#and as such i am like rapidly remembering how lonely and touch starved i am and certain guys atm are just like. a safe haven atm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zealous-whispers-of-us-redux · 3 years

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someplace new

Summary: "There's a whole world out there for us! There are cold and shallow seas! There are deep seas with strange creatures and seas with mounds of earth that spit out water! There are huge coral reefs and fish of all colors and seas with the bones of enormous ships lying in the sand!"

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She was not a friendly creature, Bucky thought of the siren he had recently acquainted himself with. She preferred to spend her days swimming and singing her song for any human that she could entrap. She could dive into deeper waters than Bucky, who hated her whenever she left him alone for even a moment. Mer were never alone, and it was a difficult adjustment for Bucky. He was used to sleeping next to his brothers or hunting with his father. His The siren preferred to hunt alone, and whenever Bucky tried to sleep next to her, she would wiggle away. Touching was a different issue altogether. She swam away anytime that Bucky would even brush against her. That was difficult too. Bucky was used to touch and being touched by his pod mates. It must have been a lonely life to be a siren. Although she sure was a remarkable thing, Bucky couldn't deny that. The lights that glowed from her at nighttime drew him in, and he was beginning to see why it was easy for human males to fall under her spell. She was beautiful in a terrifying way that thrilled Bucky to his very being. Her claws and teeth were much sharper than his, and her tailfin moved like that of a shark. Her eyes were too big for her pretty face. She rarely spoke, but when she did, Bucky yearned.

They had been together for two months now. Bucky was unable to leave her nor coax her to come with him back to his pod. She was continuing to starve; he could see it. Fish didn't satiate her in the way they did him. Bucky's worry rapidly increased day by day as he watched her grown gaunt, and her skin turned hazy blue rather than silvery grey.

"You okay?" he asked her one night as she swam underneath him, singing in frustration.

"No," she said.

"Will ya come back up for a minute? I wanna talk to you about somethin.'"

"No."

"Just for a sec. Please, my pretty one?" Bucky whined. "I miss ya."

"I am hunting."

"It's been two tides. You've been swimmin' down there in the dark for ages."

He heard her sigh:

"I will be up soon."

After that, Bucky heard no more from her. He floated aimlessly amongst a school of bluefish tuna as he waited, rehearsing what he would say once she was next to him again. He was going to propose that they move to a new destination. A destination where Bucky was sure humans would be more readily available for her consumption. He knew of a great many places in the seas of the world where no siren had ever been spotted. The humans of this area knew of something evil that lurked in the waters around their town. They'd heard her calls, saw the blood in the water, mourned those that became her victims. She had been here too long, and the humans were growing more innovative every day. Once they moved on, Bucky was sure she would find willing prey.

It seemed to take her ages to swim upwards. Bright pinpricks of white light were what finally caught Bucky's attention. He waited as she rose through the water, her tail swishing lazily. Once in a brighter part of the water, she opened her eyes, squinting as she tried to adjust. Like most deep-sea creatures, she had no use for eyes. Unlike most deep-sea creatures, however, she had the distinct advantage of having them and the ability to keep them closed unconsciously in some way that Bucky didn't know. It was daytime, and Bucky watched as her lights dimmed and flickered under the weak sunlight. As soon as she was near enough, Bucky swam straight through the school of tuna to meet her.

"Anythin'?" he asked.

"No," she said. Her skin looked bluer than ever.

Bucky took a deep breath. "So, I was thinking, and you can tell me to back off if I'm bein' dumb, but I was thinkin' that you're starvin.' It's been weeks since you've had a decent meal an' months since you've even caught a human, which isn't your fault. I just think they know what hangs out around here, an' I know that other sirens have other territories around this area, so I was thinkin' what if we went somewhere else?"

"Somewhere else?"

"Yeah, not this spot, not even this sea."

She looked confused. "There are other seas?"

"Oh," he said because he wasn't expecting her not to know. "Yeah, there are plenty. There's a whole other world out there."

"I have never been anywhere else."

"Would ya like to?"

"I do not know."

Bucky held out his hand. "Will you come with me?"

She went quiet, thinking about his offer for so long that Bucky became restless again. (Mer, unlike sirens, were very impatient creatures). He flicked his tail in irritation, trying to get her to hurry up. Finally, she agreed.

"Yes," she said.

Overwhelmed with delight, Bucky did several unique spins, flipping his hair and showing off his tail in a futile attempt to impress her. She watched him impassively. She was either oblivious or unconcerned with his courtship display; Bucky could not tell which. But no matter. He was taking her away from this place, and they'd live together for the rest of their days! He'd find her shiny things and make a permanent home for her on a bed of the softest kelp, and the warmest sand Bucky could find! Then when the time was right, he would offer her his shell, and they would mate under the golden light of the sun! It was bliss.

"Where are we going?" she asked as they began to swim.

"Anywhere we want! We got a whole world to explore! There are cold seas, shallow and deep seas, and seas with huge mounds of earth that spit out the hottest water! There are huge coral reefs and fish of all colors! There are seas with the bones of enormous ships lying in the sand too!" Bucky said excitedly. "Where d'you wanna go first?"

"Wherever there are humans."

"There are humans everywhere."

"Then it is your choice."

"There is a sea that mer call inhospitable 'cause, we say, the deeper you go, the harder it is to breathe. There are fragments of ships down at the bottom."

Bucky observed her, noticing as some feeling or thought he had never seen before appeared in her eyes. Then, much to his surprise, she smiled. Her lips twisted strangely around her teeth like she had forgotten how to do it, but it was, indeed, a smile. Bucky should have been petrified at how many deadly teeth she seemed to possess, but he wasn't. She was stunning, and Bucky reveled at the sight of her. He itched to get her into a cave, just the two of them. He would bring her shiny things, and she would look at him the way she was now.

"The ships," she said decisively, noticing how strange she sounded.

She realized that this was the first decision (that had nothing to do with hunting) she had made in a while. It made her feel wrong in a way that she could not explain. She wanted to see other places. She was curious, but why was she feeling that way? Was the sway of this beautiful mer already getting to her? Impulsively, as though her body was not her own, she brushed her hand against his just as he did when they first met. She felt his eyes on her but kept hers straight ahead, determined not to look at him. Their hands were still touching, and then he coiled his fingers around hers.

"The water over there is much colder," Bucky said softly, not wanting to scare her with his voice and have her pull her hand away. "An' the salinity is a bit different. Just let me know if you feel weird or anythin', alright?"

"Yes," she answered. Her hand stayed in Bucky's hand. "How long?"

"Few days. I can't swim as fast as you."

She nodded, saying nothing, which was how they spent the next three hours. Bucky continued prattling on, pointing out this thing and that thing. He told her about his little sister Rebecca and his best friends, Steve and Sam. He regaled her in fantastic stories of their adventures and misdeeds in protecting the pod. Mer tended to embellish such tales, and Bucky was no exception as he crafted a story about him fighting off a giant sea monster single-handedly. As he told the tale, he noticed her looking at him dubiously.

"What?" Bucky asked.

"Such a creature cannot exist," she said.

"A Cthulu can't exist?"

"Yes. A creature shaped like a human and an octopus, with the wings of a dragon? What is a dragon, anyway?" she asked.

That was the longest string of words she had said to Bucky in days. He was elated.

"A huge, serpent-like creature that spits fire," he said.

"No creature that lives can breathe fire."

"Humans say we don't exist," Bucky said. "Are ya callin' me a liar?"

She shrugged. "I am not sure what that means."

"Fine, fine, you got me. It was a giant squid."

"I see."

"I did get suckered pretty hard, though," said Bucky, puffing out his chest in pride. "I got the scars to prove it. Ma was scared when I came back all bloody."

"Ma?" she asked.

"My mother."

"You have a mother?"

Bucky nodded. "'Course, everything does."

"I do not."

"But you had one once, right?"

"Once."

"What was she like?" Bucky asked eagerly.

Her lips parted, and she took a deep breath.

"She… She tried to protect me from the human men at first. But they took what they wanted from me and left me to drown. I remember dying and hearing her tell me to be brave and believe in the sea. The Gods blessed me, and I was reborn."

"Oh, I- I had no idea; I'm so sorry I brought it up," Bucky stammered, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. His poor, sweet siren. She had been through so much.

"I do not remember her."

Again, they drifted into silence. Bucky was upset when she slid her hand from his and began drifting downward into deeper water, where he could not follow. He wanted to beg for her to come back. He didn't mean to talk about such things; he had simply been eager to hear more about her! Knowing what he knew now, he felt anger wash over him. How dare those raiders act that way? What kind of creatures were the humans that did such awful things? Despicable is what they were! They were nothing more than- than- phytoplankton! Small, insignificant cowards that did not care who they hurt! Damn them!

"Are those men still alive?" he spat angrily.

"I killed them," she replied from underneath him.

"I'd kill their descendants if I could."

"Why?"

"Whaddya mean why? Nothin' hurts you! Anythin' hurts you again; you tell me an' I'll kill it, you hear me?" Bucky snarled.

From the deep, she began to sing. It was a new song, one Bucky had never heard from her, and he stopped his ranting to listen. It washed over him, replacing the anger with quiet peace, and oh. She was reassuring him in the best way that she knew how. Warmth bloomed in Bucky's chest, and he felt his face heating for an entirely different reason. She was trying to thank him. He wondered if she knew it too. Bucky smiled, glancing below him to watch as she rose back up to join him.

She continued to sing, taking his hand once again. Once her song was over, and without even thinking about it, Bucky thrust his hand into the pouch tied around his waist.

"Here," he said, shoving his mating shell into her hand, his belly reddening.

"What for?"

Bucky froze, scrambling for a false explanation. Because, just his luck, she had no idea what he had been trying to convey to her. He was too embarrassed to tell her the truth. It hadn't even been three months, and he was already prepared to settle down with her!

"Er, uh, w-well, I told ya that a pretty thing needs pretty things, right? I, uh, I found it an' thought you, er, deserved it? Yeah, I thought you deserved it."

"It is very shiny. Thank you, Bucky."

She rarely said his name. Bucky had fallen hard if only hearing her say his damn name was driving him nuts. He could feel his stomach heating the longer she looked at him. He wiggled a little bit at her stare. She raised a confused eyebrow, looking like she wanted to ask questions Bucky wasn't ready to answer. Instead, he lifted her hand to his lips, flipped it over, and kissed her palm. They both stopped swimming.

"Oh," she said. "A kiss? "

"Mhm," said Bucky, boldly wrapping his tail around hers. "A kiss."

"May I give one back?"

"Please."

She lifted Bucky's hand to her lips and pressed her mouth to the back of it. Her teeth bit into his skin. Bucky winced.

"No, like this, with no teeth," he explained kindly, showing her.

She curled her lips entirely over her teeth and mashed her mouth against Bucky's hand.

"No, not quite. Tilt your head a little an' put your lips like this, see?" said Bucky.

With immense concentration, she tilted her head and fixed her lips, kissing Bucky just right. He couldn't help the shiver that raced down his spine, even though the kiss was only on his hand.

"Good," he said weakly. "Perfect. "

"I am hungry." She was unruffled.

"Wait! Usually, a kiss is on the mouth, remember?"

Bucky's tail tightened around hers, and he pressed their chests together. His hand darted out, and he tenderly cupped her cheek, being careful of her lure. Her skin was hard as a handful of gold coins and twice as beautiful. He watched as she followed his lead, hesitant in her motions.

She wasn't used to touching, but she didn't mind it so much when it was this mer. His skin was soft where she touched his cheek and pressed her thumb into the divet in his chin. She knew her flesh was hard, and she wondered if he hated the feeling of it. Before she could pull away, Bucky kissed her. She stiffened before she relaxed under his lips, following his lead until she felt warm from head to tailfin.

Bucky wasn't faring much better. He was glad that the water was cold and that her attention was somewhere else because his belly was so warm that he was sure it was flashing a bright red. He made a soft noise and melted in her arms. She was a swift learner, the smart thing that she was. Bucky nibbled at her bottom lip and slipped his tongue into her mouth. He found out quite quickly that, just like a shark, she did not have a tongue. It was a strange sensation, kissing a creature without a tongue in her mouth, but Bucky quickly got used to it. He found out that she liked to nip when she caught his tongue between her sharp teeth. Bucky groaned, winding his arms around her and biting her back. Eventually, they broke apart and looked at each other.

"Wow," said Bucky, swooning.

"A kiss, yes?" she asked.

"Yeah. Yes, that was a kiss. Goddamn, you learn fast."

He hadn't let her go. He couldn't let her go, not after that. She was already free of his embrace, although she kept hold of his hand, which was a start.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, sounding nervous.

Confused, Bucky nodded.

"Can I help?"

"Yes," she agreed, tugging him behind her. "Come. "

Following right behind her, Bucky became lost in thought. He may have acted rashly by giving her his shell, but now he was confident that she was the one for him. Still, he had no idea how even to broach such a topic. Did she know what mating was? Was she willing to spend the rest of her days with him? He thought it was not the best time to ask and instead followed behind her, eager to watch her in action.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mermaid au #fluff #merman!bucky #siren!reader

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dragonleesupporter · 4 years

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The Loudest Firework

AN: I’m SO sorry for making this so late. This was supposed to be done before the new years. Life’s been really kicking my a- ANYWAY Hope yall enjoy!

A sequel to this one: Checking It Twice

Ships: Intrulogical

WARNING: Remus, tickling, touch starvation, cursing and abusive Deceit

The duke was pouting. Not because he was bored, or because he didn’t get his way… he was just confused. As the chaos entity within Thomas, he loved causing confusion, but experiencing it himself? Ugh. Pass.

Logan had given him a gift for Christmas, but when the following days had come around, he had done nothing for or with Remus, scrambling his thoughts in the process. Logan liked to keep things consistent, so why was he just back to normal now? Did he change his mind? Or was it actually him who gave him the present? Yet, Logan would be the only one with enough specified categorizing to give him something so delightfully his style. The duke’s mind started racing, even more than usual. Had he wrapped the present for himself after all and just not remembered it? But what about Logan’s face that morning?? How insane was he becoming???

It was now New Years, and Remus felt like he was truly losing it. He sat on the couch, scratching his chin as his eyes twitched.

“Why the figuratively long face, Remus?” A calm voice started the green side from behind as he spun around.

Logan.

The cause of his confusion.

Remus’s pout morphed into a snarl.

“What do you want?” He snapped, nose wrinkled.

“Answer my question first and there’s an increase in probability I’ll tell you.” The teacher grinned slightly.

That SAME SLY GRIN! The same one he wore Christmas Morning! Remus’s eyes widened.

“Oh, I don’t know Logan, why IS my face so long?” He grabbed the bottom of his jaw, stretching it out.

“I said figuratively…” Logan massaged his forehead. “No matter, I shall answer your question. I want to see you happy.”

Remus had to slap himself. “Excuse me, what???”

Logan blinked. “Did I stutter?”

“I-I… n-n-n-no???” Remus looked up at him with eyes of constant changing dilation. Logan had to resist chuckling at his utter dumbfounded expression.

“It’s not all that hard to understand.” He offered, recognizing the look of panic crossing the poor duke’s face.

“Yeah, I know WHAT it is, you enema! I’m trying to figure out the WHY!” His eyes flared red around the edges.

“Sit down, and I’ll tell you.” The blue side offered.

“Hmph.” Remus sat as the teacher instructed, and waited for his overly complicated, boring explanation that would most likely only raise more questions or cause the master of chaos to fall asleep.

But instead of walking in front of him to teach him something or criticize something, Logan squeezed his way between Remus and the couch. The duke was about to ask what the fuck Logan was doing, when his breath got caught in his throat. Fingers were digging into his screwed-up back with the most impressing precision. He couldn’t help the loud moan that came from him.

Logan twitched irritably, convinced Remus had made that noise as some sort of joke, but when he leaned to stare at his face, Remus’s expression told otherwise. Eyes rolled up toward the ceiling, jaw slack.

He had not felt the touch of any of the other sides for years… The only faint memories he had of such a warmth and comfort was when from the times he and Roman were one side many, MANY years ago. After the split, he had only himself and the other dark sides… Which, in some twisted way, made him thankful for the times Dee hit him, because even though it was a slap or a punch, it was touch… and it hurt so good…

But this?!

Logan wrapped his arms around Remus to stable him, convinced he’d fall over otherwise. The poor duke was shivering and whimpering, turning to goo at Logan’s touch.

“Am I overwhelming you?” He asked sincerely, starting to pull away.

Remus’s top half snapped as he twisted his chest, arms and head 180 degrees to face him and grab at him. “No!” His eyes glistened with more tears that would soon add to the multiple tear streaks already on his face. “Don’t!” His green eyes were bright with his pupils pin pricks of desperation.

There was that terrible expression again, except this time, it was worse. The tears active, the wide-open eyes and brows pressing harshly into the tops of his irises… but most of all, that sad frown accompanied by gritted teeth of grief.

“Please, don’t let go!” Remus’s eyes popped out of his skull in agony and fear, his voice sounding completely different now.

Logan couldn’t help but stare, shocked, at what he could only describe as Remus’s true self. Broken and desperate. No bravado or pride in his work… just a lonely side with a craving for touch that hadn’t been satisfied in years.

Logan wanted to wipe off that pathetic look on is face so badly as the duke blinked rapidly, more tears spilling as silence pierced him. Dee always used to give the duke the silent treatment, and if he didn’t respond with ‘yes’ and kept quiet… it usually meant… no.

Remus started sniffling, Logan’s shocked expression sinking in as he made the connection that he probably just ruined any chance he had at getting more of that touch. He gave in, letting Logan go and sobbing into his hands.

The teacher couldn’t stand it. The expression, the shivers and now that AWEFUL sound coming from the duke as he wept like a slapped child. He rushed forward, hugging him fully despite his body being twisted around.

Remus gasped and hugged him back tightly, face utterly drenched as he begged.

Touch… touch, it felt so good.

“More… more…” He choked out, whimpering, rubbing his head against Logan’s shoulder as relief flooded his senses, soaking Logan’s shirt in the process from a never-ending stream of tears.

The dark blue side had never taken into account just how cold Remus’s body was. The teacher breathed deeply, holding the duke tightly as he slowly rocked them in their hold, letting his warmth spread to Remus’s deprived, starving form.

GOD, it felt so good it almost burned!

He sighed again and again as the waves of warmth fed him and filled him up. Making his barren heart full once again since god knows how long! When Logan turned to look at him, the duke was drooling slightly, eyes wide- almost drunk from the warmth and touch. His eyes sparkled, and his face owned a tiny precious smile, all for Logan.

Was it selfish to want to keep that smile all to himself? To hold it in his memory away from the others forever? Logan didn’t care at this point, this emotion felt too precious and fragile to give away just yet as he stared at Remus’s melting posture.

“Are you happy now?” He asked, smile smug.

“Gaaaahhh…” Remus couldn’t even speak, but nodded light-headedly, his heart beating harder the longer he stared at Logan. Eventually, it proved to be all too much for the poor master of chaos as he passed out in Logan’s arms, his heartbeat nearly showing through his chest.

***

“Jeez, where’s Logan and Remus? They’re gonna miss the countdown!” Roman searched through the house, looking for the teacher and his brother. He knew Logan wasn’t a big fan of jumping or shouting when it became a new year, saying something about it just being the inevitable passing of time, but his brother was also missing, which was strange. Remus wouldn’t dare miss out on an opportunity to be loud! So, where was he?!

“Looooogaaaan! Reeeemuuuus!” He called repeatedly throughout the mindscape, panicking as he realized New Years was now only 10 minutes away.

“Sh!” Logan poked his head out of his room and briefly hushed Roman before ducking back inside.

“Logan! What are y-“

“Sh!” Roman staggered back a few steps, surprised as Logan hushed a second time. He slowly walked into the logical sides room and had to rub his eyes a few times to process what lay before him.

Remus was sprawled out on Logan’s bed, every limb seeming to melt into the cushions. His expression contained a large genuine smile, and peacefully shut eyes as he breathed out little sighs of pure happiness.

“Which drug is he on?!” He whisper-screamed to Logan, who had to hold back a chuckle.

“None…” Logan smiled tenderly as Roman looked between his brother and the teacher. His eyes narrowed in realization.

That smile on Logan’s face… Remus’s relaxed posture… The look in the teacher’s eyes…

“You… and him? Logan, are you serious?” Roman whispered, eyes scanning Logan’s expression carefully, to make sure this wasn’t some sort of joke.

Logan just nodded his head. “How do you suppose we wake him up?” He murmured, gliding a hand along Remus’s arms which caused the green side to shiver in his sleep.

Roman opened and closed his mouth, sentence fragments almost spilling from his lips, but not quite, utter shock making him freeze in place as Logan’s hand wandered under Remus’s chin and a scratched a little.

The duke giggled, face turning slightly pink. Logan got an idea. Moving his hands and arms like snakes, he wiggled his fingers gently against the green sides neck.

The duke’s giggles got a little louder, his shoulder’s scrunching up to protect himself from the tickles.

“Care to join me, Roman?” The logical side looked at the prince, who was visibly excited, shaking in place.

“Oh god, it’s been years since I’ve gotten to do this…” His excited puppydog smile melted into a sly smirk. “I forgot about all the tickle fights we once got into… You know one place that drives him crazy?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, also smirking now. “Even more so than his usual crazy?”

Roman gently lowered his hands to Remus’s legs, nodding. He lifted one up and rolled up his pant leg. Logan did the same to the other side, watching with intrigue and copying every one of Roman’s movements on his side.

The red side suddenly dug his fingers into the back of Remus’s knee, causing the master of chaos to wake up screaming and cackling.

“AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOHOHOHOHOHOHOP THAHAHAHAHAHAT!” Remus kicked his leg wildly as if it were electrocuted. “BROHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!” His maniac cackling sounded slightly different to Logan, still slightly sweeter and… cuter than his normal set of chaotic laughing.

Logan wanted to hear more of it, so, with a smirk, he dug his hand into the leg he was holding, copying Roman’s techniques.

“PAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! NOTYOUTOOSTAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHASE!!!! LOHOHOHOHOHOGYHYYHYHYHYHY!!!” Remus shrieked, wiggling, trying to get away from the maddening sensation, face fire-engine red with tears starting to leak down his face.

Logan stopped at that, not just because of the desperate pleas but…

“Wow, did he just call you a cute pet name? Pleadingly?” Roman teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Logan rolled his eyes, but couldn’t blame Roman. “I think that’s enough… don’t you?”

“Awww, please? Just a little more?” Roman whined, dinging a single finger into a special spot in the center of the knee, making poor Remus scream.

“Roman, he’s crying. Stop.” Roman looked up in surprise at Logan’s low, protective voice.

Remus sat up, panting and still giggling, trying desperately to rub away the explosive tingles still behind his knees.

“Bro, it’s almost time for the countdown…” Roman chuckled and cooed teasingly.

“O-Okay…” He got up shakily and was immediately supported by Logan, who helped carry the giggly duke to the balcony where the others were waiting for the countdown to see the fireworks.

Remus whined at the touch Logan was giving him, and was slightly scared he was still dreaming… As he thought this, the teacher wrapped his arms around him yet again, sending shivers up his spine.

The others started chanting… “10! 9! 8! 7! 6!” Logan inched his face closer to the duke’s, eyes shining with galaxies in them with a small gentle smile. The green side’s mind froze.

No… he wouldn’t… would he?

“5! 4! 3! 2! 1!” The rest of the ‘Happy New Year’ chant was suddenly forgotten by the duke as he entered another world, Logan pressing his lips passionately to his own. His pupils shrunk to microscopic size before widening so much his eyes was nothing but pupil. He clung to him, pulling him closer to himself as he kissed back, eyes squeezed shut with tears of happiness leaking, face flushed an even deeper shade than his brother’s sash.

Logan pulled away, much to the dismay of the other, who could’ve sit there kissing him forever, but what came next only made his heart rate triple.

“I love you, Remus.” Logan’s eyes went from tender to panicked as Remus shook madly in place, sparks flying off of him as his pupils became invisible to the human eye, a noise close to something like a kettle whistle coming from him.

“Oh shit, what did you do?!” Roman turned to look at the teacher, eyes flashing in worry.

“I-I…” The dark blue side stuttered, not being able to form a sentence in his panic, thinking he broke the master of chaos.

Remus lifted one foot and stamped the ground hard, sending his glowing form shooting high into the air, until he was nothing but a spec in the sky, he suddenly burst into a giant green firework in the shape of a heart. Logan looked around in the sky desperately just to find that the duke was lying on the ground, giggling with a hand pressed to his mouth.

“ Heeheeheehee… I-I love you too, Logy…”

@bexxbeauty @cefsticklestoo @thestarswelcomemewithopenarms

@did-he-just-hiss-at-me @all-my-fandoms-are-killing-me @ollyollyoxinfree

@cooliofooliosanders

#tickling #angst #touchstarvation #sanderssides #remus #intrological

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juleswolverton-hyde · 4 years

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The Words upon the Window Pane | Chanyeol

Genre: Smut, Angst (only a wee bit), PwP

Pairing: Auhor!Chanyeol x Reader

Warnings: Top!/Dom!Chanyeol, fingering, unprotected wall sex (ALWAYS do it safely, lads and lasses!), subtle dom/sub themes, swearing/cussing, dirty talk, love bites

Summary: The relation between Logic and Passion is often difficult for artists and certainly so when the involved parties dabble in words. Because language has the power to conceal the truth, to say what otherwise might not be said.

The words upon the window pane.

However, one night, a mouth is brave enough to at last utter them.

And to bring about unexpected consequences.

Author’s Note: The title is derived from the play of the same name by W.B. Yeats, who is, as you may or may not know, one of my favourite poets and greatest inspirations as of late. Furthermore, this is the first EXO smut piece to be written by this wee birdy, which hopefully shall not disappoint more experienced EXO-Ls.

All in all, I hope you enjoy the work of a feather.

Making a living as an author is not easy, especially when starting out and having only a single book to one’s name. However, Voice is not merely a literary tool to use in order to be heard, since it can also realistically become audible when speaking. All in all, it remains a fluent phenomenon and so it is of great benefit to storytellers to have mastery over it. To provide experiences that ignite vivid imagery thanks to simply creating an ambience with sound when not craftily doing the same on the page. Such is the talent of the author rapidly grown popular online due to a deep voice and funny personality, thousands of women drooling over the tailored experiences provided to them on multiple platforms.

But none of them has ever gotten the real deal, their sensual emotions remaining one-sided whereas those of a newbie novelist are answered.

Sometimes.

The relationship started after the romance department of the same publishing house contracting the famous erotic writer took a bold chance by offering a contract to an unknown name having just completed a manuscript about an innocent coffee shop romance. During the meeting with the assigned editor, icy pale locks wandered into the modern cafeteria and toward the table where a conversation about the next steps towards actual publishing took place, sitting down wordlessly and merely observing. Withal, basalt irises blatantly ignored rapidly flushing rosy cheeks on the adjacent seat, focused intently on the ones across the table that tried to maintain a steady composure.

Yet it crumbled bit by bit as genuine interest was shown during a spontaneous proposal to drink coffee together sometime after the editor held a brief round of introductions at the end of the important chat, which had gained an unintentional third participant. Piece by stiff piece got chipped away over warm beverages thereafter, talking about upcoming manuscripts and the professional giving a newbie a couple of tips to not stumble and, perhaps, fall without hopes of getting up.

And were entirely smoothed out among the sheets after the daring kiss when goodbye came on the first proper dinner date, Chanyeol leaning in without hesitance to rapidly turn a chaste caress of the cheek into sin once having been escorted safely to the front door of one’s own roof.

To make a heart fall for one which is unbound, according to the rumours spoken by the female tongues which all supposedly possess a sensual experience of sorts concerning the novelist. Notwithstanding, one can talk but not say anything, let alone the truth. Withal, the gossip has expanded while being in a strange type of relationship, always being the first to propose something to do and bleached smooth strands simply agreeing if the busy schedule allows it, of course. Spontaneous proposals for a movie night or trying out a new café are one-sided, the first time drinking coffee together being the sole occasion on which it came from the distant beloved. However, during the opportunities to be together, it never fails to feel genuine.

Sincere in spite of the mouths believing it is merely about sex, warning to get out now before it is too late.

The logical ship has left the safe haven.

It is too late.

Regardless of bravely sailing in an individual sea, the doubt can never be kept at bay since it lurks as a kraken in the darker waters coming up on the journey every now and again. After all, the fans of the deep voice catering supposedly “exclusive” experiences for them would loathe the fact their imaginary lover actually has a girlfriend. Moreover, the serpents roaming the office keep telling tales that steadily grow arms and legs, each limb stemming from the period in which minds were apart.

Those spans of time increase in frequency.

Lunch grows lonelier.

Days are spent in isolation.

Reassuring words do not hold significance on the floor of the publishing house nor on those of one of our apartments on a lucky night.

No acknowledgement.

All there is, is vagueness.

Just something.

Something.

Undefinable.

Certainly not pretty or comforting.

Empty. Yes, that is the best way to describe it.

Hollow, lonely, one-sided.

Unrequited.

And it takes away the hunger at the dinner table beneath the luxurious roof, the expensive wine and home-cooked meal using high-quality ingredients holding as much inherent value as a shilling in the gutter. So the fork is put down, the bite laboriously swallowed and focus averted from the porcelain plate presenting little yet seeming too stacked.

‘Baby, are you alright?’ Head cocked to the side in wonder, Chanyeol stops mid-bite, sensing something is off.

Something.

Always something is off.

Right now, it finds a voice in a lowly muttered remark as disappointed fingers shove the still full plate and cutlery away as far as possible. The stomach can live with the stone in it, like the heart slowly freezing itself thanks to the vicious tales of betrayal can continue to exist in ice. After all, even this week’s audio consisting of ‘’sexy’’ unboxing ramblings and testing out toys sent by mistresses somewhere else is but a mere drop in the overflowing bucket. ‘I’m not hungry.’

The limit has been reached.

End of the line.

Of this.

Us.

If there even ever has been a happy chronicling couple.

‘You’ve barely eaten.’ The unsuspecting fork picks up a perfectly grilled asparagus, endeavouring the feed a soul starved of happiness. A perfectly useless attempt at making things right for the culprit knows very well what goes on behind the scenes that are enacted every time at the workplace, the little faked though credible moments of two youngsters being solely friends but perhaps a bit more. No one knows for sure, but they do assume. Gossip has a way of being heard, even when feigning to ignore it in favour of personal fantasies. ‘At least have a few more vegetables.’

‘Did it...’ A wry smile carves itself on a face which is on the edge of tears, remembering every word said at the collective coffee machine in the cafeteria alongside the lovesick comments on every digital upload and equally sensual reaction to a novel novel. How can the detailed storyteller not notice the burning water droplets searing their way to the lash line?

Begging.

Begging to fall.

To be noticed.

Because they have had to hide so bloody long in loneliness.

Denied.

A significant detail.

‘Did it mean anything?’ God forbid that the words spilt between the sheets, on dates and in secrecy in the coffee corner did not hold any meaning. Withal, knowing how writers are for the craft is part of one’s own personality, there are no better tricksters. Words can be made pretty, cunningly serving to conceal the ugly truth.

‘What? Did what mean anything? Babe, what are you on about?’ The uncomprehending gravely worried furrowed brows relax, raven irises softening as they discover the tale of the Ice Queen’s heart and damnably igniting the thawing process. Looks can kill, as is the word on the street, and the big pale wolf knows it judging by the gentle smile only reserved for his foolish mistress. ‘You’ve been listening to gossip again. Look, I’ll say it again and I still mean it. I love you, Y/N. Only you. You ought to know that by now.’

The supposedly well-meaning palm resting between the abandoned dishes is not lovingly covered, digits remaining apart instead of entwining in blissful union. Instead, the chair is pushed back as the napkin that formerly rested on the lap is viciously thrown onto the table surface. Voice is barely controlled, dangerously close to cracking yet forced to maintain steady fury. ‘Don’t fucking lie to me! I know this means nothing.’

‘Means nothing? This means nothing?’ The actions are fiercely mimicked, the pleading tone in speech overruling the fabricated calm demeanour. ‘It does, babe. It really does.’

‘Yeah, right. As if you haven’t said that to one of those horny dolls who gladly listen to their fantasy boyfriend or read about all the wonderful things you’d do to them. What did you call them again? Your honeys?’ There is no stopping the jeering guided by the incomparable ache rendering every nerve paralyzed, an alternative ego who feels betrayed rising with every second of the outburst.

In the end, she, too, is one of many.

I am nothing.

‘Babe, please-’ Agonizingly following footsteps attempt to reason, begging to stay for a proper vis-á-vis to resolve this “problem” while making their way to the hallway.

Evidently without success. ‘Oh, piss off. I’m sure you had others in the time I was gone.’ The searing tears on lashes in the wee hall finally stream down the cheeks, lost in bittersweet memories of a time ruled by naivety. When every touch was so certain of love, felt protective and was believed to be sincere.

Notwithstanding, that was then.

This is now.

‘It really meant something to me, you know? I fucking gave myself to you because I stupidly trusted you, Chan! You were my first.’ A shake of the head brings about enough steadiness to remain coherent in speech, to at least keep a total breakdown at bay a little longer. The battle is almost won, a little bit more perseverance needs to be put in before all might become actually well. ‘But I could’ve, no, should’ve known better. So fuck off and leave me alone.’

Just as a hand reaches towards the knob of the front door, a firm palm wraps painfully around the left wrist. Once that power was loved, but now it is just that: hurt.

And it wants… needs to be left behind.

To make it pay for the solitude.

The agony needs to face the consequences.

‘No.’

The pain in the shape of the man who was believed to make up the world.

Stupid.

We both only have our stories to speak honestly in because they are the sole place where it is possible to be true.

Funny how a broken heart ignites a sense of creativity to exploit and there is a sudden haste to make use of it. Or so the mind wants this to be the reason behind the futile struggle for freedom for the real reason is the simple need to get away before breaking the character of the hard-headed sneering Ice Queen and leave oneself in fragments on the battlefield. ‘Let. Me. Go.’

A vicious tug makes feet stumble away from the entryway and slam into the wall opposite the stairs, Chanyeol’s face mere inches away and obsidian irises burning with sorrowful rage that has grown from incomprehension. All acting halts at once, alarmed breath coming out ragged as the powerful gentleman is sought frantically on a quietly raging beautiful expression. ‘I won’t. Not until you finally listen to me and know who you belong to, young lady.’

Slender digits clad in a chic ink-black jacket roughly push aside underwear, unapologetically disappearing beneath the skirt to exert sexual dominance as lips powerfully nullify all chances at protest. ‘This is mine. Only mine. All I can think about these days, so much so I can’t even write without giving you a role in my novel.’

The possessive growling fuels the heat below, slowly reducing the hurtful stretch, as all vocabulary is lost in the marks left behind on the throat by stark white teeth. Miraculously, the ability to resist the temptation remains although it falters and starts to stutter in the strong secure warmth of a familiar palm at the end of the spine. ‘I- I don’t be- believe you.’

‘Who do you think is more credible?’ A rough mind-boggling thrust goes paired with the branding being interrupted to snarl against a slightly open mouth, dominant despite oddly affectionately resting foreheads against one another and chuckling as haphazard fluttery palms rest on broad shoulders. ‘The man who loves you or some women you don’t even know?’

In spite of being barely able to respond, a piece of hateful Logic remains and is capable of jeering and mocking the question that should have served to set things right. ‘But y- you could’ve fucked.’

‘I didn’t. Listen to me, young lady.’ The hand that formerly rested on the small of the lower back rises to envelop the throat, forcing a lock of gazes while enchantingly cutting off access to air. ‘Ever since we met, I’ve been yours. I’d never give anyone else a role in my novels because nobody inspires me like you do.’

‘D- Don’t stop.’ There is too much deliria to persist in protesting, each movement beneath fabric erasing the thought of resisting the platinum wolf as soon as it arises. Instead, it gives rise to memories of beautiful naive nights that make up the horror and delight of an insane mistress of letters, both inside the pages and outside.

Throwing the heart back into bittersweet love.

‘Ah, there she is. There’s the helpless little slut I know.’ With an ashamedly wet noise, slim fingers undo the bodily connection that had been greedily gone along with, leading to an inevitable displeased whine that evokes a lovely dark chuckle.

A nudge of the nose asks to follow the focus of the seemingly only sane mind, see what the writer wants to be noticed without resorting to loathsome spoon-feeding. It is all in the details, that is where the heart of the tale lies. ‘See that?’

Lashes flutter innocently as gaze wanders lower and lower to restricting dusk-shaded denim, wordlessly remarking on the considerable outlined shape that the idiotic heart and persona meant to have walked out the door greatly want to exploit. ‘Only you do that to me, Y/N.’ An almost sweet peck on the forehead turns attention upward briefly before receiving another on the lips, after which a command makes hands act in too enthusiastic desirable greed. ‘Undo the zipper.’

It takes little time nor effort to force down sturdy and elastic fabric to bare burning desire to the chill air in the hallway. And it takes even less than that very same moment to be pinned against the wall once again, thighs supported by iron hands promising to never let go, and directly connect in body and soul.

Willingly.

Beautifully.

‘Fuck, every time is like the first. I remember our, grm, hrm, first night. How you begged me to go harder-’ the speed accelerates, snarls growing more and more savage with every advance as behaviour, too, becomes wonderfully harsher, ‘rough you up. All the while acting like an innocent doe, turning me on. Mewling, pinned to the bed, forced to take me. God, I love it when you’re like that. Helpless. Powerless. Submissive.’

Every word is accentuated by an animalistic thrust, a sweet kiss on the side of the neck contrasting with the teeth leaving behind plum marks of possession at equal intervals. A low rumble of delight at platinum locks being pulled on vibrates in the buff chest lovingly keeping the spine against the wall, rejoicing in the flowing waterfall of mere meek noises.

Exactly as we were during the first night.

Loving now as we had before.

Honestly.

Snarling sweet nothings against skin while erasing every thought in the chase for the satisfaction of primal desire. When tears of analyzed sadness turned into those of unadulterated pleasure. ‘Crying as you take my cock deep inside that dripping little pussy.’

‘Cha- Chanyeol-’ There are no words to break through the haze of bittersweet nostalgia, leaving the sentence unfinished. It does not matter for all focus is turned towards reaching temporary enlightenment as fast as possible in the most savage manner.

‘Cum on that cock, baby. Cream that fucking cock.’

Any sense of resistance that somehow managed to linger, loathing Logic deeming the act wrong in every aspect and begging for liberation, is erased in an instant as the command is pressed onto firm lips.

It is wonderful.

Incredibly gorgeous.

Having Chanyeol wrap his storytelling palm around the throat once more as the other presses bodies together until there cannot possibly be any distance left. Wolfish grunts fall from cushiony lips, chanting maddening “mine, mine, mine”s, while sprinting during the final bit of the primitive race, soon reaching the white light found between shivering thighs.

Who are crying silently in a paradoxical mixture that cannot be kept alive consisting of sensual delight, heartbroken self-hatred and rage directed towards loved pale locks.

Tears to, fortunately, be noticed once reason returns enough to no longer be under the influence of the desirable beast beneath the skin. Henceforth, it is the incredible author who affectionately wipes away the droplets running over the cheeks as onyx irises soften in comprehension of pain. ‘Hey, don’t cry, Y/N. Remember what I promised you?’

A head shake shows ignorance because there have been a great number of promises until now, which is acknowledged by the low chuckle that never fails to allow the usual guard to be let down and now disrupts the quiet panting betraying a sliver of glad exhaustion. The simple sound never fails to make the chest puff a little in pride and veins to bask in a loving warmth, even after being frozen in place without hopes of crumbling thanks to the vivid rumours floating around the office. ‘I know I have promised you a lot, but one thing is that I’d never make you cry because I’d never dare to break your heart. I genuinely love you, seriously am head over heels for you. Can you believe me when I say that?’

It is hard to respond negatively when bodies are still one and foolishly trusted palms envelop the cheeks, resulting in wavering speech on the verge of cracking. Withal, a little bit of strength is gathered from the tight grip on defined biceps engraved with ink. ‘I wa- want to, but... the gossip...’

‘Listen.’ A long tender kiss muffles the sobs aching to be released alongside the gasp at the sudden hollow feeling when the physical spell is lifted. Another one asks for focus on talking things over instead of paying attention on the faint sound of liquid dripping onto the hallway tiles. ‘You crying makes me want to cry because it hurts me to see you like this. It really does, babe. And people will always talk, but, perhaps, it might help if we go public? I have an interview soon.’

‘People will think I’m only dating you for your money.’ No matter if a statement will be made, the way of thought lies outside the influence of words. Authors know this first and foremost for each sentence that is penned down fails to fully convey what might be going on in vivid imagination and thus fails to be entirely understood.

A bittersweet smile tugs on the corners of the mouth as messy snow white locks fall obscure the sight of lips drawn into a stern line speaking melancholically, mocking oneself. ‘I wouldn’t mind if you’d do.’

With more fierceness than expected, an answer to the rhetorical assumption bursts from a panicked mouth uncensored, clutching the soft fabric of clothes as if not doing so will induce an unbridgeable abyss. ‘But I don’t!’

‘I know that, Y/N. I know.’ Thumbs start to caress the sides of the face, somberly smoothing the anxious sorrow in self-reflection. ‘You know I hate losing, be it games or bets, but- but I- I-‘ Breaths grow short as tears start to brim in the corner of beautiful almond-shaped eyes. Hands fall away from the cheeks to wrap around the middle, the waist caught in a sturdy grip. Foreheads rest against each other and the arms of a claimed mistress wrap around the neck, fingertips playing with the pale strands at the back. ‘I would scorn myself if I’d lose you.’

‘You’ll lose readers if we go public.’ After all, not everyone enjoys a real life romance and certainly not those imagining one individual as their partner while he is, in truth, already faithfully bonded to another woman.

‘Doesn’t matter, I don’t care. If they’re true fans, they’ll be happy for us.’ Chanyeol’s voice has renovated its ocean deep steadiness, tiny lights appearing out of nowhere to illuminate a sudden bright cheery idea in a nightly gaze creating a bit of distance. ‘You know what? I’ll buy you a ring and a matching one for myself so everyone can see you’re mine.’ A palm shows itself from behind the small of the back to grab the left wrist and trace over the second-to-last digit. ‘To wear on this finger.’

‘You’d do that?’

‘Yes.’ The breathless chuckle is strangely melancholic yet delighted, the curious combination taking over demeanour entirely. ‘Yes, of course. Anything to keep you with me.’ The mere embrace suddenly turns into an inescapable hug, broad shoulders blocking out the world that wants to be temporarily forgotten. ‘I want you with me, only you. Please, stay with me. Here.’ The nose often kissed in the morning or cheekily out of sight of the publishing house staff nuzzles the side of the neck, whispering against the warm skin. ‘I want you to move in.’

‘Is that a wish or a command? I’m my own person, you know?’ The weak attempt at humour is seemingly appreciated, Chan tangibly chuckling before sighing in relief when being kissed on the top of the head.

‘There she is, there’s my good clever girl.’ Foreheads come to rest against each other once more in the air scented by whatever remains of dinner, perspiration and our perfumes combined, creating a weird musky howbeit fruity undertone. The chin is lifted by a curled finger after calmly being put to rest against the wall instead of being fully at the mercy of the writer’s engraved arms. ‘But you know very well what I mean, young lady.’

‘I do,’ fingertips bashfully run over the side of the storyteller’s neck, leaving behind a growling trail of anticipating goosebumps before rising to comb through pale strands, ‘sir.’

‘Don’t.’

A peck.

‘Tease.’

A kiss.

‘Me like that.’

Lip caught between teeth.

And freed once having clearly asserted dominance. ‘I’m yours.’ Although the inquiring peck on the cheek does not partake in the sensual teasing but is severe in character. ‘And you’re mine?’

Catching on to the need for credibility, the erotic novelist acknowledges it while sweetly yet sincerely murmuring. ‘Entirely yours. Not just in stories or audios, in real life as well. As long as possible, until we no longer breathe. This I promise.’

And thus this part of our tale ends, the fragment of the middle part leading to the end.

Of that which ink cannot fully capture on paper, in sounds or on skin.

Withal, it is not necessary because we have each other for inspiration and retellings.

Musing.

In love.

In medias res.

#ksmutclub #EXO #EXO smut #EXO x Reader #Chanyeol #Park Chanyeol #LOEY

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