#I mean It’s not like they’ll find this they don’t even know what tumblr is but still

[highvern]

Patterns I

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (21+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: fuckboy(ish) wonwoo, friends(?) with benefits, multiple sex scenes, oral (f. & m. receiving), choking, face fucking, penetrative sex

Length: ~10k

Note: woooohoooo part 1 done. let me know what you guys think! thank you @gyuswhore for being my beta and talking me down from a complete meltdown lmao

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“And if you look at this chart, you can see profit margins over the past three quarters have steadily increased…”

Mona drones on and on. You try to listen and nod along but there’s only so much enthusiasm that can be faked for a last minute afternoon meeting on a Friday. Maybe if she was saying anything with an ounce of meaning you’d pay attention. But the numbers she spout off on record profits only confirm what the company who hired your team already knows: if they give their employees more work for less pay, they’ll make more money.

The vibration of your phone wakes you up. Peering into your lap under the table, you see your roommate’s name flash across the screen.

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: ruby’s tonight Y/N: Do I have a choice?

You don’t even lock your phone before she responds.

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: nope!

“Y/N, do you mind sharing the latest reports?” 

Head jerking up, you meet Mona’s gaze across the room. She flashes a tight smile, clearly having caught your moment of distraction. Lucky for you, you could recite the reports in your sleep.

You smile and say all the right things; make all the right jokes. Just enough personality they feel special but not so much they feel like you’re a real human being outside of your job.

“All right. I think we’ve covered everything.” Mona claps. “Edgar and I will be on call this weekend if anything comes up.”

Shuffling out with the rest of your coworkers, you beeline back to your desk. 

Mona breezes by, slamming the door to her office shut.

“Do you think Mona has eyes in the back of her head?” Edgar asks, peeking over the wall dividing your cubicles.

Without looking away from the email crowding your screen you quip, “No, but I hear she sleeps in a coffin.”

“Huh. I thought that was just the hottest office furniture tread for execs.”

You snort in response. 

Mona was a hard ass but she was good at her job. 

“Anyway, any plans this weekend?”

“Get drunk and watch Love Island.”

Edgar gasps, hand to his chest like a scandalized debutant. “You wild woman.”

The next two hours crawl by. Not even the usual side projects keep you entertained, giving you time to research the new art installation downtown Lisa mentioned visiting. 

Hopefully buying tickets as her early birthday present will get you off the hook for tonight.

In true Lisa fashion, a surprise gift means celebration. And the best place to celebrate is Ruby’s.

Smoke chokes the air, bodies upon bodies packed into the space of the dingy bar on a Friday night. The chill of the outside stops at the threshold of the door, sweltering heat greeting you and your friends as you join the crows eager to celebrate the weekend.

It’s almost too dark to see faces but Mingyu’s head of dark hair stands above the rest from his perch in the corner. Lisa’s hand finds yours, and your other hand find’s Amina as you shoulder towards the table he’s claimed for the night. The bass of whatever remix blaring through the DJ’s speakers thrums through the crush of drunk patrons like a frantic heartbeat, rattling your bones with each step deeper into the space.

The glossy surface of the table is already littered with cups and beer bottles. Mingyu cuts his conversation with Wonwoo short to greet your group, smiling over Lisa’s head already buried in his chest. Wonwoo's only acknowledgement is a short nod over the top of the bottle he lifts to his lips. 

A pair of not so sly eyes wander down your front, tracing across the deep v of your top, baring your sternum between the swell of your breasts. You burn under Wonwoo’s blatant gawking, breath stalled and face hot but none of your friends appear to notice the electricity crackling between you two, intoxicated brains filling with lewd ideas. 

Needing a reprieve, you slither to the bar in search of a drink. Slipping between the sweaty bodies as they part, Amina follows close behind. A few shots and a beer later, you stumble towards the dance floor with laughter on your lips and the bitter singe of alcohol on your tongue.

The crowd of strangers accepts you, swallowing you into the churning chaos immediately. A few familiar faces stand out in the crowd as you shift through the sway.

Looking over the shoulder of the random person in front of you, a mess of limbs better known as Lisa and Mingyu flashes into view; Soonyoung and Eva no better next to them. Over their embrace, you spot Amina dancing with a pretty stranger of her own, both of them with drunk smiles plastered on their faces. 

Head dizzily bobbing to the music, your eyes slip shut. You know it's Wonwoo at your back, hips following closely, one hand around your waist and the other dragging a path of fire across your thigh. 

This wasn’t the first time you found yourselves in this particular position. Since your roommates started dating, and whenever alcohol was close enough to serve as a believable excuse, you managed to find each other like super charged magnets; gluing together and drowning heady touches.

It wasn’t like anything more happened. That was the excuse you told yourself after the first time. A girls night out Mingyu and Wonwoo happened to stumble upon. You’d still been upset about the breakup with Seungcheol two months prior, indulging in the shitty white wine that only served to fuel your boldness.

You’d never admit seeking out Wonwoo with the knowledge Seungcheol couldn’t stand him; taking sick satisfaction in imagining the look on Seungcheol’s face as you let Wonwoo touch the way previously reserved for him. You pressed against Wonwoo’s front with little care for who saw; a challenging gleam in your glassy eyes, daring him to push away. Not one to be bested, Wonwoo pressed back, and the rest is history.

After the first night of the new game, you went home and came embarrassingly fast to the fantasy of what would have inevitably happened if he’d followed. The week after consisted of staunchly avoiding Wonwoo. Guilt and disgust plagued every waking moment, and if you had to look at him you knew you’d feel worse. 

Your only real connection was your roommate Lisa dating his roommate Mingyu which meant your evasiveness went undetected for nearly a month before Wonwoo managed to corner you at a party and demand to know what your “fucking problem” was. It was then you realized he either didn’t remember what happened or didn’t think it was anything to make such a big deal about. You never asked for specifics but came to the conclusion: If he didn’t care, then why should you? It was just a bit of fun. A game of chicken neither intended to end. 

Each time you came across each other on the weekends after, the stakes increased. One night, you let wandering hands catalog the planes hard muscle hidden underneath the fabric of his shirt. The next, you followed a trail of goosebumps across his neck with tongue and teeth. 

And Wonwoo called your bluff everytime. His thumb tracing against the underside of your breast while delivering a particularly harsh grind of his hips, leaving very little to the imagination of what hid behind the zipper of his jeans. Or when he spun you around, hypnotizing you with his eyes while pawing your ass, dragging your core across his thigh wedged between your legs.

But whatever transpired fizzled away by the time the night ended, both of you content to go separate ways and ignore whatever was left on the dance floor (or occasionally a wall). Tonight would be no different. It never was. It never would be.

Wonwoo was fun to play with but that's all. Throw him flirty smiles, indulge in the bold touches, take a thrill in the chase and then retreat to the safety of the bar or drag one of your friends to the bathroom for a break. He let go without any argument; something you found disappointing much to your own chagrin. But Wonwoo’s eyes never left your figure the second it left his arms. Even if he found a new partner, he would watch you while he did everything he had already done and then all the things he would have done if you stayed.

“Come home with me,” he whispers in your ear, more of a command than a question, breaking the delicate silence surrounding your unspoken attraction.

The air in your chest thickens to a sludge. For a second, you think you misheard him, possibly hallucinating that he’s spoken at all. With the thrum of music and shouts it’s not out of the question.

Unable to turn in his tight grip, you settle for leaning back against his shoulder, neck stretching, giving him a direct view down your top, his eyes privy to the fact that you hadn’t worn a bra. His chest plastered against your back heaves with a heavy breath as you continue to move against him. 

Wonwoo tries again, his hand squeezing your waist gently, pulling you closer to his body to feel the evidence of his arousal. “Come home with me.” 

It's just the next level to the game, you think. The fantasy is tempting; taking you back to his apartment, spreading you out across his bed and making good on all the promises he’s teased into your skin for months.

If he wants to play, you’ll play too.

“What’s in it for me?” you hum, lips brushing his ear in a mimic of his motion moments ago. 

Wonwoo responds with another curl of his hips against your ass.

God, he’s good at this. Wonwoo is the only guy to spark any kind of interest since Seungcheol left months ago. Not for lack of trying but they were either too tall, too short, weird hair, awful laugh. The list of excuses goes on and on. Subconsciously, you’d been comparing them all to the man behind you and found each of them lacking. But if Wonwoo wants to progress to the next level, he’ll need to work for it.

“Not convincing enough,” you chide.

The hand on your thigh pauses, taking a second to squeeze the supple flesh before setting a new course. Wonwoo moves slowly, giving you plenty of time to stop his advance if you wish. Not sensing an objection, he pushes forward. Even over the thick denim of your jeans, Wonwoo’s palm scorches against the zipper. Continuing lower, he grinds the heel of his palm against your clothed pussy, nothing more than mockery of the real thing but it has you shuddering all the same. The slope of your shoulder stings under his mouth, licking waves of fire across the nerves with each nip of his teeth. 

Wonwoo pants against the shell of your ear on the next rock of his hand, laughing as your nails dig into his wrist before he whispers, “Unless you want our friends to watch, trust me.” 

You need to see his face; need to look in Wonwoo’s eyes and find out if he’s trying to rile you up or if he’s serious.

This time when you move, Wonwoo allows you to turn in his hold. The look in his eyes tells you he would take you right here if he thought for a second you’d let him. He isn’t trying to just get a rise out of you and see you squirm. Wonwoo isn’t playing a game anymore. 

He wants you.

You nod once and Wonwoo has you both out the door and on the way to his place before the song ends.

The cold metal of the door bites into your skin, bowing your chest straight into Wonwoo’s as he crowds against you, arms caging you in on both sides. His lips are busy surveying the skin of your neck, sucking and nipping until he pauses at the hollow of your throat. His teeth raze against the sensitive skin, tongue darting out to lave against the marks he’s determined to leave. Wonwoo listens closely to the sounds leaving your throat, focusing his ministrations whenever an exceptionally satisfied purr slips out.

He takes a step forward at the feel of your hand pushing its way into his jacket, rewarding the tease of your fingers across his stomach with a suck against your jaw. The sharp pain of your nails across his scalp forces a quiet groan out his lips; something you file away for later. 

“Get us inside before your neighbors catch us with my hand down your pants,” you gasp, giving his hair a particularly harsh yank to pull him away from your breasts peeking out from the low cut of your top.

“Wouldn’t mind that,” he mumbles, diving back. 

But Wonwoo concedes, grabbing his keys from his pocket while remaining focused on leaving his mark on your sternum. 

Despite your request, you do everything but make it easier for him; thumb dipping into the waistband of his boxers before slipping inside, cupping the straining bulge confined under the tight fabric. Wonwoo falters under your attention, pressing his hips into you until you're crushed between his body and the door. When Wonwoo finally fumbles the key into the lock, the door flies open under your combined weight.

Using the momentum, Wonwoo crowds you back to the wall just inside, slamming the door shut with his foot, returning where he left off without missing a beat. A hand tilts your chin back to give him more room, and you realize he hasn’t kissed you yet. Twisting the front of his shirt, you resolve to change that.

Pulling back, Wonwoo’s brows arching in confusion, mouth falling opening to complain at being interrupted again but snapping shut when you attempt to pull him forward. 

But a hair's breadth away Wonwoo stops.

“What do you want?”

You won’t beg. If anyone is cracking first it’ll be Wonwoo. Just like he did at the bar not too long ago. 

“If you won’t tell me then I can’t give it to you.” He moves forward, nose tracing along your throat, breath fanning across your neck. One of his arms moves to the space between your body and the wall, pulling until his thigh is bracketed by yours. The hard muscle is nothing short heaven against the seam of your jeans, invoking a traitorous whimper from your throat.

You manage a chaste kiss against the side of his mouth before he darts out of range. 

“Tell me and you can have it,”  Wonwoo says, cocking his head back, looking down his nose at you from behind the wire frames of his glasses; pupils blown. His eyes close and he leans forward again before continuing, “Tell me what you want, and you can have everything.”

His teeth trail across the shell of your ear on the last word and suddenly it's all too much. The rasp of his voice, the flex of his thigh, the layers of clothing separating your bodies. If you don’t get relief soon you’ll both implode.

“Kiss me.”

You feel Wonwoo’s satisfied smile a second before your lips meet, lighting the fuse for what's to come. There’s no gentleness in the connection, instead, months of insatiable need leads the way. Parting your lips, you suck his own between your teeth until it's swollen in retaliation. Wonwoo angles your head back with a gentle tug of your hair, immediately swallowing your gasp at his roughness. The hand wrapped around the middle of your back flexes, urging, no, begging you to grind against him. You oblige with embarrassing eagerness.

Your hand finds its way down Wonwoo’s front again, fingers firm and demanding. Tracing the zipper of his jeans up and down in time with your movement against his leg, the heel of your hand presses forward, causing his hips to cant up against the pressure. The motion is a mock of what he was doing in the crowded bar minutes ago. Just enough to rile him up and to piss him off until his hands drop and squeeze your ass so hard it hurts.

Refusing to let your mouths part, Wonwoo drags you down the hallway towards his room. It takes longer than it should, both of you stopping to force the other into the wall, bodies writhing against one another in search of friction and pleasure. At one point you consider letting him fuck you right their on the floor but he pushes through the door to his room just before you can unzip his pants.

Finally inside, Wonwoo herds you towards the bed in the corner. The back of your knees hit the side, bending as you land with a soft bounce. Wonwoo follows swiftly, settling himself on his elbows before diving back into your neck again. His hips slot into the warm cradle of your thighs easily, pressing forward to search for the heat he knows is there. You greedily return the movement, hips curling up, savoring the drag of his hard cock. Wonwoo sucks another bruise onto your neck, high enough you’ll have to hide it in the morning but you're so drunk on the idea of what is going to happen next you can’t even feign outrage. 

The strap of your flimsy top falls down and Wonwoo moves to explore the new span of skin. His lips drag over the uncovered swell of your breast, sloppy kisses trailing over the silky skin. Cocking his head to the side, he sucks a nipple through the thin black fabric. Your hips buck, back arching at the new sensation. The angle of Wonwoo’s cock is just right, pulling moan after moan from your throat. He’s so focused on what he’s doing he can’t be bothered to snicker at how he turns you into an aching puddle of want.

Clothes come off in a blur. You watch his abs flex as he rips his shirt over his head, eyes tracing the dark thatch of hair disappearing under the waistband of his pants. Soon, yours is gone too, lost on the floor. Wonwoo's eyes delight in the sight of you bare before him, with nipples puckered and breasts heavy with excitement. He ducks back down, mouthing at the sensitive bud, drowning in your breathy whines and whimpers. Using his hand, his calloused thumb massages the one his mouth had abandoned, pinching and flicking until you’re left raw and aching.

“Wonwoo,” you cry, hands ripping at the sheets when his teeth come out to play. 

He pulls back from your breasts, in a frenzy to remove your pants while his knees fall to the ground on the side of the bed. You arch up to help him rip the damning fabric away. An ember of fury sparks, furious with yourself for wearing jeans over the skimpy skirt Lisa had offered.

None the wiser, Wonwoo looks between your legs like he’s found an oasis in a desert. You realize too late they’re nothing impressive. Pale pink cotton; simple, practical. Just like your pants, since getting fucked tonight wasn’t even a remote possibility when you left your apartment. 

But Wonwoo doesn’t even seem to care. When you dare to look at his face, worried by the sudden pause in his actions, you find he’s not even blinking. His thumb finds your entrance through the fabric, shallowly dipping inside before moving back and massaging teasing circles over the damp spot.

Pride and ego long forgotten, you beg. “Wonwoo, please.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t give in. Focusing on the curve of your thigh, nose etching along the strained muscle while he continues teasing touches over your underwear. The wet of his tongue comes out when he reaches the hem of your underwear. So close to where you want him but not close enough.

“Please.”

The pathetic crack of your voice is rewarded with firmer fingers and his lips against the sticky crotch of your panties; the heat of his mouth right over your entrance as he laps at your release.

Another beg and he moves aside the thin strip of fabric, curling his tongue into your entrance before sucking at your swollen clit. 

The relief is short lived. Somehow, Wonwoo knows exactly how to touch and tease you, driving you up the wall only to pull you back down. One hand finds your knee, forcing it away when you try to crush his head between your thighs at the first prod of his long fingers inside you.

He slips another finger inside, his tongue continuing to swipe at your bundle of nerves, just as desperate to give you what you want as you are to receive it. Glancing down at him again, you find a scene worthy of being immortalized in a painting. His brow is furrowed in concentration, eyes pinched tight while he works to get you off. 

A pause to take a breath is all the reprieve you’re granted before Wonwoo dives back in, moaning under the sting of your nails on his scalp; encouraging you to hold him there and use him, to come for him. The symphony of your combined noises floods the room. The squelch of his fingers, rubbing up against the place that drives you mad. The wet noises of his mouth, your arousal mixing with his spit; his noises when you pull at his hair, vibrating against your cunt and pulling your spine into a harsh curve. 

You can’t help but watch him. Enamoured with how right he looks between your legs, skin slips together where his shoulders hold your legs up. Even the contrast of his hand on your knee fuels the fire.

He peers up at you when you call his name again. Eyes burning into your own. Like he can read your mind. Like he agrees this is the best place for him to be.

You hear yourself far away, chanting his name as you shatter into a million pieces. Clenching around Wonwoo’s fingers with a strength you didn't know you possessed, your hips ride them until your muscles lock and jerk. The smear of fluid across your thighs, slipping your ass and onto the bed is lewd. 

But Wonwoo doesn’t stop, working you through it like his own release is on the line. Licking and sucking and fucking you with his fingers until you finally manage to pull him away with a choked cry of his name. Even then, his hand continues pistoning into you as your mouths find one another hungrily. 

There's a sick satisfaction in your gut at the taste on his mouth. Your arousal coats his chin, his cheeks, even the tip of his nose is wet where it digs into your face as you suck his tongue.

Moving to his feet, Wonwoo bends over you, lips never straying from yours. He fails to crowd you down into the mattress like he intends. Freezing when your hands pushing his pants down the rest of the way. His cock bobs, the nearly purple head leaking. If there was any doubt he didn’t find pleasure going down on you before, the evidence of his enjoyment sits hard and heavy in your palm. An exploratory squeeze has Wonwoo’s chin dropping to his chest, a sharp breath leaving his nose.

Sliding off the bed and to your knees, you peek up at him through your lashes, letting the tip rest against parted lips. When Wonwoo drags his head back up, looking down his nose, your tongue darts out to catch some of his pre-cum, receiving another groan in response. A thought that has you blushing rears its head. 

He’ll probably like it, you think.

You let one of her hands trail down while kissing across the velvety shaft his length. Wonwoo watches closely, eyes widening for a second when you find the apex of your thighs, dipping down to collect the lingering slickness. Once satisfied, you exchange your grip on his cock and quirk an eyebrow. Stroking him coyly.

You don’t look away from his eyes even though every instinct tells you to hide from the heat in his gaze. Your palm catches at the tip, thumb brushing his leaking slit. More evidence of his arousal trickles out and you lap it up quickly.

“Shit,” Wonwoo hisses. “Fuck, you’re so good.” 

One of Wonwoo’s hands finds your cheek, helping you find a comfortable pace. Settling the back of your head against the bed, drag him forward by his ass, content to let him use your mouth the way you used his. Wonwoo stumbles for a second at the sudden movement, hands finding the bed to prevent himself from collapsing. He peers down in question. 

“Want you to fuck my mouth,” you pant, quickly taking him back in, going as deep as possible without gagging.

“Fuuuuck,” Wonwoo rasps, moving the hand on the side of your face to the back of your head. He pins you in place with his hips, giving a shallow, almost hesitant thrust as he discovers your limits.

You zone out when he finds a rhythm, hand at the base of his cock to keep him from bottoming out in your throat, the one cradling his balls dropping to trace the inside of his thigh. Eventually, Wonwoo lets himself go, savoring the pressure of your tongue when you lap against the tip as he pulls out. His abs twitch at the sight of drool leaking from the corners of your stuffed mouth, lips stretched and bruised around his cock. 

Opening your eyes, you look right at him; punching the air from his chest as you moan around his cock, the vibration forcing his head back, neck bared again as a bead of sweat settles in the hollow of his throat.

“Touch yourself,” Wonwoo commands, breaking the melody of whimpers and groans.

You disregard his command, content with focusing on untying him from his loose tether to sanity.

Not one to be ignored, Wonwoo pulls away on the next stroke. You follow, attempting to trail forward and suck him back down your throat but Wonwoo’s hand knots in your hair. He yanks your head back until his cock is just out of range. Looking up at him, you do nothing to hide the annoyance at such a sudden disruption.

“Touch. Yourself. ” he lets out tightly, enunciating each syllable. Equally annoyed but willing to make a point. 

“Wanna watch me?” you goad, smug as the tips of his ears redden. 

Instead of brushing it off, Wonwoo takes the bait.

“Yeah I do,” he says, one hand leaving your hair, guiding the tip of his cock across the seam of your lips, letting out a humorless laugh when your tongue reaches out to meet it on instinct. “Wanna watch while you suck my cock because you’re a good girl.” 

He lets you take the head, teeth grinding under the dig of your tongue into the slit. But any attempt to take more is punished with another tug of your hair. Until his hand circles your throat and he pulls you off completely. 

“Right, Y/N?”

The praise goes straight to your head, breath stunted. You barely nod before Wonwoo moves his hips forward again, slowly resuming their previous rhythm at the promise of seeing you put on a show. Two fingers slip in with ease, disappointment bubbling when the stretch doesn’t come anywhere close to his but you’ll play along for now if it means getting to feel his cum on your tongue.

Wet, messy noises echo in the room. You hollow your cheeks, hand acting as a bumper while letting his cock kiss the back of your throat. Wonwoo’s hips stutter when you swallow around him. The tension in his muscles doubles your effort, set on the satisfaction of making him cum from just your mouth. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” Wonwoo hisses, pulling you off.

Wonwoo hauls you up into the bed, aggressively crowding you towards the pillows. The cool sheets sting against your back, but you focus on getting another fist around his cock. Wonwoo intercepts your plans before you can make it below his navel. He pins the offending appendage next to your head; grip loose enough you could break if you wanted, but the tease of his dominance turns you on even more and it's not long before he has both hands above your head, and a disapproving look on his face.

“If you don’t want me to come on your thigh, I suggest keeping your hands to yourself,” he states, leaning towards the bedside table, searching for a condom.

“Didn’t think you’d be that easy,” you bite back. Planting your feet on the bed, your hips grind up into his. 

“Says the woman who begged for my cock,” Wonwoo grinds out, flattening his chest into yours, teasing with exactly what you asked for.

You're suddenly hit by how much stronger Wonwoo is than you. Able to have your entire body pinned like it’s nothing while working the condom on at the same time. You knew he worked out, broad shoulders and narrow waist giving him away; but having that strength used you sends a swirl of butterflies through your stomach.

Wonwoo resorts to ripping open the packet with his teeth, hips easing up to quickly roll it down his length. He rubs himself through your folds, collecting the wetness and repeatedly tapping himself to your clit. You’re about to flip him around and take matters into your own hands when he catches on your entrance and presses home in a slow thrust.

He slides deep. Deeper than Seungcheol, deeper than anyone you’ve ever been with. You barely get a chance to savor it before he’s moving, wasting no time before working up a pace meant to drive you both mad. 

“Shit,” you curse.

Wonwoo huffs into your neck, tongue tracing the shell of your ear. “Yeah? Feel good?”

“Soooo good.” 

Wonwoo lets go of your hands, tangling one the sheets, the other searching for the top of the metal headboard. The change in position folds you in half, giving him the leverage to fuck as deep as possible. Finding your hands free, one claws at his back, leaving bright red lines in its wake. The other grabs for his ass, squeezing the muscle there, helping him press forward. His balls clapping against the swell of your ass drives you closer to hysteria. 

Your second orgasm rushes forward, resting on his lips finding yours. The connection is bruising, all teeth and tongues. The hand on his ass falls to play with yourself and Wonwoo breaks away to watch.

“Like that, Y/N?” Wonwoo bites, whispering right into your ear. “Fuck, you're so tight, baby.”

His words only add to the inferno. The need to come overwhelms you, demanding satisfaction to the point it hurts. But you need more. Needs something you can’t name and only Wonwoo can give. 

Frustration twists your features, eyebrows furrowed and mouth tense. Almost as if he senses your oncoming tantrum, Wonwoo drops more of his weight, pressing you into the mattress and filling you to the brink.

 “Be a good girl,” Wonwoo coos, hip punctuating each word while his teeth tug at your earlobe. “Come for me.”

His permission is the key. Bombs explode behind your eyelids, cascading colors against the black and white. Loud moans rush from your throat to fill his room, muscles locked, body convulsing with endorphins. You want to kiss him again, until you can’t breathe, until you stop needing oxygen and adapt to survive on the taste of his mouth. 

Wonwoo must feel the same, meeting you in a lazy kiss, too fucked out to put in more effort. He swallows every whimper, the syllables of his name while he fucks you through your high. The wetness smeared between your bodies echoes all the motions, his pistoning hips driving more and more from your worn cunt. 

His own high rushes for him at light speed. Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours. You burn the last bit of energy you possess to open your eyes and find his. Wonwoo’s face is tight as a thin sheen of sweat covers his body. All you want now is to see him cum, give him as much pleasure as he’s given you. Reaching up, your lips brush his ear one last time.

“Wanna feel you come,” you sigh. “Please, Woo.”

The responding groan signals success. His hips stutter forward, a deep grunt bursts from his chest. If you weren’t exhausted, you’d demand to go again; to fuck him again and again just to see the twitch of his lips as he empties himself into you, the grind of his teeth, and shudder of his chest. But Wonwoo gives one more hard drive of his hips before collapsing, completely spent.

You don't know how long you stay like that, drifting in and out of consciousness as sweat dries, and your thighs becoming uncomfortably sticky. When Wonwoo moves to pull out, a surprising whine rips from your throat. 

“Shower?” he asks, husky voice breaking the lingering silence.

You finally crack an eye open at Wonwoo’s voice, and find him looking at you with soft eyes. Uh oh. Warning bells fire but you’re too tired to care. A shower sounds lovely.

Wonwoo hauls you up, leading you into his small bathroom. The water in the shower is already running, steam escaping the stall as he ushers you under. The scratches at his back contrast brightly against his pale skin, a few bite marks spattered across his chest. You know you look equally debauched but the lull of warm water calms any concerns. The silence is comfortable, thick as you move like zombies. Wonwoo passes his body wash without a word, moving to shampoo his hair. Swapping between the brutally frigid air and the comforting warm water under the shower head, you both race to finish up quickly. Once satisfied, Wonwoo shuts off the faucet and grabs the towels from the hook on the wall. He hands you one before stepping out to dry himself. A spare toothbrush waits on the counter when you exit the stall.

Wonwoo leaves first, heading back to his room to dress. It gives you the opportunity to look in the mirror for the first time. Your skin glows, both from the steam and Wonwoo’s attention. Across your throat, bruises cluster like a necklace, splotches of darkness maring the skin. Unfolding the towel, you find more littered across your breasts, and an impressive one on the inside of your thigh. 

After the shock fades, exhaustion creeps back in. It had to be far into the early hours of the morning. You hope Mingyu stayed with Lisa at your shared apartment. Having to face Wonwoo in the morning was enough horror, but if Mingyu heard anything then you would never be able to look him in the eye again despite having heard your roommate and him more times than you can count.

Returning to Wonwoo’s room, you see him already under the covers, spread out on his stomach with his face squashed into the pillow. On his desk sits a tshirt and a pair of old shorts. Hanging the towel up in his bathroom, you snag the shirt and pull it on.

Finding your pants, you fish out your phone and see the time: 3:47AM. A few missed calls from Amina, several dozen texts from the group chat, and one from Lisa that reads “You better not be where I think you are” clutter the screen. 

There's no point in arguing the accusation. She has your location, you know she checked it before she went to bed. And in the morning you’ll have to answer every inane question that pops into her head. But for now, you need to sleep.

Sliding open the group text, you send a quick “I'm alive, see u in the morning for brunch?” tossing your phone aside.

Your head hits the pillow and you’re out like a light.

The dream you’re lost in is lovely. A faceless figure bends you over a desk, your heated face pressed against the glossy wood. Naked as the day you were born, nothing protecting your nipples from rubbing against the cold surface, hardening until you hiss from sensitivity. Large warm palms massage your ass, hands pushing upwards, lightly parting the cheeks to give him more leverage to lick at your leaking hole. You can feel him moan, echoing your own sounds of pleasure as he indulges. One hand finds its way back to his head, fingers tangling in his short hair, holding him in place as you rise on tiptoes to move against his mouth. He feels familiar but it doesn’t matter who he is, more so what he plans to do. Just as a thumb swipes against your other hole, pulling a shocked gasp from your lips, it all comes crashing down.

You claw at the tendrils of pleasure slipping past to no avail. Harsh whispers outside your door pull you awake as they gain volume. It isn’t out of the ordinary to hear snippets of your roommates’ conversations as they pass down the hall towards their own rooms. Having the first room off the kitchen was the sacrifice you made to have a bigger closet and a better view. Usually though, Lisa and Amina had the decency to not have a full blowout so early, and on a weekend no less.

As the whispers crescendo into a one sided screaming match, you make out Lisa and Mingyu’s voices on the other side of the thin wood. 

“Mingyu if you don’t move out of my way there will be TWO BODIES TO CLEAN UP.” 

Lisa is pissed, using a tone of voice saved for rare occasions. Occasions you rarely witnessed Mingyu be on the receiving end of. Whatever he had done, he better pray Lisa forgives him. He also better pray you forgive him for working Lisa’s temper up so early in the morning.

“Shut the fuck up!” you yell, voice thick with sleep, refusing to open your eyes against the light trickling in from the window above. Snuggling deeper in the soft covers, you try to force yourself back asleep, hoping to reunite with the anonymous dream man.

When did the window get above your bed? 

You shoot up, instantly regretting the decision. Splinters of pain shoot behind your left eye causing you to collapse back into the pillows to find reprieve. The grumble next to you sends your heart racing.

“I’m going to kill her,” a gravely male voice threatens.

Turning on your side, you brave the torturous sunlight to catch Wonwoo’s profile. His face is scrunched in annoyance, eyes shut as he too tries to get lost in the blankets. He drags the comforter over your heads, pulling you towards him to hide in the curve of your throat.

It all comes rushing back. Going home with him, your dirty deeds, the shared shower. You beg the powers that be to kill you when you remember how you begged with embarrassing ease.

Outside his door, Lisa bellows and forces the door open; sending it cracking against the wall with the force. 

The blanket rips down, uncovering who's hiding underneath. She only manages to pull it below your shoulder before you and Wonwoo realize what's happening and clutch at the fabric. Thank god you both are wearing clothes.

“What the fuck?” Wonwoo’s voice is acidic as he looks to Mingyu over Lisa’s head. Mingyu at least has the decency to look apologetic as Lisa acts like an overly concerned mother who just found her daughter with a boy in her bed.

“See? Y/N is alive, we can leave now,” Mingyu tries in vain to placate his girlfriend. Lisa snatches her hand away from him when he attempts to pull her out of Wonwoo’s room.

Lisa’s eyes take in your tousled hair, the bruises at both your necks, the clothes littered on the floor haphazardly. She isn’t stupid, she knows exactly what has happened. Lisa also knows Wonwoo wouldn’t take advantage of you, but she is still protective nonetheless. The amused look spreading across her face nearly sends you out the window and to the cement several stories below.

“Oh my god, are you fifteen?” Her question is pointed at Wonwoo, catching the string of hickies marking your neck.

“How about you get the fuck out of my room?” Wonwoo bites, raising his voice. He burrows under your chin, dragging the blanket over his head once again.

“We’ll talk about this later!” Lisa calls as Mingyu finally drags her out the door, her voice is muffled by the slam of it shutting but you clearly hear her yell, “Brunch is in an hour!” 

Finally left alone, you mind races to prepare for the interrogation waiting for you. Wonwoo appears to be unaware of any such troubles. Cuddling down into the swell of your breasts, he’s already trailing back towards sleep. 

Despite yourself, the hand stuck under him rises up to gently trace shapes across the expanse of his back. The warm skin lulls you into a trance as the memories from the hours prior replay.

“Are you sure I can stay?” A deep yawn warps your voice. You’re  already halfway under the covers, hoping he doesn’t change his mind. If you have to stay awake any longer you’ll have a meltdown.

“Yes.” His face is still pushed into his pillow, voice distorted by the barrier and slurred with his sleep. “Now shut up and sleep.”

And you do just that. Shocking, given you’re a horrible bed partner; tossing and turning most of the night, waking frequently. Seungcheol experienced many grumpy mornings courtesy of your poor sleep hygiene after a sleepover. But in Wonwoo’s bed, your restlessness decides to take the night off, allowing you to sleep like a rock.

It can’t have been more than a couple hours before you awake again. Despite the short snooze, you’re more rested than you’ve been in months. Stretching with a yawn, you find what roused you awake. 

Somehow Wonwoo found you in his sleep, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, body firm against your back. He’s hot skin and hard muscle, the tent in his boxers sliding roughly across the naked skin of your thighs. Cursing yourself for forgoing the shorts he laid out, you try and twist away only for Wonwoo’s length to settle between the dip of your ass.

You freeze solid. Listening to the sound of his breathing stop then even out once again. Waiting to confirm he’s still asleep, you try moving away again only for his hips to press against you once you wiggle against him. Body acting on its own, your spine curls, sending your ass back into his crotch. 

And then Wonwoo’s arm around your waist flexes and he thrusts forward. 

Shit.

“Can I help you?” he asks, face buried somewhere between your shoulder blades, nose tracing your spine until he finds the bare skin of your neck to leave heated gossamer kisses.

There’s nothing left to lose. You’ve already fucked. Wonwoo face to face with your most intimate parts, and you the same. You begged him to cum inside you for Christ's sake. Giving another curl of your hips, you decide to meet his challenge.

“Can you?” you whisper into the darkness, eyes sliding close again as a tired breath leaves your nose. It's less of a goad, and more of a subtle beg for his attention.

Wonwoo drags the hand wrapped around your waist downward, wedging it between your thighs gently. You’re already wet from the brief movements against one another. He wastes no time, immediately framing your clit with two fingers, teasing friction to warm you up. The first twitch into his hand has his fingers dropping, pushing into your entrance as you parts your legs to make more room. His movements are sluggish but he placates your want the best he can.

One of your hands slides under the covers, moving behind your back to grab him. The unmistakable heat greets you through the fabric of his underwear. His breath stutters against your back, his chest pressed tightly against your back like a second skin. Wonwoo jerks forward through your fist, clothed tip prodding against the soft curve of your ass when you reach the base.

Continuing to move just like that, you both are more than content to get off like this, much too tired to put in any real effort. But when you push down his boxer just enough to feel the hot velvet skin of his tip against the dip of your spine, leaking from light touches, Wonwoo decides he wants more. Needs more. 

He pushes your hand away, directing himself between your legs, resting his tip at your entrance. With shallow thrusts forward, he lets himself catch on the ring of muscle just inside, barely parting your walls. The thought of him returning deep inside you, condom nowhere to be found, makes you drool. At some point Wonwoo’s hand finds your waist again, this time under the fabric of the flimsy t-shirt. The thick cotton bunches across your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples while his hand splays between and pulls you against him.

You have half a mind to let him fuck you like this, raw, half asleep, tucked under the covers in the silence of his room. The other half blares with sirens and red lights flashing DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! 

The louder part of your brain, the one that sounds suspiciously like when Amina scolded you for not using condoms with Seungcheol after getting an IUD, wins. 

It takes all the strength you possess  to break the trance Wonwoo has. His lips have taken to mouthing at the back of your neck, his nose tracing the notches of your spine while his tongue sends goosebumps blooming.

“Condom.” you finally manage to breathe out, voice pushing past the thick blanket of lust and fatigue.

The hand on your chest flies off, moving in the direction of the bedside table. Within seconds Wonwoo wraps himself in the latex and pushes inside.

The stretch is perfect, muscles already accommodating his languid thrusts inside you. His hips are tucked tightly along your ass, barely a sliver of space between your bodies. One of Wonwoo’s hands reaches back under your shirt to thumb your sore nipples, letting a heavy flesh rest in his palm. The arm propped under your head reaches out, Wonwoo’s fingers twisting in the pillow cases. The web of veins and muscles flex with each cant, almost ripping the fabric of the sheet apart when you clench around him. 

As if having a mind of its own, a hand trails up his neck, cradling the back of his head and tangling in short locks of hair. Wonwoo hitches his chin over your shoulder, leaning forward to moan right into your ear. Your other hand takes the abandoned post at your clit, determined to make yourself cum and pass back out in the next five minutes. 

Unlike the explosions earlier, your orgasm crawls up slowly, bubbling to the surface in a smooth simmer. Your thighs tighten, twitching as the pot boils over and melting you into Wonwoo’s chest. He follows you over the edge quickly, hips continuing their fluid rhythm until they stutter against your ass; shuddering breaths leaving his chest, a quiet groan of satisfaction punctuating his content. You can’t move even if your life depends on it, heaviness settling in your muscles like concrete.

You're already descending back into the realm of dreams when Wonwoo slips away.

Wonwoo’s soft snores jolt you back. You’re far too awake to try joining him. And you can’t just stay in his room forever. Glancing around the room, you devise an escape plan. Wonwoo’s position doesn’t lend any subtlety, any effort to move from under him requires you to lift his entire weight.

You sit still for another minute, contemplating the potential pros and cons if he is awake to see you run, away from the sanctuary of his room and into the reality sitting beyond the door. Precisely as you decide to deal with whatever teasing he’ll no doubt hurl your way, Wonwoo shifts, burrowing back into the pillow on his side to provide easy access. Waiting with bated breath, you’re relieved when the muscles of his back expand with a deep inhale as he settles in slumber once again.

Springing out of bed, you collect your phone and wrinkled clothes. The shocking level of cleanliness and organization the room possesses for a man his age aids your quest. However, your underwear appears to be a lost cause. With haste, you search under the bed, eyes scouring the area around his desk, even sneaking a quick glance back towards him to see if the missing garment is mixed with the pillows. All is fruitless as the bright pink garments have disappeared, gone without a trace.

After slipping on your pants with impressive speed, you're out of his bedroom and into the hallway. Body on autopilot, you tiptoe towards the front door.  

The cracked door of Mingyu’s room where Lisa is no doubt waiting to ambush lingers just ahead. You don’t dare to breathe as you breeze past and ruin her plans. The heavy metal of the front door groans at your pull, tensing as noise echoes in the hallway behind you. You’re swift, slipping between the crack in the door frame and into the stairwell before Lisa can even call out your name. By the time Lisa is able to pull the front door back open, you’re down the stairs and halfway through the lobby, beelining for the busy street outside.

Everyone on the street can tell you’re taking a walk of shame; their judgment burning into your skull with each step closer to home. The tale tell signs are clear as day: messy hair, t-shirt clearly belonging to someone else, eyes downcast as you move along the congested sidewalk of a Saturday morning. The only solace is the neck of Wonwoo's shirt covering a majority of the marks staining your skin. 

You don’t breathe until you round the block of your apartment. Thankfully the lobby is empty and so is the elevator as you ride up in stifling silence. Slipping through the crack of the sliding doors, you rush the remaining distance and finally find your way into sanctuary.

The door clicks shut, and the dull thud of your head meeting metal rings a second later; the cool melt against the sweat on your brow is a lovely reprieve.

The sound of a throat clearing down the hall less so.

Glaring over your shoulder, you find Amina leaning over the kitchen island, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively. Lisa clearly informed her of the morning's findings.

Her lips twitch with humor, choking out, “Have a good night?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, launching off the door and to your room. Sharp laughter meets your back.

Hiding away in the bathroom, you cloak yourself in steam and scrub away any remnants of the night. Starting with the piney smell of Wonwoo’s body wash. 

You run through the facts despite wanting nothing more than forgetting the entire ordeal. 

Fact: Wonwoo isn’t as horrible as Seungcheol made you believe.

Opinion: He’s still infuriating.

Fact: You slept with Wonwoo.

Opinion: It wasn’t half bad.

Fact: You won’t do it again.

Thirty minutes later, the hot water runs out and you’re forced back into reality.

She can’t look in the mirror, knowing exactly what you’ll see. The proof that can’t be scrubbed away, the proof that the you let Wonwoo fuck you silly, and that you wouldn’t mind if it happened again. 

Some time later, hidden amongst the piles of blankets littering your bed, you mope. The hood of your sweatshirt tied tightly around your head leaving only your face visible. The TV hums with the drunk gibberish of the reality tv show cast as they laugh and cry over something innocuous.

A soft knock on the door breaks your focus, Amina appearing in the opening.

“Are you still coming to breakfast?” She asks.

“Don’t feel good.”

“Y/N,” Amina sighs, sitting on the edge of your bed. “It’s not that bad.”

You almost swallow your tongue. Of all your friends, Amina dislikes Wonwoo the most. She’s polite as she can be for Lisa and Mingyu’s sake, but everyone knows they get on as well as fire and water. 

“Who are you?” you question, eyes widening at the impersonator perched at your feet.

Amina cackles in response, and you can’t help but join. 

“You had fun, right?” Amina asks, waiting for your nod before continuing.“Okay, then who cares?”

“You don’t?” 

“No,” Amina sighs. “You’ve been…” 

She pauses, weighing her next words. “...down, since Seungcheol left. Maybe this is what you needed to get back out there.”

You start to object but fail to find any evidence against her claim. Seungcheol leaving turned your world upside down. You couldn’t hate him. It wasn’t like he didn’t try to make things work. But there was nothing for you in Seattle, just like there was nothing for him in New York. Other than each other. Somehow it’s much harder when no one is to blame other than unchangeable circumstances.

Amina rubs your knee over the covers. “It’s not my business who you sleep with. Unless you bring him here and I hear you, then I reserve the right to kill you both.” 

“Trust me, it won’t be happening again.”

“Why?” Now it’s Amina’s turn to be shocked. “Was it that bad?”

“No!” You blurt, face heating at the sudden outburst. “It was just a one time thing. Get it out of the system.”

Amina hums. Silence falling between you.

“So… was he better than Seungcheol?” Amina asks like she doesn’t care either way but you know she’s curious. She heard enough times about the lack of chemistry between you and Seungcheol for to have a vested interest in your sex life.

Truthfully, he was. The best experience with Seungcheol paled in comparison next to your night with Wonwoo. 

Taking silence as an answer, Amina stands.

“Get dressed. Eva is already on the way here to pick us up.” 

She leaves with out another word.

Across town, Wonwoo contemplates the ramifications of murder. 

The morning after a night like his should have him walking around like the sun shined out of his ass. Instead, the most annoying person in the city chose to rain on his parade. That person is coincidentally his best friend's girlfriend.

If it hadn’t been for Lisa’s shouts this morning, he’s more than confident you would have agreed to a repeat of the nights events. Maybe even two or three if he was lucky.

But no, you sprinted from his bed the second he feigned sleep. Watching through barely cracked eyes, he almost broke his cover when you nearly fell head first into the door knob, hastily trying to pull your pants up and walk at the same time. 

Wonwoo let you go, no snide comments or crude remarks. He knew if he wanted you to return to his bed then the best way was to bite his tongue. Goading had worked the first time, now he’d have to let your curiosity get the better of you. You would come back sooner or later, and he'd be ready when it happened.

He’d given you a few minutes to find your way out, hoping you avoided Lisa and saved you both the embarrassment. The slam of the front door and lack of screaming informed him of your success. Wanting to make sure you were long gone before he exited his room, Wonwoo took his time brushing his teeth. Catching himself in the mirror, his reflection gave a self-satisfied smirk. The stain of your teeth and lips contrasted against his skin and his back stung along the raised red welts from your nails.

Flicking off the light, Wonwoo heads towards back to his room. Lisa will demand audience sooner or later and it's better if he rips the bandaid off now. In his peripheral, a swatch of pale pink fabric tucked underneath one of the legs of his dresser catches his attention. Ducking down, he puls at the stretch of cotton. Lifting them up to inspect the out of place garment, Wonwoo finds himself face to face with your panties. He huffs a laugh before crumbling them in his hand, and tossing them in the hamper on the way out of his room. 

Lisa waits for him at the dining table; commanding the head seat like a mob boss.

From her perch, she watches him with keen interest that makes his bowl of cereal taste like mush. Mingyu already excused himself to take a shower before Wonwoo sat down, attempting to avoid the ensuing blow out. 

Every question is answered with one word answers or dismissive grunts. Even Lisa’s attempts to bait him into unrelated arguments roll off. Lisa chisels away at any sign of weakness but Wonwoo refuses to give her the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. It’s none of her business. Even if you’re her best friend.

Wonwoo counts his blessings when a call comes through her phone, the vibration on the table interrupting her attempt to burn a hole through his skull. Lisa rises to answer, pacing the kitchen while the feminine voice coming out the receiver chatters on. She ducks her head into Mingyu’s room, bidding him farewell. As she passes Wonwoo again on her way out, she gives him another furious look to let him know she isn’t done with their “conversation”. 

To rub salt in the wound, Wonwoo sends her off with an overly friendly smile and a wiggle of his fingers. He wipes down his face when the door slam shuts, shoulders dropping.  He knew hooking up with you might cause problems. He didn’t know they would become evident so quickly, but problems nonetheless. 

Worth it, he thinks 

The look on her face when she came for him made anything Lisa planned to throw his worth the price.

Wonwoo didn’t care what any of them had to say, you both were grown adults. He wanted to sleep with and you wanted to sleep with him. End of conversation. Anyone else’s opinion meant nothing.

And if things go the way he thinks they will, he’ll get to see you in his bed again.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

#ksmutsociety #kvanity #svthub #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt smut #🫡 highvern

[alovesongshewrote]

Slightly Stabbed | The Lost Boys x Reader

Plot:  you get a little bit stabbed.  oopsie? [The Lost Boys x GN!Reader]

Word count:  3807

Warnings: first aid, stab wounds, blood, the reader has some issues but it's ok

A/N: this is literally a fanfic in headcanon form, holy fuck.  tumblr almost couldn’t handle this thicc thing

Sooooooo, here’s the thing about dating a group of vampires

They uh

They can smell blood

AND I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING, BUT WE AREN’T GOING THERE

At least not today

No, today we’re discussing the fun challenge that is Hiding Your Stab Wound From Your Four Boyfriends

(five boyfriends if you want to add michael, and five boyfriends one girlfriend if you want to add star)

Either way

All these bitches can smell your blood, which makes hiding injuries Difficult

It literally doesn’t matter how little blood there is, the second that red shit escapes your flesh prison, they Know

It makes papercuts very difficult, because you’ll be reading, you’ll get the papercut, and then one or more of them will just Appear behind you like

“Hi, could I offer you a band-aid?  Or perhaps you could offer to give me a sip of your blood?”

It’s a fuckin

Process

Also, RIP to you if you ever get scratched in the face by something, because some of these fuckers

(paul and marko)

Will just

Lick your face

They don’t even give any warning, they’ll just lick you

It’s

It’s an experience, to be sure

It’s even more of an experience if you go with the idea that they have forked tongues

But anyway, we aren’t here to talk about little injuries

We’re here to talk about Stab Wounds and How To Hide Them

Short answer: you can’t hide them.

Aaand that’s it, thanks for coming to the TEDTalk everyone, rmr to like and subscribe, blah blah blah

Long answer:

Let’s start with how you got the stab wound

Because that’s very important

Now

There are lots of ways to get stabbed

The boardwalk isn’t the safest place

And i mean, you’ve seen the “people are strange” sequence, there are missing posters fucking everywhere

And yeah, all that murder that could be just the boys, but also

There could be other killers wandering around, you don’t know

There are also vampire hunters

And random delinquents

And people who just

Don’t Like The Boys

And by association, don’t like you

Whatever it is, whoever stabs you

They manage to get you one of the few times you’re on the boardwalk alone

To any passers by, it just looks like a fist fight- probably something that came out of harsh words and youthful anger

But alas, the sharp stinging in your side says something else

Actually, it’s less saying something else, and more screaming it

Nevertheless, you manage to fight off your attacker, and then you’re left standing on the boardwalk, your hands covered in blood as you try to put pressure on your wound

It’s a very strange experience

You’ve got a hole

In your side

You’re leaking blood

And you almost don’t know what to do next

But you know you can’t exactly go home like this, so you end up walking through the crowds on the boardwalk, fighting off shock and trying to ignore the bright lights and joyful screams around you as you try to find a bathroom to clean up in

If anyone notices that you’re hurt, you don’t notice them

Eventually, you find a bathroom, and once inside, you lock the door behind you and take a look in the mirror

As you stare down your reflection, you silently pray that the wound looks worse than it is

In part because it looks really bad

Like, bad enough to freak you out

But you’ve also got your fingers crossed that it looks worse than it is because, uh

If you die alone in a random boardwalk bathroom, David will kill you.  

And yeah, the thought of an angry david sobers you up pretty quickly

You start doing first aid on yourself

You’re no pro, but you do your best with what you have

You clean the excess blood off of your wound with paper towels and tap water

At first you’re so focused on speed that you forget to be gentle

You regret it

But you quickly learn how to get shit done efficiently without needlessly torturing yourself

And thank fucking god, the wound does actually look worse than it is

The stab wound isn’t deep, and it didn’t hit anything important

It’s just gross

Once the bleeding stops, you frantically wash all of the blood off of your skin

And then you realize that you don’t have much to patch yourself up with

You end up using your jacket, which was already stained with your blood beyond repair

You rip it up for bandages, and then you realize that you’re uh

You’re probably going to have to get another shirt

Because yours has Noticeable Bloodstains

And not only will your Vampires notice that

But so will the General Public

So yeah, you buy a dumb t-shirt from the boardwalk

It says, “i survived the murder capital of the world and all i got was this stupid t-shirt”

You find it hilariously ironic that you are using this shirt to hide the fact that you almost didn’t survive the murder capital of the world

Anyway

You yeet your old shirt into a random fire, and then you head on back to the cave, hoping for the best

(hoping for the best here means: hoping that you don’t start bleeding again)

You don’t

And hey, when you get to the cave, it looks like the no one’s home

So that’s another win for you!

You walk on in and let yourself collapse onto one of the couches

And i mean, you instantly regret it, because ow

But it’s nice to feel something soft and comfortable after the time you had

You can’t relax, though

For one thing, every time you close your eyes you’re back there

Either getting stabbed by a stranger on the boardwalk, or shaking in the bathroom trying not to bleed out

You can feel your breath coming faster as the adrenaline in your system fades away and you start to realize that you were just stabbed

Someone pulled a knife on you, and they stabbed you

They could have killed you, you could have died, and you’re lucky you didn’t, but also, you’re not super lucky because you still got stabbed

And you really liked the shirt that you had to burn

And for another thing

There’s a vampire standing in front of you

When you open your eyes it makes you jump and scream a little

Which irritates your stab wound

Which makes you scream more and curl in on yourself

It’s very confusing to poor paul, who was already very confused because he could smell your blood even though none of your vampires bit you that day

Also, it’s not super relevant but you should know: he does kind of look like the “mom i frew up” meme

Or at least he does at first

Because the second you start to curl in on yourself, he is on you

Usually he’d apologize for startling you, but right now?  Right now he can tell something’s up

Your boys might be dumbasses, but they’re more than smart enough to know when something is wrong

So, paul goes all

“Hey pretty thing, are you okay?  What’s wrong?”

And you

You don’t want paul to worry, and you don’t want him to get mad at you for letting yourself get stabbed

And you really don’t want to talk about your stab wound in general

You just want paul to go so that you can have a panic attack over it in peace

But he doesn’t go

So you respond with

“I’m fine!  Totally, totally fine, I just slept on my side weird and it’s bugging me, that’s all”

And y’know what, you’re actually mildly convincing

Too bad he can smell your blood

Thanks to that fun vampiric trait, he knows you aren’t telling him the truth

So, he leans in a little further, eyebrows furrowed, and he says

“You can tell me, baby.  What’s wrong?”

Luckily (depending on who you ask) you don’t have to answer him, because marko drops into the cave

Yeaaaah, you were lucky enough to come home like, two minutes before the boys did

Rip

Anyway, it doesn’t take marko long to notice the scene on the couch

You’re curling up into the armrest and paul is leaning over you

It looks weird

And

You’re clutching your side

And paul looks concerned, so like i said, these boys may have like, three solid brain cells between them (three and a half if you want to count star) but they fucking Know when something’s up

Especially when something’s up with you

So, marko bounces over

And now he’s asking what’s wrong

He leans over the armrest of the couch

So he’s standing like, behind your head

And he asks, “What’s up, hot stuff?”

You lean your head back so you can look at him, you roll your eyes at the pet name, and again you say

“I’m fine.  Paul’s just being a dick”

And paul, who now looks majorly offended, collapses onto the couch by your feet and goes

“I am not!  I’m being a concerned boyfriend, you’re being a dick!”

Paul picked the wrong place to sit, because you kick him in the leg as hard as you can without hurting yourself

It’s not super hard, but paul acts like you stabbed him, ironically enough

While you and marko grin at his dramatics, david and dwayne drop into the cave

And uhhh, they’re much harder to distract, so good luck with that

Literally from the second they get into the cave, they’re both honed in on the smell of your blood

They make their way towards the couch you’re all crowded on, and as they do, david says

And he projects a bit, so the sound echos off the cave walls

“Why do I smell blood?  Paul, Marko, did you start something without us?”

His tone is chiding, maybe a little teasing

But the second he sees their faces, his taunting demeanor drops to something much scarier

Concern

And now david says your name

And his voice gets a little deeper as he asks you why he can smell your blood

As you struggle to come up with an answer, david and dwayne make their way over to the couch

Dwayne, Known Sweet Boy, comes up behind the couch, takes your hand and kisses it

He doesn’t ask you anything, but he also doesn’t let go of your hands

You don’t look at his face

If you look at his face, you know he’s going to look back at you with an expression that is 100% concerned puppy dog, and you will crack like an egg and tell them everything

And then it’ll become a huge deal

And they won’t leave you alone

And you’ll probably cry in front of them

And you’ll make them waste their night taking care of you

And then you’ll get yelled at for being stupid, so no

You do not look at dwayne

Instead, you focus your attention on paul, who’s focusing on david, who’s focusing on you

And for a second, everything is silent

Then david kneels at your side which is fuckin

Rare

He likes to feel tall, kneeling is the Opposite of that

But he does it nonetheless

And he says your name again, and you Don’t Look At Him, you just keep your gaze straight and pretend to be somewhere else

Of course he says your name again, sounding more irritated this time

And he asks

“Why can we smell blood outside of the cave?”

And you relent a bit by answering

“Hey, it’s not like I’ve never bled around you before.  Remember that time I fell?  Or the time I gouged my shin open?  Or the time one of the pigeons bit me?”

Yeahhh, even you know it’s a stupid argument

No matter how much blood you’ve lost around them, you know it doesn’t match this

And marko puts your thoughts to words

He legit says

“Yeah, but it’s never been this bad before, babe.  What’s wrong?”

And after that you’re just

Bombarded with the boys asking some variation of “What’s wrong?” over and over

You cling to dwayne’s hand as their voices start to overwhelm you

But then he pulls away

And you just can’t take it anymore

So you yell

And you don’t mean to yell it, you just want to be heard

“OKAY, OKAY, fine, I’ll tell you”

They shut up, and instantly your voice drops like

A million decibels

As you say

“I… I may have been… lightly stabbed.”

There’s a beat of silence and then

“I’m sorry, you were STABBED?”

Dwayne breaks his silence, looking horrified, which is almost funny, because you know his methods of killing are a little more brutal than “stab the victim with a knife”

But then again, he’s never tried to kill you, so

Anyway, dwayne’s outburst is followed by paul and marko both shrieking some form of “excuse me”

(“I’M SORRY, WHAT?” and an actual, “EXCUSE ME?” respectively)

David is silent now as the other three just

Lose their shit

Paul is demanding to know where the wound is

Marko fucks off to go hunt for first aid supplies, but you can still hear him shouting about it

Dwayne has taken your hand back and he looks into your eyes as he asks

“Who did this to you?”

And quietly, you go

“Some douchebag on the boardwalk- look, guys, I was only lightly stabbed-”

And there’s another outburst

Paul and marko both yell that being “lightly” stabbed still isn’t good

Dwayne looks like he might kill someone or start crying, you aren’t sure which, maybe both

And that’s when david grabs your jaw

He’s surprisingly gentle with you- though, considering the stab wound, maybe that isn’t really a surprise

Either way

David makes you look at him, and he asks you

In a voice he reserves for quiet moments, which this isn’t, and special occasions, which this technically is

“Where’s the wound, baby?”

With a sigh, you tear your eyes from his and gingerly lift up your new shirt to reveal a blood-soaked makeshift bandage, which itself covers the shallow wound in your side

Haha, fuck

You wince at the sight of it

But your boys remain stone faced- if anything, they look angry

Except for paul, who also winces, but in a split second he goes from wincing to pissed like everyone else

And you let out a groan, because this is the one thing you were trying to avoid

Anger and concern

Just as you open your mouth to apologize, marko slams a small box of first aid stuff on the floor by the couch

You move to reach for it, but instantly, several pairs of hands are on you, pushing you (gently) back onto the couch

You

Roll Your Eyes

Fuckin vampires, always treating you like glass

“Hey, I’m not four years old,” you say, trying to sit up again, “I can treat my own stab wound”

Yeah, as you say it you manage to catch just how absurd your words sound

‘I can treat my own stab wound’ who says that?

You do, i guess

And you intend to follow through, but hey

You get pushed back down again

“Stay still, wouldya?  Goddamn,” Marko fuckin growls as he pins your shoulders down, “We’re trying to help you, so stop moving.”

You give a very defiant wiggle.  No one is amused but you.

With an irritated sigh, you resign yourself to staying on the couch

But it doesn’t stop you from trying to get them to leave you alone

“Look, guys, I’m fine.  Don’t you have anything better to do than poke at me?  Seriously-”

“Ha, you’re cute,” the response comes from paul this time

Paul who has, by the way, taken to holding your legs hostage

He continues with a very blunt

“But seriously, shut the fuck up and let us fix this, ‘kay?”

You glare at him, but with your legs and shoulders pinned, it’s not like you have much of a choice

So you just

Lie there

And try to pretend that this whole thing doesn’t make you want to break down crying because fuck, you couldn’t just almost get murdered, you also had to be a burden

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck

As you lie on the couch, the night’s events replay in your head

And as your emotions build, every shitty thing that happened to you that particular week also replay in your head

As marko starts to patch you up, and dwayne takes over pinning your shoulders down, and david starts plotting the murder of whoever did this out loud, you just

Try to stop them from seeing that you are Not Doing Okay

And here comes second, even tougher challenge:

Hiding Your Feelings From Your Four Boyfriends

Yeahhh, you fail at this one, too

Paul notices the tears in your eyes right the fuck away

It helps that he’s looking at your face, and not focusing on the marko medical drama going on at your side

He reaches up towards your face and he just says

In the softest fucking voice

“Hey, what’s wrong baby?”

And you just

Snap

The tears come to the front, just a bit, but it doesn’t stop you from yelling

“Jesus fuck, CAN YOU ALL JUST FUCK OFF SO I CAN CRY ABOUT THIS ALONE?  Go hunt, or something, just- just go away.”

…

They do not just go away

They don’t really know what to do with that

They just know that you’re hurting and it’s bad

And they Don’t want to leave you alone

So instead, paul and dwayne give your leg and shoulder a squeeze, respectively

In like, emotional solidarity

And david leans in towards you so that you can hear him say

“If one of us was stabbed, you would be upset, right?”

You nod and he continues

“So why is it any different for you?  You’ve been stabbed, you’re allowed to have emotions.”

You’re in the middle of processing that when marko

dear marko

Gives your shoulder a very awkward pat and says

“Besides, crying is sexy!”

And he states it so matter-of-factly

And he does it with this little smile, that you’re sure is supposed to be comforting, but oh my god

David smacks him on the back of the head for that while you just

Start to giggle

It’s which devolves to a weird mix of laughter and tears

It’s like

Mostly laughter

Meanwhile, paul just starts to openly mock marko for his, “crying is sexy” comment

And before you know it, your side is properly bandaged up

Yay!

But of course, it isn’t over

Less yay!

You’re finally allowed to sit up, and immediately paul yoinks you into his side

He clings to you a little bit, too, like he’s not sure he’ll get to hold you ever again

And yknow what it makes sense, you’re human, and fleshy, and easily breakable, and you got stabbed

He’s allowed to be freaked out, too.  They all are

Anyway

The second you’re up, david is on his knees in front of you again

His hands are on your thighs, and now it’s his turn to ask

“Now tell us, baby- who did this to you?”

You give them best description you can, and just like that, they’re all headed for the exit

Except for paul, who’s still clinging to you

But before they can leave you call out to them

And you say, “I’m sorry.”

Every single one of them freezes

The next voice you hear is david’s

He asks

“Why would you apologize?”

And you take a second to answer

Because in your head you have several answers for him, but it is

Very difficult to express them out loud

And as you figure out how the fuck you’re gonna verbalize any of your feelings, the boys come right back to you

Marko plops down on your other side, dwayne stands behind you, and again, david is in front of you

But you can really only focus on david, because once again, he’s on his knees with his hands on your thighs, and he’s looking at you with a mix of confusion and sadness that you rarely see on his face

And finally you say:

“I- um.  I’m making all of you worry.  And it was stupid of me to get stabbed in the first place, because I could’ve gotten myself killed, and then I fucking cried everywhere, and-”

And that’s where you get cut off

Because david leans in (and moves his hands up your thighs) and he says

“Now, why would you ever apologize for all of that?”

You look up and meet his eyes as he continues, but he’s turning to look at the boys around you as he says

“I mean, if we apologized for being stupid then Paul and Marko would never stop apologizing- and if we had to apologize for getting stabbed, well-”

Everyone looks at marko

And that little shit just grins like he didn’t almost get murdered by a bunch of teenagers, and he says

“I’m not apologizing for that.”

It’s a little shit thing to say, but david nods and says, “Exactly, so you don’t apologize either.  It’d be stupid to apologize, okay?”

You nod a little bit, and he smiles and says

“That’s it, babe,” he kisses you on the forehead and he stands

“Now if you’ll excuse us, we have to go commit a murder.  We’ll be back, don’t go anywhere.  Paul, you’re good staying?”

Paul promptly buries his face in your shoulder and gives david a thumbs up

Marko stands up, stretches, and starts to bounce away

Dwayne leans down and kisses your temple before he also walks away

Marko then runs back to you to kiss your cheek (he got excited about the oncoming murder)

Aaand that leaves you and paul alone

You turn to face him

(you fail, because he’s not going to move his face from your shoulder until he wants to_

And you ask

“Hey, don’t you want to go do some murder?  Doesn’t murder sound fun?”

And i mean it does

But that’s not the answer you get

The answer you get is a very stressed sounding

“IF YOU PEOPLE KEEP GETTING STABBED, I’M NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO MURDER BECAUSE EVERYONE I LOVE WILL BE STABBED.”

Yep, you and marko really did a number on this poor guy

So, that starts challenge three

Not Getting Stabbed For The Mental Health Of Your Four Boyfriends

It’s an easier challenge, you succeed at this one

Idk about marko tho, marko’s probably gonna get stabbed again.  Not necessarily by a person.  Maybe by a fence.

anyway

#the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x gender neutral reader #tlb x reader #poly!the lost boys x reader #tlb david x reader #tlb paul x reader #tlb dwayne x reader #tlb marko x reader #poly!tlb x reader

[featureenvyproductions]

here’s a bird’s eye view of my comic Eyan Eternal

For people who don't know what it is. Bc I think some of you might find it's right up your alley. Well this is an updated one anyway. I do actually have a volume of this out in print right now, but the low def, basic version is online and complete, and tbh, I just want people to read it. I took almost two years to complete this and quite literally poured every waking moment (after work and when I wasn’t fixing stuff in my house) into this to try and finish it.

Ahem

Here is one of these at a glance things! 

If that’s enough to intrigue you, take a look at my chapter masterpost which has convenient links to every chapter post so you don’t have to go figuring out where they are and what order they go in!: https://www.tumblr.com/featureenvyproductions/717516139934154752/eyan-eternal-tumblr-chapter-masterpost?source=share

If you like it and want to support me you can also buy a copy of the first print volume, which collects chapters 1-5 and has a smidge of bonus content (only available in the US right now, but that’s not going to be forever, and I’m working on an e-book as well): https://www.etsy.com/FeatureEnvy/listing/1447399615/eyan-eternal?utm_source=Copy&utm_medium=ListingManager&utm_campaign=Share&utm_term=so.lmsm&share_time=1683565699335

And now here is a more detailed break down if you need more info than that...

*Jonathan Frakes asks you things meme voice* have you ever wondered what you’d find if you REALLY lived forever?

Well, meet Eyan, an immortal vampire.

He’s slowly finding out the answer to that question...

...And it appears to be unbearable isolation.

Eons into the distant future, when most stars have faded in the night sky and the cosmic event horizon has confined any remaining beings to an isolated pocket of the universe, Eyan roams interstellar space in a repurposed generation ship in search of anything that could be considered alive/sentient in the way he is.

So far, he’s out of luck.

That is until he runs into an unexpected former rival on a remote planet - Zero, a sentient android he never expected to be the only other person left alive.

Well. That is, if either of them can really be considered “alive”. What does that mean anyway, when the humans who defined what it means to be alive are all gone?

This is something they’ll have to explore and define for themselves as they attempt to set aside their myriad of differences and try to work together on one of the few ways left to escape the dark fate of ultimate isolation - The Grand Encoder, a machine that can upload minds to a special medium - if it even works for them anyway. In the process, they slowly come to accept that maybe they’d had each other all wrong and weren’t seeing the bigger picture.

You may not find any action-packed Star Wars like escapades here in this sci fi drama. You also won’t find ponderings about the origins of vampires or what gave rise to robot sentience - It’s integral to the plot that these things just ARE. But you will find a thoughtful exploration of identity and how it can cause us to define ourselves and relate to (or abandon) each other depending on the framework within which we are doing that exploration and within which we are compelled to exist. It asks the question, what if the frameworks within which we defined our existence and purpose no LONGER existed...Where would we go from there?

And as two immortal guys who are the only folks left in the universe (as far as they know), Eyan and Zero are just the right people to mull over that.

There is both textual and allegorical queerness in this story - both main characters should be considered gay men, even if it’s The Future TM and terms/exact scopes of identities may not be EXACTLY 1-1 with today’s...But I want to be perfectly clear that it was my intent to make them gay because I wanted to see more gay guys in sci fi and I don’t want anyone erasing that. As for the allegorical stuff - I myself am a trans gay man in my late 30s, so this act of re-exploring and re-framing myself and evaluating how and why queer folks interact with each other the way we do is something I’m very familiar with, and I feel like other folks might relate. (I also peppered in some neurodivergent-person-in-a-neurotypical-world moods tbh.)

Of course it’s not all serious. I do have a bit of fun with some old school vampire tropes, tossing Eyan around and putting him in Situations.

Anyway if this all sounds interesting to you, take a look at my tag and site (above)! I’d appreciate it! I also like to hear from people and see if there’s anything about it you related to! :)

I also do everything. Every last monotonous step (well, aside from literally loading up a printing press to churn out volumes lol - BUT REST ASSURED IF I HAD $10K TO PISS INTO THE WIND I WOULD DO THAT TOO). So if there’s ANYTHING you want to know about my process, I’m happy to tell you so please ask, especially if you’re like trying to get started on your own comic or trying to go to print :) 

Edit before I go ahead and blaze this: I want to say, to be honest, the creation of comic was initially motivated almost entirely by the isolation/loneliness I’ve felt in my life. It’s not as bad as some folks’ and I know that, but it is a really prevalent thread throughout my life and sometimes is almost unbearable, and my comic began as an exploration of that loneliness, as well as a narrative exercise to try and express the depth of it at its worst point. I’m putting this out here because ultimately I don’t know...maybe someone will catch my drift and understand the feeling I’m trying to illustrate, and maybe they’ll want to see the plot that came of those feelings. I am not above the need to feel seen lol, especially if other people out there feel like they can resonate with this experience as well.

#Eyan Eternal #my comic #vampire #robot #queer sff #indie comic #indie artist

[giac222]

Me trying not to tweak out when I see people reduce Ashley to fap material and “omg hot crazy girl with mental issues I can fix her” 🤪 :

I honestly can’t stand people who fetishize mental illness but that’s a whole other post.

If you’ve seen my posts before, you know I have beef with the Reddit TCOAAL community 😂. (I’m not being serious, I just get annoyed with some of the behavior there). This is one of the reasons I ultimately left recently, but the main reason was that someone posted a picture of Leyley (little Ashley) and asked what you’d do if you found her in your house. Most of the comments were about physically harming her and some were even making sexual remarks 🧍🏻‍♀️. I’ve seen them do it to Andy (little Andrew) too. I wish I was joking. Sorry but I just find it weird to speak about children that way even if they’re fictional. I just got really uncomfortable and I was like ok I don’t want to be in a community with y’all anymore 💀.

I think a lot of people on the subreddit like the game for the incest and nothing more, like they’ll say “omg I can’t wait to see them have sex in ch.3” 🤪 but then they’ll completely miss the mark on Ashley and Andrew as characters.

I’ve gotten downvoted on there before because I said supporting real life incest isn’t a good idea and that it shouldn’t be encouraged… like wtf?

Honestly it’s a shame that they only like the game for that reason, because the story is so interesting, the characters are well written, and the art style is great. That’s why it sucks to see people label it “the incest game” because there’s actually a lot more to it than that, anyone who’s played the game and watched a play through of it knows that. That’s why the controversy never made sense to me.

So yeah, no shade, and I’m not trying to be mean, but I can tell the Reddit community is filled with a bunch of annoying horny teenage boys 😶, and also some… strange people. Sorry if that’s mean to say but 😂. I was like yeah I’m out of here lmao. Thank god for the Tumblr community.

Ashley’s backstory is so tragic. She’s such an interesting character, I just love her 💕. It sucks when people ignore that and completely downplay her character.

This is all just my opinion. I’ve been meaning to make a post about this because they’re some thoughts I had for a bit. Thanks for reading :)

#just my opinion #just my thoughts #kind of a rant post #tcoaal #the coffin of andy and leyley #ashley graves #leyley graves #i hate reddit #andrew graves #andy graves

[skazoo]

slow and blue and endless.

↳ kim taehyung x f!reader

someone stared at you through the window. you had always felt safe in your own home, shutting out the scary, real world. but a window is just glass, and glass… oh it breaks so, so easily.

length. 1.7k

genre. angst, yandere

warnings/tags. language, obsessive behavior, implied stalking, yandere themes, mind break, emotional manipulation, love bombing(?), mention of mental illnesses, physical violence, kinda gruesome allusion to murder, dark themes overall, minors advised to dni.

networks. none for this.

notes. [THIS IS A REPOST BC TUMBLR TAGS WON'T WORK AND I ALMOST CRIED<;3]

GAH these photos are so 80s serial killer making a creepy videotape that's gonna get edited in a true crime documentary coded...... i know you're seeing my vision, i KNOW it.... anywayyyyyy this is kinda not proofread, and i wrote it while i was supposed to be studying for my exams a while back!! because when am i inspired if not when i shouldn't be?? i hope you like it and i swear something is almost ready for me to publish please wait a little longer (for my engenes and atiny besties)

⚠️ it goes without saying that i in no way condone any obsessive/stalking/creepy/violent behavior and despite this being "x reader" i'm not in any way romanticizing anything i'm writing. also this, as you all know, is fiction and names are merely a narrating mean. ⚠️

i'm desperate for feedback and i love comments with your opinion!

(cross-posted on ao3 only)

navigation

in a way you’ve always loved him. he knows. you don’t even have to say it out loud for him to be happy. 

but sometimes it feels like you take him for granted. sometimes you make him really, really angry and that, he can’t let pass. and it's not for his sake but for yours. always everything for you. he has to make you understand that there are things you can’t do if you want to stay safe from the outside world. safe from him, sometimes.

running away is one of those ugly, wretched things you know well he hates, and he slams you against the wall and drags you back through the front door into the house by your hair, he bashes your head on the kitchen counter, near the fire of the stove he’s been preparing lunch with to make you understand a concept you're apparently too dumb to grasp.

“what the fuck did i tell you about running, uh?” seething with undiluted rage .

“i just wanted to go outside, tae. i swear!”

“i said what the fuck did i tell you about running!? do you understand how much it would hurt me to see you go?!” his voice booms inside the walls of your head, an endless echo that makes bitter tears gather at the back of your eyes and spill over.

your face is burning. tongues of fire lick at your cheeks, a scorching caress that reminds you of taehyung's. his palm always leaves a brand behind, reminding him and yourself that he’s there. 

your hands scramble for his in a miserable attempt to lessen his hold. “i’m sorry, tae! so sorry, please! please!”

his closed fist in your hair pushes your head closer to the heat. “i’ll fucking kill you if i have to, you know that right–” it’s not a question, merely a promise, but you nod anyway, frantically, desperately– “they’ll never stop finding your body, baby. do you understand?” he screams and shakes you with his hands tight in your hair when you only cry in response.

“i said,” leaning in, mouth brushing over your ear. chills go down your back as his voice turns sickeningly mellow as if he’s whispering sweet nothings instead of threats, “do you understand?”

“yes! yes! god, yes i understand! tae, i’m so sorry! it’s all my fault! it’s all my fault!”

your mindless babbles seem to humor him and he moves your head at a safer distance. “and why is that?”

“ ‘twas my fault! i put myself in danger if i run. tae, please! i’m so sorry!” 

and you cry and cry and cry until you have nothing to give. until there’s only emptiness in your head that’s resting on his shoulder. until his shushes really feel reassuring. until he sits you down at the table to eat the lunch he prepared, the one that was so close to killing you. you nibble on it, too weak to really even taste the flavors.

he breaks the empty silence between you with a question. you startle at the sound of his voice and force your heavy eyes to focus on him.

“aren't you curious? about why i chose you?”

“no.”

he scrunches his eyebrows and regards you with a slightly displeased look that has you shrinking back on your chair. 

“but i want to tell you…” he whines.

you don’t say anything about his antics. despite him behaving like a child you’re terrified of what his reaction would be if you actually treated him like one, so you press your lips together and wait. 

“i like people that like me.” and it’s so simple how he says it. obvious, even.

“but why do you think i like you?” quietly, meekly.

he seems to like the question, his boxy smile one full of teeth that in other circumstances you would have found endearing. now it only makes him look like a predator, an animal, drool dribbling down his fangs, jaw ready to snap close around your neck if —and ultimately, when— you say or do the wrong thing. 

“oh, i was so happy, Y/N,” he coos, your name curling in his mouth with ease, as if you’re always been around each other, as if it belongs there, “that when i chose you, you came with me.”

your mouth gapes open at the absurdity of it all. you wonder if he really thinks that you wanted all of this, that you wanted to be taken from your home. you’d ask your old psychology professor if you’d be correct to label him as a narcissist of sorts. a man with too much power, and free time, and loneliness to exhaust all on himself that he had to go around looking for a scapegoat for his secret misery.  

“i didn’t– i didn’t come to you, taehyung. i didn’t have a choice.”

“so you were almost forced to come?”

“no,” it comes out more as a question than an answer and you lower your head in search of a way to rationalize the conversation at hand, “i was completely forced–”

“that’s what you tell yourself,” he retorts before you can even finish your sentence.

“it’s what i know is true,” you spit somewhat offended by his insinuation.  

his smile is a sick thing when you raise your head from the food on your plate —cold and uninviting. the smell alone makes you want to throw up. 

“are you sure?”

your anger leaves space for an unnerving sense of confusion. “what does that– what?”

your frown deepens as you watch him play around with his lunch. you follow his hands pushing back his glasses on his nose. the sick look of complacency that dances on his face seems to speak words that make the hairs at the back of your neck raise in dreadful anticipation. i know something about you that you don’t, his eyes say, and that alone is enough to make you want to scream.

he knows nothing!, you’d be shouting to the usually calm neighborhood, i haven’t told him anything about myself. he can’t know anything! he knows nothing! he knows nothing! you’d holler to the kids walking home from school hand in hand with their mothers who’d be looking at you with contempt, unaware of who lives among them. a wolf in sheep's clothing that could easily make you look like a psychopath. 

you’d do it, you swear to yourself that you’d do it all if it weren’t for the fact that you’ve got the inkling fear that you’ve truly gone mad. the doubt that crawls on your back and makes its way in your ears, slithering then, with much glee into your delusional brain.

how long have you been in this house? his house or the one you bought together once you finished college? did you meet him on a slow rainy day outside a coffee shop or did you catch him staring at you from the window before he broke in and took you from your bed, leaving behind torn sheets and a broken frame with a picture of your friends? does your mind deceive you? are you sane? is he?

it feels like you've had this exact same conversation with him an infinite number of times, always stuck in a loop of unease and sadness that you really can’t explain. loving looks sent your way melt into scary grimaces sometimes and all you can feel is guilt because that’s tae. your tae. the man you chose, the man that chose you.

you realize your vacant eyes are crying when you feel a thumb swipe your cheek with a gentleness that makes your stomach churn in disgust and again a voice tells you that there’s something wrong with you.

“baby, are you alright?”

the way you look at him does nothing to the sick warmth brewing in his stomach. your shiny little doe eyes peeking up at him from under wet lashes, asking for forgiveness that taehyung would never deny you. nose red from the frustration of being lost in your own mind and mouth parted as if to ask him to show you the way, the truth that you seem to have lost.

he stands up and rounds the table to you for you to bury your head in his chest. sobs shake your tired form.

“shh, it’s okay, baby. i swear everything it’s okay. it happens to forget.”

“i’m sorry, tae,” you plead through broken breaths. “i’m so sorry, please.”

he shushes you. lips plant themselves in the crown of your head, a hand rubs at your back soothingly.  

later, in the late evening, you lie in your bed. a bed. the sheets smell of him and the air you breathe does not feel like the one you're used to, but you’re calm. you think you are. maybe.

soft snores sound from behind you and you attempt to turn your head to make sure it’s him. 

“tae?” you let out a whisper. not one that expects itself to be heard.

“yeah?” voice hoarse from sleep.

“nothing.”

he buries his nose in the hair at the nape of your neck, inhaling the shampoo he bought for you. “what?”

“just wanted to make sure you were still here.”

“i’m always here, baby.”

you hum.

minutes pass slowly, like molasses, as if the hand of the seconds inside the alarm on your nightstand is fighting an invisible force, a wall of rubber that threatens to bounce time back. you think he’s fallen back asleep. breath slowing, chest heaving, lulling you to slumber.

you close your eyes. “tae?”

he doesn’t answer. a car alarm sounds from outside the closed curtains, its prolonged blaring bringing a certain agitation in your otherwise silent night. a breath of summer wind leaves bumps on your skin in its wake. you sigh and his arms tighten around your torso. an unconscious gesture, soft, loving.

“i dream of you–” you let your words sink into the air, into the boiling water you carry around in your lungs that doesn’t let you breathe properly, and you shiver again but not from the chill bite of the wind “–and it’s slow, and blue, and endless.”

behind you, taehyung’s mouth stretches into a smile.

in a way, you’ve always loved him. he’s certain of it now as he was before. and even if you didn’t, he will always make sure to make it a reality, one way or the other. wether you want it or not.

taglist: @taevestr @fa1ryjoons @vcutvante

#taehyung x reader #bts x reader #taehyung angst #bts angst #bts imagines #taehyung imagine

[1moreff-creator]

Matching the DRDT Characters with their Roman Numeral Quote (LGI MV)

So, I immediately fell in love with newest Literature Girl Insane MV, and I have to drop everything I’m doing just so I can talk about it. Although there is so much to discuss I don’t even know where to begin, one thing which immediately caught my eye was the crosswords which flashes on the screen for a moment.

As many have figured out, it’s made up of the names of everyone in the cast, plus Mai Akasaki, minus David. As the footnote on “Now” says, it’s better to use full names instead of nicknames (such as Julia instead of J) and to exclude the protagonist of the MV.

Here’s the solution by raspbeyes, who I believe may have been the first person to upload it to Tumblr.

However, what’s really interesting is that, by the nature of a crosswords, it connects all characters with a Roman numeral. And these Roman numerals show up throughout the video, attached to different sentences. That way, you can connect the characters to these sentences. And so, you get some pretty interesting stuff. With that in mind, I went through and collected all the Roman numerals (it’s not very difficult, apart from one exception), and I wanted to share my thoughts on them.

Now, the numbers don’t actually show up chronologically for the most part, and the only real logic they seem to follow is “they show up after the crossword flashed on screen”. I’ve decided to list them in the order of the actual number instead of the chronological order, as I don’t find the latter to be very important (apart from one case).

That said, I will actually start by number two, since number one is a bit of a special case. You’ll see. For now:

II - Rose ~ Ego cogito ergo (turbatus) sum

We have some latin to kick things off! “Ego cogito ergo sum” is the ever famous “I think therefore I am” philosophy, but in latin! This phrase (from what I understand) claims that the only thing we can be truly and absolutely sure exists, is our own reasoning and consciousness. This fits Rose decently well, as she’s established her photographic memory causes her trouble separating what’s real, what’s a memory, what’s a dream, etc. Even more so, it sorta fits with the song “Cartoons” from the now vanished character playlist, which some theories placed as Rose’s.

However, there is also the addition of “turbatus” to the saying. Turbatus, from a quick Google search, means something like “disturbed”. Thus, the full meaning is something like “I think, therefore I am disturbed”. This fits Rose even better, considering her scene with Teruko and Nico in the dress-up room. Don’t think I have to go too far in explaining this one.

III - Charles ~ If you doubt brittle things are broken

So, is this about his dead brother he doesn’t remember? As in, “if you doubt your memories, as they’re brittle, they’ll break? Or is this talking about the relationships between the cast? “Distrust will lead to our collapse”, sorta fits the talk he had with Teruko early in chapter 2.

However, I actually lean more towards the brother thing, because of the blue, long quote which is flipped upside down on top of the image.

“And now here’s my secret, a very simple secret. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye”

So, here’s where the Roman numerals become sorta weird. Does this count as part of Charles’ quote or not? I assume it’s at least related, especially seeing some of the other stuff we’ll see in the background.

Now, to the actual quote. I recognize it as a quote from the fox in “The Little Prince”, a book which if you have not read, you should honestly read. It’s a surprisingly sweet book to attach to Charles, but I can honestly see him blushing while talking about it, so it fits.

The quote itself is simple to understand; the material things in the world are not as important as our feelings, relationships, hopes, dreams, all that which can only be seen with the heart. This could be talking about the group’s relationships like I mentioned, but I lean more on thinking it’s referring to the memories of our loved ones, aka, Charles’ memories of his brother. Yes, the fact the quote starts by talking about secrets influences this interpretation.

IV - Arei ~ Right now, why do you cry?

Not much to talk about here. Arei’s the victim of this chapter, that’s why she cries. You can read into it a bit more and claim it has to do with Arei’s bullying of other people (“why are you crying, you wimp?” is something which could conceivably come out of her mouth), or more optimistically, it’s talking about how Arei used to only cry crocodile tears, but as she’s grown more empathetic, she now cries for her friends. Or some sappy shit like that.

Yeah, it’s still probably just about being the CH 2 victim.

V - Ace ~ Right now, why do you go insane? [flipped]

I’m not gonna lie, I kinda laughed a bit when I checked which character this one belonged to. Yeah, it’s pretty fitting, Ace is always going off for the most inane stuff.

More interesting is perhaps the background quote, “a cat has 9 additional lives”. Considering we’re talking about one of two people who’ve survived murder attempts so far, it makes sense, though I wonder if it’s going to come into play again later.

… Also, this just confirms in my mind the song from the playlist which belonged to Ace was “Yesman”. Undead, undead! and all that. I swear I’ll make a post about it eventually, I’m just more focused on this at the moment.

VI - Arturo ~ mind exercise 1 2 3 4

… Uh, well, as a surgeon, he do be exercising that mind though? Or something like that. Yeah, frankly I got nothing. This is just another moment where we Arturo enjoyers gotta take the L.

(Yes, I did just come out as an Arturo enjoyer-)

VII - J ~ Do it like that, let’s live together!

Another one I have no answer for. Like, what do you want me to say, this implies J’s the mastermind? Because it sort of does, seeing as she’s telling everyone to live together. But I really don’t see anything too interesting in the main quote.

However, the background quote may be more noteworthy. Anything in brackets is covered by something else but can be guessed with context.

“The Moral La[w] causes the people to be in com[plete accord] with their ruler, so that they wi[ll f]ollo[w] [him] regard[less of] their lives, undis[mayed] by any danger”

Had to look this one up. J’s quote is from Sun Tzu’s “Art of War” of all goddamn things. The Moral Law the quote is talking about is, from basic research in Google, some sort of unity of purpose; the idea that if the followers and the rules have the same interests, their side will have an advantage in war.

… What?

Yeah, this one’s a bit odd too. For now, my best answer is that it may have to do more with Mariabella than J herself. If you see Mariabella as a sort of leader, and her fans as the followers, it could be talking about how the combined pressure of Mariabella and the media overwhelm J, the “other side” of the “war”.

But if you’re really into the mastermind J idea, you can read it as “she’s the leader of the killing game, with the followers being the people at home that have the same purpose of wanting to see despair and keep the show running by watching”. But I really doubt we’d be getting this sort of mastermind allusions in an MV from chapter 2 of all things.

If anyone has better ideas on this quote or any other, I’d love to hear them.

VIII - Nico ~ even if i try to think, idk!

Another one I can’t talk too much about. My best guess as to what this means is “Nico tries to think about social cues, but doesn’t get it”. Relatable, but also nothing new. Maybe I’m missing something big, but it’s what I got for now.

IX - Levi ~ look, aside from the usual, give me that medicine

Disclaimer, the words don’t actually appear in that order in the MV, but this phrase makes a lot more sense than “look aside from that the usual medicine give me”.

I really don’t know what this means. I mean, I can guess Levi might take some medicine? Whit did say some people took prescriptions apparently. But I really don’t quite understand why this is the first time we’ve had his character associated with medicine.

EDIT: The last few paragraphs about Levi are dead wrong, I’m just leaving by them up so you can laugh at how stupid I was. Here’s a correction with a better analysis.

The background quote doesn’t make it much better. It’s just talking about the orbit of a thing, something something representative trajectory… something something Jupiter… something something 1930…

Oh shit, it’s about the discovery of Pluto! That’s what Google seems to think when I put those keywords in, anyways. Well, as fun an astronomy tale as that one is, I actually have no idea what it means for Levi’s character. I guess it’s something we’ll see in the future.

… Or maybe, crazy idea. You know how Pluto was first thought to be a “planet” but then got reclassified as”dwarf planet”? Maybe this means my theory is right: Levi will get “discovered” as the blackened of the second trial, but then “reclassified” as an accomplice when they find out Eden is actually-

Alright, I’ll stop. I’m joking, obviously… (unless?)

X - Min ~ Democratic-ly

Wait, hold on a second, you may say. That is an X, but it doesn’t really look like the rest of roman numerals font-wise. There are plenty of times X’s appear in the video aside from here, such as… well, the blank death portrait that’s always in the background.

And yes. To my joy, Min got given a bit of special treatment, since the roman numeral for ten, being an X and all, can be seen all throughout the video. However, there is one reason I believe this is absolutely Min’s X.

You see that tiny little 10 next to the X? That’s a footnote. And footnote number 10 is “The Roman numeral for 10 is X”. Of course, the reason we’re reminded of it here is because that X isn’t just a bunch of blood, it’s a Roman numeral.

Of course, Min gets the biggest numeral because she is just that much of a girlboss.

Anyways, numeral oddity aside, it’s pretty obvious why this is Min’s. The background text is just the description of the rules of a class trial, a trial where the outcome is decided democratically, and the reason Min died. This scene is directly followed by more references to class trials, which although they have some interesting implications for the MV as a whole, only help to solidify Min’s connection to her line.

As for other footnotes, footnote seventeen on the word “democratic-ly” is just an objective fact (“Not a real word. Can’t be found on any dictionary”), though the fact “democratically” is spelt wrong could be a reference to Min’s execution, where she was forced to get a lot of things wrong before dying.

Final note is footnote 12, on the class trial definition, which talks about majority rule and how, because it’s the fairest way to make decisions in a group, “murderers never complained when we voted for them to die”. There are implications here about the fact Teruko also received votes in the first trial, but for Min, there isn’t anything new here.

And yes, Min got three footnotes. As she should.

XI - Mai ~ God is dead

Honestly, I guessed who got this line before even checking the crossword. It just fits what we know of Mai too much. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s enough to know she would get a line as dramatic as this. If you want a proper interpretation, Mai is sometimes treated like a god by the others considering the secret quotes, but now she’s dead or gone or something.

Of course, that’s the literal meaning of that phrase. When you look at it through the lens of Nietzsche (and Wikipedia to make sure I didn’t fuck up anything), the phrase “God is dead” refers to the idea that as christianity became increasingly non-universal, the ethical and sociocultural elements of society which had been built on it would be questioned and revised. So, “growing lack of faith causes shifts in the status quo”, or something like that. It’s something which, again, may fit Mai from what we know of her backstory. Someone everyone had unquestioned faith on, who did something which had consequences, so maybe that caused a breakdown of that original faith, or something? Anything involving this character is always extremely speculative, but I frankly think the more literal interpretation works better in this context.

In any case, this phrase is about as cryptic and dramatic as everything involving Mai, so it fits.

XII - Eden ~ ???: But you’re in my way, aren’t you?

… Alright, Eden, I know I believe you to be the CH 2 killer and all that, but you gotta at least try to defend yourself against the allegations! The hell is this?

In case anyone was wondering, I think she’s the killer who wants to get out to meet back up with the girl she kissed (who I’m starting to get convinced is Mai but I’m not ready for that conversation), so this line reads like something she’d say to Arei in that theory. However, it’d be kind of a weird thing to put in the MV before the chapter ends, and besides, there’s an interpretation I like more.

You see how there’s a triple question question mark there? There’s a chance someone is saying this to Eden. I’ll actually get back to this later, because I have to talk about XVI before I cover my theory on this. Apologies.

CW for XIII: Suicide

XIII - Teruko ~ or

… He. Alright, out of context, this is kinda funny. But if you let the MV play, it’s “… or not to be?”, from “To be or not to be?” Shakespeare and all that. That said, the video does, in fact, only keep the number on screen while it says “or”, so I choose to notate Teruko’s quote as just that. Also, as raspbeyes noted in their original post, the number thirteen is considered unlucky, so Teruko.

With that, I have to talk about how insanely dark it is to cut that phrase off at the “…or not to be” section. For anyone who hasn’t read this speech from Hamlet (which I hadn’t either, btw, had to look it up), the phrase “to be or not to be” is actually about suicidal ideation, with the word ‘be’ serving as a synonym for ‘live’. Therefore, cutting the phrase off at just this section leaves behind only suicide as the option.

It had already been implied Teruko has attempted suicide before (see: her telling Arei that failed hangings hurt a lot), and that her luck is the only thing keeping her alive. This just seems to imply it’s a much more present issue than we believed.

Then there’s the background text. From my research, the one on the left is a quote from “Murder on the Orient Express” and the one across the bottom is from “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas”.

“Murder on the Orient Express” is easy to tie in, as it’s literally a murder mystery novel. Uh, spoilers for the novel, I guess, but it ends with the main detective, Poirot, concluding that the murderer was either no one in the train or everyone there. That sort of ties into Teruko’s hidden quote of “It is an equal failing to trust everybody, and to trust no one at all”, I guess? For the line itself, it seems to be about a character hatefully looking at the detective. You can take Poirot to be Teruko because she’s decent at class trials (as opposed to everyone else being horrible at them), and the person looking at her to be… any blackened, or anyone, or David, take a pick.

“The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas” is a bit weirder. It’s a short story about Omelas, an utopia which is the perfect life for everyone there, except for a young child who is forced to live in mysery for the sake of the others. The quote in the video expresses this pretty succinctly. I guess it’s talking about class trials? How the happiness of everyone hinges on one person being very unhappy? Teruko’s the protag, so it makes sense she gets a line like this. There could be other interpretations, but I think that’s the most straightforward one.

XIV - Veronika ~ Things like substance of the arts

I mean, it fits. Veronika’s talent is artistic in nature. It seems a bit… non-dramatic for Veronika? But I guess there’s nothing wrong here.

… Well, there may be, but I’ll get there in a moment.

XV - Whit ~ Remaining ignorant, isn’t that “happiness”?

(Trust me, that’s the order the words show up on screen)

This one’s also easy. Whit’s secret is “Your mother is dead. You omit this truth”. This, combined with his behavior in the killing game, characterizes Whit as someone who prefers to ignore tragedy rather than process it, remaining “ignorant” in a way. The footnote attached, 15, just talks about the phrase “ignorance is bliss”, which is pretty much what the quote is.

…

The problem is the background text.

Thinking Time: “Subtract 4 due to tetraphobia”

That’s the phrase in the background, which appears as both Veronika’s and Whit’s lines are there. This is noteworthy because this is the only time in the MV that two different Roman numerals appear on screen at the same time. The phrase is also attached to footnote 4, which defines tetraphobia:

“The practice of avoiding the number four; it is most common in Eastern Asia. This superstition arises from the fact that the number 4 can be read similar to the word ‘death’ in several languages”

This connection is further implied because the character with the Roman numeral IV is Arei, who died this chapter. There is special attention brought over and over again to the number four, and this phrase asks us to “subtract” it.

And of course, this phrase chooses to appear when two “characters” are on screen, to make sure we can’t figure it out definitively.

Let’s start with Veronika: If you substract four from fourteen you get ten (astounding maths, I know). That connects her to Min and “democratic-ly”… which is the part of the MV most related to class trials and the killing game. Because if there’s a way to look like the mastermind, you bet Veronika’s hopping right on that train!

Other than being “Veronika playing mastermind footsies” for the fiftieth time, and the fact she sorta enjoys class trials, I don’t see any other connection between her and Min’s section, so.

I should address, too, you can remove 4 from 14 in a more literal way, and end up with 1 (doing it with Roman numerals just gets you ten again). This would connect her to Xander, whose line I’ve yet to cover, but trust me on this, I don’t think it connects to Veronika.

However, that’s for the line itself. Veronika might actually have a connection to Xander himself, because of their lines about Mai. Xander’s is “she couldn’t stand to do nothing” and Veronika’s is “a girl who didn’t foresee the consequences”. These are the only lines which allude to whatever big thing Mai may have done. If Xander and Veronika have a connection, it is likely through Mai.

And then there’s Whit, who is also on-screen at the time. Or, well, his Roman numeral is.

Alright, Whit. Veronika’s being super suspicious, so the tetraphobia line has a good chance of being about her. All you gotta do is be normal about this “subtract four” thing, alright? Good.

When you subtract 4 from Whit’s 15, you get 11, which is Mai’s “God is dead”-

For fuck’s sake.

He really just can’t dodge these mastermind allegations, can he? Anyways, if this is about him, he killed Mai, or something, and thus is likely the mastermind.

I’m joking- well, kinda. There are other interpretations, like maybe he… was the first to lose faith in her, in the Nietzsche interpretation of Mai’s line? I don’t know, but the murder is the more straightforward answer for this, if you ask me.

The problem, of course, is that there’s no way to tell which character the “subtract four” thing applies to. Well, the use of the word “tetraphobia” feels more Veronika leaning, what with phobias being related with horror and psychology, but to counterbalance, the line only appears when Whit’s numeral shows up, so it’s even again.

Anyways, back to the last numeral in sequence.

XVI: Hu ~ ???: Go and cry

Alright, you don’t have to be so mean-

In all seriousness, I believe this relates to Hu’s reaction to David’s reveal. And possibly her secret if it’s the one Veronika has.

However, what’s interesting about this line is that it seems to be a direct quote from a character, because of the triple question mark at the beginning. And this is where my theory comes in.

I believe triple question marks is David. This would fit perfectly with this line, as it’s totally something David would say post-magical girl transformation. And with him being the protagonist of the MV, it makes sense for him to be involved.

And that takes me back to XII. If you remember, I said I would talk about Eden’s line a bit more after talking about XVI.

Well, it’s pretty simple, really. Eden’s line comes right after Hu’s in the video, so it’s reasonable to assume ??? is the same person for both of them. In other words, I believe it’s David who tells Eden “but you’re in my way, aren’t you?” This still implies Eden’s the CH2 blackened, by the way. As in, “you’re getting in my way because now I need to figure out a murder”, or something like that. There really isn’t any other thing it could be referring to. Unless it’s like, “you’re getting in my way because you’re so nice you’re preventing murders from happening” or “you’re getting in my way of manipulating Arei by befriending her”, but the first one is too abstract and the second one doesn’t work since David didn’t know about their friendship until after Arei died. So don’t go thinking I’m giving up on that theory. It just changes the context a bit.

-

And with that, we’ve successfully gone through the sixteen numbers. Except, wait! Don’t think I forgot about the funny British boy!

Well, to be frank with you, there is a reason why I chose to save Xander for last. And that is… I didn’t want to start the list with disappointment.

I - Xander ~ Inconclusive

See, the problem is that Xander runs into much the same issue as Min, but without a footnote to help solve the problem. The Roman numeral for 1 is just “I”, so any time the word I appears, Xander’s Roman numeral appears.

Now, maybe you think this is stupid. Obviously any time “I” appears as an actual word, it’s not meant to be Xander’s numeral! We just need to look for the time it’s not a part of the lyrics or a phrase in the text!

This is obviously the most intuitive solution, and it does arrive at… an answer. So, I present, the First Possibility.

First Possibility

I - Xander ~ (the world of abnormal sentiment dances)

Now, at first glance, this works! You have the numeral next to a phrase, and there’s nothing else it could be!

Except, the problem is that that only extends to the screenshot. In this part of the video, the same phrase is on the screen for a good few seconds, but the “I” disappears and gets replaced by several numbers, then the “&” symbol, more numbers, and what seems to be a “=“ sign, maybe? But could be II sideways. Don’t know, looks like code, not my expertise.

The issue here is that this would be the only time a character’s phrase lingers longer than their numeral. This is pretty inconsistent with the other phrases we’ve seen, which is what gets me to hesitate and wonder if that “I” is actually made to be part of the code and not the crossword thing.

That, combined with the line itself. Because what does “the world of abnormal sentiment dances” have to do with Xander? I looked it up, but it’s not the name of a book or anything. Maybe I’m missing something, but I really don’t think this is related to Xander in any way.

So, I looked for other possibilities. The problem is that, like I said, all other possibilities are part of lyrics or phrases, not a standalone numeral.

And yet, there is one which stands out to me as a good candidate. This has a high chance of being wrong, but I’ll bring it up anyways because I think it’s cool.

Second Possibility

I - Xander ~ I hate the things that I love, and I love the things that I hate

… Well, I know it’s hard to read it in that clusterfuck, but that is what the red text says.

This line has a bit more to do with Xander, or at least, David’s feelings towards Xander. We know he probably did like him based on some scenes from the MV, but he’s sad about his death. He hates him for leaving, but his heart loves him anyways. That could be read as romantic or platonic… hesitant on the platonic-

That said, the problem is explaining why I believe this is the Xander line. And that comes down to the background text.

… Yes, that background text.

You see, in the MV, it slowly fills out in a way which lets you read it somewhat. I’ll tell you what each part of the text means, but if you want visuals, I’ll ask you go to the video.

What first appears is white text on top and the right. The white text on top is Big Clue #1, as it’s a definition of electrocution. You know, that thing Xander died from.

The text on the right, meanwhile, seems to be an excerpt from “Alice in Wonderland”. The specific passage seems to feature Alice lamenting how much “pleasenter” [sic] things were “back home”. And well, for everyone but Teruko, their homes were likelier “pleasenter” than the killing game. However, in this context, it could be an analogy to David missing the past, when Xander was still alive.

Then, more white text appears on the bottom as yellow text appears under the white text on top. The bottom text is, again, more talk of electrocution, but the yellow text is a bit more complex. This is the line (from Google, exact wording may vary):

“To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world...”

Another “The Little Prince” quote, another straight banger (I love that book). Imma need the hornier of you to not focus too much on the “taming” wording and focus on the important part. This one speaks of the beautiful simplicity of relationships; everyone is “just some dude” until you meet them and establish a relationship, and then, they become unique.

This is an especially wonderful quote for Xander and David’s relationship. David truly wanted nothing more than to be “a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes” instead of the idol Xander saw him as. He wanted a genuine relationship with him, where they were not just each other’s idols, but something bigger; each other’s boyfriends :D

Alright, sappy stuff aside, this quote is related to Xander, that’s what you need to know.

Then there’s the big pink text. It says “note: can’t read”. Yeah, fair.

But before that note appears, some cyan text begins sprawling out. It’s not a quote from anything as far as I can tell, so here’s a transcript:

“…man crushed by reality puts on a s[how]…

…[of end]urance. If that’s beyond your

[com]prehension, dear reader, then you a[nd]…

[I’ll n]ever understand each other. Life’s…

[short?] so we might as well make it…

[count?] real life is a realm th…”

So, yeah, I’m sort of guessing half the words here, and I can’t even tell what the last line is, but I think we can get the gist from this. Reading this with the context that Xander’s probably connected, it’s easy to figure out. David was crushed by reality when Xander died, and he put on a show of endurance after that. The insult to the reader is a bit uncalled for, but I don’t particularly care, it fits David.

So, with the idea that this little breakdown is related to Xander, it’s safe to say the line “I hate the things that I love, and I love the things that I hate” (not a quote from anywhere I could find btw) is linked with Xander as well.

And, well. There are other references to Xander, but they’re never paired with an “I”. And there are other instances of the word “I”, but never in relation to Xander, at least not as much as this little breakdown.

This clusterfuck of text also forms directly after the crosswords shows up. And while most of these aren’t in chronological order, number II through V do. Wouldn’t it make sense for I to appear right after the crosswords and make I through V in chronological order?

In any case, I believe this is a decent alternative to the “world of abnormal sentiment dances”, whatever that means.

Conclusion

This was really fun! I am satiated for now, the content drop was awesome, I loved it a lot. There’s so much more I want to talk about in this MV, but this was priority number one in my mind.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading! If you made it this far, you deserve your own Roman numeral, all for yourself! Take care!

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #fanganronpa #drdt spoilers #drdt mv #drdt theory #god i love this mv so much #i am already going insane #this is not good #teruko tawaki #arei nageishi #arturo giles #david chiem #eden tobisa #veronika grebenshchikova #xander matthews #whit young #rose lacroix #charles cuevas #ace markey #nico hakobyan #levi fontana #min jueng #hu jing #mai akasaki

[callsignthirsty]

Stuck in the Middle — Chapter 3 — Both

Co-written with a friend who isn't on tumblr. Pairing: Ron “Slider” Kerner x Reader x Tom “Iceman” Kazansky Summary: The one where Maverick’s sister is on a mission to give her brother a heart attack by sleeping with not one, but two of his colleagues. Word Count: 6400 Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, threesome, creampie(s) Chapter: 3/3 Read Previous Minors DNI

Pete returned home some hours later to find you in a very… festive scarf. Unfortunately for Goose, who had opted to stay with you until Pete arrived, it had done little to hide the hickeys littering your neck. That had been an interesting night.

Little did any of you know that hickeys, unseasonal scarves, and the Iceman would be the least of your worries in the coming days.

A hop gone wrong had you and Carole scrambling to get to the hospital.

They were alive, but it had been a close thing.

Pete was released that same day after a thorough evaluation. Goose was still unconscious. As tears leaked from his eyes, you knew that your brother was blaming himself, but there was little he could’ve done to avoid flying through Ice’s jetwash — Viper had stopped by the hospital to say as much.

You spent one, then two days in the hospital. Classes continued — fly long enough and it happens, they said, but Pete wasn’t ready to go up again. Not without Goose. And on the third day, like a miracle, Goose’s eyes blinked open. “Holy shit.” His voice was scratchy from disuse.

Carole sat upright at his side. “Nick?”

“Mav, where’s my camera?” Goose croaked, ignoring his wife. “There’s an angel by my bed. The guys ‘ll never believe it if I don’t take a picture.” When a nurse entered the room, relieved tears were tracking down a laughing Carole’s face, Bradley smiling in his Uncle Mav’s arms.

On the fourth day, Goose encouraged Pete to return to class because “You can’t let Ice and that big oaf run away with our trophy. They’ll never let us live it down.” Pete had reluctantly agreed when Goose gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, honey. You’ll do great.”

Pete smiled. “Thanks, dear.”

So the summer continued: hot days spent on the tarmac and by Goose’s side. And then, graduation was just a day away. Goose, unfortunately, wouldn’t be able to attend, but he had enough points to graduate, and Pete planned on going for both of them. You, Pete knew, would be in the audience, and there lay his current predicament:

Iceman.

Well, more accurately: Slider. After he’d returned home from his date with Charlie, Pete got an eyeful of hickeys and Goose’s side of the story. Namely, everything had been fine until Kerner opened his big mouth and burrowed beneath Goose’s skin so that Ice could steal you away.

If Pete had any hopes of keeping you and Ice separated after the commencement ceremony, he needed Slider.

* * *

Classes wrap and Slider is cleaning out his locker when he becomes acutely aware that he's one of two people left in the room. And even though Mitchell's back is to him, years of training and locker room antics mean that Slider knows when he's being watched. But the silence grows long and goes stale to the point that he's almost convinced that Maverick isn't going to say anything — which is a surprise because Maverick always has something to say.

"Kerner."

There it is.

"Mitchell."

"Congrats on the trophy." It must be killing Maverick to say it, and Slider smiles because, yeah, the trophy is his. It feels fucking good. But that's not what Maverick stuck around to say. It isn’t what he’s after.

Slider doesn’t want to drag this out longer than it has to be, so he gets to the point. "What do you want?"

The question hangs while Maverick takes a second to think before speaking — and isn’t that a scary thought? — when he finally spits out: “I have a proposition for you.”

"I don't swing that way."

"What? No." And Maverick spins to shoot Slider a dirty look. "I want your help keeping Ice away from my sister. At graduation."

"Why me?" The million-dollar question, though Maverick doesn't realize it.

"If you're helping me, you aren't helping him," Maverick says like it should be obvious. And, okay, yeah, that’s fair.

"What makes you so sure I'll help you?" Slider can’t tamp down the Cheshire grin at the way Maverick squirms. But besides being his pilot, Ice is his friend, and… well, they aren’t putting labels on whatever this thing is with Mitchell’s sister. "Besides, I think he's earned a little celebration." Hadn't they both? From the look on Maverick’s face, Slider would say his answer is ‘no.’

"I can pay you."

“No, you can’t.” Because even if Mav did have money, which Slider’s sure he doesn’t, his price would be too high. The trophy and a fuck? Pete Mitchell would have to be the richest man alive.

“I heard the guys say you got yourself a girl.” It’s a reach at best, but it shocks Slider into silence. Briefly, he wonders if someone had, in fact, seen the two of you in or on his car. But if that were the case, he doubts Maverick would be talking with him now. “She coming to the ceremony?” Maverick tries as Slider collects himself, trying to come off cool and collected like Ice always manages to.

“She hasn’t decided yet.” A lie. You’ll be there. You wouldn’t miss it for the world. Hadn’t let Maverick and Goose come to Fightertown without you in the first place.

Maverick smiles as if he’s got an idea. An in. “If you help me out,” he says, “you can borrow my bike.”

“Why would I—”

“Ladies love it,” Maverick insists, and Slider ignores him in favor of clearing out his locker. “Even you’d look good on a bike, Kerner,” Maverick tries again. “Everyone does.”

“Hey.”

“Think about it,” Maverick’s voice drops as he sets the scene. “She’s clinging to you as you speed down the road. Wind in your hair. Her arms wrapped around your waist. Tight body pressed all up against your back. And the adrenaline rush—” Mav’s eyebrows raise as if he’s remembering something fondly or really trying to sell the idea “—makes for amazing sex.”

Slider can’t help the smug grin that overtakes him — ice-cold, no mistakes was never his schtick. “Is that right?”

Mav’s smiling too, his head nodding lightly like they’re on the same wavelength. And maybe they are because Slider’s thinking about it. “Mind-blowing.”

Well, if Mav insists. “Alright.”

“So you’ll do it?” Maverick seems almost surprised that it’s worked. Like he hadn’t imagined Slider was, in fact, a man who could be reasoned with.

“Yeah,” Slider confirms, zipping up his bag and knocking his locker shut one last time. “Don’t make me regret this.” He wouldn’t.

* * *

“Gentlemen,” Viper says from the podium with a proud smile. “You came here the best of the best. We made you better.” You sit near the front of the audience, smiling and clapping with everyone else as the speeches finish, and the Top Gun trophy is presented to Lt. Tom “Iceman” Kazansky and Lt. Ron “Slider” Kerner. The new nameplate shines brighter than the others, but maybe you’re biased.

As soon as you can, you’re up from your seat. You go to Pete first; give him a hug and a heartfelt congratulations. Then, when he’s distracted by another graduate asking after Goose, you slip away. You’ve successfully snuck up on Ice’s six and are seconds from giving him a congratulatory kiss when Slider moves to intercept. Time freezes for a moment, and you’re worried that Slider intends to kiss you in front of this crowd — Top Gun trophy still in the hands of the man most of his class knows you to be with. When the moment passes, however, that worry twists into deep-seated confusion.

Ice frowns. “What gives?” Because he’s never known Slider to be a cock-block.

“I’ve got orders.”

“From?” And you can see Pete smirking into his drink as Ice all but demands an answer.

“Mitchell.” You and Ice look at Slider as if he’s grown a second head. “With Mother Goose still in the hospital, he needed some help keeping the Iceman away from his baby sister.”

“And you accepted?” Ice’s jaw clenches.

“Deal’s a deal.” Ice scowls, the look wholly out of place considering the trophy still in his grasp.

“What did he offer you?” you can’t help but ask.

“Not important.” Somehow you doubt that.

The rest of the graduation party is… well, not what you’d expected or hoped for. For one, you’re still there. Every time you try to get close to Ice, either Slider or Pete gets in your way. And this is worse than Pete and Goose because Slider is intimately aware of all your evasion maneuvers — he’d helped you come up with a good number of them.

You’re positive you’re going to scream when Viper swoops in with actual orders. Jester hands envelopes to Ice, Slider, Hollywood, and Wolfman. And Pete.

Before anyone can stop you, you wrap Ice in a hug. You throw your arms around Slider next, then Pete, who can’t be mad when you’re squeezing him like this might be the last time you get to. The “be safe” you whisper into his ear means more after Goose’s accident, but you don’t have time to talk about it before they’re all whisked away.

* * *

Maverick doesn’t want to give Slider his bike when they return to Fightertown. Says he’d barely had to work for it since they’d left the graduation party early.

“A deal’s a deal, Mav,” Slider says, but it’s gentler than it would’ve been a week ago. Mav and Ice are wingmen now, so Slider’s trying to be nice. Not too nice. Not I’ll-stop-fucking-your-sister nice — and Slider supposes that’s the one that counts the most — but nice-nice.

It’s a start.

You’d received no fewer than three phone calls, so you’re not surprised to hear the motorcycle roll up to the curb. What does surprise you is Slider at your door with Pete’s keys in his hand.

“Come on,” he says as he gathers you in his arms until you can feel the solid ba-dum of his heart on your cheek. “We’re going for a ride.”

It feels strange climbing onto Pete’s Kawasaki behind Slider, but as the engine roars to life and you wrap your arms around his middle, you’re confident you’ll enjoy it while it lasts.

Slider pulls over at a roadside diner. Ice is already inside, fingers drumming against a table in the corner and Academy ring glinting in the sun when Slider holds the door open for you. He beams when he sees you and makes room beside him at the booth. It seems only fitting to sit beside him since you’d been clinging to Slider moments ago.

The three of you catch up over food and a shared milkshake. Ice and Slider tell you what they can about the mission: the tight bunks, the awful food, the budding friendship with your brother. In exchange, you give them the latest on Goose’s progress in physical therapy. It’ll be a long road to recovery, but if anyone can do it, you know it’s Goose.

When you’re ready to leave, Slider wants to take you out for a spin — after all, he’s been assured that the ladies dig a man on a bike, and he wants to test that theory.

Slider would rather swallow glass or wait in line at the DMV than admit it out loud, but Mav’s right. The warm press of you along his back, small hands clutching at his waist as the engine hums between your thighs, is something else. Ice isn’t thrilled to see him climb onto the bike with you, both sans helmet, and insists on trailing behind the bike in case something goes wrong. It won’t, but whatever makes Ice feel better, Slider supposes.

And although his tailing had started as a protective compulsion, Ice quite likes the way you look wrapped around Slider — your hair a wind-tousled mess and jacket snapping in the wind.

It’s purely coincidence when you spot Charlie’s Porsche at a stoplight; its top down and a familiar head of cropped black-brown hair behind the wheel. At first, Pete offers Slider a cheeky grin, a friendly wave, and then — out of curiosity, you’re sure — his eyes slide to the back of his bike. You can’t bring yourself to hide your face, frozen when Pete’s eyes lock on you and almost bug out of his head, his smile dropping and face ashen with sudden realization. Slider’s laughter reverberates through your chest. The light chooses that moment to turn green, and Slider takes off.

Over your shoulder, Ice honks when Pete refuses to move, a smug smile on his lips as he zips after you.

When you return to Ice and Slider’s place, you rest your cheek in the space between Slider’s shoulder blades, your own shoulders shaking as your mirth bubbles over, and soon you’re shaking from the rush of it all.

Cat’s definitely out of the bag now.

Once the door is open, Slider gets to work. By the time Ice walks in, Slider already has your back against the wall, lips taking yours in a bruising kiss as adrenaline courses through your veins. His big hands slide beneath your shirt to cup you over your bra. Damn Mav, but he’s right. And, as your fingers catch in his shirt-back and pull him closer, Slider has zero intentions of letting you go anytime soon. Not when he’s got you exactly where he wants you. Definitely not when each slide of his tongue over yours teases cute noises from the back of your throat.

Ice must be thinking something similar because he’s quick to join you. His fingers find yours tangled in Slider’s shirt to help you lift it until the RIO has to break your kiss to take the offending garment off. It’s a mistake that Ice takes full advantage of, stealing your lips in a kiss of his own.

Hands resting on your hips, Ice guides you around until he’s the one leaning against the wall. He’d wrap an arm around your waist to tug you closer, but Slider is already plastering himself to your back, so Ice settles for a deep kiss and revels in the wanton noise it earns him.

Without the sweet distraction of a kiss, Slider works your jacket down your arms and into a heap on the floor. He takes your hands in his and leads one into his hair; the other he guides down until it’s slipping under the loose hem of Ice’s shirt. Ice jolts at the skin-to-skin contact and your answering moan gets lost between the slick slide of lips and tongues. Your teeth clack against Ice’s when Slider presses his hips into yours with a sinful grind that drags his cock against the swell of your ass as he finally sucks a mark into your neck — consequences be damned. But instead of pulling him away, the hand in Slider’s hair encourages him. You tilt your head to the side and re-slot your lips against Ice’s while giving Slider more room to work a deep bruise into smooth skin.

One of Ice’s hands cradles the back of your head, his lips working insistently against yours as your hand trails fire over his abs and up to his chest. Perfect teeth catch on your bottom lip and you break apart panting, but then Ice pulls you back for more greedy kisses. His other hand grabs one of your belt loops and uses it to pull your hips away from Slider’s so they’re flush with his own.

While Ice keeps your mouth occupied, Slider’s hands return to the thin material of your bra. He’s growing more impatient with each of your whimpers, the steady roll of Ice’s hips pushing your ass back against his erection which, to Slider’s exasperation, is still trapped uncomfortably beneath the rough denim of his pants. With a barely-there nip that erupts goosebumps across your shoulders, Slider rucks your shirt up until it’s bunched beneath your arm, but Ice refuses to stop kissing you — whether because he’s a greedy bastard or because he’s skeptical that Slider will steal your lips away the way Ice had was anyone’s guess.

The sharp rip of tearing fabric wrenches your lips from Ice faster than anything else Slider could’ve thought up, your nipples pebbling as cold air assaults your heated skin. “Hey!” you scold as the fabric falls limp to the floor.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Slider promises as he unhooks your bra with deft fingers and grabs your chin to pull you in, licking at your lips before taking them in another harsh kiss. You let yourself be turned from Ice to chase the feeling of Slider’s lips claiming yours. Behind you, Ice flings your bra to the side and hastily removes his own shirt.

Slider may be driving, what with the way he has both you and Ice trapped against the wall, but Ice is far from passive. The two join forces in an all-out assault on you from both sides. Hands bumping as they knead and tease and take you apart piece by delicious piece. Teeth scraping against your collarbone. Your nipples pebbling between calloused fingers. Chests heaving. Lips smacking. The sweet friction of denim dragging over denim as you all move together. Sighs, growls, and groans lost between teeth and tongues. The mixing taste of them on your tongue as they push and pull, give and take.

You shiver, moaning into Ice’s mouth as he plays with your tits. Not to be ignored, Slider shoves a hand down the front of your jeans, two fingers working deep into your dripping cunt. Then Slider’s fingers are gone, and before you can say something in protest, you squeal as he throws you over his shoulder. “Ron!” you giggle, another excited shout leaving you as one of Slider’s hands lands playfully on your ass and he turns to bite at your hip just above the line of your jeans as he moves the party to the bedroom.

Slider throws you onto the bed, and you bounce before settling tousled among the pillows. Your thighs fall open in a wanton display, and you crook a finger to reel Slider in until he’s licking a path from your open zipper and up to nibble at your jaw until he’s stretched over you. You moan at how he fits so snugly between your legs and his chest rubs against your own.

“How do you want to do this?” Ice asks, leaning against the doorframe, his arms flexing none-too-subtly when your eyes find him over Slider’s shoulder. He’s a sight to behold — cheeks a slight, breathless pink, arms crossed beneath his chest, belt buckle weighing down the open flap of his pants to reveal more smooth skin and the tented white of his briefs. You lose sight of him when Slider turns his head.

“You can take her mouth since you’ve been hogging it all night.” Slider kisses your cheek, his dark eyes on your as he crawls back down your body. “I’ve been thinking about this pussy for days.”

Ice crosses the room with unhurried steps, long fingers caressing your jaw. “Is that what you want?” he asks, thumb tracing your full bottom lip while Slider mouths at your hip bones. The RIO’s hands slowly pull your jeans and panties down to savor the moment. You bite your lip, briefly catching Ice’s thumb before he pulls it back. A flush of heat travels through you as Slider’s eyes meet your own and he presses a final kiss to your hip bones before he ventures lower.

When you nod, Ice pulls his cock free, eyes never leaving yours as he pumps himself lazily and kicks the rest of his clothes all the way off. Opposite him, Slider grips your leg behind the knee and raises it, revealing the diamond of your cunt. You keen, fingers threading through Slider’s hair and hips jerking as his tongue drags over your core. Lightly stubbled cheeks rub against your sensitive thighs and set them aflame as Slider’s eyes blow wide, his breath fanning over your clit before he gets to work.

Not to be forgotten, Ice’s fingers return to your jaw, light but with enough pressure to turn you back to him. His cock hangs heavy between his thighs as the bed dips to accommodate him. As he rubs the head across the seam of your lips, Slider pushes his tongue against your slick folds with a groan. You’re buzzing, jaw falling open with a sweet noise, and Ice gives into the temptation to tap his cock to your tongue before pulling back and smearing saliva and precum across your cheek.

Unprompted, you take the tip between your lips, tonguing at the slit to savor Ice’s taste before trying to work more of him into your mouth. Slider watches from between your thighs as Ice lets out a low groan, his hand falling into your hair as you work his cock in and out of your mouth. All the while, Slider’s tongue continues to fuck into you, a finger coming to rub spit and arousal into your clit until you’re trembling, hips seeking out the slick press. Slider slips a finger into you alongside his tongue, reveling in the way that Ice’s cock slips from between your lips as you unabashedly moan, thoroughly distracted from your current task.

Distantly, Slider thinks that the real surprise isn’t that Hollywood and Wolf had heard you; it’s that it took them so long.

Ice brings one of your hands up to fist around his cock, his eyes glued to Slider as he continues to wring more wanton cries from you.

Slider smacks his lips. “She tastes good.”

“Yeah?” Ice’s Adam’s apple bobs.

Slider takes another lick that’s purely for show, his chin covered in your juices. “Sweetest pussy there ever was.” Ice groans as he imagines it, cock twitching as he thrusts into your fist, and Slider ducks down to suck on your clit before he asks: “Want a taste?”

“Fuck yes.”

Slider stands back and practically rips his pants off while Ice takes his place between your thighs. Ice throws your legs over his shoulders before diving in and drinking his fill. He groans as the tang of your sex explodes across his tongue, your heels digging into his back. Slurps at your dripping cunt with a fervor that makes your back arch off the bed.

“Please,” you cry.

“What do you want, sweetheart,” Slider asks, suddenly at your side and taking one of your nipples into his hot mouth.

You whine, arching up into Slider and down against Ice’s face. “Fuck me. Please.”

“Well, when you ask so pretty.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Ice soothes. He scrambles up, already running the leaking tip of his cock through your spit-slick folds. “I’ll fuck you real good.”

Slider raises a brow. “Why do you get to fuck her first?”

“Because I’m here.”

For a moment, you’re worried they’re going to break into rock, paper, scissors. Slider looks ready to get up and do something about Ice taking advantage of his generosity — he’d said Ice could have your mouth, dammit. But before he does, or you can whine for someone to hurry up and fuck you already, Ice’s hand settles on the curve of your waist, and he pushes in. You groan. Slider drops back against the bed and rolls his eyes. He shouldn’t be surprised; Ice always gets what he wants.

As the jut of Ice’s hips settle against you, Slider takes your lips in another kiss, his hands kneading at your tits. It isn’t his first choice, but Slider can be content with this — swallowing your needy moans, tracing the outline of your lips with his tongue. Making up for the time he’s lost with your mouth to Ice’s greed.

Each rock of Ice’s hips causes your tits to jump the slightest bit within Slider’s large palms and against his tongue as he sucks on a perky bud and applies gentle pressure with his teeth. Before his lips find yours again, his hand trails up your chest and applies gentle pressure to your neck. You shiver, arching into the touch. Slider loves the dazed expression, the slack ‘o’ of your spit-glazed lips when you wear his hand like a necklace, and your eyes brim with rampant desire. He dives in to leave a mark just below your jaw, reveling in the way that you dig your nails into his hair and the way your head is thrown back, and the way you must be clenching around Ice from the strained “fuck” he hears coming from the foot of the bed.

Slider lets out his own punched-out “fuck” when your hand wraps around his cock and strokes. It’s uncoordinated with the way Ice is trying to take you apart and awkward due to the angle, but that’s more than fine. Slider needs something to take the edge off, and your touch is just that. He doesn’t want to finish in your hand. Not tonight.

You bring your lips to Slider’s and let him take the lead while Ice turns his attention to your legs. He lifts one up to his shoulder, and you hum into your kiss at the stretch. Progressively sloppier kisses are pressed from your ankle up your calf. Ice’s new angle has him sinking deeper into you, but he keeps his thrusts slow, the cadence so different from the one you’d had on the beach, but one that — if kept up — he knows will have your legs shaking, back arching, nails scratching. Especially if he keeps hitting that spot.

As it is, your cunt is clenching around him with each forward shove of his hips into yours. Squeezing around him as if to keep him inside of you. Milking him.

With a curse, Ice pulls out, and you break from Slider to whine at the sudden empty feeling. Ice gropes at your hip and offers it a pat before he’s encouraging you to roll over. As you move to accommodate the change in position, Slider grabs you, and you yelp as he manhandles you onto your knees.

“Hey,” Ice says.

Slider just turns you so you’re facing Ice and enters you with a harsh snap of his hips. “My turn.” You want to chastise them, tell them to play nice, but all that comes out is a pathetic mewl. Slider’s smile is haughty. “Still so tight even after Ice fucked you,” he groans as your walls suck him in. Your jaw falls slack, and a pleasured noise tumbles free into the night. When Slider has you screaming, one of his hands fists in your hair. “Come on,” he growls. “Open that pretty little mouth for Ice.” And you do, tongue lolling out over your bottom lip as you look up from beneath thick lashes.

Every time Slider’s hips crash into yours, you’re pushed further down Ice’s cock. Your taste is heavy on his skin, an intoxicating mixture of tang and his musk. Sweet. Salty. You suck more vigorously, hollowing your cheeks as your head swims. When Ice’s hips jerk forward and his cock tickles the back of your throat, you moan long and low. The vibration pulls a shiver from Ice, his fingers whispering across your flushed cheeks and attempting to card through your hair where Slider has it pulled tight.

When Slider nails your sweet spot, you pull off of Ice. “Ah, fuck!”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Slider preens, releasing your hair to smack your ass. “Want you to let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.” He holds your hips still and grinds torturously into you when you don’t comply.

“God, Ron,” you gasp. “Don’t stop!”

“That’s it, baby,” Slider says. You bite your lip self-consciously, wanting to keep your pleasure from the ears of any passersby.

Ice thumbs your lip free of your teeth. Rubs over the indents left behind until you let out another pathetic whine. “Don’t hold back,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. We want to hear you. Everyone already knows.”

Slider’s hips slam forward. “Now let them all know how good you feel.”

Ice catches you as your arms give out and lifts you up until you’re clutching his shoulders. You kiss him desperately as Slider picks up the pace, the clap of skin on skin filling the bedroom. Slider buries himself in your neck to leave another bruise as you cling to Ice. Your kisses are less lips and more teeth and tongues now, but you couldn’t care less. Ice’s palms caress your sides while Slider’s hands anchor themselves on your hips to pull you back against him with each increasingly desperate thrust. The kisses Ice gives you do little to shut you up at this point, to neither man’s disappointment. You’re stuck between them. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere you’d rather be when Ice’s hand leaves your side to play with your clit, delicately circles it as Slider continues to hammer into you.

In the end, that’s what does you in, your head thrown back against Slider’s shoulder as both men work together to take you apart.

Distantly, you’re aware of Slider’s grip tightening enough to bruise, the stutter of his hips, and the garbled curses as he presses tight between your quivering thighs and cums.

Gentle fingers turn your head to the side, and Slider captures your lips in a kiss. Simple. Passionate. His tongue rolls over yours as his hands smooth over your hip bones and down your thighs. He shakes as he soaks in the closeness, your highs still crashing through you.

He pulls you with him as he half lays back against the headboard, cum dribbling from your cunt as his spent cock slips free. You melt back against his broad chest and hum as you settle against him. Slider feels warm, and you still tingle everywhere he touches you.

The bed dips as Ice crawls forward until he’s knelt between your knees, his hands planted against the duvet on either side of Slider’s thighs. “You still up for round two?” Your pussy pulses at the thought, more of Slider’s cum trailing down the crack of your ass. Ice gathers the cum on his middle and ring finger and pushes it back into you with a wet squelch. You can’t help but clench around his long fingers, back arching when one of Slider’s hands presses flat against your lower abdomen and encourages more of his pearly essence to leak out around Ice’s fingers, both of them entranced by the sight.

“Words, baby,” Slider whispers breathless and sated against your ear. “You need him to fuck you?” Ice closes his eyes and groans, his cock twitching red and heavy where it leaks against your thigh. “Need Ice to fill up that pretty pussy?”

“She’s already so full.”

“I can take it.” Your legs circle Ice’s trim waist and drag him closer still. You feel hot as you imagine him spilling within you. Being so full of Ice and Slider both that you can’t possibly keep it all inside. “I want it.”

That’s all that Ice needs to hear. He wastes no time sinking into you right up to the hilt with a sinful groan. Trembles when you cry out, soft and exquisite, your eyes already blissed out but your cunt still so wet and needy, gripping him tight as if you were the one who hadn’t cum mere minutes ago.

Each rock drives you into Slider’s chest. Not to be left out, the RIO’s arms lazily snake around to cup your breasts and tweak your nipples, his lips subdued but no less sizzling as they skim over the marks he left on you earlier.

Ice leans close, his glacial eyes dark and blown wide, lids at half-mast. He catches your bottom lip between his teeth and worries at it until you gasp, releasing it with a slick pop. “Tom.” It’s not a scream like earlier, more a frantic, heady pant, your voice rough as it washes over Ice in all the right ways. It tingles low in his spine and raises goosebumps along his arms until his shoulders bunch with the feeling.

You arch up, away from Slider’s chest but into fingers clamped over your nipples as Ice’s rhythm falters. The wet clapping of your sex is loud between your ears compared to the heavy sighs and the continuous squeak of old bed springs.

Ice gulps. “You’re so sensitive.” It’s true. Every touch feels like fire. Like straight electricity. Like pleasedon’tletgodon’tstop! and Ice’s dentist won’t be pleased with how he’s clenching his jaw. Drawing in ragged breaths and grinding his teeth to make this last even the slightest bit longer. But you’re right there with him.

Slider’s calloused fingers tap against your clit, and you’re gone. A silent scream passes your lips as you pull tight like a bow and release, and Ice snaps with you.

The three of you lie together in a pile of sweaty limbs. Cum and arousal leak thickly down your thigh and onto the bed. Despite the mess, none of you are willing to move. This is the most comfortable you’ve been in weeks. Floating somewhere high above the bed. Ice is your blanket, and Slider your pillow. At least for a couple blissful minutes.

“Alright,” Slider says, nudging none too gently at Ice’s shoulder, “get off. You’re heavy.”

Instead of telling Slider to go fuck himself, Ice rolls his shoulders and peels himself off of you. He marvels at the mess they’ve made between your legs, then moves to get off the bed and start the shower.

The shower, it turns out, is a waste.

You don’t get much sleep that night.

* * *

After breakfast, Ice helps you into his car and drives you to the hospital while Slider wheels Pete’s bike to his housing assignment just a couple doors down. Ice pulls the car to a smooth stop right in front of the visitor’s entrance. He gives you a sweet kiss on the lips, then leans up to place one on your forehead. You breathe him in — spearmint, sunscreen, aftershave.

“Will we see you tonight?” You shrug, resting your forehead against Ice’s shoulder as his hand gently massages the back of your neck. “I’m just a call away if you need me to pick you up.”

“I know,” you say, giving Ice a quick peck before opening the car door and stepping out.

As you get closer to your destination, you become increasingly aware that you’re wearing yesterday’s clothes and one of Slider’s definitely-too-big-for-you shirts. But that doesn’t stop you from slipping into Goose’s room with a knock.

“Look who decided to show up.” Pete’s arms are crossed over his chest, brows furrowed in his patent big brother scowl, but Carole is smiling where she sits at her husband’s bedside, Bradley sitting on his lap. When you don’t say anything, Pete continues: “You didn’t come home last night.”

Goose turns to you, wide-eyed and head bobbing, before falling back against his stacked pillows. They must have already given him his post-PT drugs. “Wait, where were you, then?” Pete glares at his best friend; it takes a minute for Goose's drug-addled mind to catch up. “Oh.” Goose covers Bradley’s ears, then loudly whispers to his wife, “She was having sex with The Iceman.”

“Thank you, Goose,” Pete bites in frustrated exasperation while Carole giggles.

“He wouldn’t have found out if she wore the scarf I bought her,” Goose insists before turning back to you. “Did you show Carole the scarf?” Back to his wife. “It’s a great scarf, hun.” Great was a relative term. He’d bought it from a 7-Eleven.

Carole nods, Goose dopily nodding along with her. “I bet it is.”

“Can we talk about literally anything else?” Pete asks, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Eventually, you’ll have to accept that this is a thing, Pete,” you say. It comes out strong, but internally you’re a quivering mess. You love your brother, but you can’t live your life for him; you have to live it for yourself.

Pete sighs. “I know, it’s just… a lot.” And... yeah.

“I know,” you say. Because it is a lot, and that’s okay. It can be a lot. You just need him to be okay with it. Okay with you.

“It’s just…” Pete shakes his head. “Kerner? Really? Ice, I get, but Slider?” Your cheeks heat, but you refuse to look away even if you’re sure the floor looks incredibly interesting right about now.

“Oh my god,” Goose gasps. “Carole?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Did you know she was sleeping with Slider, too?”

Carole grins, shaking her head. “No.”

“Mav.”

Pete sighs. “What, Goose?”

“Did you know—”

“I’m the one who just told you.” You can’t help but smile at your brother’s displeasure.

“So when we were keeping her away from Ice… was she just off with Slider?”

Pete’s head whips from Goose to you, and this time you give into temptation and study the floor. “Well, we Mitchells aren’t exactly known for our good decisions, are we?” you mumble. Pete can’t help but laugh at that.

“No, we’re not.” And with that, some of the tension bleeds out of the room.

Until Goose bolts upright, almost knocking Bradley from his lap. “We’re at a hospital.” Everyone gives Goose a confused look. He’s known he’s been at the hospital since he woke up — had the doctors switched up his meds? But Goose is staring intently at you now. “Do you need to take a pregnancy test? The nurses gave me this button that I can push to bring them in and– Mav, you okay?”

Pete does not look okay. His face is ashen, eyes wide but unseeing as he slowly slides down the hospital wall.

“Goose, dear,” Carole says with a hand on her husband’s arm as she watches Pete with a careful eye, “you can press the button now.”

“Ahh yisss,” Goose slurs, hugging Bradley close and spamming the nurse-call button.

#top gun fanfiction #top gun smut #top gun 1986 #tom iceman kazansky x reader #ron slider kerner x reader #tom iceman kazansky smut #ron slider kerner smut #f!reader #iceman x reader #slider x reader #tom kazansky x reader #ron kerner x reader #tom iceman kazansky x reader smut #ron slider kerner x reader smut #iceman smut #slider smut #mitchell!reader #the one where mav finally figures it out #ron slider kerner x reader x tom iceman kazansky #iceman x reader x slider smut #slider x reader x iceman smut #tom iceman kazansky x reader x ron slider kerner #fic: stuck in the middle

[stellar-constellations]

"You haven’t tried to kill or degrade me, and you're cute too!”

        Very curious! Low ranked demon! GN! (Y/N) x Aizetsu.

        (Y/N) has absolutely no memory of their human life.

        Chōrō is an original OC for plot purposes!

        (Y/N) eats human food to gain energy!

        (Y/N) has her own original breathing but it doesn't go into detail!

        (Y/N)'s demon life is similar to one for one of my Demon Slayer OC's (that I may or may not add onto Tumblr one day; still deciding).

        It must’ve been a few months since I’ve been a demon. I don’t know much about my human life, but I was once a demon slayer who killed demons. I was a tsuchinoe with much to learn, but I created my own breathing; Celestial Breathing.

        I was a stubborn and honest person. I followed what I believed was right and I did my best to help others, even if it didn’t always work out—at least, that’s what my human friends say.

        I visit this old lady, Chōrō, often. She gives me human food since it replenishes my energy instead of blood. My human friends are demon slayers, but they won’t kill me. I’m a exception to the slayer corps, just like my little demon friend Nezuko is. 

        I hide in big trees and warehouses in the day, but I usually go to Chōrō; she is very kind and lets me hide in her house. 

        I am a demon with no rank, a demon that could easily be killed if wanted since I have no name or significant importance. I help give the best information I can about That Man and the Uppermoons to the demon slayers, but once I no longer have connections with them, I am of no use.

        Death doesn’t bother me—I would enjoy it. I don’t want to be a demon. I don’t like having to hide from the sun, fight other demons, run from the humans, find a way to get money, or avoid the pretty glowing purple trees. But I don’t want to submit easily—it’d be insulting. 

        I don’t have any important relation with the Demon King. The last time I saw him, I was in the infinity castle, but I don’t know why. He explained what I was and what I had to do, then set me free in the world. I'm certain he was the one that turned me, but I'm unsure why.

        So far, I have run into three Upper Moons; one, two, and three. I don’t like Upper Moon One—he gave me a surprise test and was very mean to me, saying that I was a imposter and had no use, so I dislike him very much. 

        The second Upper Moon is very… special. He’s weirdly animated, loud, and a bit annoying, but I am on better terms with him then with Upper Moon One. He helps me train, honing my swordsmanship skills and Blood Demon Art (which appears to be my Celestial Breathing). 

        I only saw Upper Moon Three once, but he seems like a very irritable person, and I have a problem with people who like to berate me.

        I really like the animals in the world. I think my favorite is the wolf. They’re a little mean to me, but they don’t attack me, they just growl at me. However, sometimes when I stay very still and avoid eye contact, they will come over and sniff me. I will carefully hold a finger out and they’ll allow me to pet their muzzle. Sometimes they bite my fingers, but I understand they're just scared of me like how I am of humans.

        I also really like pandas. Pandas are fluffy and big. I can lay down on them. I really like to hold bamboo up and feed them. I ate the bamboo once—it wasn’t good. I don’t understand why the pandas like them but it’s okay because they’re cute and it leaves more for them to eat.

        Yes, I like pandas. I like to lay on them too. I’m laying on one now! His name is Boo. I probably won’t ever see him again, but I enjoy his company, and he doesn’t seem to mind mine, so we’re friends. 

        I was laying on his stomach as he ate a stick of bamboo, grabbing another stick nearby and waiting for him to finish his food, then holding it out in front of him.

        “Do you want more?” I questioned.

        He made a funny noise. I don’t speak panda. I assume it was a yes because he took the stick and starting chewing on it. 

        “You’re feeding the panda?” a voice questioned in front of me. 

        I tilted my head back to it’s original position, seeing a demon in front of me. It wore a blue stash, having coco skin and very pretty blue eyes. It had horns sticking out of its hair that was messy and black. It was also worth noting he had this purple vein-like pattern on his forehead. They looked and sounded like a guy; he was cute, but he looked sad.

        “I am! His name is Boo. Would you like to feed him with me?” I questioned, grabbing a stick of bamboo, offering the bamboo to the demon.

        “No thanks…” the demon spoke, his face remained a frown as he looked at me.

        “Boo is very nice, right, Boo?” I questioned, tilting my head backwards to look up and rest my head on his stomach. 

        He made a noise as it took the stick, resuming his meal.

        The demon remained silent, deciding not to talk any further, however he stayed staring at me.

        “Are you okay? You look sad.” I questioned.

        Usually I’m not so kind with demons or people in general, but whenever I see something I like or enjoy—like this panda—a flip is switched in me and I turn almost childish. I’ll regret my actions for this interaction later, but I won’t see this demon again. Besides, at least he’s not trying to fight me.

        “I am sad.” The demon admitted.

        I hummed, thinking. 

        “Would you like to talk about it? I promise I won’t tell anyone. I won’t judge either.” I offered. 

        “No thanks—I don’t think you’d understand.” The demon spoke.

        “I don’t think I’d understand either.” I smiled. “I don’t understand a lot of things around me, but it’s fun to learn. I might not understand you, but I can listen to you. I like it when someone listens to me.” I explained.

        The demon hummed, thinking to himself.

        “Are you a new demon?” he questioned.

        “I am.” I spoke. “I don’t eat humans; I eat human food. I learned that bamboo is not human food.” I informed him. “I suggest not eating the bamboo, it tastes gross, but Boo likes it. I don’t exactly understand Boo...” I spoke, tilting my head up as Boo finished his stalk, making a noise for more.

        “I suppose I could tell you...” The demon sighed, watching as I picked up a nearby bamboo stalk and gave it to Boo. “I am an embodiment of an emotion, so I can only really feel that one emotion. I share a body with six other clones, so they can really upset me sometimes.” The demon explained.

        I nodded, listening intently as I grabbed a bamboo stalk, offering it to him to make him feel better. He shook his head, rejecting the stalk. I shrugged and gave it to Boo.

        “I feel that I understand. Not in this life, but in my human one.” I explained.

        “You can remember your human life?” the demon questioned, seemingly intrigued despite having that frown on his face.

        “Bits and pieces. I get information from others about me sometimes.” I spoke. “I hope you at least feel a little better with me though.” I smiled, offering him another stalk of bamboo (to which he rejected yet again).

        “I still feel sad.” He sighed.

        “Hm…” I hummed, thinking. “What do you like to do?” I questioned. “I like seeing animals, and seeing my friends, and eating human food—human food tastes really good for me, unlike this bamboo.” I explained, then motioned for him to take the bamboo stick (he ignored it). 

        I don’t understand why he won’t accept the bamboo? The bamboo is currently making me happy since I can feed Boo, and I want to share my happiness with this demon. Oh well…

        “I don’t really like much things… I don’t have the free time to do indulge in hobbies.” He spoke.

        “Why not?” I questioned. 

        “I work for the Demon King.” He explained. 

        I nodded, making a mental note as I scooted closer to him, looking into his eyes. He looked at me, seeming to be uncomfortable as he slightly leaned back as I leaned closer.

        His blue eyes said Upper Moon Four, so he's not lying. 

        “I see.” I acknowledged. “That must suck for you—or not!” I quickly spoke, nervous to offend him. “I mean, I wouldn’t quite enjoy having little free time, but I respect it if that’s what you enjoy.” I smiled, offering him a stalk of bamboo as an apology.

        “I suppose it could be worse.” He hummed, then rejected the bamboo stick.

        I nodded, not seeing the conversation going anywhere else as I crawled back to my spot, leaning back and giving Boo the bamboo instead.

        “We don’t know each other’s names.” I pointed out. 

        “What’s the point of exchanging names? We’ll probably never see each other again. How sad…” he sighed.

        “Then let’s make sure to meet up again, so it's not sad!” I smiled. “I mean, you’re fun to talk to, you haven’t tried to kill or degrade me, and you're cute too!” I admitted.

        “Huh… cute…” He muttered, testing it out, as if not believing it.

        “Yeah.” I confirmed, then looked up at the stars. “So, would you uh… like to meet here tomorrow night?” I questioned nervously.

        Why is my heart beating so fast? It’s just a question. I thought to myself.

        The demon hummed, thinking to himself. “I supposed it wouldn’t hurt…”

        “Great, it’s settled!” I exclaimed, happy to know I’ve made a friend with a powerful being as I stood up. “My name is (Y/N), it’s been lovely talking to you.”

        “I’m Aizetsu.” The demon, Aizetsu, spoke.

        “Here, have this bamboo stalk. It’s a promise that you’ll see me again.” I spoke, then realized how stupid that’d be. “Y-you don’t have to keep if it you don’t want…”

        Aizetsu looked down at the stick and me, then finally taking it from my hands.

        “(Y/N)…” he tested the name out, having my full attention. “Thank you for making me feel less sad and…” he paused, then spoke. “I think you’re cute too…” he spoke, the frown remaining on his face, but I didn’t need to see a smile to understand that he also enjoyed our time spent together.

        He walked back into the forest from where he came from, leaving me and Boo alone.

        I immediately whirled around at Boo, excited as I let out a little giggle. “Did you see how cute he was? His eyes were so pretty! And he had such a handsome voice. His personality was so relaxing and adorable!” I gushed, running up to the panda and laying on him. “You agree, don’t you?” I questioned, giving him a stick of bamboo.

        He let out a noise that showed he agreed, as he does with most things I say.

        I like a lot of things in this world. I like the human food, the animals, the clothes, the stars, the old lady Chōrō, and the blue demon named Aizetsu.

Have any requests? Check my masterlist to see the characters I write for: Masterlist

#demon slayer #aizetsu x reader #aizetsu x you #aizetsu #hantengu clones #x yn #x you #x reader #kny aizetsu #stellar constellations #demon oc #demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kny #kny oc #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kimestu no yaiba #kny hantengu #hantengu x reader #hantengu

[ugh-yoongi]

Jewel, I know your requests are closed but I desperately need to hear your thoughts on who in BTS would do this: https://www.tumblr.com/writing-prompt-s/739417828719034368/you-a-powerful-demoness-have-just-been-summoned

and why is it Namjoon (the potential for crack with this 148 IQ man who is also way more innocent than we think acc to one park jimin just takes me out)

i'm so sorry it took me so long to finish and post this but thank you so much for sending it bc i have been cackling about this scenario ever since.

the prompt: you, a powerful demoness, have just been summoned to earth. this man, this human, wants you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a few days so his parents will get off his back about it.

the gang summons a demon

pairing: namjoon x f. reader genre: supernatural au; crack warnings: reader is a demon and engages in demon behavior, swearing, namjoon makes mention of not being straight, heteronormative parental expectations, jk learns about arcane things on tumblr (which is not an original idea; i read a fic ages ago where taekook are tumblr witches but i cannot find it, so credit to that author or whoever came up with it first), unedited so any mistakes are mine. rating: e for everyone wordcount: 2k

It’s been years since you’ve been to Earth—even longer since you’ve been to South Korea.

“I haven’t been here since 1910,” you say, staring at the gobsmacked man across from you. He’s tall, with tanned skin and a bleached buzz cut; a smattering of tattoos dotting his toned arms—whites and rich hues of blue, imitations of some kind of ceramic art, you think; a golden hoop through his nose; cheeks with dimples so deep you’re sure they’ll crater. “People here definitely didn’t look like you back then, so I’m going to assume we’re pretty far into the future.”

“It’s 2024,” he answers, seemingly still a little dazed. He’s staring at you with wide eyes, jaw dropped. Normally it’s nice to be looked at like that, with all the reverence and awe you deserve, but Earth is not your favorite place to be. Doesn’t even crack the top fifty, if you’re being honest. “Did you say 1910? As in the beginning of the—”

You sigh. “Uh-huh. Hey, if you wouldn’t mind hurrying this up, I’ve got things to do.” The man continues staring. Could be a trick of the light, but you think he’s turning paler by the second.

Minutes tick by. Nothing but silence.

“Are you even listening to me?” you snarl, quickly losing patience you were never given. “I said I’ve got shit to do. My schedule’s booked solid for the next eight centuries, so I really don’t have time to be dilly-dallying in mundane human affairs. Your problems are always so boring.”

More silence.

Which is irksome, sure, but what’s worse is this stupid fucking circle you’re trapped in. Drawn crudely on the floor of (seemingly) this human man’s actual apartment, which would’ve told you all you’d needed to know, if you’d taken ten seconds to take in your surroundings upon first being summoned. This place has got books stacked floor to ceiling in every available inch of space, but you’re certain this person is a fucking idiot.

“Hello?”

The man shakes his head. “Oh, sorry, I just—I’m Namjoon? Kim Namjoon.”

“I don’t care.”

“Right, right.” He sucks in a deep breath. “Well, you’re probably wondering why I summoned you here today”—you roll your eyes—“and, uh.” Namjoon scratches at the back of his neck, anxiety oozing from every pore on his body. Definitely paler. “I am too, to be honest.”

“You what—”

“I didn’t mean to!” Namjoon hurriedly adds, all of that anxiety shifting quickly into pure panic. “It’s just—it was a joke! Mostly! Jeongguk said it as a joke, because everything he says is a joke, and I should’ve known that, but—I don’t know! I’ve tried everything else, and the longer its gone on the more desperate I’ve become, and suddenly what Jeongguk said as a joke didn’t sound so much like a joke anymore! I’m sorry! I didn’t think it’d actually work!”

It takes your brain a minute to translate and decipher the useless slush that just came out of his mouth, but when it does… oh, when it does, you feel absolutely murderous. “You summoned me as a joke?”

Namjoon must see it, too. There’s no way you’re looking cool, calm, and collected right now, because you’ve seen the faces of others that have witnessed your wrath, and they were almost always on the brink of (if not outright) shitting their pants. This stupid, clueless human in front of you doesn’t appear to be faring much better.

So you continue, just to watch him squirm. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Um,” comes his brilliant response. “Yes?”

“And who am I?”

He holds up his pointer finger and digs through the back pocket of his jeans. Pulls out a crumbled scrap of paper, nearly soiled from ass sweat and time, and his eyes squint as he tries to read it. “I—well, it’s probably not an accurate translation, you know, since—”

“What does that piece of parchment say, Kim Namjoon?”

“Nothing,” he lies. “I can’t read it anyway, so… a-haaa…”

Patience officially worn thin, you snap your fingers, delighting in the startled shriek that escapes him as the paper goes up in a plume of smoke. “I am going to give you one chance to be honest with me,” you explain slowly, leveling him with a look. “Who do you think I am, and why am I here?”

Namjoon pales further. Looks like he’s trying to melt right through the floor into a puddle of useless slush, and you’d be more than willing to speed up the process if it weren’t for this god forsaken demon trap.

“Can I—can I sit down for this?”

Kim Namjoon, you learn, has a friend named Jeon Jeongguk.

Jeon Jeongguk, you also come to learn, has learned magic from a website called Tumblr.

“There, uh. There are definitely blogs for that sort of thing,” Namjoon explains, tattooed fingers scratching at the back of his neck. He takes a very quick glance at you. “Clearly not very accurate ones.”

You hum. “That’s the only smart thing I’ve heard you say since I showed up in this shithole.”

Namjoon gawks. “Hey, my apartment isn’t a shithole! It’s the best I could afford, alright? There was just an article in The Business Times about how archaic of a system jeonse is—”

“Uh-huh. And this… website?”

Namjoon goes red. Coughs into his fist. “Oh, right, yeah. I’m gonna be honest with you—”

“I already said that—”

“—my parents are coming to visit from Ilsan in a few days and I need a girlfriend.”

You blink. Once, twice, three times. Long enough to replace the rug that had been pulled from under you, because you’re pretty sure you heard this human man allude to having summoned you so you can pretend to be his girlfriend.

All things considered, you’re impressed by how calm you are. This is not a trait most demons have, you especially, and it makes you nostalgic for the days you used to rip men apart limb by limb for less.

“Are you insane?” you ask simply.

“In my defense,” he explains around a wince, “Jeongguk said it was a love spell.”

“A love spell.” Namjoon nods. “And you wound up summoning a demon.”

“It… appears I may have done that, yes.”

“And you want a demon to meet your parents?”

“I mean… when in Rome, right?”

“I’ve committed at least four-hundred and sixty-seven separate atrocities there, so no, probably not when in Rome.”

Namjoon’s jaw drops. He tucks his knees closer to his chest. “Christ, that’s a lot. How did you have the time?”

“I’m immortal,” you deadpan.

“Right, right. Anyway, to answer your question: yes.”

Your eyes narrow. “How bad are your parents that you’d want me to meet them?”

“They’re fine, mostly. I just… am not what they expected in a son? Like, I have the hair and the tattoos and I dropped out of my engineering program in university to pursue art and poetry, so the least I could do is find a wife and settle down and give them grandchildren, but I don’t even know if I want to ever settle down. I’m also not… heterosexual? Entirely? Do you see that a lot—”

You sigh. “Misconception. Not to launch you into some kind of existential crisis, but the gods really don’t give a shit who you humans sleep with.”

“Gods? As in plural?” You snap your fingers. Namjoon’s fingers immediately go to his temples. “Damn, I have a really bad migraine all of a sudden.”

“Yeah, that was me.”

“What’d you do?”

“Made you forget something.”

“Oh. What’d I forget?” It takes a second. “Oh, right, yeah. Um. What was the last thing I said?”

“Your parents wanted you to be an engineer and have a ton of kids but you like art and also not-women, sometimes.”

He flushes again. “I—yes.”

You sigh, arms crossed over your chest. All you want to do is sit down, or open a window. This apartment smells far too strongly of patchouli. “Look, I haven’t been to this place in a long time, but surely you aren’t undesirable by your society’s standards.”

“Are you saying I’m attractive?”

You scowl. “No. I’m saying there had to have been easier ways of doing this, and also can you open a window?”

“It’s February.”

“That means nothing to me.”

“It’s really cold outside.”

“I’m literally from Hell. Go put on a sweater, then.”

With a roll of his eyes, Namjoon stands and moves to the window. Cracks it open a millimeter, just enough for the cold to seep in, before he’s stalking off toward—you’re assuming—his bedroom. You think he’s shoving a garment over his head when he calls out, “You know, you’re really fucking bossy for someone stuck in a trap.”

You vow to kill him as soon as you’re free.

It isn’t often you’re held hostage.

Usually you can spot a trick coming a thousand miles away, but since Namjoon hadn’t meant to summon you at all, you’d been caught unawares. Doomed to be stuck in a demon trap, just like he’d said, which meant you didn’t have a ton of bargaining power.

At least that’s what you’re telling yourself, because as you sit across from Namjoon’s parents at some fancy restaurant, you aren’t convinced he isn’t a crossroads demon himself.

“So,” his mother begins, turning her attention to you, “what do you do for work?”

Namjoon elbows you beneath the table, giving you a silent warning to stick to the script. You’re only here under threat of force—because Jeongguk had stopped by Namjoon’s apartment, saw you in the summoning circle, and nearly fainted before going back to Tumblr to find a binding spell.

Except that one wasn’t great, either, because it only bound you and Namjoon together for three days instead of forever. And, as penance for all the chaos you’ve sown across the universe, Namjoon’s parents’ visit fell within that time frame, so here you are.

Out to dinner. With humans.

You’re pretending to be someone’s girlfriend.

You’re in for the most embarrassing ribbing of your existence once you’re home.

“I work with idols,” you respond, as convincingly as possible, because Namjoon had thought it’d be really funny. Get it? he’d said. Like false idols? You hadn’t laughed. “It’s very secretive, of course, but—”

You don’t finish your thought, because Namjoon’s mother looks delighted: face lit up with mirth, smile blinding, eyes half-lidded under the weight of her happiness. “Oh, how exciting! Has he told you he used to do performances to old H.O.T songs? Namjoonie, what was that one song you liked—”

“Eomma, please—”

“Wasn’t it ‘Candy’?” Namjoon’s dad offers from behind his menu. It’s the first thing he’s said all evening.

Namjoon whimpers, foregoing all social decorum and lectures on posture to sink further in his chair.

You do not, under any circumstances, feel a hint of fondness.

(Which dissipates not even twenty-four hours later.

“The blog was deleted,” Jeongguk says, eyes wide as saucers. “I—the blog is gone, I don’t know how to—”

“What do you mean the blog is gone?” The poor kid is overcome with panic and fear, tries to stutter out a response that makes no sense to you at all through his sobs. “Jeon Jeongguk, what do you mean the blog is gone?”

“I—it’s—I had it bookmarked, I swear! Once the binding spell wore off I was gonna send it to Namjoon hyung so he could send you back, but the blog is gone so the post is gone, too. I don’t—what do I even search for—oh my god, please don’t kill me, I think I’m having a panic attack, I’m gonna—”

And then this human man vomits all over your feet. Namjoon sighs as he goes to fetch a bucket, and you think it’ll be a miracle if any of these people—yourself included—live to see the end of the week.)

#namjoon x reader #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jewel writes #jewel answers

[sarahowritesostucky]

Author's note: Re-formatted for Tumblr's ToS

📖"Alpha, Beta (& Omega)"

Story Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1066

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: a/b/o, arranged marriage, domestic discipline, spanking, head of household, dom/sub elements, alpha Steve, beta Bucky, hurt/comfort, wedding night, alternate history, nobility/royalty au, Edwardian time period, m/f/m poly marriage, age gap (18/29), enemies to lovers

Summary: To save House Barnes from scandalous ruin, James must agree to a contracted marriage, accepting Lord Senator Steven Rogers as his Alpha, Husband, and Headship.

1. A Contract of Engagement

Chapter Summary: It’s a lost cause. His father broke the law in a massive way and got caught, and as soon as word gets out, they’ll be ousted from their Senatorial position. Bucky and his sisters will inherit nothing, and it’ll be the scandal of the century. “Please, mom” Bucky says softly. “Please don't make me do this."

Bucky sits despondently on one of the front parlor’s settees.

“Nobody,” he tells his mother, but of course she already knew that was going to be the answer to her question. Bucky hasn’t had interest in courting anyone, and nobody in society has expressed any interest in him. Not since his accident, leastways. His now-lame arm and the scarring that creeps up the left side of his neck have managed to dampen the interest he used to get from suiters. “I don’t want to marry, certainly not now. I’m eighteen for Christ’s sake.”

Winnifred sighs, the pen that she’s had poised in-hand lowering. “James, I love you and I’m sorry, but now is when you have to do it. You’re done convalescing from the accident, and thank God for that. Your finishing school is over, you need to do this.”

“Why?”

Bucky’s mother has never been one to suffer his bullshit. She shoots him a glare. “You know why. It’s only a matter of time before your father’s misconduct is made public knowledge. Once Frank Castle—”

“Don’t say his name.”

“Once that man testifies before congress, your father is sure to be ousted. Weapons smuggling, James? You’ll be completely ineligible. No one will have you.”

“No one like us, you mean. Not everyone has to marry into the Senate, mother,” Bucky snaps. “Christ, we’re probably all inbred at this point.”

“James!”

“I have plans. I want to go to university!” He throws his hands up. “Who even marries their beta first anyway? What’s wrong with this guy that he can’t find an omega?”

“Please,” his mother scoffs. “Captain Rogers is a very reputable gentleman.”

“You don’t know him!” Bucky stands up from the couch, walking restlessly over to the fireplace. “Please tell me you haven’t written to him already?” Winnifred tenses, but then she seems to steel herself and she nods tersely. Bucky curses. “Mother!”

“It needed to be done, James. There are no other prospects and Captain Rogers—”

“Ugh, stop calling him that. What’s his name?”

Winnie purses here lips. “He’s the Lord Steven of House Rogers, and you will be respectful, James.”

Bucky huffs. “Well I’m the Lord James of House Barnes and I—”

“You’re the lord of nothing!” Winnie snaps, standing up from her chair at the writing desk. She’s glaring at Bucky now. “And you never will be, if you don’t marry this man. We’re about to lose everything. Your father has seen to that. Soon House Barnes won’t exist. There will be elections—elections, James! Can you even believe it? We’ll all be common.”

Bucky looks away. “What’s so wrong with that?” he mumbles.

“Maybe nothing for you. Maybe you could manage, go off to university and make something of yourself despite it all, but think of your sisters. They won’t be able to marry well, and they’re omega, so what are they supposed to do? Take positions as shop girls? Ladies’ maids?”

Bucky’s heart lurches and his eyes shoot back to his mother, reproachful. “That’s not fair.”

Winnie’s features soften in sympathy. “I know, Sweetheart, I know.” She gets up and comes over to him, the long hem of her dress brushing the carpet as she goes. She pulls him into a hug and Bucky can’t help but to lean into her. “Oh, Bucky,” Winnie mourns, using his nickname for once. “You’ve always been such a little grownup. Sometimes I forget how young you really are. But life isn’t fair, and I’m afraid this might be where you have to start learning that.”

“Don’t make me do this, mom,” Bucky whispers into the perfumed fall of her hair, though even as he’s saying it, he knows it’s a lost cause. His father broke the law in a massive way and got caught, and as soon as word gets out, they’ll be ousted from their Senatorial position. Bucky and his sisters will inherit nothing, and it’ll be the scandal of the century. House Barnes has held one of New Jersey’s two seats since the very inception of the Senate. A hundred and twenty years of tradition, gone down the toilet because of Bucky’s reckless father. “Please,” he says softly. “There has to be something else we can do.”

“It’ll be alright,” Winnie tells him, pulling away from the hug and looking him in the eye. “I promise you. I’ve corresponded with Captain Rogers for several weeks now, and I’m confident he’ll make a good husband for you.”

Bucky shakes his head, angry all over again. “No! He won’t. How could he? I don’t even know him!”

It’s a silly argument, really, since many men of Bucky’s stature enter into arranged marriages. But even still, Bucky is beta: He’s always had this luxurious assumption that he’d be able to fool around for a decade longer than most; get educated, make mistakes, have fun. And now that he’s finally come of age and is on the precipice of actually getting to do those things, he has to go off and marry some old man he’s never met?

The reality of it is worse than a bucket of cold water to the head. “I don’t want to marry a fucking stranger,” he grumps.

“Really, Bucky. Don’t use foul language.”

“And I don’t want to marry some old man.” At his mother's raised eyebrow, he says, “Well he must be old if he’s already assumed the seat?”

“He’s young, actually,” Winnie counters haughtily. “Quite young. Twenty-nine."

"Oh, is that all?" Bucky scowls at the carpet. Twenty-nine, Christ. "When did he assume the seat?"

"Two sessions ago. Senator Sarah Rogers had a state funeral, James. I’d have expected you to remember it.”

Bucky waves his left arm in disdain, showing off his crippled hand. “Forgive me my 'preoccupation' these past few sessions, mother." He regrets his tone as he sees hurt flash across Winnifred's face. Dropping his hand, he sighs and looks away. "This is House Rogers of New York we're discussing, I take it?"

"The sister-seat to House Wilson, yes,” Winnie says, expression perking up as she hurries back to her desk to fetch up the stack of correspondences. “Here, I have his letters if you’d like to—”

“No,” Bucky says curtly. He straightens up and makes to leave the room. “I don’t need to read them. It’s fine. Just arrange everything and tell me when to show up.”

“Oh, Honey …”

“Don’t,” Bucky says tersely. “Just don’t. It is what it is. Guess I’m moving to New York.”

He leaves the room, and assumes that his mother writes another letter to the Lord Rogers, confirming their engagement.

Story Masterlist

Sarah-writes-Stucky's Masterlist

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#stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x bucky barnes #a/b/o #alpha beta omega #alpha steve rogers #historical au #edwardian era #alternate history #royalty au #arranged marriage #arranged marriage au #bucky barnes fanfic #steve rogers fanfic #stucky smut #stucky fanfiction #period romance #mcu #marvel #fanfiction #fanfic #au fanfic #enemies to lovers

[hlficlibrary]

HL FIC LIBRARY ✤ AUTHOR REC

AO3: FallingLikeThis

Tumblr: @fallinglikethis

STATS:

✤ Number of fics: 128

✤ Posting Since: 2013

TOP 5 FICS:

1️⃣ Pillow Talk (E, 25k)

“So, do you think I should… find someone to fool around with?” Harry asks, nervous again. “To see if I like it?”

Louis swallows hard but hopes he covers it pretty well with a casual shrug. “I mean, it would probably help to know that you actually want everything that goes along with being with a guy. If you can’t handle the machinery, it’s probably not for you, you know?”

Harry nods and appears to be steeling himself. Louis tenses, afraid that he knows what’s coming.

“Would you do it?”

“Do what?” Louis plays dumb.

Harry has to take another deep breath before he can say it.

“Will you help me figure out if I like it? Being with a boy?”

 Or When Harry starts having confusing feelings for a male classmate, his sister's best friend, Louis, helps him figure himself out. Cue lots of kissing, sex, and falling in love.

2️⃣ Pass the Salt (M, 1k)

For someone else's prompt:

"could you please pass the salt, daddy?" louis asks. louis’ dad and harry both grab the salt

3️⃣ Saturday Detention (NR, 15k)

Five boys with nothing in common end up together in Saturday detention. Maybe if they can get past their first impressions, they’ll realize they're not as different as they thought.

Or The Breakfast Club Au that was dying to be written.

4️⃣ Unchain My Heart (Baby, Set Me Free) (E, 48k)

Harry was taken at a young age, and chained up in a slave pen. He's been waiting years to be chosen by a passing noble or royal. He's starting to think there's something wrong with him because no one wants him. Then, Prince Louis shows up and decides to take him back to the palace. Suddenly, Harry isn't sure if he was better off in the slave pen or if, maybe, he's found a place to call home.

5️⃣ Oops, Baby, I Love You (In That Order) (E, 25k)

Later that night, when he’s lying in bed thinking of all the things he’s longed for in his life, he can’t stop hearing Fizzy’s words in his head. Who says you have to get married?

It’s true, Louis wants to get married one day, to have a spouse to encourage his crazy promotional ideas for his book shop, to have someone to cuddle into at night, someone who will love him even on his moody days. But she’s absolutely right, isn’t she? Who says he has to have that before he can have a baby?

 When he finally falls asleep, he sleeps restfully, having made a very important decision about his future.

 Husband or no, Louis Tomlinson is going to have a baby.

Or The minute Louis Tomlinson decides he don’t need no man to start a family, Harry Styles literally falls into his arms.

HIDDEN GEM:

💎 Falling in the Wrong Direction (E, 25k)

When Harry’s fiancé, Liam, passes away just before their wedding, he doesn’t know how to cope. As time goes on, Harry learns to heal, but is left living in the house his fiancé used to share with his best friends and Harry is uncovering a lot of secrets he didn’t know Liam had... while possibly falling for the one person who helped Liam keep them from him.

Harry never quite got along with Louis, but maybe he’s the one person who can help Harry bridge the gap between the life he thought he would have and the one he is now living.

A Catch and Release au

#ficrec #fallinglikethis #hlcreators #hljournal #trackinghome #trackinghappily #hlsource #1dficvillage #tracksintheam #1dsource #hltracks

[winterrrnight]

prompt list 3

as always, I am not taking any credit for any of these. These are collected off various sources from the internet mostly tumblr and pinterest. find prompt list 1 here and prompt list 2 here.

“You can call me whenever you want… even if you don’t have a reason to.”

“No like … it’s just, I can’t believe you are wearing my clothes.”

“I know I haven’t always been in the past, but I am here now. I am trying. Please, just let me in.”

“Do everything as I say, and we both might as well live to tell the tale.”

“Please tell me that at least a part of it was real.”

“Just because you’re beautiful and a good kisser does not mean I forgive you.” “I’m beautiful?”

“Get up, get up, the sunrise is so pretty and the birds are chirping and the clouds are pink!” “You know what else is pretty? Sleep.”

“Should I stop talking?” “No, your voice is very soothing.”

“My last date didn’t go so well, and now they are stalking me. Can you please pretend we’re dating so I can get them off my back?”

“Do you think they’ll notice if I sneak in a kiss?”

“I feel strange when you are around.” “Do you have a fever or something?”

“C’mere. Sit down. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m your friend, of course I care!”

“C’mere, you can sit on my lap until I am done working.”

“Hey! Stay away from them!” “What?” “You heard me, take a step back. Now 3 more. Now 20 more. Now the rest of the numbers until you reach your house and stay there forever.”

“Actually, we’re leaving. We have something to get to.” “No we don’t – oh, okay fine I’ll call you guys later.”

“Why don’t you just jam your knee right up my crotch? It's 100% fine, yeah, I am totally okay with that.”

“My family was never the touchy-feely type.”

“You look like you’re from the rain and sauce era.” “...excuse me?” “You know, rain and sauce.” “Do, do you mean renaissance?”

“It won’t be easy you know – loving me.”

“You can’t just lose your temper like this each time you get a little upset!”

“It’s not too windy for you, right?”

“Well, I put it on the grocery list!” “I didn’t think I needed the list!” “Of course you needed the list!”

“All I ever wanted was you to take care of me.”

“Let me do that, you should rest.”

“When I told you I loved you, you know I meant it right? I’m not just talking about all those warm feelings. I’m talking about putting in all the work. I’m here to stay for the hard parts, not just the pretty ones.”

“When you were drunk last night, you kept on saying I kiss better than anyone. Which is weird, since we’ve never kissed.”

“I don’t need a reason to bring you flowers, I just wanted to.”

“You know, we have to be the only best friends who do this.”

“Why are you on the table?” “Better view of life.” “...where’s the spider?” “By the door.”

#fluff prompts #angst prompts #fluff prompts list #angst prompts list #edith's fluff prompt list! 🪄

[heda-heather]

:nervously off anon: So I watched the Anti-Hero video for the first time yesterday (I know, I know...SO behind the times), and I'm so curious how Swifties are interpreting the very clear symbolism. Like, Taylor is two selves. One of them (the "villain") is her exact presentation out in the world right now. Taylor's lyrics match up with her real self. Her public persona doesn't match up with her lyrics. Swifties don't acknowledge this contrast?

Also, what do they make of the bottle she's drinking from? The one with the Lover video's family crest. Do they not wonder WHY that crest is in a video that is otherwise not about romance? Like, I feel like with close attention to lyrics + close attention to videos + an ounce of attention to how her persona changes from album to album + THE ENTIRE LOVER Era = AT THE VERY LEAST that she is not who she seems (and is most certainly under the queer umbrella).

An even deeper dive will lead you to "she is with Karlie; that crest is signaling Karlie; her songs signal Karlie; Taylor is likely identifying as a lesbian now." Yet somehow they don't see any of it that way, and I wonder how. Maybe willful ignorance. Maybe selection of detail to support their own thesis. Maybe it's the English major in me that makes me pore over this stuff.

My assumption is that many Swifties center their listening experience on how they relate to what Taylor's talking about, so it's more about their own experience and projection than what is actually being written. I know they'd say the same about gaylors, but there are CLEAR motifs in this discography. It's all fascinating but also driving me mad. LOL

Anyway, sorry for the novel. I am still a whole n00b to this fandom and mostly choose to engage with Taylor's world via this corner of Tumblr and through her lyrics. The wider fandom seems like actual hell. LOL

Whew ok I needed a minute to read and process before responding 😂

1. Swifties see the anti-hero more as her battle with fame I think, kinda missing the deeper meaning of her being a completely different person underneath that fame.

2. I doubt they think about the crest at all. I never noticed it until a Kaylor blog pointed it out and showed all the times it’s been displayed. They probably assume it’s just a random design.

3. Her persona changing from album to album actually gives them fuel to say she’s NOT part of the queer community because “the lover era was her activist era, just showing her support, then she moved on from it”

4. They’re NOT looking for signals to Karlie. And they take what she shows them (hanging all over football guy) at face value

5. Projection is a big piece of it. “Loving in secret” to us, is such an obvious flag to the experience of realizing you’re queer in a heteronormative society. I think a lot of them romanticize this instead. They see it as finding a love so special, you want to keep it to yourself. I think a lot of them are obsessed with her work because she describes this intense, earth-shattering love. It gives them hope to find it… but they don’t realize it’s a queer love. And the fact is… 2 women loving one another do share a different experience than a man and woman, because of how women express themselves and understand the universal female experience. Add that to the experience of being queer in anyway. So… they’re kinda holding onto false hope they’ll find a love like she describes. But also there is no other Karlie Kloss in this world 😍🥰

Anyway, my thoughts. Thanks for being brave enough to come off anon! Always love a good chat.

#note: I am referring to cis man and cis woman compared to two queer female identifying persons as Karlie and Taylor seem to identify

[eirist]

One More Sleep

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T

Note: A ZoNa Holiday Events is up at Tumblr for the month of December. We got selected themes for each day and we’d love other ZoNa shippers to join and celebrate our favorite couple with holiday-themed fanarts and fanfics! Feel free to check it here: @zonamievents

Unexpectedly wrote this one just this Christmas dawn/morning (my timezone) because I can’t sleep from too much eating. And coffee. Zoned out once this is done. It’s what I would say a go figure work and definitely smells of a companion one-shot.

 Anyways, Merry Christmas everyone!

Theme: # 25 - Hibernate

Summary: “Why don’t you go up and check on him?” “Why does everybody keep telling me that?”

“Is he still asleep?”

Nami raised one eyebrow as she directed the question to the tinkering sniper. Usopp momentarily paused from what he was doing and blinked up at her.

She just continued looking at him, waiting for an answer. The curly-haired lad shrugged his shoulders in response. “Probably,” he said as went back to adjusting the screws on his latest invention. “Didn’t hear any sound coming from the nest since this morning.”

Nami pursed her lips at that. It was already late afternoon. Scratch that. It was nearing sun set to be more precise.

“Seems overboard even for him.” She flicked a glance at the crow’s nest before her eyes riveted to Usopp. “Are we sure he’s still alive in there?”

Now Usopp stopped working, shooting her an incredulous look. Then his face broke into a grin that Nami finds a bit irritating.

“You seemed concern? Why not go up and check on him?” He suggested with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Nami fought the urge to punch him on the head. “I am so not! I’m just wondering why he hasn’t lugged his stupid ass down here, being a nuisance and pissing Sanji-kun off!”

“O-kay,” Usopp mouthed looking like he’s not buying her explanation. He studied Nami for a moment and snickered when he saw her looking up at the crow’s nest again.

“What?” Nami asked in a sharp tone when she heard it. She glared daggers at her so-called friend knowing full well that he plans to subject her to some teasing.

“Nothing.” Usopp was quick to answer and he immediately went back to his work, feigning concentration.

“Urgh,” Nami groaned. “What a waste of time.” She muttered before stomping away from him to head at the galley.

Behind her Usopp snickered again.

She didn’t bother turning around to confront him or scare the shit out of him. Instead she just said, “All that snickering’s gonna cost you Usopp.”

She ignored the shout of protest that came from behind her.

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

“Is he still not up?”

Nami asked that question again. Only this time she directed it to her captain instead of the long-nosed sniper.

Luffy blinked back at her. Almost the same as what Usopp did earlier, exactly three hours ago.

He looked a bit confused as if he did not comprehend what she was asking.

And based from his answer… he definitely did not. “Who?” Her idiotic captain questioned back. A nerve ticked on Nami’s forehead before she replied. “Zoro.” Luffy paused for a moment, before he broke into a grin and laughed. “Oh. Zoro! Shishishi! Guess not. I haven’t seen him since…” he tilted his head, as if pondering. “Uhm…” “Stop that.” Nami instantly decided to put a stop to his thinking with a slight wave of her hand. Or they’ll be at it until… some other things manage to catch Luffy’s attention. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Why would I hurt myself?”

“Ugh, never mind.”

Luffy was looking at her strange. Then he blurted out. “Oi! Have you seen Zoro, Nami?”

Nami stared at him disbelievingly. Her fist throbbed from the effort of holding back and preventing herself from thumping him on the head. “I already asked you that Luffy! So that means I haven’t.”

“Oh! Why are you looking for him?”

“Because I haven’t seen him since…” she trailed off. Sweet heavens! Did she really fell into the Luffy loop where they’ll just keep asking each other, confusing each other and actually ending up with no clear answer?

Luffy was looking at her eagerly.

She exhaled loudly. “You know what; Sanji-kun is cooking something delicious in the kitchen for tomorrow.” Nami decided to just distract her ever gluttonous captain. “You might want to check it out.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially.

That perked the rubber man up. “Really?” His eyes went wide and Nami could swear she can see meat in them.

She nodded and just like that Luffy went bounding towards the galley, shouting meat at the top of his lungs.

There were a lot of cursing coming from the kitchen and something about ‘It’s way past dinnertime!’ and ‘That food is for tomorrow!’ and ‘Luffy you idiot captain!’. Then some sounds of scuffle and a few thuds here and there.

Nami just shrugged like it wasn’t her fault.

Sorry Sanji-kun! She internally apologized for distracting Luffy with their chef.

------------------------ “No one’s seen him since yesterday.”

“Huh?” This time it’s Nami’s turn to blink in surprise at the sudden information. She had just stepped inside the girl’s room after spending the rest of the night in the library working on one of her maps. It was almost midnight when she finally decided to get some rest and finish the other charts tomorrow.

The whole day passed and still the person she was looking for haven’t shown himself. Not during breakfast, lunch or even dinner that Sanji-kun was a bit peeved since ‘that stupid marimo is wasting food’—his exact words. Yet, the blond cook did not bother going up the nest to check on him. ‘That idiot is a grown man after all and the hell with him!’. He had grumbled while in the middle of dinner.

Robin was sitting on one of their comfy sofas; the round coffee table in front of her was filled with open books. She was poring over a thick history volume when Nami entered.

“What was that?” Nami prompted when Robin did not say anything after what she declared.

The raven-haired beauty lifted her head to regard Nami. She smiled. “Zoro. He hasn’t gone down the nest since yesterday.”

“Uhm… I wasn’t…” the navigator began.

Robin raised a curious eyebrow at her. “You’ve been asking around.”

Nami felt her face heat up at that. She was about to say she wasn’t. Besides she made sure to ask their crewmates randomly and one by one to appear surreptitious and not pique their curiosity so much on why she’s inquiring about their green-haired swordsman.

But the archaeologist was sneakier than her, for she had known exactly what Nami is up to.

So lying definitely won’t work. Robin knows everything and anything that goes in their ship with her convenient ability to produce her eyes and ears everywhere.

That or maybe Franky tipped her off after she asked him earlier. That speedo-wearing pervert!

“Why don’t you go up and check on him?” Robin spoke again as she flipped a page of her book.

Nami pouted as she plopped down her bed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why does everybody keep telling me that?”

“Maybe because it’s the obvious thing to do instead of going around and asking everybody about him.” Robin threw her a small smile as her tone emphasized the word ‘everybody’. “Would’ve saved you the trouble.”

The orange-haired girl flinched slightly at that. Robin had caught her slip. Well, it’s not like she didn’t know already.

And did she really went around and asked everyone on the ship? She only questioned Usopp and Luffy… … and Sanji-kun and Chopper and Franky and Brook and Jinbei…

Her shoulders slumped at her realization. That’s the whole crew… almost.

Robin was looking at her expectantly. “We’re nearing a winter island right? Weather’s been too cold these last few days…”

Nami stared at her. “Yeah we are,” she agreed with a nod of her head. She considered what the older woman just said. “What? You mean he’s like hibernating or something?” Nami’s eyebrow lifted high at that, disappearing behind her orange bangs. “What is he? A bear?!”

Robin laughed softly before returning to her book. “With the weather this cold, he’d definitely prefer sleeping. Can’t blame him right?” She lifted her eyes again and looked at her pointedly. “He’s probably just catching up on sleep. After all he’s been pulling double shifts these last few days,” she tilted her head slightly, still gazing at Nami meaningfully. “Isn’t he?”

Nami winced. Zoro was indeed pulling double night-watch shifts lately. But no one knows that.

Except her and him.

And Robin… apparently.

She didn’t answer so as not to affirm what Robin was saying.

“Can’t be that comfortable on the nest’s floor.” Robin murmured, that certain smile never leaving her face even as she perused her book again.

Nami’s brows furrowed at that.

“How about a nice pillow and one of those wonderful blankets we got from Sherpa Island?” She suggested and multiple hands sprouted to open their closet door to pull one out, lightly throwing it at Nami.

“Eeeh?” Nami retorted even if she held out her arms to catch it. She gaped in surprise when Robin’s hands made a grab for her pillow and placed it in her arms.  

“He’d probably sleep until he’s on watch again.” Robin smiled at her. “You can bring it up with you. I’m sure you’re going to go up there to finally check on him.”

“Robin!”

“Ara, aren’t you planning to do that?” Robin now has a cheeky smile on her face. “Or do you need me asleep before you sneak out?” She gave Nami a wink.

The map maker was speechless. How much does Robin knows???

“It wouldn’t hurt to make sure he gets a good rest right? After all it’s your shift he’s been covering.”

Nami blushed hard at that. Zoro was indeed covering her watch shifts. But only because HE said he WILL!

“For the record. He insisted.” Nami explained with frown as she bundled the blanket and pillow in her arms. “I did not force him to!” “Oh? Then that’s sweet of him to offer don’t you think?”

Nami blushed harder than she ever thought possible.

“He just… I just… He…” she stuttered before finally finding her ground.

“Why am I even explaining?!”

Robin looked at her knowingly, mischievously. “Why indeed?”

#zoro x nami #ZoNa #zonami #zonalove #zona fanfiction #zoro nami fanfiction #zona one-shot #ZoNaHoliday2023 #zona holiday prompts #roronoa zoro #nami

[alexanderlightweight]

I’m not 100% sure how this works, but I have a prompt! (Or at least part of a prompt).

Basically Alec makes a habit of refusing to eat when he’s nervous or stressed, Magnus starts getting worried and tries to talk to him about it. I’m not really sure what would happen after, so if you choose to write this then feel free to take it wherever from that point!

You're fine! So basically I open up my inbox for prompts on wednesday's from when wednesday starts for me to when i fall asleep (or force myself to try to sleep) and it's open about 24-30 hours. I have a pinned explanation page on my tumblr that might help <3

I hope you enjoy where i went with this! thank you for the prompt (it was definitely enough of a prompt!)

*also this is written by someone who has and lives with people whose health problems/schedule makes eating and managing food difficult.

lumine

-

Magnus notices it first because of the dates.

The dates that are missed.

Alexander is wonderful at a great many things, and he does try and arrive on time — or actually show up — for most of their dates. But the ones he seems to miss the most consistently are meals.  It’s as if he doesn’t even notice the time flying past, or that his stomach is growling when Magnus finally comes to pick him up. It’s concerning and it makes Magnus wonder but he’s not sure what he’s looking for.

“Darling, aren’t you going to stop for food?” Magnus asks, when Alexander comes home straight from the Institute and Magnus knows he hasn’t eaten yet. Alexander pauses, confusion on his face from where he’d been about to come to bed.

“I just want to sleep, with you.” Alexander tells him, voice hoarse with exhaustion and Magnus melts, reminding himself that they’ll eat when they get up.

And they do, Alexander eating everything Magnus has him try and even going so far as to order seconds of what he likes, and Magnus relaxes.  For a few days, until he has to pick Alexander up from the Institute because he’s missed yet another dinner date. Magnus is frustrated at first, until he gets to the office and finds Alexander exhausted and ruffling through a desk full of papers.

“Don’t you have underlings?” Magnus asks, mock humor in his voice but his hands are soft as he massages Alexander’s shoulders.

“Did I miss another date?” Alexander asks, a bone-deep weariness in his voice, like he’s experiencing a defeat and Magnus hums at him softly.

“Something like that, but I lost track of time myself.” Magnus lies, not an ounce of shame in him. “Sweetheart, I thought you were getting aid?” Magnus pauses and reconsiders what he’s said, “competent aid.”

Alexander snorts and shakes his head, “they come in a few weeks. I’ve got a shortage of people what with the sickness that hit us.”

Magnus winces because — as Alexander is warded from every kind of magical disease Magnus can think of and more — he’d forgotten that half the Institute was down from a fairy flu.  Which means that Alexander has been even more frustrated and stressed out than usual.

“Perhaps we should postpone—” he muses but Alexander seems to deflate even more and Magnus frowns as he realizes the lines of Alexander’s face are even more pronounced than usual. “Are you alright?” Magnus asks, concerned as he cups his boy’s face.

“One too many nourishment runes.” Alexander tells him with a shrug, voice hoarse but calm as if he hasn’t just shocked Magnus.

Magnus doesn’t say anything, not wanting to spook Alexander by alerting him something is wrong. Because something is wrong, but Magnus doubts Alexander realizes it, or will understand it. 

Not with how nephilim are raised and trained.

“We’ll just go home, instead.” Magnus murmurs like this was his plan all along, “I’m thinking dinner on the balcony? Some of the Korean BBQ we had last week and perhaps some bibimbap from that place you love?”

Alexander leans into the back of his chair and Magnus’ hands, something soft and awed in his face as he tilts his head up to look at Magnus with a tender smile.

“That sounds perfect babe.” He murmurs and Magnus makes a mental note to get him some tea and a potion for his throat as well.

—

Magnus keeps track of it after that, portaling over to the Institute at dinner and charming Alexander to break with him in the greenhouse.

Breakfast he can feed Alexander himself, when he comes home from the Institute and Magnus no longer lets him slip his way into bed.  Instead he’ll summon them both a light snack if Alexander is too tired, or coax Alexander into bed to feed him breakfast and then press him into the sheets until he falls asleep full and content.

Alexander fills out, the lines on his face no longer so prominent and Magnus learns to smooth his palms over Alexander’s naked skin and check to see if there are any fading nourishment runes.  Sometimes, it’s unavoidable and when Magnus finds them, he kisses Alexander’s skin over the rune and when he wakes, feeds him until Alexander is laughing against his fingers and smiling with relaxation over his coffee.

Magnus starts to mention when he’s hungry himself and Alexander zeroes in on it, always willing to stop what he’s doing to accommodate Magnus.

It works and Magnus is riding on the peak of his success when a series of clave meetings make it almost impossible to get Alexander to him daily.

So, Magnus packs his nutrient potions and summons smoothies to Alexander’s office and on one occasion, interrupts a clave meeting because ‘he has to have his boyfriend for dinner’.  Alexander’s blushing cheeks had created a rather large misunderstanding, but he hadn’t seemed to mind, and Magnus got what he wanted in the end.

One night, Magnus is tracing Alexander’s ribs, pleased with the firmness between him and the bones protecting Alexander’s heart, and there’s a soft chuckle and when Magnus looks up, Alexander is smiling at him fondly.

“Thank you.” Alexander whispers, voice almost delicate, like he’s not sure.

“For what?” Magnus asks, honestly curious as he presses a kiss above his boy’s heart.

“Loving me, taking care of me.” Alexander reaches out, his fingers pressing like butterfly kisses over Magnus’ cheeks, “protecting me, even from myself.”

“Oh darling,” Magnus breathes out and he leans over to kiss Alexander properly. “Never thank me for that, it’s a selfish thing, my love for you.”

Alexander just kisses him again, something intimate in the chaste press of lips and the soft touch of his tongue to Magnus’ lips. 

“Is that any worse than how selfish my love for you is?” Alexander tells him, the same darkness that Magnus has never tried to hide from his boy reflected in hazel eyes.

#writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #magnus bane #alec lightwood #eating disorder tw #shadowhunters #malec #lumine writes #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

GUESS WHAT WE GOT ANOTHER REPOSTER. 

You know, i came onto tumblr really excited to share this dumb doodle comic i did, now i just feel gross. Because this was reposted on an app i do not have an account for and I cannot contact them via there, I’m posting this here, so sorry to y’alls who just trying to have a good time, some people just have trouble being half-decent ig

I was not contacted by this person or asked in any way shape or form to use my art on their account. They do not credit or mention me (not that that would make this any better) and I do NOT want my stuff on tiktok. 

To this person, this is your one and only warning: 

Take. My. Art. Down. Now. 

You have reposted my art, my mutuals art, my friends art and even my siblings art. What you are doing is harmful to me and to my friends. This is disgusting and disheartening ESPECIALLY seeing my art used in such a way that makes me EXTREMELY uncomfortable and I am sick and tired of seeing this. 

Think I’m being harsh? my art has been stolen and reposted and used without my permissions dozens of times and I am getting sick and tired of it. I want to be patient and kind but that’s kind of difficult when i see others not only harming me but also my friends livelihoods and incomes by stealing their art like this. And it is disgusting to see you use a minor’s art the way you did. To you it’s nothing more than a few minutes of posting and a couple of likes. To the artist you take it form it means the difference between a meal and going to bed hungry.

To anyone else who has reposted art in the past or are considering doing so now, DO NOT. It is harmful and cruel and while you’re laughing about the edits you use my art in, I, the creator, and sitting here sick to my stomach and considering never posting again because of your behaviour. I’ve got to wonder if you care about the people you consume content for at all? because from where I’m sitting you look selfish, inconsiderate and cruel. 

If you want to support an artist, REBLOG THEIR STUFF. SHARE LINKS. TELL PEOPLE ABOUT THIS COOL COMIC AND LINK THEM BACK TO THE SOURCE. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES REPOST WITHOUT AN ARTISTS PERMISSION OR KNOWLEDGE. Ask if you’re wondering if you can use art in a tribute or edit. Credit them if they say yes. If they say no, be respectful of the creator you like and find something else to use or better yet, make your own. 

to all my good followers, I love you guys, and thanks for having my back. I really appreciate your support and kindness as I create and deal with this kind of stuff. 

I’m not sure what i’m going to do about this aside from this post, and i really don’t want to make an account for this, hopefully if the reposter has any decency they’ll take down all the stolen art and stop doing this and i won't have to. 

For the time being, I’m not feeling real great, aside from being angry about this, I feel sick, so I won’t be sharing that comic I was going to post. I’m really sorry anyone who wanted to see my stuff is suffering from the actions of this person. Maybe I’ll feel better in a couple weeks or so, but for the time being I’m gonna continue being mostly offline. 

~knox

Edit (July 3 2022): as of today the reposter has taken my art down and a lot of the other reposted work down and posted an apology to me and one other artist they reposted from (they reposted the work of at least six other artists) due to some other issues that I will not be specifying I have blocked them. Again, please don't harass this person if you recognize them. Or any reposters or people who demonstrate bad behavior. Letting people know reposting is harmful is one thing, but attacking them and rentelessly chasing them off their socials is another. Thanks guys hope you're all having a stellar day o7

#knox rambles #reposter #art theft #sorry for the long post y'alls #i'm not real thrilled rn #long post #blocked out the name cause i don't want them getting harassed but dear gods #i have common decency reposter #do you? #if ur following me either get of my blog or respect me as i creator i will not tolerate your presence otherwise. #I'M REALLY TIRED OF THIS