it took away her qualities" you answer by raising both hands in the air.

After two or three caresses, you get up to join Alessia in her apartment and probably help her to clean what has fallen. You just hope it’s not the jar of flour or tomato sauce she uses to make her pizzas.

"You alright Less?" you ask when entering your friend’s apartment.

But you freeze suddenly. It’s not Alessia who is in front of you, where she should be. It's not Alessia who is in the middle of the glass bricks of a mozzarella jar that

And it’s not Alessia looking at you with a dark smile, arms crossed over her chest.

It's Helena.

Your brain makes a short circuit for a few seconds, during which you watch her without moving. You don’t know what she’s doing here, how she found you and how she got into Alessia’s apartment. And what scares you even more is knowing exactly where Alessia is. That’s finally the first thing you can say. You know what she’s capable of, and that terrorizes you.

"Where’s Alessia?" you ask her, with your chaotic breathing

"After all these years without seeing me that’s all you have to say to me?" laughs coldly Helena.

You suppress a chill. Her bad and cold laugh reminds you of very bad memories, but you try not to let yourself be dragged there for the moment. You focus on the present and therefore on the health of one of the people who matters most to you right now.

"Where is Alessia?" you repeat, in a slightly louder voice.

"Don’t worry about her, she’s fine"

Her tone and voice are filled with disdain. When she starts to move, moving around the apartment looking around her, you feel like electric currents running through your body. Nothing to do with what Leah gives you, though.

Leah.

Finally, it’s a good thing the blonde is with her family right now. You don’t know what Helena wants from you, but it’s out of the question that your girlfriend crosses paths with your ex’s. The idea that Alessia had to do it makes you nauseous.

"So this is where you live now?"

You don’t answer anything, just watching her like milk on the fire. You know very well that when she seems calm, this is where she's the most dangerous. When she realizes that you will not answer her, Helena turns to you with an amused look.

"It’s true that you were much less talkative at the end of our relationship. I forgot"

"What do you want, Helena?" you ask coldly.

"Watch your tone, pretty girl" tsked Helena looking at you.

Unlike the last time you saw her, you supported her gaze when she stuck it in yours. It seemed to surprise her. But time passed and you grew and evolved. You changed, just like her. Her face is thinner and slender, purple circles give her two eyes steel color an impression of disturbing grandeur. She's still pretty tho, but has definitly nothing attractive to you.

"What do you want?" you say again.

Helena comes to position herself in front of you and even if your mind begs you to run away, you don't move. Not until I know what’s going on and especially what she did to Alessia.

"You? You didn’t come back to see if I lived in the same place for nothing, did you?"

You feel your stomach fall from several floors. You don't understand how she saw you, you were perfectly hidden that morning. She couldn’t see you from her house, let alone from the window where you saw her. Your face must be talking since Helena is laughing.

"Next time you come spying on me, do it wisely. The neighbor saw you hiding behind his car. He almost called the cops."

Helena laughs again and gets closer to you. You’re only a few inches apart now.

"Did you miss me?" she asks you with a mischievous smile.

"Not for a fucking second" you answer coldly.

Her smile fades as quickly as you slapped her and you see her look change. Seeing her so surprised is so surprising to you that you let your guard down. It doesn’t take more than that for Helena to jump at the chance, grabbing Alessia’s rolling pin to crush her with all her might on your skull, knocking you out instantly.

********

Your skull hurts when you try to open your eyes. You realize you’re lying on a cold floor and it’s dark. Your eyes need a few seconds to get used to the ambient darkness. Your hands are immobilized in your back, preventing you from helping you get up in the small room you are in. You quickly realize that it must be a small cellar somewhere. In front of you, Helena looks at you attentively, your phone in her hand.

"Drop it" you mumble as you roll on your back before sitting up.

"She’s pretty stubborn" Helena replies, ignoring you completely.

She turns your phone screen in your direction and you can see Leah’s ID. She’s trying to call you. If your gaze lingers for a few seconds on the photo you chose for her contact, you also manage to see the time it is. And it’s been at least five hours since you left her from the training ground. Lia and Manu are supposed to have arrived at your home as well and you sincerely hope that they were able to help Alessia.

When your screen turns black again, Helena gently rests it on the ground and puts her attention back on you.

"You continue to be a constant problem for me, it’s painful."

You don’t answer at that either. Not out of fear as was previously the case, but because you learned that ignorance is the best contempt. You don’t want to give Helena any more hold on you.

"Looks like you’ve made some friends. How all those people can be interested in someone like you?" laughs Helena, and this time you can’t support her gaze.

That’s kind of the question you constantly ask yourself in the background and probably where most of your insecurities come from. How can people care about you? Why did Ingrid choose to put herself in danger and get you out of that cursed house? Why did Laia and Leila automatically take you under their wing in Manchester? Why does Alessia also consider you a sister? Why do Manu, Lia, Katie, Kyra, Caitlin consider you a friend today?

By what miracle does Leah seem to be in love with you, too?

"You’re nothing and mean nothing. It was time I came to remind you, I think."

You answer nothing, your eyes stubbornly fixed on the ground at your feet, jay tightens. Your silence and lack of reaction seem to begin to annoy Helena.

"Look at me when I talk to you" spits Helena.

You hate to obey so quickly, but you automatically raise your gaze on her. But it allows you to realize that the mask of coldness that she used to keep is now cracked. She realizes that she no longer has the control as before and that gives you a little courage.

"You are mine. You belong to me."

The words she says are somewhat similar to those Leah can utter in your most intimate moments, but the intent behind it is completely different. Where there is only evil in Helena, behind those of Leah there is only love, devotion and admiration. Even if you don’t understand how and why you’re lucky enough to have a girl like Leah in your life, you realize right now that what Helena is telling you is wrong.

You have people who love and appreciate you. People who believe in you.

"And you know you won’t love anyone else as you love me"

Helena tries a poker game, but it only triggers a scornful laugh from you.

"I don’t even have enough interest in you to hate you anymore" you answer coldly.

The sound of the slap she gives you echoes in the little room. You should have expected it. The skin of your cheek burns after its blow and you know that she put all her strength into it.

"No one will be interested in you for ever as I will and you know it. Look! Even your precious girlfriend stopped trying to call you"

Helena grabs your phone and throws it in your direction. It comes straight to your head before it ricochets off your head and falls to the ground. You see the number of missed calls from Leah, but you find that it’s indeed been long minutes since she tried to contact you. You also received other calls from people you can’t see and the usual whatsapp notifications and different social networks you’re on. The only difference from usual is Lia’s missed calls.

"You didn’t listen to anything I told you. You keep strutting around on the football fields and chasing your stupid ball. You are ridiculous."

A new slap sounds in the room and you close your eyes under the impact. You pretty sure you will have bruises. You’re trying to get back on your feet, hoping that your muscles that are more developed than before will allow you to do better than all these years ago. Where you spent hours at the gym, Helena seems to have spent them lying on her bed using illegal substances.

But your attempt is quickly spotted by Helena, who doesn't hesitate to return you to the ground with a well placed kick. You crash violently against the ground, the pain leaving you groggy for a few seconds.

A loud sound makes you suddenly open your eyes and you fear for your life for a few seconds, but you finally understand that it's actually the door of the cellar that we tried to force. A split second later, it opens on the fly, letting in several armed people. Your first reaction, no doubt stupid, is to believe that they are Helena’s accomplices. But when they throw themselves at her, you realize that if they’re there, it’s to help you.

THey help you get up and free you from the bonds that held your hands before getting you out of the cellar. Honestly, you don’t understand what’s going on. When you get out of the building, you realize you’re not far from your building.

The night seems to have fallen for a long time and the headlights of the police cars illuminate the street at regular intervals. They take you to an ambulance and you let it happen, like a robot. However, you quickly come back to reality by hearing a voice you know well pronounce your name.

Leah.

You barely have time to turn around as you find yourself caught in her arms, her hair obstructing your field of vision and her perfume enveloping all your senses. When you close your eyes, you feel tears coming out of your eyes and soon your whole body is shaken with tears.

Whispering comforting words in your ear, Leah leads you to the ambulance without releasing you for a single second. And that’s exactly what you need, the way you hold onto her shirt could attest to that.

"Alessia" you manage to pronounce after a few minutes.

You’re sitting in the back of the ambulance, Leah at your side while the paramedics seem determined to examine you from head to toe despite your confirmation that you’re okay.

"She’s fine" Leah says "She’s shocked, but she’s fine. Lia and Manu finds her when they come to her apartment, she was in her bedroom. She's not hurt."

You nod, feeling your throat knotted again. Knowing what she went through this because of you gnaws at you from within.

"It’s my fault Lee. She came back because I was seen in her neighborhood in Oslo. You were right. I should never have gone."

"It’s not your fault" Leah replies, wiping one of your tears rolling down your cheeks

But you cannot tolerate that answer. You gently shake your head and shift a little to get away from her. You don’t deserve someone to comfort you after all the evil you brought tonight. Especially not someone like Leah. Someone who deserves better. It’s time you stopped being selfish.

"Y/N..."

Leah try to take you back against her, but you are interrupted by one of the nurses who comes back to you with different papers in his hands. Apparently you are fine, but they still want to keep you in the hospital under observation for the night. You will probably be visited by police officers to discuss what has just happened.

You nod, despite the fact that you are getting tired of hospitals.

"Are you coming with us?" the nurse asks Leah

"Yes" she answers automatically

"No" you answer at the same time

The look Leah gives you is so shocked that you can’t help but feel guilty. Like at the beginning of your relationship, you still have no desire to hurt or harm her.

"Alessia’s gonna need you" you’re vaguely mumbling as an explanation

"She has Lia and Manu with her and we called her parents"

Realizing the number of people involved in this story, you curl up and squeeze your palms against your eyes. When you feel Leah’s hand on your shoulder, you have once again the reflex to try to detach yourself from it. But Leah doesn't let you.

"Everybody’s gonna hate me" you mumble, before you start thinking out loud. "I’m gonna have to move from here, change places and stop football. The best thing is that I go back to Norway and I…"

"Y/N, shut up for mercy"

You oblige and freeze instantly when you hear Leah’s voice. With the help of her hands, she gently lifts you up and removes your hands in the same way from your eyes.

"I know what you’re doing. There’s no way you’re running away. Nobody’s going to hate you. You’re the victim in the story"

But you shake your head violently at this statement. You feel the ambulance start, the engine purring gently.

"Bullshit. If there’s a victim here, it’s Alessia. And you, because you should never have had to go through this. And Lia and Manu, who certainly freaked out too. And Alessia's family, god can you imagine their fear? It’s my fault that all this happened."

"No. It’s Helena’s fault."

You hate to hear Leah say that name and she knows it perfectly. If the nickname she had chosen was a little to dismiss the situation, he was nonetheless innocent. It was mostly to stop hearing that name that makes you nauseous.

"Everybody’s gonna know. Everybody’s gonna know and hate me" you say in a low voice.

"Nobody’s gonna hate you god Y/N" sighs Leah pushing you to sit next to you on the bed. "The only thing that’s gonna happen is that people who know about you will be worried about you because you’re important to their lives. Because they care about you. Because they love you."

You remain silent, carefully avoiding Leah’s gaze. You cannot imagine that she could be right to be completely honest, something terrible could have happened to Alessia for example. And if Leah had been with you, you wouldn’t even imagine what might have happened. The very idea terrifies you.

"I can’t let her get close to you" you end up answering.

"She can’t do it anymore. After what happened tonight, even if you decide for stupid reasons not to press charges, Alessia will."

Leah’s tone is a little abrupt and you can’t decently blame her for being a little bit angry. Alessia is one of your best friends, but you know that Leah and her are also very close. So you remain silent, letting yourself move as the road moves. You feel Leah’s gaze on you, but yours is stubbornly fixed on your hands.

"Hey"

Leah’s voice sounds again after a few minutes and surprises you in your thoughts. Forgetting your resolve until now, you mechanically turn your gaze on her.

"Believe it or not, you matter to a lot of people here"

You sigh softly and look away again, putting your eyes back on the landscape that passes by the small rear window of the ambulance.

"I don’t want to cause trouble for anyone. Especially not for people I love"

"There won’t be any more problems. She won’t make it this time."

Leah seems so confident and determined that you finally believe it a little. But Helena always seemed so untouchable that you still have a little trouble realizing that it’s possible. Except for Ingrid, no one ever suspected what she was doing to you. Leah knows now and you’ll probably have a lot of questions to ask her about how they found you.

"Hey" whispers Leah again.

You again silently raise your gaze on her and you note with surprise that it has softened a little since earlier.

"I do. I love you, I care for you and you mean the world to me"

You’re back in tears. Leah puts an arm around you and you let yourself go against her this time, unable to resist any longer the comfort that you know she is able to provide you.

"And I’ll tell you until you finally believe it, every day if you have to. Until you get sick of me."

"Never" you mumble, not really knowing if she heard you.

Plot twist: She heard you.

When you arrive at the hospital, you stubbornly refuse additional tests, repeating again and again that you are fine. You don’t even have a concussion as a result of the shock you received, which made you lose consciousness. You have a good bump, though, and some bruises. But you’re doing pretty well.

The most difficult moment is undoubtedly the interrogation of the police to whom you had to tell everything from A to Z. Despite your supplications, Leah was not allowed to stay with you and this obviously made things much more complicated to live or to relive.

The second moment was the call to your parents, informed by the justice of what had happened to you. To them too, you had to tell them some things but you silenced the worst things undoubtedly. They’ll probably resent you for a while for hiding such things from them, but not to the point of not wanting to talk to you. You had to stop your mother from jumping on the first plane to meet you.

Fortunately, the judicial inquiry and everything around it will be kept silent at your request and the general public will not learn what happened to you in the past and in recent days. The official story is that you and Alessia stumbled upon a group of particularly aggressive burglars. That’s quite plausible.

To get you home, Leah had to go home to pick up a car since she followed you here with the ambulance. After making sure you were okay, she finally left the hospital and you took the opportunity to call Ingrid, informed by your parents. You should also ask them not to say anything. For Ingrid, you know that you have no risk of this happening.

You just hung up with her when someone gently knocks on the door of your room and you look up at the door when you allow the person to enter. Your heart tightens a little when seeing that it's Alessia. She looks at you cautiously and on your side you don't dare to sketch the slightest movement, persuaded that she's terribly angry with you. And if it’s not her, it’ll probably be her family.

"Can I come in?" she asks you, almost timidly.

You silently nod for any answer. You watch her gently close the door behind her, looking in her behavior for the slightest sign of a potential dispute or reproach. Your eyes glide over herface, hands and body in search of wounds, but you find nothing.

If Leah saw you, she’d probably call you a fool.

"How are you feeling?"

Her question makes you blink and you feel a little stupid for not having asked it first. So you bite your lip briefly before returning it to her, without having replied.

"What about you?"

"I'm okay. I only have one bump."

You cross her eyes and you can easily detect the attention with which she looks at you.

"I'm -"

"Leah told me you expect me to yell at you or resent you. But it’s not what I think Y/N. It’s not your fault."

You sigh softly and shake your head negatively. You want people to stop telling you that, because you know that’s the case. You never should have gone back to her house that night, she never would have come back.

"Listen" continues Alessia as she sits on your bed "I know what you think but let me tell you what I think. It wasn’t very smart of you to go back to her house in Oslo, I agree with you, but at least now we know where she is and what she’s doing. She can’t hurt anyone anymore. She can never come back for you or seek to harm you in any way. You can feel safe now, because you are."

It’s hard to remain insensitive to such a speech, but you can’t find the words to answer Alessia. The blonde doesn't seem to hold it against you once again, since she addresses you a new smile.

"And for what it’s worth, you’re still my sis. And I love you."

Despite yourself, you can’t hold a little laugh and you reach out to her hoping to receive a hug. Alessia isn't begging to offer you one, almost crushing you in her arms.

"I’m so glad you’re okay" you whisper, briefly tightening your arms around her. "And thank you."

"What for?"

"Being you. To forgive me, to be there again and again."

"Again and again" she repeats before letting you go, smiling. "Now put on your shoes and jacket, Leah is waiting for us downstairs. Let's go to her before she accuse me to molesting you again."

********

There are finally only a few people at Arsenal who are aware of what really happened and it suits you very well. In addition to Leah, Alessia, Lia and Manu, you suffered the suspicious look of Katie who looked at you at length during your story. She didn’t ask any specific questions, but just told you that if you needed any help from the Irish mafia, she had contacts. You know that this is certainly not true (well, you hope) but you appreciate the message behind this statement.

You violently refused to rest for the next games, just like Alessia. You also asked Jonas to treat you as he would normally, according to your abilities of the moment and what you do during training. That puts you in the starting players for the final game for the England Cup, West Ham. And this time, you are both on the pitch against Alina and Jordan, who are also both lined up from the start of the game.

The players of the opposing team are not yet present in the corridor when you arrive and you imagine that it's for this reason that Leah lets herself grab your fingers with hers. This draws your questioning gaze to her and she simply smiles at you. You feel that she is trying not to choke you with her worry about what happened with Helena, but you appreciate her constant presence at your side. Since you are only between you and the others are discussing everything and nothing, you take the opportunity to let yourself go a little more against her.

"Stressed?" You ask Leah when she drops your fingers to put her arm around your waist.

"A little more than usual" confesses the blonde in a low voice.

"You will be exceptional, as always"

Leah pinches your ribs smiling maliciously, your little cry of surprise making turn almost all of your teammates. Some people laugh when they see you, and you chase Leah’s hand away by hitting her. Seeing that she is about to continue your hand game, Lia pretends to intervene between you smiling.

"That’s enough, behave yourself"

That’s when the West Ham players begin to arrive at your side and you let Leah spin you aroung by holding you by the shoulders to face the exit. That doesn’t stop you from taking one last amused look at her before focusing on the game. Well it was until Leah kiss your jaw.

Your face is impassive when you shake hands with Jordan and then with Alina. You feel a lot better in your shoes than the last time it happened and it really makes you happy.

You find yourself in front of the field, attacking, alongside Alessia. Leah is in the back with Katie and with Caitlin, Lia in midfield, Beth and Viv, it has become a bit of your basic structure. It works very well like that and Jonas probably didn't want to take risks and try last minute strategies. Maybe he keeps a card in his sleeve for the second half if something weird happens.

But it doesn’t happen. Alessia manages to score a goal in the twelfth minute and you put another one in the twenty-third. Katie scores the third on a free kick just before half-time and you have to hold back from jumping into the locker room. Jonas urges you to stay focused for the second half, reminding you that if you managed to score three in forty-five minutes, West Ham is quite capable of doing so as well. So it’s just as focused that you go back into the field, ready to fight.

You don’t know what instructions the coach gave to the West Ham players, but there is no doubt that he asked them to press you as high as possible on the court. During corners or free kicks it's suddenly Alina who is supposed to take you, which isn't necessarily to your liking. You suddenly push her hands back when she puts them on you several times, ending up attracting the attention of the referee who comes to ask you to calm down a little.

West Ham actually manages to score a goal soon after, but you score a second a few minutes later. And Kyra, back for Beth at halftime, seals your easy win just before the end of the game.

When you lift the cup, you can’t help but look at the joy on Leah’s face and then on your teammates. Your friends. No matter how much you think about it, you don’t remember being as happy in your life as you are at that moment.

You smile at Leah when she crosses your eyes, mimicking a silent "I love you" with your lips, to which she responds by sending you a kiss.

********

"Leah, where are we going?" you ask, laughing softly, the blonde making you walk with both hands on your eyes.

It almost makes you stumble several times, but Leah watches over you carefully and catches up with you every time.

"We’re almost there" the blonde promises.

And indeed, a few seconds later she releases your eyes, taking the time to put in front of you before resuming the speech.

"Don’t open your eyes yet" Leah said, taking your face in her hands "First of all, I want you to know that there is no obligation to anything. That it won’t change anything between us no matter what you say. And that I love you"

"You’re scaring me, Lee." You mumble, frown.

"You don’t need it" Leah smiles.

She puts a tender kiss on your lips before releasing you and stepping back a few steps.

"You can open your eyes now"

You comply and blink several times to recover to the ambient light. Leah dragged you here after training, you’re at St-Albans not far from the training center, but not far from where her parents live too. You know that Caitlin and Katie, Kyra and Lia lived not far from here too. The building in front of you is typically English. It's a semi-detached house whose building is protected by a barrier and various security. Some work has certainly been done recently because everything seems particularly clear.

"What are we doing here?" you ask while frowning.

Leah is scratching her throat, apparently a little stressed. The way she swings from her toes to her heels tells you how nervous she is.

"Move in with me. We practically live together already and I want to wake up with you every day. I want to fall asleep with you and be able to moan because Raven is clawing on my couch while that damn cat has a brand new cat tree. I want to be able to take care of you and protect you every day. I know it’s a big step, but I love you and I want to make my life with you. Say yes, please?"

"Of course, yes" you answer with a smile.

Truth is, she already had you in the first sentence, but hearing that pretty statement doesn’t hurt. A big smile appears on Leah’s face as she hurries to put her hands around your waist to lift you off the floor and offer you a hug. You can’t help but laugh and put your arms around her neck.

After a few kisses, Leah shows you around the house, pointing out that you have the right to refuse the place if it doesn't suit you. But it seems to be perfect. An underground garage, the ground floor is reserved for the kitchen, the open dining room and the living room which gives access to the large garden behind the house. There is also a bathroom. Upstairs, there is what Leah proposes to transform into your ensuite bedroom, a guest room, another bathroom and a room that she proposes to transform into your studio provided that you leave her a small corner to install her piano and desk.

"What do you think?" Leah anxiously asks as you walk down to the living room.

"I love it" you answer honestly with a big smile on your face.

Leah smiles and seems to relax when she hears your answer. She puts her hands on your hips when you snuggle up against her and put your lips on her cheek and neck.

"I’m surprised you chose a semi-detached house" you admit however between two kisses.

"Oh, the neighbor looks nice, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble getting along" smiled Leah, sliding her finger under your chin to put a kiss on your lips. "Come, I’ll introduce you"

She grabs your hand and brings you out of the house to go into the house attached to yours. Both have been redone recently and you appreciate the light color of the front and the orange cobblestones on the outside, giving a small impression of southern Europe despite being in St-Albans.

Leah knocks at the door and you stand slightly behind her, still clinging to her hand. But your curiosity gives way to surprise when the door opens to an Alessia Russo and her famous smile.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, confused. "Are you dating the neighbor?"

"No" laughs Alessia while Leah next to you laughs too. "I’m the neighbor"

It takes you a few seconds to figure out what that means. You look in turn at Leah, who has meanwhile entered the house to greet Alessia’s brother whom you had not yet noticed, and Alessia who continues to smile.

"Are you moving here?"

"I think. This house is buzzing and apparently the neighbors won’t be too annoying"

You just smile while Luca confirms by mentioning all the positive things he found in the house. You quickly understand that Alessia called on him to get a second look and make sure everything was in order, but you trust Leah completely in that regard. Instead of listening, you jump into Alessia’s arms and finally realize what it means. You would have been sad not to have her next to you to be completely honest, but this is even better than what you imagined.

"You didn’t expect to get rid of me like that?" whispers Alessia, smiling as you hugged.

You roll your eyes and just tighten her against you with your arms around her neck, before Leah joins your embrace, squeezing you both against her.

"You whisper sweet words to my girlfriend besides molesting her now, Russo?"

#woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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mydearzero · 2 years

Text

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖍 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕬𝖇𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖍 | 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐄.𝐌. 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

MASTERLIST

Summary: Eddie's new campaign is brutal. But what happens when you get sucked into the game of D&D, Jumanji style, and encounter Eddie under the mind-control of a vicious beast?

Warnings: dark!Eddie (noncon, dubcon, mind-control, telepathy, degradation, humiliation, blood, dacryphilia) smut (penetrative sex (f rec), oral (f and m receiving) creampie, overstimulation, forced orgasm, rough sex, outdoor sex) angst, predator/prey dynamics.

THIS WORK IS 18+ MINORS DO NOT READ OR INTERACT

This also won't make a whole lotta sense D&D wise, but I tried lol. I don't know what else to say about this one y'all.

4.2K words

beta read by @mypoisonedvine

Eddie's latest campaign was taking over your life. He had been preparing it for weeks beforehand, ensuring it would be the longest and most gruelling campaign to date. The research had been brutal. Eddie wanted your help but didn't want to let you in on too many details.

When the time finally came to play, it was nearing the end of summer. Mr Clarke had indulged and given one (1) universal key to the school to the Hellfire Club. How he'd trusted the bunch of you with it was beyond your comprehension. Damn Henderson and his inability to be disliked.

So here you were, in the theatre room, blocking the windows with trash bags and tape to obstruct any light. The new campaign had something to do with an amphibian creature, which was already more info than Eddie had been willing to divulge.

The rest of Hellfire would arrive shortly, so you and Eddie rushed to finish the last details. You noticed a couple of books stacked by Eddie's chair, mainly ones to help him with the campaign. Scribbled on the top of his notes was the name of the campaign.

"The Search for the Aboleth"

That was all the club had been allowed to know about the campaign. They knew of Aboleths, but with Eddie as Dungeon Master, you could never be sure how the creature would be implemented. Whether the search would be one for a friend or a foe. You'd have to play his game and hope you survive.

When the others finally arrived, they crowded around the table, observing what they could of what they would be up against. Eddie sat on his throne, a proud smirk dancing on his lips as he watched the club members.

The excited chatter died down as Eddie's demeanour changed. It was game time. Silence overtook the room as everybody took their place around the table, glancing at Eddie in suspense.

He started telling the tale of the Aboleth, a wicked creature of the sea with the ability to breathe on land and covered in thick, grey mucus. Similar to Mind Flayers in ability but older, more fearsome and highly intelligent. With their racial memory, they inherited the memories of all their ancestors.

Long story short, this was not a friend you were to search for. It was a vile enemy, one with psionic abilities and capable of some critical damage.

The Aboleth you were looking for had enslaved a party member, making him their loyal servant. Your objective was to find the Aboleth, slay it and free your party member.

Hours were spent that evening debating, rolling dice and screaming in despair when member after member perished from their injuries. Your gaze fell upon Lucas, the only remaining member besides Gareth, still fighting by your side. His look was one of sorrow. There was no coming back from this.

Eddie cut the campaign short, then. It was getting late, and Hawkins was under a permanent curfew. Time to go home and sleep off the post-d&d jitters before letting them fall back into place the following afternoon.

The boys tailed out of the classroom, leaving you with Eddie to clean up and rearrange the table. Everything to be able to continue where you'd left off. You heard Eddie shuffle after you'd cleaned up the figurines and dice, catching his gaze as he blew out the last candle, leaving you in total darkness.

You heard a dark chuckle from the abyss. It sounded like Eddie. It had to be him, right? Who else could be here? A deep chill settled in your bones as you walked backwards, stepping away from the table.

You tripped over seemingly nothing, perhaps your own feet, sending you toppling. You expected to hit the floor, but the direction of gravity appeared to change. Suddenly, you were falling forward. Your hands shot out to catch yourself, but you were surprised when your back eventually hit the floor, knocking all air out of your lungs.

Head spinning with disorientation, Eddie seemed to finally have turned on the lights in the classroom. Your chest rose rapidly, trying to catch your breath as your eyes adjusted to the brightness. Your brows furrowed, eyes narrowed as you took in your surroundings, still on the floor.

This wasn't a classroom.

Where you were, exactly, you couldn't say. It was too dark yet too bright at the same time. It was then you felt a pain shoot from your leg up to your thigh. Looking down, you noticed the surface you'd fallen on. A combination of rocks, dirt, sticks and other things you'd find in nature. The ground was moist. One particularly large, sharp rock had lodged its way into your calf, leaving a gnarly wound, oozing blood. That would explain the pain.

"Wanna roll on your luck, babe? Maybe it'll heal, maybe it won't." Your head whipped around. Eddie?

He was holding a vial containing red, glistening liquid. A Potion of Healing? When had he managed to make such a convincing prop? He tossed you a D20, eyebrows raised in expectation. Was he seriously expecting you to roll for your possibility of taking the potion when you were bleeding?

You grabbed it and glanced at Eddie before rolling it into the dirt. Eddie gazed at the number facing up, tutting at the outcome. "Seems like it's just out of reach. How unfortunate."

You knew he must've been joking. The potion was probably cherry-flavoured Kool-Aid. So why were you filled with feelings of anguish at your inadequate roll? Why was he still not helping you stop the bleeding, stop the pain?

Another dark chuckle, the same as you'd heard before. You observed Eddie, helpless as he laughed. He met your eyes, an unsettling feeling developing in your gut. His eyes were clouded, distant. You attempted to get a read of his feelings, maybe his thoughts. But nothing. He was a shell.

You tried to pull yourself from the ground, groaning as you felt the sting of the rock lodged in your skin. You pulled it out with a pained yelp and tossed it aside, scanning the wound. It wasn't too bad. The blood made it look worse than it really was. Though that was a comforting thought, the uneasy feeling in your stomach remained.

You pushed yourself onto your feet, holding onto Eddie's bicep as you steadied yourself. Another sharp pain shot up your spine, but you had no choice but to ignore it. You had to figure out where you were, how you got here and what the hell was going on with Eddie.

You took in your surroundings, baffled by the fact that it had been a theatre classroom a few minutes ago. No chairs, tables or even windows were in sight. You weren't even inside a building. You craned your neck to gander at the sky, the moon closer to Earth than you'd ever seen. If this even was Earth. The atmosphere looked like one of the drawings from Eddie's books.

Something was definitely very wrong.

Your hand was still resting on Eddie's arm, but he was cold to the touch. He must've been here for some time, longer than you, seeing as you were still warm. He inhaled deeply through his nose, closing his eyes before turning to you. "Wanna go for a swim?"

You looked confused at the question. Swim? At a time like this? He grabbed your shoulders and turned you to the giant lake behind you. A monstrous beast was writhing among the smaller fish. Its eel-like stature was an eerie sea-green colour. Three red eyes on the top of its head were watching your every move. You turned slowly to look at Eddie, not daring to make any sudden movement.

"The Aboleth... Isn't it beautiful?"

A red sheen covered Eddie's eyes— you knew he was gone. You ripped yourself free from his grip and ran as fast as your legs would carry you. Your bleeding calf was screaming at you to stop, but the sound didn't overpower Eddie's taunting laughs as he followed you unhurriedly.

It was clear now the party member enslaved by the Aboleth was him. You didn't know where you were going, but you knew you had to get away from the creature, get away from Eddie. You hid behind what looked like a tree in an attempt to catch your breath. The mysterious noises emerging from your surroundings didn't take away from the suspense, adding a soundtrack of howling critters and winds to your despair.

Your mind wandered to the campaign. Was this some sick joke? An immersive experience Eddie had prepared? You wanted out. Your mind flashed back to when Eddie had introduced the creature.

"Aboleths are fish-like amphibians of immense size. They are both extremely cruel and highly intelligent. They have the ability to change creatures' consciousness to that of a mindless servant. This allows Aboleths to keep slaves, known as Aboleth Servitors, which they dominated and kept captive through their mind."

The heaving of your chest diminished along with the fast pace of your heartbeat. You listened for Eddie's footsteps, but it was in vain. You wouldn't have been able to hear them over the sound of the forest.

You examined your leg but were stumped to see the wound had slowly closed in on itself, only the remnants of blood left behind. It no longer hurt. Relief washed over you. Maybe you'd be able to do this. Perhaps, you'd be able to run.

An icy breeze blew through your hair, a quiet gasp escaping you. You slammed your hand over your mouth to cover the sound, but the hand running through your hair and down your neck told you enough. He'd found you.

He took a strand between his fingers and brought it up to his nose, inhaling deeply. Your eyes were squeezed shut, wishing for this nightmare to end. To wake up, whether it be in the classroom or your bed. For Eddie to be the sweet, caring person you knew he was. Not this... this carcass possessed by a monster.

"That healing ability of yours won't save you, sweetheart." He whispered in your ear. Goosebumps raised at his words, covering your body as a chill went down your spine. You took in his words and looked back down at your leg.

Your D&D character had healing abilities. The Aboleth was part of Eddie's campaign. Was this The Search for the Aboleth? Because if so, you'd found it, alright. You needed real Eddie's guidance on what to do. Give you your options. Let you roll to see the damage you'd do. Be your Dungeon Master. If this genuinely was Eddie's campaign, there had to be a chance to win.

"I can hear the cogs turning in your head, sweetheart. There's no use." It was Eddie's voice, but it wasn't his words. This wasn't Eddie. You had to remind yourself that it was the Aboleth.

You tried thinking through your options. Which other powers did your D&D character have? If your healing ability was somehow working, others must too, right?

You searched for eye contact with Eddie. Maybe if you could communicate with the part of him that was still in there, you'd be able to free him of the Aboleth's control. You shouted his name as loud as you could without the use of your vocal cords. His smile turned sinister, mocking. A voice echoed in your head.

'If a creature communicates telepathically with the Aboleth, the Aboleth learns the creature's greatest desires.' It was the memory of real Eddie describing the Aboleth's abilities. He had explained it earlier when Mike had tried the same thing on one of the other Aboleth servitors. You should've known not to try.

A searing, white pain shot through your head as Eddie placed his palms to your temples. He was digging through every crevice of your brain, using the Aboleth's abilities to explore everything you desired most in life. His eyebrows raised in surprise, a disbelieving scoff leaving his lips.

"It seems the thing you desire most... is me."

His hand covered your mouth before the pleading gasp wanting to escape could do so. His other hand found your waist, holding you as you clawed at his arm. You struggled to breathe as he pulled you to a clearing. He finally let up as he pushed you to the ground harshly.

"Eddie... Please..." You begged as he towered over you. He had to be in there somewhere. You weren't sure what his next move was, but every bone in your body knew it couldn't be anything good.

He bent down and grabbed your ankles, tugging you to him. The skin on your arms scraped as he dragged you over the stone ground. A metallic scent hit your nose. Undoubtedly, you were bleeding again.

"We're just giving you a taste of what you want. It can all be yours if you come willingly." Eddie mumbled as he got on your level, rubbing up your thigh. You tried to scoot back, away from his touch, but the grip on your ankle was relentless.

"Unwillingly, it seems. It's not like you have a choice." He grumbled as he ripped your bottoms in one go.

"Eddie, stop!" You shrieked and struggled and tugged to pull your ankle from his grasp. He ignored your pleas with a menacing laugh as he continued undressing you. You tried to cover yourself to the best of your ability, but it was useless. Whatever had taken over Eddie's body had given him the strength of a dozen men.

"You're all the same, you humans." Eddie moaned as he palmed himself through the fabric of his jeans. "Getting worked up over nothing, desiring nothing but other humans. This one is just like you. Desiring you. Wanting you most out of anything any world has to offer. Pathetic, breeding folk."

He grabbed your breast hungrily, bending down to take your nipple in his mouth. He took it between his teeth, tugging at it painfully. He slapped your thigh— hard. A warning to not make any more noise. You hadn't been aware you'd been pleading with him to stop continuously. That was going to leave a bruise. Or it wouldn't, depending on whether you'd dreamt up the healing abilities.

"Even this body. It can't resist. It really has a mind of its own when presented with an object of its desire. Ridiculous."

He took his time with your tits and nipples, sucking, pinching, kneading, anything that pleased him. It wasn't like you had the strength to stop him. Subdued cries repeatedly left your mouth, but your struggle diminished as your body betrayed you.

Eddie grabbed your ankles and pulled them apart, spreading you open for him to see you on display. A tear rolled over your temple. At this point, it wasn’t out of pain or desperation. It was out of embarrassment. Embarrassment at the heat in your abdomen, the glistening of your cunt. Eddie saw it. You knew he did.

He sought eye contact, the glint in his eyes knowing. It was almost like regular Eddie when he knew something you didn't. Almost.

"You're such a disgusting whore. Already fucking wet?" You felt defeated. You wanted to fight, but the powers granted to Eddie saw right through you. They saw what you liked. What would get you soaked in seconds— even when you least wanted it.

Both his hands ran up your thighs as he sat on his knees. His thumbs ran over your folds, spreading them so he could get a proper view of your pussy. You pleaded once more. He could still stop. He could still salvage this. He didn't let up, plunging the tip of his thumb inside, feeling the rim of your entrance, tugging at it and stretching it painfully.

A quiet sob left you when you knew this was really happening. You'd imagined sleeping with Eddie. Sucking him off, taking his fingers, bouncing on his cock. You'd imagined it all. But this? This had never been amongst the possibilities your mind had fabricated.

Eddie bent down, keeping his hands on your knees as he inhaled the scent of your arousal. "Haven't smelled anything that delicious in decades, maybe even centuries." He licked between your fold gingerly, groaning as he did so. You felt the vibrations of his voice reverberate against your clit. You clenched your lips shut along with your eyes, not wanting to give in to the sensation.

His mouth closed around your clit, sucking and tonguing at it, gauging your reaction. Your hand slapped over your mouth. You refused to enjoy this. This wasn't Eddie. It might look and sound like Eddie, but it wasn't him.

"Oh, but it is me. I've just been... enlightened."

Eddie's eyes closed in bliss as his tongue dipped inside. His thumb circled your clit rapidly. Whines built up inside your chest, but you didn't dare let them out. This shouldn't feel good. Your fist clenched as he watched you like a hawk, relentlessly pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Please, Eddie!" You yelled out as the hand covering your mouth slapped the floor, searching for any leverage. The worst part was that you weren't sure what you were pleading for. You wanted him to stop. But you didn't, couldn't have him stop now.

"Come for me. Come on my tongue like the desperate bitch you are." The pressure on your clit and in your abdomen increased. You tried to hold it. You couldn't give this monster the satisfaction. Eddie smirked as he noticed your struggle but knew you wouldn't be able to resist much longer.

When his mouth diverted its attention back to your clit, three fingers slipped inside roughly, curling them just right. You cried out as you clenched your teeth. You had to hold it. You had to.

But you couldn't.

The repeated come-hither motion combined with the attention to your clit sent you over the edge with a loud scream. You saw white as your chest heaved, but your breaths were short-lived when you were picked up by your shoulders and pushed down on your knees punitively. You heard Eddie unbuckle his belt, taking off his jeans but leaving his shirt.

His hand came up to your chin, pushing your cheeks with his fingers. Your mouth opened of its own volition, giving him exactly what he wanted. "If I feel any teeth, you're dead. Got it?" He snarled viciously. You nodded as a tear fell down your face. You hadn't even noticed you'd begun crying.

You felt vile as you sat with your knees in the dirt, proof of your orgasm dripping down your thighs. You heard Eddie gurgle before bringing your face close, spitting in your mouth. He took his cock in hand and brushed it over your lips, gathering the spit that hadn't made it inside before pushing past your lips.

He didn't give you room to breathe, holding the back of your head as he pushed until the tip hit your throat. His other hand found yours, bringing it up to cup his balls. "Leave it there, play with them." He grunted as he increased speed. He smirked when he felt you gag, pushing just that tiny bit harder to feel it again.

"You're even prettier when you cry for me. With those big, fat cry-baby tears rolling down those adorable cheeks?" He laughed as he wiped them away. Your eyes were almost as red as Eddie's were under the control of the Aboleth.

You felt more tears escape your eyes when you realized that despite all this, gagging and being unable to breathe around his dick, a low simmer of heat once again developed in your nethers. Your free hand itched to relieve the tension, but you placed it on his thigh instead, steadying yourself against his quick thrusts.

Eddie's hips stuttered before they stilled, releasing inside your mouth with a loud moan. He remained still for a second before pulling out, tapping your cheek with the palm of his hand. "C'mon, open up. Show me."

Your face was one of misery as you slowly opened your mouth, letting him observe the mess he'd made. "Good girl... See? Isn't this exactly where you're supposed to be? What you're supposed to do? On your knees, serving your master?" The smile on his face was filled with pride and insult.

He pushed your shoulder, sending you collapsing back to the floor. You cried as your head hit the cold stone. You felt dizzy as Eddie towered over you, pushing your legs open and positioning himself between them. "Please, Eddie. No more. Please."

Your begs went unanswered as Eddie placed his hands on your knees, lining himself up before brutally pushing inside. The stretch was painful, but you'd already come once. The slick from your previous orgasm was enough lubrication for him to slide in and out at a gruelling pace smoothly. Your pleas slowly diminished into small whines and moans, no longer being capable of holding them back.

Eddie bent down as he continued thrusting, licking a stripe up your neck before nibbling on your earlobe. "I know you're loving this. You don't want to, but you can't help it. I know you want me to destroy you. Whether it be this version or the one you're comparing me to. As long as I look like Eddie Munson, you're gonna come for me. Cream all over my cock when I pump you full of my cum."

His voice was a mere whisper, but you knew he was right. As long as it was Eddie, in any shape or form, you'd come undone. His hair tickled your neck as he hung above you. He changed the angle of his hips abruptly, along with his pace. You moaned loudly at the unexpected abuse of your most sensitive spot.

"See?" He groaned as he placed a kiss on your neck. Now that the dam of your moans had broken, you couldn't suppress them flowing out. The vulgar sound of his balls slapping against you combined with your broken moans echoed through the clearing.

His hand left your knee to stroke your clit with ruthless pressure and pace. Mixed with his cock hitting the right spot over and over and Eddie sucking on your neck, it was too much. Your senses were overwhelmed. Your head was still spinning from hitting the floor, but now it was also reeling with pleasure.

You didn't have time to feel disoriented as Eddie ravished your cunt. The sharp jabs of his hips pulled everything from you, moans, whines, pleas and cries. Your hands made their way to Eddie's back, scratching vigorously as a means to ground yourself as you neared your second orgasm. Your hips started meeting his pace, desperate for release, hopeless for this to be over.

You panicked as you felt him speed up, seeking his release. You were so close, but he couldn't come inside. You'd give everything to come, but not if it meant being filled up in return. Tears welled and spilt at the realization, hips unable to stop. Your mind fought your body as Eddie continued drilling into you.

He bit your shoulder when you felt he was close. You were right there with him. "Scream for me. Scream my name." Eddie groaned in your ear as he came, spilling inside you, filling you up. You felt so full. He continued thrusting, squelching sounds coming from your cunt as you squeezed around him.

Your whines became high-pitched as your eyes squeezed shut, coming on his cock as he laughed manically. A scream of his name escaped your mouth as everything went dark.

"Eddie!"

Silence overtook you as you suddenly felt heavy. You felt around you as you opened your eyes. You were surrounded by darkness. Your fingers touched the hardwood floor.

Lights flickered above you as Eddie looked at you questioningly from the other side of the classroom. You looked down on yourself. You were fully dressed, appearing to have tripped over a bag.

"You okay?" He questioned with a concerned expression. You nodded wildly, though cautious. Had you just hit your head? Had Eddie been here all along? How long had you been gone? Out?

Eddie noticed your perplexed face and offered his hand to help you up. You took it and rose to your feet. Eddie frowned as he grabbed your elbow to examine your arm. He took your other arm, both had been scraped up pretty badly.

"How'd this happen?" He asked. It couldn't have happened due to a simple fall on a hardwood floor, could it? You shrugged as your knees weakened. Was this still all in your head? Was this still possessed Eddie? He tutted as he released you from his grip. He turned to the table and grabbed the D20.

"Wanna roll on your luck, babe?"

#dark!eddie #dark!eddie munson #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fics #Eddie Munson fanfiction #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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blackopals-world · 9 months

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What's the NRC staff's experience at ♨️!Yuu's bath house? I don't believe you've ever written about it in detail; only mentioning it on ♨️!Yuu's initial post. Then again I may have missed it since Tumblr is being rude right now. Feel free to gloss over this one if it doesn't seem like something you want to answer.

I haven't written about this yet.

The staff are in the unique position of having free access to the Onsen and its service. In exchange, it gets to operate without an alcohol license.

Yuu has promised that all the drinks are watered-down to the legal requirements and no one is getting drunk (which is only half true.) Keeping the faculty in the loop keeps Yuu out of trouble.

The Onsen has a private spring designated for VIPs and faculty. It has unlimited food and bottle service.

The main reason the adults use it is because it's the only place to relax away from students. Say what you want but standing all day, and being surrounded by unruly brats is exhausting. The onsen is perfect for getting away.

Everyone has a reason to go and it differs for everyone.

Trein

He's old he needs a good soak in the mineral baths. He usually drinks a strong soju and talks to Yuu about his younger days. Grandpa has a lot of wild stories before he became a teacher. He also goes on and on about his wife and how they fell in love.

He treats Yuu like a grandkid and goes to the onsen mostly for the atmosphere.

Crewel

He completely changes when he's relaxed. Yeah, he is worried about Yuu but when he is tired he needs to cut loose. He will literally let his hair down for one thing. He smokes even if Yuu gives him the stink eyes and tells him to take it outside.

He usually let's Yuu mix him a cocktail or a house wine of their choosing.

He uses the spa services the most. Facials, manicures, pedicures, and hair treatments.

Behind all that, if you get him in at the same time as Sam he's a college student again. Roughhousing, drinking, and telling vulgar jokes. If Yuu isn't there to see it.

Sam

The only reason he's still allowed is because he supplies the Spa and bar. He doesn't ask questions either.

He orders hard liquor, dark. Whiskey, vermouth, and Adictivo Doble Reposado (a favorite in my family) He once tried to get away with ordering absinthe and was poured a glass of water.

He enjoys the steam room says it feels like a hot summer Louisiana day by the bayou. (Trust me you with that was true. Louisiana summers can be amazing but the swamp is no joke)

Sam likes to goad the others into drinking more before challenging them to a few rounds of cards. He doesn't play any of the workers because Yuu trains them on how to win or lose games on purpose. Those girls could whoop your butt.

Vargas

He needs a good ice bath and massage after training. He views the onsen as an important part of taking care of your health. Taking time to relax the muscles and taking care of your body is key to a long life and healthy mind.

That being said he orders tons of beer and food. We can't all be perfect. He falls asleep sometimes and snores like a bear.

He likes to play ping-pong in the game room but he's really bad at it. No one tells him because he's so determined to win. It's doesn't matter because if everyone is drunk they all suck but think they are playing the best game of pong ever.

Crowley

Banned.

Fine. He's allowed. Begrudgingly.

He isn't treated badly but Yuu would rather he leave. But the onsen would be shut down he didn't agree to let it stay open.

He takes off the mask for once and scared Yuu.

"Who are you?!"

"What are you asking? It is me your dear headmage."

"You're lying! Where is the bird man?!"

Yeah, no object permanence here.

Crowley will get wasted off his ass and join in any chaos the others create. Children, the lot of them. He drinks just about anything. It's whatever suits his fancy that day.

He gets his hair done while he's there along with his nails. Yuu finds it weird that his hair creates a natural black oil like some species of bird and his nails are as hard as talons and just as sharp.

#onsen!yuu #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland yuu #divus crewel #twst divus #mozus trein #twst trein #twst sam #vargas #twst vargas #coach vargas #twst dire crowley #twisted wonderland crowley #twst crowley

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cityof2morrow · 1 month

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Mod Organizing & Load Order Shenanigans

Published: 5-1-2024 | Updated: N/A MOD ORGANIZING During the [first] "pandemic summer," I started reorganizing my game folders. I also started a "conflict management" list, containing all the known conflict info from download pages, new conflicts I discover while playtesting, etc. It's 44 pages long at the moment....a testament to my unapologetic mod addiction. I encourage all simmers to keep a list like this. It’s very reassuring (and handy!) to be able to look up known conflicts or keep track of mods which have been merged (duplicate files can break your game FAST!). **I won’t be able to share mine at this time but most of my info comes from the same pages where I download CC/mods - shout out to the creators who take the time to include this info.

MY LOAD ORDER(S) I number my folders and use mostly lower case filenames to force the load order I want – these were the most important changes I made re: how I maintain a heavily-modded-but-still -very-functional game. With few exceptions, this has been much more effective than keeping track of the number of z's and cases. It also means I don't need to rename downloaded files - I just put them in the right folder. When I played exclusively on mac, I learned that numbering the store cc folders was the ONLY way I could get all the content to work. I never figured out why but I imagine it was because the mac series doesn't include expansions required for some of this content.

DETAILS (the codes) I put that grad school debt...I mean...those grad school research skills to good use and made up my own codes. Here they are... 0= files needed in every save aka my "essentials." These include repair files, shader/UI files, CEPs, global probes (like scriptorium, money globals, inteen checker, inventory checker, etc).

1= mods that do NOT need a load order, some OFB-themed sets I want to keep separate from other CC - like the #co2bellabrand or upcoming #co2cdkseries stuff.

2= mods that require a hard load order. As @episims writes HERE, this only works for mods with non-game-breaking conflicts between them. Only the last mod in the sequence will retain ALL its intended functions. The code for this section goes like this: [number]-[what the mod deals with in-game; i make sure to consider alphabetical order]-[load order number] -name of the mod(s)

I have several global mods that need to load as close to LAST as possible. These folders all start with "2-z-[load order #]-." The "2" tells me they need to load in a certain order and the "-z" makes them load after all the other #2 folders.

See Object Freedom 1.02 (@fwaysims, 2023) and Shiftable Everything (@lamare-sims, 2022) both load at #78? I don't have them BOTH in game at the same time, but giving them the same number ensures that the right load order stays no matter which one i'm paying with. 3 = build mode and neighborhood deco/defaults

4= buy mode

"ts1," "ts3," and similar labels = content that was converted for Sims 2.

5=CAS/bodyshop

OTHER DETAILS I also label folders with certain "type codes" - these tell me things like whether they add permanent data to my saves (custom memories, careers, foods, etc. do this) or whether they are maxis-match. Here are some examples:

-BIN = mod files which go in the program folders -DEF = default replacement -MEM = this content includes custom memory data -MM = maxis-match or an add-on for default game furniture -ADD = content that is not maxis-match -NPC = this content includes or changes one or more NPCs -FIX or -EDIT = this is a fixed or uniquely edited version of a pre-existing mod -BETA and -TEST = this mod is unfinished and/or a test version Remember, conflicts do not always mean something has to be removed from your game, nor are all conflicts unresolvable. No matter what kind of method(s) you use to organize your game – it’s just important to try/have at least one in the cut.

CREDITS Thanks: Episims, PleasantSims, and all simmers who include load order/conflict notes. Sources: Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), EA/Maxis, Forcing the Load Order of Mods (whoward/Pick’N’MixSims, 2021 via sims2tutorials), Image(s) (Alexander, 2016), Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik).

...Oh and yes...I AM in fact an INTJ/Capricorn.

#co2testcenter #co2tools #ts2tutorial

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zerbu · 4 months

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Project Squealer BIG REVEAL

Calling all mystery buffs, adventure seekers, and gumshoe wannabes!

I am developing MY OWN INDIE GAME under the working title PROJECT SQUEALER! In this action-packed adventure RPG game, a disease called Laughter Pox has plagued the town, and it's up to three kid detectives to investigate!

These days, I'm mostly known for making mods for The Sims 4, but I've been interested in game development as far back as 2009. In fact, I originally bought The Sims 3 for PC back in 2012 as a tool to plan out characters and worlds, before becoming hooked on the gameplay. For a long time, The Sims was my main creative outlet, but I was still coming up with game ideas in the background.

Skip ahead to mid 2016: while playing with my Go to School mod, I needed to create some child characters to fill the school with. I created two rival teams of kid detectives, and came up backstories and mysteries for them to solve. I ended up liking these characters far more than any other characters I had created. They felt like my creative masterpiece, begging for something bigger than just creations made in a character creator.

That's when "Project Squealer" started brewing in my brain. This indie RPG wasn't just some vague idea; I was developing full-blown stories, environments, and gameplay planned for my kid detectives. I also had the perfect art style in my head. Emphasis on in my head.

Turns out, bringing my dream art style to life was way harder than I thought. So hard, in fact, that I spent the next few years learning how to create art. It took until 2020 to finally have character and environment art that could (almost) pass for pro-level game stuff. Not only that, the project was undergoing what indie devs refer to as scope creep. I kept adding more and more ideas to the design doc, making the game more complex and pushing the release date even further into the future. In 2018, I even decided to move from 2D to 3D, and switched engines from MonoGame to Unity (and later to Unreal Engine 5 in 2023).

Now, it's 2024, and I'm finally, finally ready to announce what I've been working on for the past 6 years!

Project Squealer is the working title for my own indie game about a team of three kid detectives: Orlo (middle), Von (left) and Zoros (right). Together, they go on adventures and solve mysteries… or at least they would, if they weren't constantly having their business stolen by a rival detective team.

In this action-packed adventure game, a mysterious disease known as Laughter Pox has plagued the town, causing people to laugh hysterically. Where is it coming from? How can it be cured? It's up to our detectives to find out! If they can convince others to trust them with such an important mission, that is!

Project Squealer uses a hybrid of 2D and 3D graphics to create a 2D cartoon look with full 3D movement. Characters and some organic objects are 2D sprites that move with the camera. Most environments, objects and buildings are 3D, but have texture-based outlines to give it a 2D look.

The game features a variety of different quests, characters, abilities, enemies, locations, weapons and items. In addition to the main storyline, you can help out NPCs by performing "errands" for them, which will unlock cool rewards and even side missions.

Unlike many RPG games, Project Squealer won't include a character level system, because I want the player to be able to progress using their own skill, not by grinding levels. One of the game's main design philosophies is that there are few, if any, permanent upgrades. Weapons will eventually break, status effects that make your stronger will eventually expire, etc.

Project Squealer is still in relatively early development. I plan to post more information, screenshots, and eventually even videos, as it gets closer to release. Follow my Twitter for quicker updates: https://twitter.com/ZerbuTabek

Your support and feedback is welcome, and will help improve the game!

#gamedev #game development #indie games #unreal engine #indie game dev

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poisonous-honey · 3 months

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36-Stars of Jealousy

(This is a re-upload: originally posted on UniverseUchu sometime around Sumeru's release)

Who’s Here: Venti

Contains: SAGAU (Not Cult AU), Angst (Venti is jealous of Nahida)

Note: This is incredibly self-indulgent and mostly was just me writing my frustrations with the Sumeru Abyss through Venti. I'm so glad we're done with Sumeru honestly their Abyss floors sucked shit.

💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

Venti didn't usually get jealous, but right now he could feel it building in his heart and simmering throughout the rest of his body. He can hear the cheers and laughter from his player beyond the vale, the absolute elation in their voice obvious to anyone in Teyvat. Usually he would bask in their happiness, whether the cause was him, something or someone else, he didn't care. All that matter was that they were happy... But... This was an immensely special occasion.

The player had finally finished the Spiral Abyss with 36 Stars. A complete clear. After getting severely unlucky over and over again with artifacts and throwing themselves again and again at floor 12 only to come out a loss every time, this was definitely a momentous occasion. Venti wanted to be happy for them, he truly did, but he cannot for the life of him let go of his seething jealousy. When the player first booted the game it was very obvious he was the reason they even got it. He was the reason they continued after learning about the gacha system. He was the one they were most excited about when seeing multiple vision users on screen. His nation was their favourite. His element was their favourite. He was the first limited 5 star they got the first constellation for. He was their favourite. One of their strongest and most used units. So why... Why wasn't he needed... Why was dropping him off the team what brought the Abyss to full completion. Why was replacing him with the Dendro Archon, the one with such a half assed build, the play that brought them victory?

Now Instead of being the object of their affection, he was watching them gush over Kusanali. Instead of him partying with his team, he's sitting here sulking in Old Mondstadt mourning his permanent removal and seething over his replacement. He can't even cry in the solace of the Teapot since it's not set to Inazuma, Top 8. It's set to Sumeru, Abyss Champions. Just thinking about it makes him want to cry.

He knows he's being dramatic. He knows he should just get over it. He's still their favourite that hasn't changed. He's still firmly placed in the Inazuma layout. Their still happy to use him and still want to get him better artifacts than what he currently has. Even if all of that wasn't true he still has a role to play and can't afford the Player to see him like this. Despite all of that he can't help but feel like Kusanali is slowly going to replace him, not only in his team, but in the Teapot, in usage, in their heart. He's anxious and jealous and wants nothing more than to prove somehow he's still better than her. Absolute confirmation that she'll never take his position as favourite. But more than anything, he wished she never joined in the first place.

#sagau #self aware genshin #genshin #Reader Insert #X Reader #pois.writes #Pois.Posts

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ravenn-darkholme · 4 months

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Permanent Price chapter 1

Alex Summers x Mutant!OC

Summary: Isabella Darkholme, sister of raven Darkholme and Charles Xavier. Also a mutant. Her mutation allows her to blend in with the light rays, turning herself and whatever she's touching invisible. word count: 1280 warnings: none that I know of

series masterlist

Isabella couldn't help but sigh softly as she watched her brother talk up another girl, not because she was jealous, but because she was bored of the same thing every time. She and raven always just sat back and watched him. Bella tried to talk to people - boys and girls - but Charles would always step in and pull her out. It was like he didn't want her to be happy. But she knew he was just caring for her and making sure she didn't get hurt, even though she was never able to even ask the person's name, that's how fast he was.

Raven could see the bored look on her sister's face so she thought she would distract her.

"Wanna' play truth or dare?" She asked making Bella smile. Raven was always the child. She loved playing games, whether it was board games or hide and seek. She just loved being a child. Especially playing tag or just chasing her other half around with a spider. Isabella loved that about her sister though, she never lost her sparkle.

"Sure." she dimly said.

"Okay, truth or dare?"

"dare." Belle loved playing this with raven, no matter how old they were she loved it.

"mmhm, okay. I dare you to go behind the bar and mess around with the bartender."

"ok, but I dare you to mess up Charles's date with that girl." She said with a smirk.

"That's not how the game works but fine."

Bella moved to the bathroom and turned herself invisible, whilst raven went over to Charles and the girl he was with to introduce herself. Bella went behind the bar and started tricking the man tending to a customer. She knew she had a limited amount of time before Charles would find her out so she knew to make it count. She created a tapping noise on a glass behind his ear to start with. He instantly turned around and walked through her. Thankfully she could not only turn herself invisible but anything she touched, she also could phase through objects and people when she was invisible.

Then she started whispering near his ear. Watching him freak out was hilarious to raven. This was not the first time pulling pranks like this. They really were children at heart and Bella loved it. Charles turned to look over at raven and Isabella's table. He saw raven smirking and looking to a specific spot behind the bar. He then looked over to the table raven was sitting at and saw that Bella wasn't there. That's when he knew they were pulling their little pranks again and decided to step in. He excused himself and walked near the back of the bar where he assumed Bella was.

Isabella, are you behind the bar again?

shit.

no. Why would you think that Charles?

because I see raven smirking and you aren't anywhere near her table. She is also looking at a very specific spot where there isn't anything to laugh at. I also know my sisters very well.

Bella sighed and walked to where Charles was and made herself visible again.

"Right. Get raven we are going." He said sternly.

"Look I'm sorry. We just wanted a bit of fun." She said softly before going to get raven.

"Yes, well you can have fun in different ways. There was no need to expose your mutation like that. What if you couldn't hold on long enough and someone saw you turn visible? what then?" He was clearly disappointed in them but she didn't care anymore. He wasn't the owner of them they could do what they wanted.

"He's mad at us again." She said to raven before walking back off to Charles and out the door.

"Don't talk to me. You did that on purpose." He said angrily once raven caught up with them.

"I did not! Why would I do it on purpose? We were just playing a game!"

"Yes, you did!"

"And you, that little stunt you pulled-"

"You know I can't control it sometimes if I'm stressed or tired."

"You seem to be doing a perfectly good job right now.-

"Mutant and proud." Raven started, imitating the girl Charles was with.

"What? Or is it only with pretty mutations or invisible ones like yours and Belle's? But if you're a freak, you better hide." Bella knew raven hated her mutation at times. Though bella thought it was a beautiful one, Raven never thought of it that way. Any time Isabella tried to tell raven she would just storm off and wouldn't talk to her for a whole day. She grabbed her sister's hand and squeezed it to comfort her.

"You're being ridiculous. I don't mean to sound like an old fart." -"Which you are."- "Sometimes. But we've talked about this, Raven. A small slip-up is one thing. A big one does not bear thinking about."

"Mutant and proud? If only." Raven said walking off and dragging her sister with her

That night, when they got home Belle went straight to her room without saying goodnight. She was sick of Charles deciding what she was able to do. She knew he was only caring for her but sometimes it got out of hand. She'd never had a boyfriend - or girlfriend, not like that was hardly allowed - or even her first kiss! And she was done. She wasn't going to let Charles dictate what she did. It was her life and she was going to live it.

⋆✩⋆

Raven and Isabella sat quietly in Belles's bedroom, surrounded by silence. The air was thick with emotion as they both struggled to find the right words to express their feelings. They did this now and then. Sat together talking about their mother, childhood, or just in silence.

Finally, Raven broke the silence. "Do you ever feel like she's still here with us? Like she's watching over us?"

Isabella nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "All the time. Sometimes I'll be doing something, and I'll feel this presence like she's right there beside me."

Raven reached out and took her sister's hand. "It's funny, isn't it? How we can feel her presence so strongly, even though she's been gone for so long."

Belle sniffled and wiped away a tear. "I miss her so much. Sometimes I feel like I can't go on without her."

Raven squeezed her hand gently. "I know. But we have each other, we have Charles, and we have her memory. She may not be physically here, but she lives on in us, in our memories, and in the love she gave us."

Isabella looked up at Raven, her eyes brimming with gratitude. Raven smiled sadly.

"I wish I could take away the pain, but all I can do is be here for you, and honor her memory by living the best life we can."

Isabella nodded, a sense of peace washing over her. "You're right. She wouldn't want us to wallow in sadness. She'd want us to be happy and live our lives to the fullest. And NOT hiding or being scared of our mutation." She stated to her sister, sternly.

Their mother always made sure they were proud of their mutation. And she promised them that one day they wouldn't have to hide it.

Raven stood up and pulled Isabella into a tight hug. "That's right. And we will. Together."

authors note

italic is charles and belle speaking in their minds :)

this is a book that is on my wattpad gravity-barbie and all chapters are released on there rn!

dont forget to vote && comment !

#xmen fanfic #lucas till #alex summers #alex summers x reader #suestorm #jessica alba #xmen #xmen x reader #alex summers x oc #raven-darkholme

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

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𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐭 || 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐭 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

IMPORTANT! This fic was written with ONLY Knives Out as it’s source material, I haven��t yet seen Glass Onion. I have since been made aware 1000+ words into this fic that Benoit is gay as of the second film. I didn’t want what I had to go to waste. This is the only time I will write for him in a m x f relationship.

Summary: You introduce Private Investigator Benoit to Cluedo

Word Count: 3.1K

CW: FEMALE READER. Please see explanation above. sassy Benoit. Vague references to a mild age gap relationship, easter egg references to Knives Out film 🤭 Nylon Kink. A bit of knife play. Oral, f receiving.

Tease: “On the contrary,” he answers you with a playful lilt to his drawl, slowly sinking to his knees before you, “I intend to stay right here.”

“You’ve never played Cluedo?!”

Shock permeates each syllable of your parroted sentence, your jaw slack as you stare at your partner with complete incredulity. Benoit, in turn, peers vacantly at you like you’ve said something ridiculously dense.

“Ain’t that what I just said?” He asks you, his monotonous voice lacking any true irritation as he taps the ashes of his cigar into the ashtray on the coffee table between you.

“Nah, we’ve gotta fix that,” you insist, slapping your palms on your knees before raising from your armchair. Benoit peers over the rim of his tortoiseshell glasses, and his icy-blue eyes follow your body across the room.

“Now— Dear, you’ve worked a long shift; you can’t be runnin’ around playin’ detective with me,” he tries to reason with you, attempts to talk you down from the inevitable shitshow that was no doubt about to unfold in the shape of solution cards and miniature murder weapon props. It’s all fruitless, though, because you’re sweeping aside Benoit’s beloved ashtray and ignoring his protestations as you drop the board game’s box onto the coffee table.

Yes, you’d slogged a nine-hour shift and hadn’t had time to change into less formal attire. Your pencil skirt bunches up your thighs, and the button-down blouse collar lies taut against your throat. Hell, your nude tights are beginning to itch too, but you’re far too invested in this ridiculous adventure and refuse to turn back at the sound of Benoit’s listless objections.

“Here we go,” you mumble to yourself, sliding the lid off the cardboard box and electing to ignore the heavy sigh that Benoit hopelessly attempts to conceal. He leans forward to put out his cigar in the ashtray you had unceremoniously discarded on the wooden floor, eyeing you as you set out the board game items and distribute each piece evenly.

“Who would you like to play as?” You ask, offering out the coloured tokens in your outstretched palm.

Benoit peers at each of the six shades of plastic pawn figurines, his expression betraying his evident discontent. “You know I do this for a livin’, don’t you, Dear?”

Your scowl in retaliation to his query has Benoit snatching up the green token from your hand and setting it on his end of the table. Again you smile as though he’d never spoken and choose red for yourself. Reverend Green and Miss Scarlett.

Carefully, you shuffle the weapon, suspect, and room card decks. Then, as discreetly as possible, take the top card from each pile and put them into the murder envelope without peeking at the details on the other side.

Finally, ignoring the obnoxious sighs rattling in Benoit’s chest, you hand out the Clue cards. Five cards each for you and Benoit, four apiece for the pair of ghost hands; purple and blue. You pinch the dice between your forefinger and thumb, holding it in front of your lover's face. “Odd for purple, even for blue. Got it?”

“Got it,” he responds, clearly finding the process tedious already but suffering through for you. Your eyes are alight with excitement, a grin permanently fixed on your lips. How was he to say no? In fact, he found himself amused by your enthusiasm to understand his line of work— even if it was through juvenile means.

“Alright!” You giggle, rolling the dice to move your scarlet pawn token forward. “Let’s begin!”

-✩-

Chimes sound from the mahogany grandfather clock situated in the corner of Benoit’s living room. They’re almost deafening in the silence that has befallen the coffee table. Although it feels like moments, you realise the minute hand has completed a revolution of the face of the timepiece — You’ve been playing for an hour. You’re no closer to identifying the killer than you were sixty minutes ago.

Benoit appears bored to tears, chain-smoking cigars and even leaves his seat at one point to obtain a glass of whiskey. To the amusement of both of you, you hadn’t noticed his absence, too wrapped up in the game to realise he’d gone AWOL.

“Now, Darlin’,” he begins, cutting both the stillness of the room and your acute concentration with his southern drawl. “Don’t you think it’s time we called it a night? It’s gettin’ awfully late—“

“Benoit,” you whine petulantly, noting the wince it earns you from the older man. He certainly looks like he’d acquired a few more silver hairs since you began this wretched game. “I want to finish it.”

“Mhmm…” Benoit pushes his spectacles up his nose, glancing over the board with mirth, “I knew a man who wouldn’t admit defeat in a board game. Know what happened?”

You glance up at him, eyebrow raised in question.

“He died.”

“Benoit!”

Exasperated, Benoit turns his black cards over, revealing his weapon, room and character. He raises his hands in defeat, settling back in his seat and officially ruling himself out of the game. “There, you only gotta look at two suspects… You're not much of a detective, are you?”

“You‘ve solved it already, haven’t you?!” You gasp, looking up at him with wide doe-eyes and dismay. He answers with a firm nod of his head. Perhaps it was foolish of you, but you really thought you’d established egalitarianism with a board game. “Well, go on, how did you know?”

Benoit inhales, opening his mouth to speak and finally put an end to this ridiculousness. “Well, now, I—“

“Wait!” you shout out, holding a hand up as though it would physically restrain the syllables of his deduction from leaving his lips. “I’ll figure it out myself!”

Sullenly, Benoit sinks back into his armchair, admitting defeat and allowing you to play out your inspector fantasy. He pouts for a few moments, watching you furiously exert your mind with the evidence before dragging his gaze over your uniform.

A quiet man, reticent in nature, Benoit rarely discussed his appreciation for your work apparel. Yes, the pencil skirt was lovely and hugged your body well, and the blouse accentuated your bodily aesthetics, but it was the tights that really captured his imagination.

In truth, Benoit was fascinated with your nylon wardrobe and could go so far as to say it was somewhat of a sexual preference. A kink. He enjoyed the sleek look they gave your legs, their shine underneath lights. Once, the feel of your stockings in his hand as he held your foot up to aid in fastening one of your heels had set him alight.

Gazing at your legs, folded over one another as you attempted to piece each clue together resentfully, Benoit felt heat rise under his collar. The nude tights you were wearing are perfect, sheen delicate beneath the faux-candelabra light fixtures. There’s not a tear, ladder or hole in sight.

He planned to amend that.

Benoit lifts himself from his seat, skirting the coffee table easily and approaching you with long strides. You momentarily glance up from the clue card in your hand, scowling to yourself as he advances. “So embarrassed with my detective work that you’re retreating to bed, Mr Blanc?”

“On the contrary,” he answers you with a playful lilt to his drawl, slowly sinking to his knees before you, “I intend to stay right here.”

Momentarily, your mind works like an old television with a crooked aerial antenna. Static fizzles between your synapses, and you cannot come up with a retort to Benoit’s cheeky inference.

“Best keep your mind on the case, detective,” he murmurs, palms settling on your ankles and tracing up the sides of your calves, “We wouldn’t want the killer gettin’ away now, would we?”

You swallow thickly, holding the cards with shaking hands as you feel Benoit place a lingering kiss on the inside of your knee. He skirts the tip of his nose up the inside of your thigh, humming softly as he squeezes the meat of your calves in his hands.

Focus. Focus. It couldn’t have been Benoit; he’s rescinded his cards. So, it was one of the Ghost Hands. Blue was suspicious, and you’d already discovered she was carrying a wrench. However, she had a decent alibi… Meanwhile, you had barely anything on Purple.

You roll the dice again, the face showing a two rather than the hand glass you had been hoping for. Gritting your teeth, you attempt to rake over the evidence, only to be interrupted by your vision swimming suddenly.

Benoit’s nose notches against your clit through your tights, his head practically buried beneath the fabric of your skirt. He groans softly, inhaling the scent of your sex. You whimper, the edges of his glasses pressing against the junction of your thigh as he presses a delicate kiss to your slit through your panties.

“Do me a favour, Dear,” he breathes against your thigh, pressing kisses to the nylon fabric. He doesn’t have to state what he wants from you explicitly. Fumbling with clumsy hands, you set the cards down quickly on the armrest and pull the hem of your skirt over your hips to give Benoit better access.

“Much obliged,” he whispers to you, and you can hear the gratuitous smirk playing on his lips. Attempting to ignore him and focus on the cards, you endeavour to read the clue, which is written in plain English. You haven’t yet fully deciphered it, thanks to Benoit’s tinkering.

He has other plans, though, nipping at your skin through the fabric of your tights. You jolt slightly with each bite he gives you, and you can hear him chuckle beneath you.

“Anythin’?” Benoit teases you with a combination of kisses and nibbles trailing up your thigh. It takes a moment for your answer to form on your tongue, toes curling in your heels.

“Mhm- N-Not yet,” you stumble over your words despite your attempt to conceal your evident appreciation for his affections.

“Hmm,” he hums, the rumble in his chest setting your hair on end as he, once again, presses lingering kisses over your panties. “I feel a noose tightenin’.”

Everything inside you freezes, and you’re quick to glance at the miniature weapon icons. The rope lays dead centre of the pile, and you’re forced to reconsider everything. Was Benoit giving you a hint?

Admittedly, you don’t have time to contemplate. As you open your mouth to question him, Benoit sucks on your clit through your panties. Your line of questioning dies in your throat, instead coming out as a strangled ‘Ahhh~’.

As quickly as he offers you the blissful sensation, he’s stealing it away. He pulls back, sitting on his haunches, and you’re blinking back your arousal to see him clearly. “W-Why did you…?”

Benoit hushes you gently with a wicked smile. “I think you should focus on the case.”

Smug bastard.

Filled with the desire for retribution, you cast your eyes back to the clue cards in your hand. They’re slightly creased now due to the tight grip you’re holding them with. You manage to make out the words ‘Name One…’ before a clicking sound pulls your attention away yet again.

The glint of light reflecting off the blade in his hand had your heart seizing. Not in fear, no, but exhilaration. See, Benoit carried the flip knife on his person always. It was less of a weapon for self-defence than a family heirloom, and Benoit never took it out without good reason. Simply asking to see it would not gain you access to the elusive dagger.

Your breath hitches, adrenaline buzzing down your spine.

“Now, hold still,” Benoit insists, impossibly blue eyes gazing up at your face through the lenses of his glasses. You nod quickly, both showing him you are listening and urging him forward with his plan.

You watch as he leans forward, slipping the knife's point into the nylon at your crotch. Utterly motionless, you whimper as your lover pulls the handle upwards and slices through the fragile material with ease.

“Been wantin’ you to keep these fine stockin’s on …” Benoit whispers against your thigh, pressing a kiss to the soft flesh there as he closes the knife with a click and slips it back into his pocket.

“H-Huh?” You tremble beneath his affections, his lips travelling further up the inside of your legs, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“Case, Detective,” he replies flatly, sliding the pad of his index finger against your slit through the cotton of your panties, “You’re deducin’ a murder weapon— it’s in plain sight.”

“Right,” you nod dumbly, swallowing back your arousal and glancing at the board. The box said the game was suitable for ages eight and up; surely it shouldn’t be this difficult. There had to be evidence you had overlooked. Your notes are settled on the coffee table, and you venture to decipher the evidence as you take up the booklet with trembling hands.

But then Benoit is hooking his finger inside the crotch of your panties, pulling the fabric to the side and exposing your sex. You almost drop the notepad on his head. “How ‘bout you take me through your notes, Dear Detective?”

You would, God, you absolutely would if you could. However, Benoit’s tongue drags against your slit, and your mind goes numb, buzzing as though it has a pins-and-needles sensation. He hums, amusement lilting his voice as he watches you struggle.

Overwhelmed, you completely forget about the game of Cluedo, tilting your head over the back of the chair and sliding your fingers through the greying man’s hair. The notebook falls from your hand, clattering against the wooden floor but you’re already too far gone to care.

Eager to please you further, Benoit is gripping your thighs, lifting them so they settle on his shoulders. The nylon tights rub against his neck this way, and you’re sure it spurs him on because he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit. It jolts your body forward, and that maddening chuckle sounds between your legs again.

“Now, Darlin’,” he croons, and you’re whining due to the lack of friction already, “You be careful. The killer’ll be gettin’ away.”

You choke on an apology, Benoit burying his face into your cunt and sucking at your clit keenly. He’s swirling your clit with the tip of his tongue, one, two, three times, and then dragging over the seam of your sex to lap up your slick.

Not only was the man eloquent, but he was also persuasive with his tongue. Trembling in your seat, you sob out as your muscles tense against it. Your legs twitch against the shoulders of his suit, and you arch your hips up to grind against his face.

“Detective,” he prompts you, and you suck in a breath like you’re coming up for air after being suspended in water. Your eyes roll back, and you try to focus hard on what it is he’s requesting of you.

“Hngg- B-Blue has a go-good alibi—” you let out an obscene whine, the wet noises of his tongue dragging against your soaked pussy diverting you from the task at hand.

“Mhmm?” He hums, and the vibration has you bucking against his face again, sobbing out his name in a broken whimper.

“A-And I’m not sure about Purple!” You squeak out. God, it’s so messy. You’re soaking his face, and you’re sure you can see your slick glossing up his nose and chin. If you stained the seat, you’re not even sure he’d mind; the blues of his eyes engulfed by the black of his pupils.

It’s a wave of pleasure building, teasing at your abdomen and throbbing through you with each pulse of your heart. You inhale deeply, feeling it tease at the edges of your skin. You’re devastated, overpowered by the ecstasy clawing at the base of your spine— you don’t even notice what it is you’re saying.

"I-I-It was the- ohhhh fuck, Benny~" you sob out, tears rolling down your cheeks, “It’s you— Hgnn fuck!-!”

"Hm? Use your words, dear. You're makin' an accusation, you know. Don't want to slip your words now." He’s entertained by your bewilderment, “Especially when the person you’re accusin’ has given you a damn good alibi.”

You’re so far gone that you’re not even embarrassed that you’d just implicated the one person you could be sure wasn’t the killer. Swallowing sobs, you watch as Benoit circles your clit repeatedly with his tongue, eyes staring straight up at you and watching you come apart.

It all happens so fast. Your toes are curling in your shoes as the cramping sensation of your oncoming orgasm takes hold. One of your shoes falls off and clatters to the floor, and Benoit places the flat of his palm against your pubic bone.

“Oh God-!” You choke out, whining as he continues with the devastating pattern he’s drawing. “I’m gonna— Shit, Benny, it’s—“

He’s nodding without removing his mouth from you as though he’s telling you ’I know’. It’s shoving you right off the edge, those beautiful blue eyes blinking slowly and taking in every inch of the image of ecstasy on your face.

It pulses right between your legs, throbbing against his tongue like a pulse. You scream out his name, all of the muscles in your body tensing so hard that you’re cramping. Your vision goes white, and you’re gripping Benoit’s hair so tightly that you’re surprised you don’t rip any out.

You’re suspended for a moment, and then everything melts away, every inch of your body melting against the plush of the seat. Distantly, you recognise the smile against his lips, pressed to your skin.

“… Who was it?” You slur like you’re drunk on the dopamine he’s just overdosed you on. He laughs heartily, and you can’t help but smile with him.

“Blue.”

“Fuck!” You gasp out, palms covering your face and digging your nails into your hairline. As if! “When on earth did you figure that out, Benny?”

He sits back on his knees, pulling the handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiping his chin and nose to remove the slick you had rubbed onto him. “Mhmm… Why, I figured it out the moment you laid out the cards.”

You scoff now, disjointedly sitting up in your chair. The muscles of your arms are like jelly, and you struggle to raise yourself. “Are you that good that you could tell at first glance?”

Again, a smug smile plays at the edge of Benoit’s lips, his eyes flicking up to your face.

“No… I simply saw the cards you drew.”

END

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#benoit blanc #benoit blanc x you #benoit blanc x reader #Benoit blanc x y/n #Benoit blanc x f!reader #benoit blanc imagine #Benoit blanc fanfic #Benoit blanc fanfiction #knives out fanfiction #knives out fanfic #knives out #knives out 2 #glass onion #Daniel Craig

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