#been a hot second since I drew something outside of work

[gatoiberico]

recently played skyward sword and OOF it's so damn good

prints | also playthrough on my gaming channel!!

#zelda #skyward sword #art #artists on tumblr #digital art #been a hot second since I drew something outside of work #I love when you get so obsessed with media that it rekindles your motivation to do stuff again #also I haven't even uttered a sentence in the tags for like #eons #hope y'all are doing well!! #elgatoiberico #also who is gaming channel #if you do happen to venture there I hope you enjoy bread and cheese dfghgd

[moonsgemini]

american heartbreak - i

summary: all June Summers wants is to be Rafe Cameron’s date to the county fair dance. Everyone from town would be there and she was tired of going alone. She was tired of watching him dance with other women, tired of waiting around for him.

warnings: cowboy!rafe x oc (minimal to no oc description, mutual pining, angst, fluff

wc: 2.7k

an: I hope you guys enjoy! I love cowboy rafe. I also just love writing au’s there’s so much more room for creative freedom. I basically just use rafe as a face claim bc drew starkey is a literal greek god.

series masterlist

The sound of June’s boots as she paced back and forth behind the counter were beginning to drive Amber crazy. She was trimming tulips to make a new bouquet but she could barely concentrate when the her coworker was an anxious mess. The soft sound of music wasn’t enough to drown out the clacking of boots against wood. June bit her fingernails anxiously, her stare not leaving the floor as she was lost in thought.

“June I swear I’m going to kill you if you don’t relax,” She scolded the girl who stopped abruptly.

She smiled sheepishly, “I’m sorry, I just am really nervous. What if he like laughs at me or something?”

Amber rolled her eyes, “That boy would never laugh at you.”

“You never know. What if he like thinks I’m crazy or worse never speaks to me again after he rejects me because he feels so bad!” She exclaimed dramatically.

“How do you even sleep at night with all this worrying?”

“I don’t get much of it.”

All week June had been practicing over and over in her head how she would ask her lifelong crush, Rafe, to the county fair. At the end of the night there would be a dance that the whole town went to. It was a big deal around here, and going with a date was a big deal. Every year there would be some new surprising couple that would be the talk of the town for the next few weeks before some new gossip spread. June had been pining over Rafe Cameron like a love sick puppy since they were eleven years old when boys started becoming cute and not gross anymore.

She had planned on asking him when he came in this afternoon. Rafe always came in on thursday evenings after practice to buy a fresh bouquet of flowers to take to his mom’s grave. A tradition he started in high school, the day before the rodeo, he’d go visit his mom. To this day he swore she was his goodluck charm. When June started working at the flower shop at sixteen she was ecstatic to have another excuse to see Rafe.

She glanced at the clock on the wall and her palms started sweating, it was six now which meant he was out of practice by now. June decided to make herself busy in the mean time to occupy her jittery fingers.

Rafe parked outside the small flower shop and let out a sigh of relief. Being at the flower shop on meant it was the end of his practice week and now he just had to worry about riding. It also meant he got to visit his favorite girl, and he wasn’t talking about his mom.

He looked into his rearview mirror of his old pick up truck and adjusted his hat. Checking himself to make sure he didn’t have any dirt or muck on his face. He got out of his truck making long strides towards the door. As he entered that all too familiar bell jingled alerting June and Amber or his presence. The smell of fresh flowers over took his senses, as well as the presence of his favorite flower girl.

June looked up from where she was picking the leaves off of the carnation stems. Her eyes widening for a second, her face beginning to feel hot as she smiled shyly at him. Suddenly any ounce of confidence she had to ask him about the dance left her body. That smirk he always wore turning her into a pile of mush. She’s surprised her legs were still holding her up as he walked over to the counter.

“Hi Rafe,” She said softly. Amber smiled to herself as she watched them interact. She sneakily walked into the back room to give them some privacy. It was a little routine she did whenever Rafe came in.

“Hi sweetheart, whatcha got today for me?” He asked resting his palms against the counter supporting his weight as he leaned towards her.

He was such a natural flirt. She could barely look him in the eyes most of the time, “we just got a bunch of beautiful tulips in so I made you a bouquet of purple ones with some baby’s breath,” June walked over to the one of the bucked holding an abundance of bouquets, “I also put a few daisy’s to add a bit more to it.”

She showed him the bouquet proudly. A wide smile spreading across his face, “That is beautiful. You’re so good. Mom will love them.”

June knew Rafe’s mom. She cared for everyone in town like they were all her family. Whenever June would be over at their house hanging out with Sarah she would make them food, always let them ride horses. When they were really young she’d let them play in the rain and get all muddy, when other mom’s in town would scold her for letting the kids look like a mess. She was the sweetest woman.

“Always the best for her,” She fidgeted with her hands nervously. If he knew the effect he had on her he’d be too powerful.

He pulled out his wallet and handed her a twenty. Since he was their best customer she never charged him more than that. Clueless Rafe just thought that was how much each bouquet was, “Am I seeing you tomorrow at the rodeo?”

She nodded, “Of course. I might help out Mrs.Mayfield sell raffle tickets.”

“Always the helpful one. I better see you at the Rooster after,” He pointed at her scolding playfully. Roosters was one of the local bars everyone went out to.

June laughed softly, “Maybe, I doubt you’d even notice if I wasn’t there.”

“Darlin I always notice when you’re not around,” He smirked, “I better get going to see mom.”

“Goodluck tomorrow Rafe,” She smiled with a small wave as he began walking out.

He tipped his hat at her with that cute lopsided smile on his lips, “I’ll see you tomorrow Ms.Summers.”

June watched him walk out to his truck, a dumb love struck smile on her face. That crush she’s had on him since second grade was never going away.

“You chicken.”

She jumped and reached to clutch her chest, “Oh my god you scared me.” She scolded her friend.

Amber had her arms crossed leaning against the doorway to the back, “You didn’t ask him!”

“I couldn’t! My brain got all blurry. I-I just can’t handle the thought of rejection. Especially not from him.”

“Did you not hear everything he said to you?” She walked over standing in front of June, “He practically was begging you to go tomorrow. Verbatim said ‘I always notice when you’re not around’ um hello?”

June shrugged, “He’s just being nice, that’s just Rafe.”

Amber stared at her with a deadpan expression, “I wish I could put you in a choke hold right now.”

She rolled her eyes, “I’ll try to ask him tomorrow after the rodeo.”

“I’m sure you will. But we’re definitely going out after,” She smiled.

-

June and Amber had been friends since they were in diapers. Their moms being best friends themselves it was almost a given that their two daughters would be just as close. After they graduated high school they took all the money they had saved up and rented a cute little house in town. Now they were working on buying out Mr.Robertson for his flower shop. They had been working in it since they were fifteen and they wanted it to be their’s. Mr.Roberston kindly offered to sell it to them since he was getting too old to take care of it himself and once he sold it he’d move to Florida with his daughter.

The girls were close to buying it, needing a few more months to get the rest of the money. Most people wanted to move out of the small town they were born in but that wasn’t June or Amber. June liked it there, she liked the familiarity and the comfort it brought. She liked her life here, she liked living with her best friend and working with her too. She liked being five minutes away from her parents. June felt lucky to be where she was and have the people she had in her life.

After closing they had stopped by the grocery store to pick up stuff for dinner. Now headed home in June’s dad’s old mustang they enjoyed the cool summer afternoon breeze and listened to their favorite artist, Taylor Swift. June felt like she had the perfect life. The only thing she longed for was someone to be by her side. Of course she had Amber but she wanted a romantic relationship. She wanted someone who could hold her at night and take her out on dates.

It’s not like she hadn’t tried to get a boyfriend. June had gone on a few dates but they never ended well. She was seeing Liam, a local mechanic, for a month but then she saw him flirting and kiss another girl at Rooster’s. After that she went on a date with a local bull rider, one of Rafe’s teammates, but he never called her after the night was over. June thought it was because she didn’t put out on the first date. She doesn’t know that it was because Rafe cornered the guy and threatened him. Told him if he ever went out with you again he’d tie him to his truck and drag him across town.

Amber had her own boyfriend, James, who was friends with Rafe. They worked together on the Cameron farm and occasionally helped coach Rafe. June has refused his attempts to set her up with Rafe more times than she could count. James moved to town a few years ago after he heard that the Cameron’s were looking for another ranch hand.

“Wanna invite Sarah for dinner?” Amber asked as they carried the groceries into the house.

June shrugged, “Sure, we haven’t seen her since she left for Charleston.”

“I’ll call her, can you get started on the potatoes please,” Amber said as she started dialing Sarah.

“yeah yeah,” June rolled her eyes playfully as she unpacked the grocery bags.

The three girls were all friends in school and Sarah ended up moving to North Carolina for college once they graduated. They managed to stay as close as possible with the distance. Sarah is Rafe’s sister and of course she knew of June’s infatuation with her older brother. Sarah wanted them to end up together, always talked about how perfect it would be to have her as a sister in law.

When they were younger and June would go to Sarah’s house she always prayed she’d run into Rafe. Occasionally she would but he was the same old Rafe back then. Would make slightly flirty comments towards her making her flustered and making her crush on him grow.

-

The girls sat around the dining table laughing at old stories from their childhood. Every time they got together it felt like they were fifteen again sneaking alcohol from Ward’s liquor cabinet and turning into a fit of tipsy giggles.

“And then Rafe came out from the barn and June practically jumped on him she was so excited to see him,” Sarah laughed tilting her head back.

June covered her embarrassed face at the memory, “Oh god! I forgot about that.”

“That was the closest you’ve gotten to him like ever,” Amber added, “You need to drink tequila again.”

“That will probably be the closest I get to him ever,” She said a hint of sadness in her voice.

“June you should just ask him out yourself. Forget all that old fashioned stuff. My brother would never be mean to you.”

June took a sip of her wine, “I know he wouldn’t be mean but it’s the rejection that turns me away. He could have anyone why would he want me. He also is always out with some other girl. She’s usually a lot prettier than me.”

“June Summers you know I don’t tolerate that negative talk in our house,” Amber scolded, “You are beautiful and he would be lucky to have someone like you. I also highly doubt he’d reject you.”

She smiled at her, “And how do you know that?”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “Because he’s like practically in love with you! He doesn’t great other girls the way he treats you. He also looks at you different.”

“Then why has he never asked me out! It just doesn’t make sense. I’d rather keep him as a friend than lose him completely.”

“I wish he didn’t have such a thick skull then maybe he’d have some sense,” Sarah stood grabbing the girls empty plates to take to the sink.

“Fallin off too many bulls in his life,” Amber giggled.

June stood to grab the bottle or wine to refill their glasses, “Oh I’m gonna head out soon. Rafe is picking me up on his way home from James’ and he texted me he’s on his way,” Sarah said beginning to wash the dishes.

“Come on so early?” Amber gave her puppy eyes.

She laughed, “Yes, I have an exam online in the morning I still need to study for. That masters won’t get itself ladies.”

“Speaking of James has Amber told you that she thinks he’s going to propose soon,” June smirked trying to forget about the fact that Rafe was coming to her house soon.

“Shut up!” Sarah exclaimed.

“I know! He’s been so suspicious lately! He’s been working a lot and he’s not so subtly asked me for my ring size last month. Then he went to the city last week but he didn’t want me to come because he said he was doing some boring errands for Ward,” Amber’s cheeks began hurting from smiling so much at the thought of her boyfriend, “But I don’t believe that for a second. I think he went to buy a ring.”

“Oh please get married soon! I want to be a bridesmaid,” Sarah said excitedly as she dried her hands. There was a knock on the door as she finished, “That’s me, go get the door June while I get my things together.” She smirked at her friend.

“I hate you guys,” She whisper shouted in case he could hear them. Amber practically pushed June to the door.

She took a deep breath fixing her hair a bit before opening the door. He stood looking the same as he did earlier that day, still just as handsome as before. He smiled as soon as he saw her, he was really hoping it’d be June answering the door.

“Hi Rafe,” She said softly. Her timid demeanor returning whenever she was around him, he made all her confidence vanish always.

“Hi sweetheart, how are you tonight?” He asked with that cute smile he always wore around her. For a second she pretended he was picking her up for their first date.

“I’m good, and you?” She asked politely still stuck in her daydream.

“Better now, is Sarah ready?” He asked breaking her from her fantasy. Truthfully Rafe didn’t want the conversation to end but he knew he was there for a reason.

“Uh yeah she’s just getting her things,” As if on cue Sarah showed up next to June.

“I’m ready,” She hugged June tightly, “I’ll see you tomorrow Juney.”

“Does that mean you’re going out tomorrow with everyone?” Rafe asked with a smirk, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“I guess so, can’t say no to this one,” She smiled nodding her head towards Sarah.

“I’m her favorite what can I say,” Sarah shrugged smirking, “Come on Rafe I gotta study.” She walked towards the truck leaving Rafe behind.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then June bug,” He tipped his hat at her like he always did before walking down the porch steps.

“Bye Rafe,” She waved and waved towards Sarah who was smiling at the pair from inside the truck.

June spent the night praying that the words Sarah said earlier that night were true. That Rafe somehow was in love with her. But she couldn’t help that voice that was always in the back of her head telling her how that could never be possible.

Maybe tomorrow she’d have some tequila.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fic #rafe obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe outer banks

[m0uchie]

𐙚 sweet relief

⟡ you thought that being new to Fontaine would make it a little difficult to adapt and you’d have trouble at making your business work. That’s why you’re surprised at how much people like your cafe, especially your sweets! But Fontaine (and you) can offer more flavours besides the ones you already know from your homeland!

— pairing : navia x f!reader

— warnings : NSFW; contains minor spoilers of Fontaine’s archon quest: “lies cast shadows under gathered lights” (idk if it’s right TT) at the beginning; cunnilingus; Navia is a bit possessive at the start; dom!Navia (?); she rubs herself on our legs and gets off, but I swear I don't have a feet kink ☹️; a bit rushed

— a/n : this one was originally going to be for a Navia & Furina rqst ("caught in the princess' bed"), but it ended up being too long and boring, so I changed it and saved the draft. I'm doing your requests, just too busy with uni

As the second president of Spina di Rosula, Navia has always kept an eye on the serial disappearances cases. She kept abreast of investigations if she took matters into her and the organization's hands rather than leaving it to the Gardes to solve it alone.

She said this herself after Lyney's planned big performance at the Opera House was ruined by another incident. And she was willing to help with the crime scene investigations to defend Lyney in what would later become a trial against Lady Furina.

Surely before this whole situation unfolded, she must have been very stressed about a lot of things. The weight of being the Boss was quite heavy, even though she and the organization received a lot of support. For this reason, when her head felt hot, she liked to go to her cafe.

She discovered about it long ago through some rumors. A new cafe in Fontaine, and is someone from outside? She just knew that she had to try her cooking! And maybe she could learn about it so she could make some of her recipes when she was away on a mission, if you allowed it of course. But after that day, she couldn't let go of you anymore. I mean… her desserts.

Passing through the facade, it was possible to see through the glass the variety of desserts inside the sweets counter, and your face with a silly smile as you prepared to open it. Navia would like to get to the point where she could be treated exclusively by you. She didn't know why, but maybe it wasn't just because she liked your presence, she wanted your attention to be directed only to her. And for that same reason she didn't let others accompany her when she was with you.

Your mind seems to be over the moon until you hear the front door bell ring, raising your head and being greeted by a cheerless Navia. She enters the cafe and goes straight to the front of the counter, face to face with you.

“You arrived early today. Did you wait too long?” Your brows drew together and your lips part in concern and curiosity. She’s usually a few minutes late…

Navia smiles and rests her elbow on the counter to place her chin over her right hand and approach your face, amused. “Oh? Were you worried about me?” You blush and your body retracts, turning your back to clean something that you had probably already cleaned long before opening the café.

“W-Worried? With what?" You laugh awkwardly and clear your throat. “Anyway, did you bring me anything today?” She laughs sweetly and nods in agreement.

Normally, you took care of the orders, Navia watched you make sweets, and she delivered the orders to the tables. You always said you didn't need it, but the counter wasn't too far from the tables since the cafe was small, and she wanted to help in some way. So, when there weren't many people and the service was about to close, you let Navia try some of your cooking. Or maybe just "try" could no longer be a word used, because she was at her cafe whenever she could to eat what you did.

In return, she brought you some delicacies from places she favored in Fontaine, and at the end of the day, the two of you ate your respective dishes.

In addition to sweets, you also sold some snacks and drinks, most of which you learned from your years growing up in Mondstadt. It was to be feared that you wouldn't have many customers due to the lack of flavors they were already familiar with, but somehow, your partner managed to promote your business to a large number of people, which made everything work well in the end, without much loss of customers.

You wouldn't complain about the number of people currently attending your establishment, after all, you know that you don't have much space for more than what the café already receives, not even the money for renovations and to employ more labor. However, this should not be an excuse for ignorance. Of course you wanted to learn more, you just didn't know where to start.

At that moment, you had just returned from the kitchen with a juice in hand. Navia was resting at one of the tables, waiting for you to try different drinks that you had prepared and planned to add to the menu, since the customers had already left the store one by one.

"What do you think of this one?" you carefully position the glass on the table and retract your hand, watching her reaction as she drinks the substance. "U-ugh... A bit too sweet..." she responds.

Your smile drops, a little disappointed in yourself, but Navia is ready to reassure you.

"C'mon... don't be like that, honey. Come to the kitchen and I'll help you try another recipe. Everything will be fine." She heads to the kitchen, helping you organize the materials to get started.

“What do I do first, Navia?” You turn to her, taking out the shopping she had made in the morning from inside the bags while looking at her hopefully. Little did she know that those hopeful eyes would soon become tired and downcast.

Navia dictated what you should do during the process.

But why couldn't you do it right?!

Now your face is covered in flour. A loud laugh escapes Navia, and you can't help but pout, narrowing your eyes as your face heats up and your eyes get glassy.

“You really-pfftt!! You can’t do anything” she points out.

“You can’t either!” You retort.

“Actually I can~” she smirks before you turn away with an “Hum!”

“We can learn together, how about that?” Navia holds your jaw open to push a rainbow macaroon into your mouth, her thumb brushing across your bottom lip, chuckling softly after wiping your red face.

“Don’t be sad~” you nod slowly, mouth full, trying hard to chew the dessert.

“Does it taste good?” She asks, low, velvety voice calming you as she approaches.

“Y-yea? I think so…-”

“Then let me taste it too…” you can feel her cool breath against yours from how close you are. The mood immediately changes and you can feel it in the air.

"U-umm... Navia-" your voice trembles as you try to speak.

"You look so tasty." she interrupts you, smiling knowingly despite the current situation. "You know... I've been stressed." she suddenly remarks when you try to call her name again. "It doesn't cost you anything to help me with this, since I've been helping you a lot too."

You swallow hard. "D-did something happen?" She gives you a brief peck in response, leaving you with goosebumps. "Nothing you need to know right now, just be good and help me, okay?" you nod your head, lips immediately taken by hers in a slow kiss, but hungry at the same level for hers. Her tongue tasting every corner of your mouth.

"Hmm~ it really tastes good, but I'm craving something sweeter." Her hands massage under your arms and belly, where the skin is most sensitive, making your chest rise and fall quickly, your heart racing from one second to the next.

"Oh? What's that poking through your shirt?" she teases, her fingers tracing a line just below your hard nipples. You gasp when you feel them being touched between her index and middle fingers, a playful expression on Navia's face as she squeezes them. "And no bra too. It looks like you want that."

She lowers herself between your legs, getting on her knees in front of you. Knees touching against the cold floor as she anxiously stripped you of your tight clothes.

Navia feels herself salivating at the sight of your wet pussy in front of her, licking her lips and getting closer. One hand kept playing with your breasts, a little distracted. And with the other she pushed your thigh to the side, which closed in shame just when you felt the blonde's breath on your slit.

"Keep them open for me, I wanna be able to see every part of you, pretty girl." your face goes red from embarrassment as she stares at you from below with those adorably blue eyes and lowers her head to get a taste of your juices, poking out her tongue and teasing your slit with the tip of the wet muscle. You let out a long whine and cover your face from embarrassment realizing how needy you seem to be.

"Hahh... How can this pussy be so sweet, darling?" she chuckles, finally diving in and making out with your hole, her voice muffled by her tongue going in and out of your cunt. Your breasts long forgotten now that she had your pussy all to herself, and she couldn't focus on anything other than that.

Her mouth opens wider to be able to suck you for entirely, covering her from face to chin with drool and a sweet, gooey substance that she licks proudly from her lips. You take a deep breath when she moves up to your clit and circles the red button, making her hum in acknowledgment and changing her focus to pleasure your clit with her mouth, her long fingers slowly replacing the space left between your tight walls, delicately touching the edges of your entrance and inserting the tip of two fingers little by little.

You barely noticed the way your hands were now firmly gripping the fabric of the dress on the blonde's shoulder, moaning helplessly and rolling your eyes when you felt the curve of her fingers deep inside you.

"You're loving it, aren't you? Never had anyone treat that pussy right? That should be a crime." she pouts teasingly, giving only kitten licks to your throbbing clit in between sentences. "You're so tight..." her fingers stretch and she hardens them to go as deep as she can (even though she already is) because she wants to slam them against your cervix, just the way you like. "But don't worry, we can fix this in time." you tilt your head to the side, without response as if the conversation had ended there.

Her tongue now enveloped you with pleasure again, not leaving your wet pussy alone. The grunts and groans she lets out as she sucks all your lewd juices out gives away how much she's into it. Tongue sliding up and down your cunny, her lips puffy and swollen from sucking so hard.

"You won't stop leaking~ mmmh..." she comments, despite the fact that she was practically drooling all over you, contributing to the mess in your core. Her fingers now had no use for your pleasure other than holding your trembling legs in place, nose rubbing against your bud as she went as deep as she could into your hole with her skilled tongue.

Her face was completely flushed despite how she carried herself. The tight clothes hiding the way she's soaking wet and horny, and the moans needy and loud, showing how she's clearly loving every minute of this.

Your vision becomes blurred with pleasure and you feel like you're daydreaming about reality, but it's not enough to hide Navia's minimal attempts to get off with your leg from your sight.

"Nn-ngh... Oh... Mmm." she softly whines, her hips trembling as she bends her body further to rub her cloth covered clit on your foot.

You stretch your legs more, and it's the last thing you can do sanely before you feel the knot in your belly undo and a hot liquid gush out, flooding Navia's mouth. She swallows what she can, but chokes on her own saliva when her high arrives along. Clothes now wet with sweat and your mixed essences as you breathed heavily.

She didn't move away from your sensitive core, still with her body pressed against your leg and hugging you with both hands as she laid her head on your lap without uttering a word. You'd think it was cute despite the situation. And your heart fluttered just thinking about the next time you'd taste sweets together when the café closed in the afternoon, and how much you could still learn from your new tutor.

#𝜗𝜚 [ m0uchie posts! ] #+18 content #divider by cafekitsune #navia caspar smut #navia smut #navia x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut

[cappincooks]

𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲.

pairing: highschool!jesse pinkman x fem!reader type: slight angst, fluff topics: smoking, mentions of depression, overdose, and drugs

overview: to your surprise (and slight horror,) you find jesse pinkman screaming his lungs away in the go-karting place you were working in.

the magazine you were reading wasn't really keeping you fully entertained, it was more so there to keep you occupied to pretend that time was going by faster at work. but you found yourself harshly flipping the pages, frustrated that the office fan kept blowing it back.

it was a long, slow day at the go-karting place you worked at. well to be fair, you couldn't expect a go-karting business to be booming. not everyone is in the mood for small fast car racing—they have real-world problems to be worrying about.

"FUUUUUUUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK SHIT BITCH! FUCK YOU! EAT SHIT AND DIE! YEAH BITCH!"

jesus. h. christ. what the hell was that?

wanting to investigate further, you slowly peek your head out of the office door. to your surprise, it was jesse pinkman? you knew he was a nutcase to some degree, but this is a whole other level.

you weren't a goody two-shoes, and you're certainly not about to poop on someone's party, but you also needed him to quiet the fuck down or else bye-bye job.

setting your eyes on your box of cigarettes, you decided to light some up before containing the wild animal.

"hey! pinkman! i know you're having a blast but tone it down a bit!"

coincidentally, he was slowing down since his session was up. he looked at you, and got out of the kart with his hands in his pockets; eyes glued to the floor.

he looked really distraught. sleep-deprived even? ...is he good?

blowing out the smoke from your cigarette, you called out to him. "pinkman?"

surprised he even stopped in response to you, you try to ask him if he was fine.

"yeah, yeah. im good. sorry about the uh," he looked back at his go-kart, "the screaming."

once he finally faced you, you could see his face more clearly now. his eyes were bloodshot red. his eyebags could not be darker and more purple. plus, he was really fidgety.

not really good with words, you extend out your hand, a box of cigarettes on your palm. "you wanna smoke one... or two with me?"

-

"are you high out of your mind right now?" you mindlessly asked. remembering that you could be too direct at times, you apologized just as quick. "oh shit, sorry. i didn't mean to ask you that. well i did, but i didn't mean for it to be so straightforward."

jesse chuckled as he blew out the smoke from his nose.

to be frank, you were taken aback. the guy you're silently hanging out with right now is different from the jesse pinkman you knew when you see him in the high school hallways, or when he's smoking with badger and skinny pete behind the school.

"honestly yeah. im high as fuck out of mind right now. my life's just in the shitter hole. always has been." his eye twitches.

relating, you nod your head in approval. "oh yeah, amen dude. welcome to the club. my life has been a giant turd swirling around in an unflushed toilet for the past.. 2 years now?"

"jesus. that's one way to describe it."

"well someone's trying to be funny, mr. i-scream-my-lungs-out-in-a-go-kart-at-9-pm?" the both of you chuckled at your remark.

-

your neck was getting really sweaty since you guys were smoking outside, so you decided to put your hair up in a ponytail. minding your own business for a hot second, you didn't realize that jesse was looking at you.

"is the view good?" you were trying to lighten the atmosphere up a bit. to be honest, even though jesse was pretty easygoing, you always sensed something darker and heavier going on in his mind.

no response other than him quickly turning his head away from you, and a small 'sorry'.

you didn't really know why you cared a bit for him. it's not like you had a crush on him or something, but something always drew you to him, even at school. you never got the chance to talk to him though. well- until now.

fidgeting with your dangling earrings, you wondered if he remembered you from school so you asked him just that.

"hm." he made a sound, rather than actually answering. "yeah i guess i do. i see you around school, but that's about it. can i have another one?"

"for sure." you handed him another stick. "so more or less strangers, huh?"

he took a hit and nodded his head in response.

"you mind telling me the story behind all the uh, all the screaming back there? figured it's easier to tell me since we're strangers and everything."

you tried to steal a glance at his side, he seems calmer now.

"right on. well, my parents are fucking bitches man. they keep telling me to go to college and shit, but i just want to get high and live my life. they, they think that," he pauses to sarcastically laugh, "they really think they own me. bunch of pussies."

you sat, listening to him rant. it was pretty satisfying, actually.

"god! fucking assholes wanting to have a 'perfect family', well surprise!" jesse immediately stands up and holds his crotch which was, unfortunately, lined up right at your face. "you can suck THIS!!! perfect family my ass."

"okay, okay sit back down mister. you're not about to go hysterical again on my watch. plus, i don't really like someone's dick in front of my face- i save it til the second date." you patted the seat next to you. "though i get it, truly. parents are a bunch of assholes, AND college too. just because they get to finish college doesn't mean shit. they're not better than you."

"exactly! at least someone gets me. and it's not just that, they've always treated me like i'm some problem dog. they frustrate me so fucking much it's not even funny." you noticed jesse fidgeting with his fingers as he sat back down. "i would really kill for some weed right now though." his knees bouncing up and down, jesse staring at you as if you really packed grass for your lunch at work.

"how'd you know i have weed?"

"i guess we're not total strangers after all." he winked.

you were for sure enjoying his company, and you didn't mind spending a few more hours with him so you offered some back at your place instead. he agreed and waited for you to close up the go-karting place.

-

"so, this is me." the door creaked, revealing a dim living room.

"where your folks at?" jesse whispered, frantically searching for your parents.

you chuckled, "sleeping. come on, quietly."

as you guys reached your bedroom, past the creaking staircase, jesse shut your door slowly. raising his eyebrows and eyes scanning around your poster-filled room he asked, "yo, are you sure they won't get mad?"

you fixed your bed (putting shit in their respective piles), "they've caught me doing worse. we just have to keep quiet, and we're gold." you shrugged.

"right on."

"get comfy, i'll roll some up for us."

-

both of you were lying back first on your bed. it doesn't have enough space for the both of you, but you made do. you held that position for a good 5 minutes, enjoying the calm silence. though you decided to have some kind of fun, so you blew smoke on his face.

"you doing good over there, buddy?" you laughed heartily, looking at his profile.

he kinda looked good. well, he was coughing up since you blew some smoke in his face, but he still looked fine as hell. you guessed you just never noticed that til now. you gulped, trying to push this thought down, and fixed your eyes back at the ceiling.

chuckling and lightly nudging your body, jesse replied, "jerk." he propped up his pillow, and put his arm behind his head, exhaling slowly. "you have good ones, let me tell you that."

"glad you think so. about time i enjoyed them with someone." you admitted.

"you don't have anyone to bring over?" you shook your head. "ever?" you shook your head again. "i don't buy it yo. no way. you're like cool to hang out with, there's no way you don't have friends."

"that's just the truth. used to it by now. to be honest," you took another hit. "same time last year, or a little bit over a year ago maybe? i was losing my mind, and i mean losing my damn mind. i didn't care if my blood had too much alcohol in it, if i was overdosing, or high out of my fucking mind that i was close to touching jesus' clothes. i just wanted to-"

"die?"

you look towards jesse's direction. you see him already staring at you with wide, sympathetic but understanding eyes. like he knew exactly what you felt, down to a t.

not really used to personal attention, you remove your eyes from his and agreed. "yeah... die. one thing led to another, and now i'm doing better. at least, not worse." you finished off your little trauma dump.

it was a good thing that jesse understood. he understood that silence is better than empty, comforting words. what both of you have endured is way past words of encouragement.

from the ceiling, your eyes then trailed towards the window next to your bed, admiring the chilling night sky, the stars; then the moon. you were startled when something cold touched your pinky finger. slowly looking down, you see pinkman's pinky shakily making contact with yours. as if he wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do.

you wrapped your pinky around his as a go signal, jesse then finally held your hand. you heard a loud exhale from him like he was holding his breath for a while.

looking up to get a better view of jesse's face, you saw him still staring at your bedroom ceiling. all that direct, heartstopping eye contact earlier, and not even once when it counts. you lightly smiled and stared at the ceiling with him. both of you holding each other's hands in one hand, and holding joints in the other.

#breaking bad #brba #breaking bad jesse pinkman #breaking bad jesse #jesse pinkman #jesse pinkman oneshot #jesse pinkman fanfic #jesse pinkman x reader #brba imagines #brba x reader #brba jesse

[skelly-words]

Help me with the title-

Sorry sorry sorry, ik 99% of my followers are here for my smut and i have a few asks to do, but... i'm not in the mood to write porn, so have my favorite OC work ever that's deeply personal and revealing instead.

wc-4.6k

I didn’t know why my Mom picked for us to move to the country when I was little, but there wasn’t much I could do to prevent it. It wasn’t farm country or ranch country, just the red dirt of the California desert. The house we lived in simmered on the hot rock. Then, when fall started, the Santa Ana winds would kick up dust and wildfires all over the place. My mom and I conceded to the cacti, coyotes, and wildfires for the low rent (only comparatively when living in California). I fell for the land as quickly as I adjusted to wearing shoes. The backyard could’ve been as small as my mom’s garden or as large as the sparse woods that stretched up and down the road for miles. The neighbors were few and far between, and they fenced off anything they wanted to keep to themselves. It was expansive, so I felt free.

We moved away from the suffocation of the big city, almost running from the snow and smog that the clogged highways always seemed to be blanketed in. I had to leave school halfway through the second grade and the cross-country trek was inconvenient, but anything was an improvement from Chicago. Mom missed the city but substituted with LA, making the three-hour drive with a few friends whenever they could get time off work or had a weekend free. She never tended to me much, not as a second-grader, and not when I got older either. I’d been able to read since before I could remember and my mom figured I could take care of myself if I could sound out the instructions on the back of a frozen pizza box or the fire extinguisher. 

Mom would kiss my forehead before she left and mumble something like, “Don’t let anybody in while I’m gone.” She’d always be back to get ready for work on Monday, even if that meant coming home at two in the morning. I don’t know how she expected me to know the difference between her opening the front door in the middle of the night and a murderer doing the same. I missed having her kiss me goodnight too, but I mostly stayed up to listen for her footsteps, making sure it was the sound of her heels that echoed through the quiet house.

Her plans always varied, sometimes coming home late on Saturday or rolling in as I made absurdly chocolatey milk to put in my cereal while watching Sunday morning cartoons. She’d sleep whatever was leftover of the weekend, making up for both of us.

On other weekends, we’d run errands together. I liked to loiter around the perfume counter at Macy’s while she tried on pants. Errands weren’t always clothes shopping, it was also groceries, gas, car wash, toiletries, cleaning products, a book for me from the library, and a new screen for the kitchen window. When I wasn’t in school, this was the only time I would come into town. I spent most of my time at home in the backyard or reading if the weather was particularly bad. The local library was still twelve miles away, but they also sold lightly damaged or old books for a quarter. Mom let me pick up new reading material whenever I ran out; something Nancy Drew, Encyclopedia Brown (if I could find any), and an almanac with lots of illustrations about whatever looked the most interesting. I cut myself off at three books so I could leave something good for the next kid.

Everybody read in the summer. Schools, libraries, parents, youth clubs, and ice cream parlors all offered incentives to get kids to read over the break. The library bookstore would be picked clean of anything worth reading and I’d spend more time outside that week.

Directly behind my house were live oak trees, gopher snakes, native foliage that mom called weeds, and a creek. The creek was sunken into a valley and spanned a little over five feet in width. Down in the gully, on my side of the stream, a headstone pretended it wasn’t out of place. It was tilted casually against a tree, but anyone could tell it didn’t fit in. There wasn’t even a name on it. For a few years, I went down to visit and place dandelions that popped up in my mom’s garden at the base of the cross. I suspected the family before us had planted a dead cat or dog there. The grave wasn’t new, but it wasn’t that old either. The ground dipped a little and that’s how I knew something was really under there. Leaves would collect in the basin, and I’d try to push them out without getting thorns in my fingers. In the winter, I’d fill them back in like they’d keep the guest warm. The awkward, blocky headstone and hastily dug ditch felt too innocuous for a final resting place, so I treated the grave as any gracious host would.

I cleaned the headstone too, to add to the ritual. It felt nice to care for the marble with a bit of dish soap and water after the rain flooded the creek. It widened a little each year whenever the tropical storms finally blew us a little rain at the beginning of fall. The warm equator water was always a little more than the parched soil could handle, and the banks would inch out. 

My mom and I had neighbors behind us. The waterway is what drew the separation between the two properties. I spent most of my free time at that junction, especially when the four walls started to feel more like a solar oven than home. Cool air tended to fill up around the water; most of which trickled down from the mountains as snow melted in spring. Wiry oak trees popped up around the swampy banks, building little dams and bridges with fallen twigs. The summer before middle school, I met the neighbors’ daughter. By then, I didn’t care about the headstone. Things died, probably someone’s pet a decade ago.

But the neighbors’ daughter was my first friend. She was a year younger than me, so I got to feel like I knew a lot more than she did. I’d show her how to cross the creek without falling in and she’d just stare like I was Jesus; walking on water. She was sweet and simple-minded, and I liked having the company and someone to share the woods with. Since that summer was my first time meeting her, I figured she didn’t get out much. Her skittish temperament reminded me of the squirrels that watched us play from between tree branches. It made me want to hold her close and push her out of the nest at the same time. We quickly became close. It happens that way when there’s nobody else your age within a twelve-mile radius.

Around mid-June, she started taking off her shoes to wade into the creek with me and we talked while watching the minnows navigate around our legs. She thought I knew everything, so I acted like I did. She asked me once about dying, so I offered to show her the headstone. It wasn’t hidden, but the dusty marble blended better into nature when I didn’t bother to clean it up.

“Who did you bury here?” She asked.

“Dad,” I answered her without thinking. “Uh, some of his ashes anyway.” That was the truth. But my dad practiced family law and lived back in Chicago. Mom prayed every night that he would become part of that city’s startling crime statistics. I figured he was just as well off buried in the backyard.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.

“Thank you.” This was my first time having a family member die. I didn’t know what to do, so I let my eyes water until it looked like I was crying. She helped me pick sourgrass and buckwheat flowers to decorate the grave. Whenever my dad did die, I knew I’d need her then too.

-

The house was way outside of town. It was fifteen minutes to the nearest gas station, which is what got her in trouble the most. As far as I could tell, that was the only reason to resent the distance. I met the neighbors’ daughter in the valley almost every day of summer. We’d walk down the creek until our feet were sweaty, then carry our shoes and shuffle back against the weak current. The path got tired and overbeaten, but it didn’t matter when every day felt fresh.

On the longest day of the year, we stayed out later than usual. The sun had set and it was nearing nine. The sky still had a bit of light in it, from the stars, moon, and summertime sun that never seemed to fade completely. Chicago skies weren’t cut out for stargazing. Holes would have to be punched through the layers of dense air and light pollution before anything besides the largest suns was visible. I could see the smallest points of light from here, stars that were lifetimes away or beginning to dim and burn out. They were beautiful.

July nights were so hot I couldn’t sleep with the sheets on. Even outside, when we were lying on the prickly leaves, I could feel the residual warmth radiating off the ground. The mosquitos drove us insane, but she stayed out to watch me point out imaginary constellations. I knew Orion and the Big Dipper, but after that, they were just lights to me. 

“I’m scared to walk home alone,” she said. I think she only admitted that because I couldn’t see her face. By then, I could tell when she was scared, which was almost always, but she didn’t want to seem like a crybaby. I’d see her brow furrow whenever I’d hand her the knife to gut a fish or push her to climb the tallest tree in the woods with me, and that meant she was afraid. If I had felt meaner, I might’ve made her stumble home in the dark by herself. But it was warm and I was so fond of July that the extra walk felt worth it. 

We tripped out of the gully, and I kept her hand safe in mine until we got on flat ground. The back porch light was left on for her. I could tell that they were the cozy type. My feelings were almost hurt by the homemade wind chimes that hung lackadaisically along with the solar-powered fairy lights. She toed her sneakers onto the shoe rack and waved goodbye to me from the sunflower doormat. I brushed her off with a nod as I disappeared into the woods to go back home. 

-

I could recognize the smell of a dead animal by now. Every time a bloated fish washed downstream or a rabbit carcass was left shredded by coyotes, the smell of death became a little more familiar. It was sweet and acidic like rotten fruit but flat and earthy like fresh mud. Dead skunk was worse because the signature odor accompanied the putrification. I went down to the creek earlier than usual. The sunrise woke me up early, and the morning mist had already cooked off of the water. I followed the smell downstream to a freshly dead skunk, partially covered by dried foxtails. I was fascinated by the carcass; both the specimen itself and the process of decomposition. The maggots were eating at it now, stirring up the fur and guts. From a distance, the shifting skin made the animal look like it was still alive, twitching and squirming on the ground. 

The smell was bad, almost as hard to breathe around as it was to look at. I picked up a sturdy stick from the ground and crouched to level with the animal. My eyes watered from the smell, so I lifted my t-shirt neckline over the bridge of my nose.

“How can you do that?” She was referring to how I gingerly nudged the bloated belly with a forked stick. She took a step back when the skunk’s writhing face rolled in her direction.

“It’s the circle of life. The skunk dies and serves as food for fly larvae and scavengers.”

“But why do you have to poke at it?” She stepped back further as I kept nudging the skunk further along.

“This’ll be us one day.” I figured flies couldn’t lay eggs on my body if I was buried, but some larvae or another would be breaking me back to carbon.

“Is it because of your dad?”

“What?”

“Are you like this because your dad died?” she asked. I had forgotten this small fact and realized she wasn’t insinuating my father skipped out on the family because of me. I didn’t know if that was any better and considered if my feelings should still be hurt.

“Yeah, it made me all spooky.”

“No.” She shook her head, more so at the way I pushed the skunk again. “I meant about how you’re so obsessed with death.”

“So, what? It’s interesting and spooky.” I vaguely reminded myself that I didn’t have any reason to be defending myself, but I had a point to finish. “What do you remember from before you were born?” I had to stop shoving the skunk because she would’ve ended up in the water with another step back.

She thought about it for a while until she knew the answer and then longer so she could find a way to avoid saying it. She saw my point without me having to say it.

“And that’s exactly what it’ll be like after we die,” I finished. “The decomposition is just getting rid of what’s left behind. This is just some meat that the maggots are munching on.” I shoved the skunk a little more and she didn’t back away. This was the part where she got my point and picked up a stick to poke at it too. I lifted a long, slender switch and handed it to her.

“If you’re sure.” She said it in a sing-songy way that let me know I was wrong. At least she took the stick from me and nudged the skunk back. “But my parents had me baptized, so I’ll go to heaven when I die.”

I didn’t really care if she thought she was going to heaven or not as we shoved the skunk onto an anthill. It left a little snail trail in some parts of the ground and the smell got a lot worse, but the ants would help uncover the skeleton quicker.

“Skunks don’t do baptism,” I said.

“So it’s just meat and maggots.” She still grimaced at the grossness as she said this, not totally convinced. Some of the ants had already started to crawl around to survey the skunk.

“And when it’s just bones, we’ll have something interesting to do.”

-

It was two weeks until summer ended, not in the fall equinox sense, but school would be starting. Pencils and notebooks had begun populating malls and outlets midway through break, but the need to complete summer felt more frantic. For me, it was the last year before a milestone. My coming of age, which if I didn’t fulfill, would make me subject to be rumored as a late bloomer. The skunk skeleton had been worth looking forward to, but something picked it up after a couple of nights. I didn’t think anything other than bugs would go for something that rotten, but the skunk was gone.

“I think I saw a dead rat a quarter mile down, yesterday.” I was consoling myself while the neighbors’ daughter precariously crossed over to my side of the creek.

“It’s a good thing the skunk’s gone.” I shot her a glare, so she corrected. “I don’t think the bones would’ve been clean by the rainy season.” She spat in the water to finish her point and made a final leap to solid ground.

“I wonder if we went to the same elementary together this whole time?” I sat in the dirt to dig through my backpack and she followed me to do the same. We were fishing today, even though there was never anything to catch. Most of the fun was in make-believing that a goblin shark could snag our line at any moment. Our backpacks matched, a coincidence, and we packed sandwiches and cold lemonade so we could stay out all day. 

“I go to West Lake,” she said. 

“Nah I went to South Oak, but you should come to Washington Middle next year with me.” I kept my tackle in a small travel jewelry box. It was leather-wrapped and about the size of my palm with a few pillowy slots for rings and small compartments to keep the other pieces from tangling together. I kept hooks and lures where the rings were meant to go and filled the compartments with an assortment of vibrantly colored trout bait. It fit perfectly in my back pocket with my fishing rod in the other.

She got her fishing rod out too. We’d made them by tying a line around the middle of a stick. A five-minute walk upstream took us to our favorite lagoon. The waterway widened and deepened to be the only place with decent-sized fish. A tree was tipped over for us, knocked into the mud. We sat on the bridge, letting the fishing line run downstream through our middle fingers; current pulling our flashy lures until it ran out. The line stayed taught from the pull of the current and I could catch flashes of the lure as it spun beneath the surface. The water made my mind go limp. I stared ahead with my hands in my lap. I’d lost one of my makeshift fishing rods that way. It caught on something and I let it pull from between my fingers.

“Do you really want me to come to middle school with you?” she asked. It was a while since we talked, but it was easy to resume our conversation.

“I think it would be fun. And we’re in different grades, so it’s not like we’ll get sick of each other.” I wound my line back up around the stick and let it go again. We fished together almost every day and had only caught two fish all summer, one each. She’d caught the first fish, a little trout, and I’d gutted it as a messy experiment. By the time I’d caught one, she was able to wash all the innards out easily with a cleaner version of my demonstration. 

“We could eat lunch together, and carpool.” She said it wistfully like it was a far-off dream.

-

I was waiting for the neighbor girl to look for live bait with me, but it had started to rain. The end of summer turned into a torrent of tropical storms that wandered up the coast from warmer climates. She didn’t like the rain, so we scrambled down the embankment each time it let up. The frequent downpours gave us the perfect conditions for catching bugs as they all collected under leaves and rocks. It was Sunday though, and sometimes her parents dragged her to church. I was digging up the foliage to find grubs until I noticed that it was sprinkling again. If she wasn’t in church already, she definitely wasn’t coming down now.

She hated to get her hair wet. Her mom pressed it on Sunday mornings and she liked to keep it smooth for as long as possible. I couldn’t empathize with the experience, but I knew the only glance I would get from her would be through a kitchen window. I crossed the stones to the left side of the creek. The water was higher than usual from the rain, and algae slipped over the surface of the rocks we were meant to cross on.

I didn’t mind the weather. The earthworms would reveal themselves and I’d collect them to use as bait or toss on my mom’s compost pile. I left my shoes and socks in the soggy leaves and climbed on my hands and feet up the slippery incline to her house. I’d hardly ever been up to her side of the creek before. There wasn’t really any point to it when we spent most of the time wandering as far from home as possible. 

Some of the lights in her house were on. The French doors grinned at me, but I didn’t see anybody inside. I walked around to the front door– listening for life and thinking about knocking– and it was apparent nobody was home.

The butt of my pants got dirty when I slid back down to my shoes. I’d see her tomorrow if the rain ever stopped, but not until school was out at 3:30. When I picked up my shoes to put them back on, I saw some beetles and pill bugs hiding beneath my soles. It seemed right to leave them be, so I sat in the mud and let my feet hang into the filling stream.

The bank was squishy beneath me, softened and sliding. Across from me, a slab of mud sloughed off the right bank. The chunk broke into smaller parts as it fell away. I thought his hair was roots, brown and wispy with soil clinging to the ends. The wild grasses were what held the hillside together when it got wet, but sometimes the grass sprouts can’t do much to keep the soaked ground together. The brittle ends of the man’s hair stuck straight out from the bank, too sharp of an angle and wiry of a texture. The roots looked wrong, so I stared and squinted through the drizzle until I caught a glimpse of his messed-up face. It was a man because I’d never seen a woman that looked so ugly. From my spot, I could watch the water uncover him. He seemed to be swaddled in transparent plastic, wrapped with the smothering care I gave my dolls as a toddler. The top half of his face protruded from the open end. More of the earth melted into the creek as the bank continued to erode. The creek washed further out until the headstone was threatened too. I could see his face through the dirty plastic. Who knows how long he’d been buried there, but I’d guess that the plastic was the only thing keeping him together. The top half of the corpse leaned out into the water like a gigantic pupae. He was a slurry inside, waiting for form and metamorphosis. He wriggled free of the ground, aided by the current, and sloshed into the rushing water.

“Some ashes.” A low whistle passed between my teeth. The banks overflowed from the ripples, staining my pants more. The body bumped back and forth against slimy rocks as it shoved off to much busier things. I could tell school would be easy tomorrow, and then I’d rush down into the gully to tell the neighbors’ daughter what I saw. It was getting dark and raining harder and harder. Mom was probably going to have dinner ready and I needed to shower. I left my shoes behind for the beetles and crossed the creek back home. 

-

I didn’t think middle school would amount to much. By the end of the day, I was tired from icebreakers and it took Mom twenty minutes to pick me up. Considering we lived fifteen minutes away and she drove like the cops were chasing her, it had taken her a while to realize she had a daughter to pick up from school. It was a quiet drive. The house was hushed by that same awful silence. The kind where it wasn’t quiet at all, but all her talking turned into a high ringing in my ears. I let her keep circling around and around whatever she really wanted to say, hoping she’d get there eventually. She kept repeating a beat on the steering wheel, and when we got settled at home, sitting side-by-side on the couch, she was playing the same pattern on a throw pillow.

“The neighbors’ little girl, Cam, passed away.” 

Mom must’ve been waiting all day to say that to me with the same nervous excitement she had about conflict overseas; any news was light if it didn’t involve her. Now, I was more curious about why she hadn’t said anything sooner, maybe it was a special treat for making it through the front door or designated mother-daughter-gossip time on the couch. Mom didn’t know I had been friends with Cam. That was the first time I’d heard her name.

“In the creek?” I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d be stuck indoors next summer due to an unfortunate drowning accident. The feeling was right for me to cry, but I hadn’t even known her name.

“What creek- Oh, no. I don’t know what happened to her. Car accident I think, Californians don’t know how to drive in this rain.” Mom stopped the nervousness and walked into the kitchen and I was left on the couch, scolding myself for not gossiping right. We were done conversing because she didn’t find middle school interesting and I didn’t have the appropriate reaction to the local tragedy. It was probably better that she got distracted by the pantry instead of talking to me because I might’ve let it slip that I knew the girl.

-

Mom didn’t cook on Monday nights. She’d have a glass of wine and fall asleep while watching the news or Grey’s Anatomy. I’d done it with her once and didn’t understand the appeal. Wine is bitter and the heavy makeup on the Anchorwoman’s face made her look too beautiful and perfect. I made mac n’ cheese for myself and switched to the Cartoon Network after Mom fell asleep. My bedtime was nine PM. It said so on the organizational whiteboard that kept track of my chores and allowance. But I strongly believed that rules were only as strong as their enforcers. I turned the volume on the TV low and I tucked myself into my mom’s side.

At some point I drifted off with my fork still in-hand.

I felt guilty later. Mom woke up and put me to bed. It was a school night, but I couldn’t sleep. While counting the dim glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I went completely still and began to count the beats. My heartbeat would keep me up at night sometimes. If I was feeling anxious and my heart was wailing against my ribs, the sound was enough to stave of sleep. The rhythm would beat in my ears, my chest, beneath my collarbone, my fingertips, behind my eyes, and sometimes in my throat if my tongue was dry. So my heartbeat was all I heard as I played a bad rendition of that afternoon over and over again. That’s when I felt guilty. She really did love me like a sister. The stars were sickly and the night sky was stucco and I was never all that good to her.

I cried, thinking of how I’d miss her and how terrifying she’d look after she’d decomposed like the dead man in the river. That was how I pictured her while I grieved. I was unsure how well I’d known her, so all I had was what she left behind.

a/n- i promise i'll write something good soon, but idk, i'm feeling uninspired and bland so i revisited some stuff i wrote for creative writing class

#my ocs #oc writing #short story #short fiction

[blackheartvore]

Been a while, but here's some new Teen Wolf vore smut for you guys...

Scott's Beta Buffet

Scott lounged back in the small office connected to the locker room. It had been a long day and a long practice, especially since Coach was out of town and Scott was doing more than just assisting today. He stretched his arms up behind his head and caught a whiff of his own musk. It was extra strong today. Probably because he hadn't had a good filling meal in a couple days.

Isaac was coming to pick him up tonight. Scott thought about how nice it would feel to have his boyfriend in his stomach and it immediately grumbled about how empty it was now. On top of that, he was feeling super horny too which only made him think about just how empty his balls were right now too.

Just as he was getting comfortable, there was a knock on the door of the office. A quick sniff told him that it was Liam, who hadn't yet taken a shower. The smell of his beta's musk made Scott's dick throb and stomach rumble.

"Come in!" Scott called out.

The door opened and Liam stepped in. The beta stopped just inside and took in the scents that had been building in the small office. Scott's regular musk was there, but he could also smell lust blanketed in the alpha's pheromones. His alpha's pheromones.

Liam adjusted himself as he shut the door behind him. The smell of his alpha's musk and pheromones drew him further into the room. His alpha needed something and as Scott's beta it was his job to take care of it.

"What's up?" Scott asked.

Liam's voice was a bit woozy, "I could smell you from the locker room. Tell me how I can help."

"Liam," Scott's stomach rumbled, "I'll be fine. Isaac will be here in a little bit."

Regardless of what he'd just said, Scott's cock twitched at the sight of his half naked beta. There was a bead of sweat trailing down the hairs on Liam's chest that Scott couldn't help but imagine the flavor of. A bit of seasoning that would add to Liam's already delicious flavor.

"Looks like you could use some help now." Liam gestured to the tent in Scott's shorts.

Scott sighed and sunk back into his chair, "You know what will happen if you stay in here right now..."

"I know," Liam chuckled as he moved around the desk, "but I still want to help."

Liam spun Scott towards him and dropped down onto his knees. The beta yanked Scott's shorts and jock down, immediately getting dizzy from the direct hit of the alpha's pheromones. Liam leaned into the smell, his nose against the base of Scott's cock as he inhaled. Then he got to work lapping at his alpha's musky crotch.

"Damn, Liam, that feels great..." Scott groaned.

Liam filled his mouth with Scott's cock. The alpha's thick shaft pushed down into his throat while the beta pounded away at his own meat. Liam knew before this was all over he'd end up inside his alpha, but he didn't care.

That moment came sooner than expected when Scott pulled out of his mouth. Before he could even think about it, Liam's face was shoved into his alpha's cock slit. He could feel the heavy organ slowly engulfing him, precum lubing the trip towards Scott's soon to be heavy sack.

Scott writhed in his chair as waves of pleasure washed over him. It had been far too long since he'd had a guy in his cock. It had really only been a couple days, if that. Stiles had slipped down it just yesterday, but it felt like forever.

"Scott?" A voice and light knock sounded at the door.

The alpha had already noticed Alec listening outside of the door, "Come in and shut the door behind you."

Alec hustled into the room to sight of Scott peeling off Liam's lacrosse shorts and jock as the beta's hard cock and plump ass disappeared into the alpha's enlarged pred cock. The second thing that hit Alec was the smell of musk, sex, and his alpha's pheromones. There was no way he was going to be able to hide his hardon.

"That's hot." Alec was practically drooling.

"You here to help your alpha too?" Scott grunted as Liam's thighs slipped into him.

"Absolutely!" Alec rushed over and pulled off Liam's shoes and socks.

"You know that means you'll end up inside me too." Scott rubbed at the lump Liam was making in his cock.

"Yeah, I know. I've walked in on Brett and Nolan before."

Scott moaned as Liam's feet were swallowed up. As the alpha stroked Liam's body down into his balls, Alec stripped off every scrap of his lacrosse uniform he was still wearing. Scott was glad when he could smell his newest beta hadn't showered yet. Though he still planned to have Alec work up even more of a sweat.

"Rub on my balls." Scott commanded.

Alec knelt down and massaged the Liam shaped lump. It didn't take but a few moments for the alpha's balls to work his first beta into a massive thick load.

Scott licked his lips as he thought about how the naked morsel kneeling in front of him would taste. But with a big load weighing down his balls again he also had a massive urge to unload some of it. Scott reached down and picked Alec up by the armpits. He debated just shoving the beta in his mouth, but his balls won out. Besides he could always swallow him after.

Scott bent Alec over the desk. The alpha used some of the pre still leaking from his cock to lube up the beta's hole. Then he started stuffing his thick length into Alec's ass.

Scott bucked into his beta. Alec whimpered and groaned with each thrust, so the alpha held a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. The whole scenario turned Scott on. He loved when his betas took care of him. Whenever the alpha was hungry or horny they always turned into needy little snacks. Scott grunted as Alec's hole finally milked a good amount of Liam out of him.

Scott's stomach growled again as he collapsed on top of Alec. The beta still moaned under him, now loaded with the alpha's cum. Scott wasn't going to wait any longer.

The alpha wrapped his mouth around Alec's head and finally got a taste of the savory sweat that he'd been excited for since he saw some dripping down Liam's body. He pulled his cock out of the beta's now dripping hole as he stood up to be able to shovel more of Alec into his throat. He moaned around all the musky muscle he was finally getting to devour.

"Damn, babe. Couldn't wait, huh?" Isaac's voice pulled Scott's attention towards the door that was already shut again.

Scott didn't try to respond, not that he needed to. Isaac was already crossing the room and pushing Scott down into his chair. Thankfully, it was nice and sturdy, because the beta was already stripping down and climbing onto Scott's lap.

With one hand Isaac lifted Alec's legs into the air to help ease the alpha's swallowing and with the other he guided Scott's still stiff cock into his hole. The beta eagerly started bouncing in rhythm with the alpha's swallows, even sucking and licking at Alec's dick before it disappeared into Scott's mouth.

Scott groaned as the sweaty thighs slipped past his lips. The flavor of his newest beta was extra intense after practice. That combined with the feeling of Isaac's hole gripping his thick cock was going bringing him to a quick climax. As he licked at Alec's feet, he finally unloaded the last of his Liam load into Isaac's eager ass. He savored Alec's salty flavor one last time before a final gulp sent the boy down behind his now bloated abs.

Isaac, deliriously full of Scott's cum didn't even get a chance to process what the alpha said until his head was already down Scott's throat. Only then did he realized the words he heard were 'still hungry'. Isaac wasn't surprised though. He knew Scott well and suspected it was going to be a binge night.

Scott and Isaac both enjoyed the beta's trip into the alpha's maw. Soon Isaac would be settling in with Alec. The feeling of Scott's tongue all over his body and especially in his used hole got Isaac excited all over again. Scott was enjoying himself too, but his need to feed made short work of the beta.

One last swallow sent Isaac's sweet little toes down his gullet. Scott just collapsed back into his chair. Some movement in his belly from Isaac jostled out a long deep burp that felt pretty satisfying.

There were a few minutes of silence before he heard a quiet knock on the office door before it opened.

"Coach?" Nolan's timid voice asked before he saw Scott sprawled out in his chair, "Oh, sorry. Thought I heard something."

"You know exactly what you heard." Scott stared at the barely dressed co-captain.

"Yeah." Nolan looked down at the floor briefly before his gaze slid back up to Scott's exposed and still dripping cock, then his slightly shaking stomach.

"So?"

"Can I..."

"Can you what?"

"Can I rub your belly?"

"Sure." Scott grinned, shifting in his chair to give Nolan a better view.

Nolan approched slowly, tentatively reaching out a hand to touch the now consistently moving bumps of the alpha's gut. He leaned down putting an ear to the distended abs and could hear soft whining moans from inside.

"Are they?"

"Fucking?" Scott smiled, "Definitely."

"Who...?"

"Isaac and Alec."

"Did you...?" Nolan's other hand trailed down to Scott's dripping cock, stroking it.

"Both of them." Scott watched as Nolan licked some of the alpha's cum off his fingers, "How's Liam taste?"

A moment of realization and surprise lit up the co-captain's face as he swallowed, "Good!" Nolan whispered, hands still moving, "You must be so full."

"Not quite."

That was the last thing Nolan heard before he was stuffed into Scott's maw. The alpha no longer taking his time, greedily tore off the little human beta's clothes and gulped quickly. The boy was definitely sweet, a nice dessert to finish off his meal.

Scott let out one last long burp before settling back to enjoy the motion in his belly. The rocking and moans from within lulling him into a nice nap. He loved feeling full.

#gay vore #male pred #male prey #male vore #same size vore #m/m #my writing #teen wolf smut #belly play #scott mccall pred #liam dunbar prey #teen wolf alec prey #isaac lahey prey #nolan holloway prey

[magnoliacharmed]

Chapter 4 - Champagne Lightning

[Also available on Archive of Our Own!]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4

Summary:

You and Sting work out your problems in bed.

Author’s note: 18+

Tags: Drunk sex, choking, dirty talk, making out, blow jobs, hair pulling

"Hurry up," echoed through Sting's head as the elevator doors slid shut. The way you said it on the phone sounded just the way you'd said it in his fantasy. Bossy. With your attitude Sting wouldn't fault someone for thinking you were the one running the show. You just thought you were such hot shit.

In the blurry, warped reflection of the elevator door Sting fixed his hair. It was starting to get pretty long, almost reaching his shoulders in cascading dark brown loose waves. He'd caught you staring at him once while he brushed it out. By the time he'd turned around to say something to you, you'd disappeared. That was before he'd talked to you and learned how much of an asshole you could be. The elevator doors opened up on the twelfth floor giving him little time to prepare himself. The lights in the hallways flickered on and off whenever the thunder boomed outside. When he rushed into the hotel, his umbrella flipped up violently. It was wrecked, the bellboys at the front laughing politely and telling him that he wasn't the only one that happened to.

You waited a moment after hearing three loud knocks on your door. You didn't want to seem too eager, even if you really were. While waiting for him to come over you slipped on a pair of ratty old basketball shorts and a thin camisole top. It's not like it was a date! There was no need to get all dressed up. The little nagging voice in the back of your head did remind you every few seconds that you'd also conveniently forgotten to put underwear on too. You shook your head and opened the door to him.

He looked nice without the face paint. Very handsome. His deep brown eyes got lost when he wore the black paint around them. Standing in front of you, they locked on to your own eyes with a fever. You stood to the side to let him in.

Sting took his jacket off and placed it on the flimsy desk chair. The room was a mess. Clothes were thrown all over the place, an empty whiskey bottle was tipped over on the floor, candy wrappers were strewn on top of the dresser. He glanced over to a bright purple thong you'd left by the bathroom door, then back to your face.

"You look like shit."

"Thanks, jackass, how sweet of you. You have such a way with the ladies, Stinger." You drew out the S in his nickname. "So what do you want? What was worth leaving your room in all this rain for?"

Sting rolled his eyes. Not a good start. He brushed past you and picked up the half drunk bottle of champagne, finishing it off with a few big gulps. He took a second to pick up the phone and call down to the front desk to order another two bottles.

"I want to make amends with you. Not because I like you and I want to be your friend, but because I don't want my job to be made more difficult over petty coworker drama."

"How big of you."

"Well, what do you think?" The room was freezing. He wanted to turn the thermostat up and almost walked over to do so.

"Whatever I guess. It's not like I have a lot of say in the matter. If I wanna keep my job, I've gotta play nice with you."

The vein in Sting's neck throbbed again. "From what I heard, you didn't even want to wrestle in the first place. You were doing pretty well at selling beepers."

"Did Kev tell you that? Since he's been telling you everything else about me." Something about Kevin telling all of your business stung.

"Actually, it was Scott. Kevin told Scott, Scott told me. Was he lying?"

You clicked your tongue. "No, he was telling the truth. Kevin was the one who got me into all this. I was… alright selling beepers. It was good enough. Then Kev called one day and told me all about the money and the fame. So I decided to come along. Not like I had much else going on."

"What'd your family think? Being away on the road for so much of the year, it can put a strain on relationships."

"I don't have much family." Your voice dropped to a whisper. This is not a conversation you felt like having and especially not with Sting. You weren't drunk enough for it. You were hoping the champagne would be up soon.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… I didn't mean to open any wounds."

There were a rapid set of knocks on the door. You bounded up from the edge of the bed and greeted the worker, grabbing the bottles and politely shooing her away. Tears were threatening to build up again as you set one bottle down and tried to open the other one. The first one was so easy! The cork was really stuck on this one. Your clammy hands kept slipping and your fingers couldn't grab big enough pieces of the sticky foil to remove it. You wanted to smash the bottle on the floor and drink it up from the carpet in desperation. Why-why-why did this have to happen with him here?

Sting's large hands covered your trembling ones. He gently pulled the bottle away from you and peeled off the remaining foil. With a quick twist of the cork, the bottle popped open. Your eyes shut and your fists closed at how easily he managed to do it all. There was a reason he was so respected and revered. He really was good at everything.

His hand reached to lift up your chin, your head now facing up to the ceiling. You didn't dare open your eyes. The light touch of his fingers made you reel.

"Open your mouth," It was more of a request than a demand, which was sweet. Your eyes shifted beneath your closed lids and your lips pressed into a fine line.

"Can you please just… open your damn mouth? I'm trying to be nice." The throbbing he felt was no longer in his neck.

Reluctantly, you opened your mouth up. The ice cold bubbles of the champagne trickled steadily down your throat. There was something weirdly sensual about this situation that nagged at you. You were even more bothered that you did what he asked you to. He stopped pouring and you opened your eyes. Lust clouded his features. It was enough to make your face feel hot.

"Thanks. Didn't know you had it in you to be such a nice guy."

With that, the neck vein returned.

"You don't have to be a bitch all the time. You know that right? You're not getting paid to have an attitude, you get paid to stand around and look sexy for the audience. No one asked for all this extra bullshit from you."

"Here we go. I can see you haven't considered that maybe I'm not being a bitch, you're just so up your own ass that everyone who doesn't worship you is a bitch in your eyes. The world doesn't revolve around you, Sting! I hate to burst your bubble." You moved away from him and started kicking stuff around on the floor. It didn't take much for you to get mad when you were drunk.

"That would hurt my feelings if it came from anyone else besides the alky slut standing in front of me." Sting's eyes tracked your every movement. He just wanted you to stay still and be quiet. He tried to be nice, he tried to be a decent person, and it all culminated in another argument.

"Fuck you. You stood right here and drank from that bottle too. You're no better than I am so don't even pretend like you are. I can't believe how obsessed you are with the idea of me being so promiscuous. Makes you feel better to think that people don't just like me for me, they have to like me because I gave it up."

"Trust me, you're not that special."

"Yeah?"

You stomped forward and stopped inches away from him. The cold air made your nipples poke through your shirt. The curve of your hips drove him crazy, even in casual clothes. Your hand reached down to grab at his crotch, your eyes widening at how hard and how big he was. He shouldn't have been so surprised at how bold you were being but the champagne clouded his thoughts.

Sting's hand, much bigger than you thought it was, wrapped around your neck. All of his kindness from earlier was gone. The grip was tight, not enough to cut your airflow off but enough to shock you into opening your mouth.

"You look pretty like this." He breathed at you with a laugh.

"You're so hard for me. Almost like you've been hard since you walked in. Have you been?"

You whimpered as his grip tightened. Sting realized he was being a little rough. Something about you brought that out in him.

The champagne had also loosened him up. He pressed his body into yours as he pushed you back towards the bed, lips colliding into yours with an urgency. They were so soft and full and your tongue was so warm. Your nails scratched into his scalp as you grabbed his hair to push him even closer into you. You fell back onto the bed, his large body covering you. His hand still surrounded your neck as he kissed you deeply. As far as he knew, he'd probably never have another opportunity to do it again.

You pushed him off of you, surprise coloring his face. The disappointment that things were ending before they'd even begun was so strong it shook him to his core. Your hands fiddled down to his zipper, still shaking not out of nervousness but of pure excitement. You managed to unbutton them and pull the zipper down, fire in your eyes as helped push the jeans off himself. To your surprise, his dick sprang out from under. He wasn't wearing underwear either.

It was so pretty. Precome leaked from the tip and dripped down onto the comforter. The alcohol had made you a little loopy. You were pretty content with just staring at his hardness.

"Open your fucking mouth."

Sting's voice was rough above you. You looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. Your hair flew around you as you shook your head innocently at him with a smile on your face. He was going to have to earn it.

"Say the magic word, Stinger."

Your smile turned crazed as his hand curled up in your hair and gripped tight. He knew exactly what to do. His free hand wrapped around the base of his cock, directing the tip of it to slap against your lips.

"Open."

You were really enjoying this. Sting was just as enthusiastic as you were as he laughed when you opened up your mouth to take him in. The laugh turned into a groan when your tongue swirled around the tip of him. The taste of his precome was salty. It made you want to take all of it down into your mouth right then. You instead continued to tease him, never removing your gaze from his face while sucking the tip. Your hands moved to rest on his lower stomach. Sting's hand grabbed even further into your hair and pushed your mouth down to the base of him. A wet choking noise filled the room. Sting now appreciated how cold the air conditioning was.

You pulled away to catch your breath, a trail of spit clinging to your lip and him. You'd show him. You began to suck again, a hand wrapping around him to stroke in tandem with every movement of your tongue up and down his shaft. Your cheeks hollowed out every time you came up for air, causing Sting to shudder. His grip on your hair loosened as his orgasm arrived. He wasn't ready yet, he had to be inside you--

The air was freezing on him when you decided to remove your mouth once and for all.

"Hurry up and fuck me."

Just then, the wind howled and the power flickered off. The clock radio being fixed was all for nothing.

Sting threw his arms out into the air to try and hold you in place, but you were faster than him. You'd crawled up onto the bed on all fours, ass arched in the air.

"I bet you wish you could see me, huh? All open and willing for you. Hmm, but maybe it's better that you can't. You'd just call me a whore again."

"I call it like I see it." The bed dipped with the weight of him. His hands pressed against your hips, fingernails digging into your pliable skin. He wanted to leave a mark. The heat of his cock against how wet you were made you lean back into him.

"See? Only whores do things like that." Sting was happy the power went out. It was divine timing. His face would have betrayed his words, exposing how much he needed you. "It's okay though. Lucky for you, I like that." There was the sound of a joke in his voice, a cruel one you didn't know the background of. It made you twitch with pleasure.

"Stop stalling. I hope you fuck better than you wrestle." You ate your words when he pushed into you, not bothering to be gentle. You would have been annoyed if he was. He bottomed out inside you, your fingers gripping the sheets below you and your moan coming out as a whimpery mess.

"You… tell… me." You gasped with every thrust of him inside you. You had to press your face into the fresh sheets to keep from screaming. He was so cruel. Sting dug deep into you, so deep your arch collapsed and you ended up flat against the bed. His hand returned to your hair to pull your head up.

"Can't talk any more? I finally got you to shut up?"

Tears. At least this time they were tears of pleasure at the way he spoke to you. You began to mumble out, trying to say anything as a response. With every bump against your g-spot the words died away. His cock dragged out of you with a slow exit. Sting threw his head back at his own restraint. Deep breaths calmed him down until you made a guttural noise that made his dick twitch. On wobbly legs, he took a few steps to the dresser for the other champagne bottle. He was sure he'd never moved faster than when he opened the bottle up. You caught your breath as it popped open.

You heard him gulp down the champagne then return to the bed. The cold glass of it pressed against your leg while he entered you. His strokes had lost some rhythm, the muscles in his legs tightening up at feeling your wet heat surrounding him again. His hand reached up to grab at your neck and pull you right against him. Your back was against his chest now, hand squeezing at your neck with more pressure than earlier. Your eyes darted across the room at the feeling of him so deep inside you and whispering in your ear. The bottle was by your lips and this time, you didn't dare hesitate to open your mouth. He did a deep pour of the champagne into your awaiting mouth. With a hand on your neck it felt like you were drowning, drowning away in ecstasy. You sputtered at it causing it to dribble down your neck and past your chest. He continued to pound away at you roughly, his cock fitting inside of you in a way you'd never thought possible.

"I'm gonna come," you whispered. There was a vulnerability in your voice that made you sick. You'd gotten needy for him so quickly already. "Please, please, please, harder, Sting."

"You want me to come inside you? Beg for it." You felt a twinge of victory at the slurring in his voice. He was just as drunk as you were.

"Yes!" You cried out more urgently than expected.

Sting hummed at this. He wanted to come inside you. He wanted to leave his mark inside you with a burning need. In his heart he knew that such an act of intimacy would leave him completely head over heels for you. In return, you wouldn't be able to get him off your mind.

His free hand pinched your nipple, pulling and rubbing over it like he'd go crazy if he didn't. Your nails dug into his legs as your orgasm ripped through you, Sting holding you close to him as your muscles clenched around his dick. Your mumbling continued as he worked you through it with slowing strokes that made your brain white out. Hot ropes of come hit your inner thighs shortly after. Though you were disappointed that he didn't release inside you, you knew it was better that he didn't. In the end it would've been too close for comfort. He pushed down on the small of your back so you'd fall into the bed.

"Pussy. I knew you wouldn't come inside me."

A hard smack came down on your ass as soon as the lights popped back on. The sight of you below him, come covering your thighs and your heavy breaths against the bed was enough to make Sting's heart ache in a weird way. He got you to open up to him, physically and emotionally. He cracked that shell you built up… and you were so soft on the inside. How much more of you was there to discover? It was just the alcohol making him mushy inside, he was sure of it.

"You didn't deserve it. Only good girls get that."

"And I was so bad?"

"You could be better." His second smack was lighter. He rushed over to the bathroom to wet a towel for you. His strokes wiping the come up away were tender, much more tender than you thought you'd get from him. He wiped himself off and threw the towel down onto the floor. You flipped over onto your back to look at Sting stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. As soon as he realized you were watching him, he flopped onto the bed beside you.

"Hope you don't mind if I stay with you here for the rest of the day. Kinda drenched outside."

"Mmm. I guess so. Just don't get on my nerves." It wasn't the champagne making your stomach feel fluttery. Without thinking your hand reached up to play in his fluffed out hair. You stopped halfway through the moment, then continued on. So what if you were feeling sentimental? It's not like you had to keep it up after today. Sting thought about making a sly comment at your affection. He instead kept his words to himself and reveled in the sweet touch. Your eyelids got heavy and you wished the lights were back off. You had a feeling the hangover wouldn't be nearly as bad when you woke up as it was that morning. As if he read your mind, Sting got up to shut the lights off.

"Can't wait to hear you not speak for a couple hours."

You were too tired to bite back at him. Your laugh at him faded away as sleep took you deep within itself. As soon as he figured you were knocked out, Sting pulled you closer to him in the dark of the room. Another clap of thunder shook the room with an especially bright flash of lightning following behind.

#sting #sting wcw #steve borden #sting fanfic #sting x reader #wcw #world championship wrestling #wcw fanfic #wcw fic #wrestling fic #wrestling fanfic #wrestling #magnoliafanfic

[mooifyourecows]

Hey moo :)

Can I ask a question? You moved into your house not that long ago right? Have you done any house projects since you moved in? Or discovered any house secrets?

Most of the weird house stuff was stuff that literally drew me to want to buy it in the first place tbh

Like the photos were pleasantly honest! (Which is great considering I bought this bitch ONLINE without ever seeing it in person hahaha 🫠)

Like I can tell that whoever made this house wanted to make something original and quirky and I'm in love with it. There are so many weird angles and design choices with zero rhyme or reason. like why do those walls connect at a 30° angle like that?? Why are there beams everywhere? What shape is that room even supposed to be???

It's just.. FUN. Literally when I saw the pictures on zillow for this place, I was like "weird!" But then saved it. And then returned to it over and over again while looking at other places and eventually I just knew it was the one. Like I couldn't get it out of my mind

But like, how could I pass it up? It was less than 200k$ and 2300 square feet on 5 acres of land down a wooded lane!! J-j-j-jackpot!

There are some totally weird and funky design choices and there's a lot I WANT to do.

Some examples (ignore lazy or nonexistent decorating, i havent gotten around to doing anything yet):

There's this nasty ass wall paneling throughout like 1/3rd of the house that looks like the walls of a motor home and I HATE IT. It's ugly and stupid and I tore off one panel to see what was underneath and guess what! It's normal wall! (Ignore hot lady calendar)

Except the glue from the paneling kinda ripped off parts of it but like THEY JUST GLUED THIS SHIT ON OVER WALLPAPER?? WHY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? JUST REMOVE THE WALLPAPER AND PAINT, ITS SO MUCH EASIER THAN THROWING UP THIS UGLY BULLSHIT. ugh

So like yeah I wanna remove all of that, but it's gonna be a big project because there's a LOT and some of it is underneath the cabinets in the kitchen. Yikes.

Pretty much every ceiling is tall and slanted in some weird way, which makes me dread painting because how am I supposed to paint super high up like that when I only got a 7 foot ladder???

The house is 1.5 stories too, which means that there's a partial upstairs that is essentially just a little loft thing that looks out over the living room and then this small, strange room we affectionately refer to as "Travis's room" for reasons I think will soon be obvious....

We will honestly probably have to hire a contractor to come look at this upstairs area because part of the ceiling is like... collapsing? And all gross and dirty? (Kinda visible in that second photo) It's not attached to the roof so like, the outside is fine and isn't leaking or in danger of caving in but idk it's just kinda weird and I have no idea what the thought process was for this whole upstairs area. Like what is this narrow little sliver of room here? (Ignore hot wheels tracks)

And the ceiling fan next to the staircase is SO CLOSE lmao if it's on and you lean even a little bit over the railing, you're getting brained. Like in this pic I'm not reaching out, just lifting my arm to touch it (ignore dust, I don't clean and you can't make me)

The living room is really big but it's also weirdly shaped so organizing my furniture is a nightmare. Especially since there's a pellet stove (currently not working) on one wall. (ignore dirty socks, mismatched cheap lamps, messy cat tree corner behind couch, big ugly coffee table I got for free that used to be black until I sanded it down but then got bored and left it as is)

As of right now, I haven't done much to the place because wow apparently home improvement takes effort and costs money??? Go figure. And we've been pretty broke lately so I've just been collecting ideas for the time being.

I am absolutely gonna start painting this year though. My bedroom rn is just boring white so I wanna fix that. Maybe do something dark and warm like a dark brown or green or hmm something like that. The room I've been calling the "gym" (because that's where I put the treadmill) will probably get done next since it's such a blank slate and should be easy to fix up.

And I absolutely want to mess around with my office because the way it's arranged and decorated rn is lame. They painted a bunch of rooms an ugly ass flat brown color, including several closets, my office, and the spare bathroom so THATS got to go.

I want to start decorating for real, finally buy some frames for the art I've been collecting so I can hang them up on some of these tall ass walls.

I also have plans to make a catio out back and even have a bunch of wood and some of the frames constructed but I got bored and abandoned it haha 😄

Oh and I want to reeeeally start doing stuff with the outside. I want to plant trees and maybe do a garden this year, tear up the plants I don't want and replace them with ones I do, clean up the big ass plot of land that's just overgrown brush and weeds and maybe make it into an orchard? Get some fruit trees and make some cute little rows? Maybe I'll even build a fence and a pond and put flowers everywhere. You know, for the bugs 💌🐝🐛🦋🕷

Now i just need to win a million dollars so I can afford to do it all 🥲

[magicaltear]

An Outside Chance Masterlist

⇤ Previous Chapter  Chapter 9  Next Chapter ⇥

  Chapter 9: The Truth

As promised, JARVIS texted Stephen an address later that same afternoon. It led to a Japanese restaurant located a stone's throw away from Tony’s mansion on the East Pacific Coast Highway, which promised a splendid view of the ocean. It was also deemed the most expensive restaurant in the Malibu area, not that Stephen was surprised by that at all.

For the second time that day, Stephen changed out of his comfortable robes and fit himself into a tailored suit. The three-piece was a classic black color, and he wore a necktie Christine had gifted him for his birthday once that was the same blue-green color as his eyes.

The ache in his hands had lessened after soothing them in hot water for almost an hour, but the treatment had irritated his scars. Swollen red lines ran down the bed of his fingernails to converge into a network of scars around his wrists. Stephen was tempted to wear gloves to dinner, but he refused to cower in front of Tony. He already knew about the car accident and Stephen’s inability to perform surgeries. Stephen wasn’t about to feel ashamed over something he had already taken years to make peace with, no matter how painful the reminder could be.

Surprisingly, the only problem remaining was none other than the Cloak of Levitation.

“I promise you, I’ll be fine,” Stephen said for what felt like the hundredth time. “It’s only dinner.”

The Cloak shook its collar and squared firmly against him in his penthouse bedroom.

“If there’s any trouble, I’ll open a portal for you. I promise,” he insisted to no avail.

Annoyed, he turned away from the Cloak and slipped on his Sling Ring. His fingers were still too sensitive for it, but he would bear with the pain for the few seconds it would take him to open a portal. However, the Cloak wrapped around his wrist the moment he lifted his hand to begin the spell, effectively stopping his movements. Stephen gave an aggravated sigh.

“We really need to talk about your separation anxiety,” he told it. “I know it must have been scary not knowing if we would reunite in this universe, and I’m sorry I didn’t think to go for you sooner, but we must work through this if we want to be prepared for what lies ahead. We can start small tonight. It’s only dinner, no more than a couple of hours.”

Slowly, the Cloak’s grip on his wrist slackened and released him. It hovered in front of him, doing its best to keep still. Stephen smiled warmly at it and finally drew a portal open by the parking lot of the restaurant.

“I’ll see you soon,” he promised and slipped through back to California.

He asked for a reservation under JARVIS’ name at the lavish reception and followed the hostess to a private area of the restaurant. Their table sat right next to the large windows, which were open to allow the salty breeze inside. Tony hadn’t arrived yet, so Stephen settled in to wait with a whiskey on the rocks. The distant rumble of the ocean soothed his frayed nerves, and he lost track of time going over the books on shielding that Wong had lent him by pulling up the pages in his memory.

Forty-five minutes later, it occurred to him that there was a high chance he could be stood up. It was such a foreign concept to him now, having not worried over such a thing for many years—even since before his original accident, seeing how busy he had been at the hospital to go on any sort of dates.

A soft kind of disappointment settled somewhere inside his ribcage, but Stephen still couldn’t bring himself to feel any shame or embarrassment over his situation. If it came down to it, he’d dine on his own and maybe order some extra food to gift Wong now that he had the money to spoil his friend.

Thankfully, none of that was necessary.

Continue reading on AO3 here!

#tear-chan writes #marvel #doctor strange #iron man #ironstrange #the avengers #stephen strange #tony stark #ao3 #fanfic #an outside chance #oh look! finally an update

[fantasies2paper]

Satoru walked past my café at the same time everyday. Black slacks covered the long legs that connected to a long torso clad in an expensive looking silk shirt. The white shirt drew attention to the shockingly white hair and black shades he wore on his pale face. I bet he was wearing that stupid ass cologne that smelled too fucking good.

The various women who had previously been gossiping and talking amongst themselves all did their best to watch him inconspicuously. Of course they all failed. I busied myself by restocking the cups to contain my laughter. Every woman, eligible or not, knew who the hell Satoru Gojo was and if they didn't know they would find out eventually.

"I'm going to take the trash out," I said as I gathered up the garbage bag and nodded to my cashier, who nodded back as they handled the customer in front of them without missing a beat. Smiling to myself at his professionalism before walking out the back door to the dumpster when I nearly jumped out of my skin. 

Standing with his arms crossed outside of the door was Satoru, looking even more handsome up close than he had from far away. I could smell his cologne and I was more than a little peeved at the way it made my lower belly swirl with desire before I could smother it with a pillow. It had been months since he’d been in my bed so why the hell could I remember his tongue on my skin so vividly.

"Y/n," He smirked and looked down at me over the black shade and leaned against the clean stone wall of the opposite building, my eyes struggling to stay on his face. “Long time no see, bunny. I noticed you're not with that short shit anymore?” “No actually I- wait how the fuck?” I stared at him in disbelief and at that moment I didn’t care how badly I wanted him to touch me because I wanted to punch him. “First of all, don't call me that! Second of all, have you been watching me? You do know that isn't how hookups work right? Stop smiling at me like that!”

“You sound so damn cute when you're angry,” he said as his large hand reached for mine, making my heart stutter in my chest. “Is he not helping you release all that extra stress? You know I'm always available for a bit of relaxation.”

“Satoru…” I started in warning but was he wrong? No one had quite touched me the way that he did and I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the way he felt and tasted. God the things that man could do with his tongue. But that was not the damn point.

“What about that cashier of yours? He seems nice.” he says as he interlaced his fingers with mine and suddenly his meaning clicked. “Is that what this is?” I huffed a laugh in disbelief. “Is the great Satoru Gojo fucking jealous?” That earned me the flash of a smile. “So you do think I'm great.”

“I–,” I bit the inside of my cheek before realizing the disappearing distance between us. “What are you doing?

“If you want me to stop,” he started in a low voice as he pulled me flush against his body, his other hand sliding into my locs and tilting my head before his lips brushed lightly against mine. “All you have to do is say….. ‘stop’.”

“You smug bastard.” I growled out before placing my hands on his chest and closing the distance between us. His lips tasted faintly of matcha and his body was so hot against mine. I could feel him smirk against my lips and I nipped his bottom lip in irritation before he pressed my back against the wall and lifted me up, my skirt bunching up around my hips.

He smirked more at the sight of my panties. “You even wore my favorite color.”

Before I could snap back with a scathing retort his fingers found their way inside of the thin lacy fabric, his long digit teasing my core. I moaned desperately as my cheeks flushed from something that wasn't anger, clenching around his finger before a second finger slipped inside. “Daddy has to get you ready, bunny. Youve been so long without my cock filling this pretty fucking cunt havent you?” he whispered against my neck, his voice hot against my skin making my clit throb. “Answer me, Y/n, or I'll leave you right here. Just like this.” “Y-yes… please fuck me, daddy!” 

The desperation and need in my voice took me aback but I didn't have the time to evaluate the chokehold this man had over me. All I knew is I needed him like I needed air to breathe. I clenched tightly around his fingers, watching his eyes darken as my hips began to roll. Apparently I had a pretty decent hold over him as well.

“Did you miss my sweet cunt?” I breathed out once his eyes locked on to mine, making his cock twitch in his slacks and making me bold. “I'll bet you couldn't find anyone quite like me could you?”

My hands slid up his chest and over his shoulders before gripping his hair. Pulling his head back, I licked a slow line up his neck as I moaned soft noises of approval from his fingers. Satoru kissed me frantically and deep after removing his fingers coated in my arousal before quickly pulling his cock from his pants and rubbing the tip between my folds.

“Youre so fucking intoxicating and youre mine do you understand?” he growled out and pushed his cock inside of my soaked pussy before I could answer him with more than a loud cry of pleasure.

He filled every empty space and claimed it as his own. Stretching me tight around him and so deep inside of me I thought he could feel my heartbeat. He wasnt moving and i was losing my fucking mind, throbbing impatiently until i looked up at him pleadingly.

“What…what are you waiting for?”

He stared at me expectantly until it dawned on me; he wanted an answer. It wouldn't mean anything would it? Of course not. Satoru Gojo was community dick, wasn't he? Everyone knew that and he prided himself on being alone and the fantasy of every single woman in the Shibuya district. Of course saying yes wouldn't mean a damn thing….right?

“I'm all yours please…” 

“Good girl,” he said as an emotion flashed across his face before pulling nearly completely out and slamming back in, making my eyes roll back and all coherent thoughts leave my mind. “You fit me so fucking perfect, y/n.”

With a firm grip on his hair I moaned against his skin as he began to move with hard thrusts and his hands gripped my thighs tight. Biting and licking wherever I could reach to mark his body as mine. The wet sounds only made him move faster, pounding into my core with no sign of slowing down.

Satoru bit my shoulder, making me whimper his name louder as my nails dig into his back. My thighs began to shake around him, making him pop my ass with a low moaning chuckle.

“I am not done with you yet, baby. Dont fucking cum until i tell you to.”

I whined low in my throat and he mocked the sound only amping up my frustration until I clamped down on his cock and raked my nails down his back. His cock twitched as he arched his back with a deep groan and drove his cock harder into me. 

The tip of his cock kissed my cervix with every stroke ringing a cry from my throat. My head fell back against the wall as my grip tightened in his hair while I tried to meet his bruising pace, all my fight forgotten. 

“Dont fucking st- ahh…please dont fucking stop!” I moaned out not caring how desperate my voice sounded. One of his hands moved up my body before he gripped my throat, holding me in place as he jackhammered his hips. His lips covered mine in a bruising kiss, drinking my moans in as my core clamped down around him. A coil started to form in my lower belly as I cried out louder, not caring who heard. Long fingers moved in between us and circled my clit slowly as he watched.

“Watch me and I'll let you come, bunny.”

Against my better judgment I looked down as his cock, coated in my arousal, disappeared. A low moan bubbled in my throat at the filthy sight. His fingers circled my clit before I watched him write his initials on my clit. 

“This belongs to me, bunny,” he said, voice a few octaves lower before pinching my clit and driving me over the edge.

I squirted hard on his cock with a silent cry, his hand moved up to cover my mouth as my body quivered. I watched my arousal coat his abs and thighs, his moan of approval as he pounded into me only kept my orgasm going. His cock twitched before his orgasm followed not too far behind mine. Satoru panted against my neck as he pinned me against the wall with his body, holding me there. His hands massaged my hips and thighs, loosening the muscles there. I sighed, softly. “I meant what I said.”

His voice was so quiet I almost thought I imagined his words. I waited to see if he would continue and when he didnt i said, “what?”

He readjusted me in his hold and his hand cupped my jaw. “I don't want anyone else touching you.”

“Well…,” I started as I felt a bubble of irritation in my chest but his hand covered my mouth.

“Let me finish, bunny.” he chuckled and removed his hand before playfully pinching my nose. “I want you all to myself but of course i won't let anyone else touch me either. Consider us together but without the labels. What do you say?”

I looked at him in disbelief. My brain was having a hard time wrapping around the fact that he had just made us exclusive of sorts. 

"I'm sorry what?" 

"You heard me, y/n." He said with a soft laugh. "I'm starting to get bored and I think you are the kind of excitement I need."

I laughed then and pinched his nose. "Next time say that instead of sitting in the alley behind my business."

"Well I told your employee to tell you I was out here but he said you didn't want to." he said, tucking a loc behind my ear.

"He…he never told me anything!"

As the look of amused anger crossed his face I knew I had a whole other issue on my plate and that my adventures with Satoru Gojo were just getting started.

#jjk smut #jjk gojo #jjk #jjk fanfic #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk anime #jujutsu gojo #smut #gojo x reader #female reader #fem reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #black reader #black y/n

[icewindandboringhorror]

Daily Log 3

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: Not too much, stomach kind of upset today and my chest muscle aches/shoulders/etc. are still too irritated for like typing a lot or anything.. grr... At least it was less hot than yesterday, still not feeling great symptoms wise though.

Worked on painting the tapestry thing and getting more of the basic design down. Still don't have the Avirrekava text fully translated.

Recorded another sims episode for the let's play series on my games/side youtube channel because I just realized that I definitely won't be able to in the summer since it gets so hot in my apartment that my computer runs hotter too and I can't even play games lol, so I should get a few recordings out of the way as a backlog before it gets warm. I'm always so caught in the bliss of winter (favorite season, best season, ultimate season) that summer kind of sneaks up on me and I have a moment of realization like "OH gOds I only have like one month to get a bunch of things done that are way harder for me to do in the heat!!'' , and then scramble lol..

Wrote down a script for calling a few doctors.

Thought more about the religions and other cultural systems that exist in certain elven cities in the south, where the story I mentioned in the first Daily Log takes place. Drew the basic sketch of an outfit for one of their primary religious figures (kind of like priest robes?).

Put together a load of clothes but didn't actually wash them because by that point I didn't feel good, but at least I have them out for tomorrow lol.. hashtag ultimate productivity win

Notable sights: Found 19 four leaf clovers and 1 six leaf clover that's actually kind of a double clover? Like there's a clear spot on the stem where it's two 3 leaf clovers not entirely all the way merged. Saw 4 cats in windows, one cat actually outside roaming, and a rabbit in a tennis field. There was also a pile of rocks outside that was very nice, resisted the urge to pick one up and take it home for my rock collection. Watching a show about tudor monastery farms and there was a sheep on there that looked round and funny.

Goals moving forward: Same as yesterday basically lol.. especially post the poll adventure thing that has been sitting in a draft for weeks (I thought I would get it done today, but alas.. I don't even have to do much, just proofread and post it, I just keep having no energy/being preoccupied with other things/hurts to be on computer.. grrr.. I want to continue the story >:T.. for the second day in a row, nothing has changed lol..).

Notable foods: Not much of interest, but had salmon, my favorite fish. Also had a chia seed fruit snack sort of thing which was in a squeezy pouch, and I love anything in that sort of packaging so, very fun.

Really craving spicy udon, chicken wings for some reason (which I don't even like that much), and something like lasagna?? I'm probably vitamin deficient again from my weird diet and it's making me yearn for hearty savory foods.. evil... chronic anemia cravings lol..

#just posting these publicly since it feels more like I'm doing something or easier to hold yourself accountable if you make public #declarations of goals and progress or etc. .. perhaps.. for now.. #It's clover finding season apparently #so many good patches of clovers with lots of mutuation in them. Most of the 19 I found today were right next to each other spread among jus #t a few groupings of clovers. I think it runs genetically or something - so if you find one you're much more likely to find another #somewhere closeby. Or at least this is what I have found as someone who has like 150+ special clovers collected #I also really need to bleach my hair again before the summer but that's such a process... #I'll probably have to bleach it two more times to even get it light enough to dye it so. It's just like.. I wish I could have it done #all at once. I think anything that has to be done over multiple days makes me able to put it off more in my mind. #Actually just so so so so many things to do and it always feels like no time to do them..... AUghhhhhGG *collapses to my knees #in the rain like a dramatic character in a movie. wisps of rain soaked hair cloaking my face as my fancy velvet cape billows #in the stormwinds behind me. after a few moments you realize I'm also eating a little square of cheese whilst I sob #but am trying to hide it behind the hair that is flopped in my face and fumbling bc my evil vampire claws are too long* #ANYWAY #daily log

[ticiie]

week 11: coping with the heat

prompt from the off-season winter sports challenge

characters: Marco Odermatt, Loïc Meillard, Mathilde Gremaud, Fanny Smith (mentioned), Fabian Bösch (mentioned), Zoé Chastan (mentioned)

length: 985 words

author's note: yeah, sorry for this. i do hope next week's gonna turn out better.

The sun showed no mercy, burning down on their necks and backs, while they tried to focus on the instructions the photographer was giving them. It wasn’t unusual that they were shooting outside, and Marco reckoned that the marketing team was using every opportunity they got before the weather would change again. Still, he could barely hide his own annoyance. Marco would’ve rather spent the day on the lake or in the mountains, somewhere where he could feel a fresh breeze on his face and where the air didn’t make him feel like suffocating. He knew that there was no point in arguing or trying to talk himself out of this. He had signed the contract, knowing that it would involve all sorts of media campaigns and measures that required his face on them.

Next to Marco, Loïc was obviously doing a better job than himself. The photographer’s voice was way less distressed when she ordered Loïc to tilt his head a bit more towards her or to angle his arm a little more, so that the can he was holding would be pictured in the exact perfect light.

“Guys, I know it’s hot out here and we’re doing our best to wrap this up as quickly as possible but you need to focus, okay? Marco?”

Had he zoned out again? Marco drew his thoughts back into the present. Anna, the photographer, looked at him expectantly. He exhaled and nodded. “Yes, sorry.” Marco’s brain almost felt mushy, as if it would melt out of his ears any second. If the heat was affecting Loïc as well, he didn’t show it. Marco envied him once more for his camera face. He remembered how Zoé once had described it as a shield, something that Loïc could pull up in order to protect himself from the outside world. Marco had never fully learned how to achieve something like that.

The camera clicked again and Marco flinched in surprise. His movement ruined the shot and he could tell that Anna was reaching the end of her patience.

“Sorry”, he mumbled again. Loïc scolded him with just a single glance. Marco stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders to reduce the tension that was spreading on his back. The shirt he was wearing was sticking to his skin uncomfortably. At least they got to wear casual clothes, nothing fancy like a tie and a jacket, he thought. A small ray of hope at the end of a very long, very warm tunnel.

Time seemed to be slowed down by the heat just as much as Marco’s thoughts. But eventually, Anna called it a day. Her crew started to gather up their equipment and Loïc and Marco were allowed to climb down the scaffolding that had worked as part of the scenery. The sun was starting to set, yet the temperature showed no intention to drop. If any, it felt even warmer. The two men walked through the abandoned hotel complex in silence. Up until now, summer hadn’t showed its most beautiful side and since the holidays hadn’t started yet, the sponsor had been able to book the outsides for not just the shooting with Marco and Loïc, but also several more shootings and projects, starring different athletes from all kinds of sport. As they neared the center of the grounds, Marco recognised Mathilde and Fanny sitting on comfortable looking lounge chairs, both of them holding a bunch of flashcards in their hands. Mathilde was laughing at something Fanny had said and neither of them seemed to notice the camera. Closer to the big swimming pool, Fabian was being photographed. He caught Marco’s eye and gave him a questioning thumbs up to which Marco replied with a thumbs up himself. Loïc, who had walked ahead of Marco, turned around.

“Care to move? Other people might have a schedule they need to stick to.”, he called in Marco’s direction.

“Jeez, what’s the hurry, does Zoé henpeck you that much?”

In hindsight, Loïc and Marco both agreed on blaming the following events completely on the heat and their worn-out nerves. (And on Mathilde, of course.) Loïc stepped into Marco’s space and pressed a finger to his chest.

“Don’t you dare talking about her like that ever again”, he hissed through gritted teeth. Marco didn’t break Loïc’s stare. He also didn’t resist adding another snippy comment.

“You’re annoyed because you know I’m right. You used to be fun to hang around with, now you just follow her orders like some puppy.”

“That’s called being responsible. You should try it some time, maybe then people will stop looking at you as the kid of the group.”

Before Marco got the chance to strike back, he lost his balance, caused by someone pushing him to the side hard. And not just him but also Loïc and because they had been standing next to the big swimming pool, Marco found himself under water a blink of an eye later. The surprise and the sudden cold made every cell in his body quiver and had him breathing in water. As he reached the surface again, Marco coughed up a solid amount, and so did Loïc. Neither of them could say a word, they were too confused to wrap their heads around what just happened. They eventually caught their breaths again and Loïc looked around, spotting Mathilde who was still standing at the edge of the pool. She grinned down at them.

“Que diable?!”, Loïc exclaimed.

“I thought you two could need something to cool off.”

Marco had to admit that he did feel a lot better indeed. One look at Loïc was enough to know that this short argument had deflected into nothing, their words dissolving into thin air like rain on hot concrete. He still took a mental note to never mess with Mathilde or he would certainly end up in less pleasant situations than this one.

#OSWS #osws fandom challenge #marco odermatt #loïc meillard #rpf #ski alpin #this was pure pain to write #my apologies for the lack of quality #too much caffeine #too little sleep #anyways moving on #shoutout to wunderlichkind

[conflictandscotchblog]

It’s The Summer of Seventy-Nine

It’s the end of October, outside my window the leaves have changed, the nights come quick, so what better time to talk about a shore house my friends and I rented during the summer of nineteen-seventy-nine in Seaside Height, New Jersey.

What amazes me, when I look back at this house, and the fact that we rented it for the entire summer, was the fact that I didn’t have a job.

Where the hell did I get the money?

The world may never know.

But, we had a house, less than a block for the beach. There were six of us (more or less); when you have a shore house the number of occupants is fluid.

While you read this, you’ll notice I don’t use anyone’s name. There is a simple reason. Its been over forty years since these events, and my memory may juggle the characters and their situations. I’d rather keep them anonymous than get them wrong.

The events are real, the names have been omitted to protect the innocent.

Get a Job You Bum

Before the summer started, three of us got jobs in a restaurant on the boardwalk. Truth be told, only one of us actually worked there.

A few days into our non-employment, as we enjoyed time on the front porch, noticed the manager of the restaurant head toward us down the street. Like world class athletes, we sprinted from the porch, ran through the house like it was on fire, emerged from the back door, and hurdled the back fence for the gold, and disappeared into the night, never to work (or not work) there again.

Speaking of restaurants.

On the boardwalk in Seaside was a pizza place called The Sawmill. It opened at eleven-thirty every day for lunch, and had specials like ‘two hot dogs and soda for a dollar’ or ‘slice and a soda for a dollar’.

When they rolled up the garage door entrance to open, we would be there. Day after day, week after week, we were there, on the boardwalk, as we waited to place our order.

One afternoon, after weeks of this, as the garage door cleared open, the owner looked at us, sighed, and asked, “Don’t you guys have jobs?”

“Nope,” we answered in unison, “two dogs and a soda, please”.

War – What is it Good For

Food was not the only commodity that we looked to save money on, there was also alcohol.

Morgan David 20/20 is, to be generous, a wine. It is not a wine to be served at dinner, or on a date, or in any social situation. It is a wine that twenty-somethings will drink to get drunk quickly if they have no common sense, and very little money. Hence, its nickname:

Mad/Dog 2020.

To keep drinking from becoming boring, you need to be creative (you didn’t know that, did you?).

One afternoon, with novelty glass in hand (holds a half-gallon of liquid) filled with Mad/Dog 2020, played the card game War with another occupant of the house.

Rules? Simple—you drink every time you lose.

Why is this a drinking game? Because someone loses on every hand. In fact, sometimes both participants lose on a single hand. Bottom line, everyone gets very drunk. Why is drinking Mad/Dog 2020 significant in this game? Because by the end, each person gets lobotomy drunk.

Which led me to this:

After an afternoon of playing War, and no longer able to function as an adult, I staggered into the house and went to bed.

To clarify, this house did not have bedrooms. It had one big room with a half-dozen mattresses on the floor. It had two entrances, with curtains for doors, and to land a spot at night it was first come first served.

I entered the empty room, fell onto the closest mattress, and fell asleep (passed out).

Not sure how much time passed, but suddenly a slew of bodies burst through the curtains, landed on the once empty mattresses, and feigned sleep. A few seconds after that, the curtain drew back, and I was looking up at a not-to-happy police officer.

“I don’t care who took it,” the officer said in a slow, deliberate voice, “just put it back.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away.

After a moment to process what happened, I got up and went outside.

Not sure what their end game was, but for some reason my friends unplugged and rolled a soda vending machine from the corner deli to the front of our house. Then, to escape from being discovered, ran into that same house, leaving the vending machine on the sidewalk.

I turned, and paraphrased the police officer’s words with, “I don’t care who took it, just put it the fuck back!”

It’s Definitely Coming down

In May of nineteen-seventy-three NASA launched the space station SKYLAB. After nine years in space, with its orbit decayed, SKYLAB would return to Earth in July of nineteen-seventy-nine. No one knew exactly where it would enter Earth’s atmosphere, so people were rightfully nervous.

One Air Force general, in order to assuage people’s concerns said, “It’s definitely coming down”.

I know I felt better after hearing that.

We knew we had to do something, and we knew drinking would definitely be involved.

In the nineteen-seventies, Utica Club Beer could be purchased in beer balls (no time for jokes, please). They held about five gallons of beer, was the size of a medicine ball, made of a frosty white plastic.

Day after day we would buy a beer ball, divest it of it’s content, and move on to the next. Once a beer ball was empty, a hole was cut in the bottom, the plastic cleaned of any residual beer, then it was given to me.

I drew a cartoon face on the front, nothing particular, just whatever came out of my fingers. The general’s quote was written on the back, and the process repeated until we had enough, one for each member of the house.

Once completed, we sat on our porch, beers in hand, happy in the knowledge that if SKYLAB crashed anywhere near Seaside, we were protected with our heads squarely inside our helmets.

So This is Christmas

After SKYLAB burned and scattered harmlessly into the India Ocean (our helmets worked!), we realized a holiday was just around the corner.

What holiday?

July twenty-fifth, ‘Half-Way to Christmas’ of course.

We bought an artificial Christmas Tree (how, in the middle of July, I don’t know). Set it up on our front porch and decorated it with empty beer cans and bottles stabbed on each branch.

It was around this time we noticed that entire families, who returned to their cars after a day at the beach, would cross the street as to not walk directly in front of our house.

On July twenty-fifth we took the tree up to the beach, planted it in the sand, and celebrated Christmas. Not many, if any, put their blankets by our group. In truth, if I saw those people today, I’d think ‘what a bunch of assholes’.

Yes, we were those assholes.

The Church of Perpetual Sorrow

And through it all, there was Rose.

In hindsight, I feel sorry for Rose. She was our neighbor, lived alone, and was a full time resident of the town. If I was Rose, I wouldn’t be mad at us (we were loud, but not bad), I’d be mad at the idiot who rented the house to us.

Rose would sit in a folding chair in front of her house (no porch) and talk to us throughout the day.

“A lot of dead soldiers last night,” she said one morning and I honestly didn’t know what she meant. Was there a battle? A national emergency with the armed forces?

No.

To Rose, empty beer bottles or cans left on the ground, were dead soldiers.

Rose gave us food, but also admonished our actions at times. We were respectful of her, but didn’t curtail our actions because of her.

Rose saw it all. A group of guys with plastic decorated beer balls on their heads. A Christmas tree with beer bottles as ornaments. Drinking games and dead soldiers. People coming and going all hours of the day and night. Families crossed the street to avoid our house (and hers, unfortunately, by association)

It was a long summer for us. Maybe even longer for Rose.

Rose would come out periodically, broom in hand, and sweep the small patch of cement in front of her house. She didn’t seem happy (hopefully not because of us) so we called her ‘St. Rose of the Church of Perpetual Sorrow’.

Did I mention we were assholes?

#drinking #Jersey Shore #beach #Christmas #Skylab

[every-day-updates]

‘Surviving on bread, fighting for refunds’: Indian students in Canada struggle to find housing, food, jobs

Housing and jobs continue to be a struggle for Indian students in Canada. With depleting savings, Indian students turn to each other for help, as universities offer limited and expensive solutions.

Like many others in Punjab, I also grew up with the dream of settling in Canada. As I didn’t want to waste my parents’ hard-earned money by taking a random degree abroad, I worked hard to get a masters degree and then relevant work experience so that I could pursue a second masters from a reputed Canadian university.

But when I reached my college in North Bay, Ontario, things were very different from what I had been told. Lack of housing and jobs, broken promises by local universities and what not. We have been deceived and sold a false dream, but we are still fighting and coming out stronger.

Even before the India-Canada diplomatic row escalated, Indian students flying to Canada in the past few months have been facing the reality check of “broken promises of a brighter future.” Nearly 2,26,450 Indian students went to Canada in 2022, as per data released by Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada (IRCC). The number of Indian students heading abroad has been increasing every year, making India the largest cohort of international students in the country. This, however, may have been a reason behind depleting resources for students in the country.

Accommodation issues

Some students such as Riya* (name changed on request) in North Bay, Ontario — a small town in the northern part of the province — had to recently set up tents outside their new varsity as their university claimed it did not have enough space to house the new students.

When students reached out to the university, they did not receive any assistance. The varsity offered solutions only when the students started organising protests at the university, which drew the attention of the local media.

“When I was searching for housing options from India, I was warned that there are a lot of scams going around North Bay. So I decided to not book any accommodation from India, however, when I landed in Canada on August 21, it was a shocking situation. I arrived in Brampton and searched for affordable housing in North Bay for nearly 10 days, but in vain. Then when I had to shift to North Bay for my college, I had to book a hotel for the first three days which cost me CAD 120 per day,” she said.

Riya’s savings were depleting and thus she decided to start sharing the motel room with three other girls. “This helped me a bit as the rent decreased to nearly CAD 30 every day. I reached out to my college for support, but they said that since they have limited resources, they will not be able to help us, at least for the time being,” she added.

International students currently in Canada are facing issues of lack of available rooms and increased rent. Students of Canadore College and Nipissing University of North Bay had demanded the varsities to provide permanent accommodation to all students at affordable rates ($250 per student per month). However, students are claiming that they have to pay inflated rent, which is nearly 650 to 750 dollars per month — something that they are paying off-campus in expensive cities.

Since students had to stay in a motel for several days, they had to cut costs on other things, such as food. Riya shared with indianexpress.com that when she was staying in a motel for nearly a week, she did not have enough money to buy hot meals every day.

“We used to get complimentary breakfast from the hotel we were staying at, but that was usually an omelette and since I am a vegetarian, I was stuck with bread. In the mornings, I used to eat bread with butter or jam and then keep some bread slices aside for the day. After attending college the whole day, I used to eat those bread slices in the evening. For nearly a week, I survived just on that,” she said.

Currently, Riya is staying in a rented flat with another Indian girl where they are paying CAD 1200 per month. However, since North Bay is a small city and the number of job opportunities is limited, students are finding it extremely difficult to find a job that can help them with their daily expenses. Students like Riya are still surviving on bread, cereals and dal as vegetables are more expensive there.

Refund our fees

Riya is not alone in this struggle, there are several other Indian students like her who are facing this situation. Chiranjeet* (name changed on request) went to Canada in August with the hopes of studying and settling there, but due to “mismanagement of resources by the Canadian universities”, they are in a refund battle with their colleges.

Some students in North Bay are currently waiting for a full fee refund from their university for lack of resources. Students have urged the varsities to provide affordable housing to international students or transfer them to another campus of this university. They further demanded permission to attend online classes or/and should be exempted from the 50 per cent classroom attendance condition laid by IRCC for a work permit.

Moreover, some students like Chiranjeet had also requested a full refund of the tuition fee without any deduction, so that they can take admission in another college on time. They also asked that open work permits should be issued to the students during the time they do not get admission to any college.

While the university has issued refund notices for a few students, Indian students are now complaining that these educational institutes have asked for a month’s time for this refund, which is coming out as a financial burden for those who are stuck without a job.

Chiranjeet completed his masters degree in Geography from a Ludhiana-based college and then worked in a bank for a couple of years. Later, when his mother passed away, he decided to migrate to Canada to earn a good life for his father. To do so, he got admission to a PG certificate course in project management in Canada.

“After my masters in India, I was preparing for UPSC but my mother passed away. To help my father in earning a living, I started working at a private bank. While I worked there for a couple of years, I observed that the value of human life, education and hard work is more in Canada, and I decided to come to Canada to build a life here,” he told indianexpress.com.

He shifted to Canada with the help of an agent but he advises aspirants not to get trapped in their money-making business. Chiranjeet is one of those students who is currently waiting for a full refund from his university, and meanwhile, he is trying to find another university in the country which can give him an affordable education.

“I live with a friend in Brampton right now who is helping me in every possible way. After my initial bad experience, I reached out to my Indian agent. They tried hard to make me keep waiting for the university’s offer for some other alternative. Their intention was not to help me, but simply that they didn’t want to lose their commission from the university,” he said.

Like many others, Chiranjeet has now been searching on his own to get admission to some other Canadian university. “I have reached out to some agents in Canada too, and they also give me solutions that will cost me more and be profitable for them. If you don’t do your own research, they will keep taking money from you in the name of help,” he warned future aspirants.

Meanwhile, Chiranjeet has missed the September intake too, but is still hopeful of getting admission somewhere in the next intake. While he is still hopeful, some students are now regretting going to Canada for higher studies.

Let’s look for other countries

Indian students like Manjot (name changed on request) think opting for other immigration-friendly countries would be a better option right now. “Given the current political environment between the two countries and the depleting resources in Canada, I think it would be better to head to other countries such as New Zealand or maybe even some European nations where Indians are welcomed and not duped in the name of a better life. I have told my younger brother to apply for New Zealand rather than coming to Canada, and I will also try to look for jobs there after my masters degree from Toronto,” she said.

Khushi (name changed on request) who has recently completed her diploma course in Business Administration from a Montreal-based university is also not sure about staying in Canada in the distance.

While she is currently in India for vacation, she will be returning to Canada in mid-October and will soon start the process for a Canadian Permanent Residency (PR) permit. However, once she gets her PR permit, Khushi will try to shift to Australia, when possible. “There are certain rules on how much time the applicant needs to stay in the same city/ province after getting the PR. I will fulfil that criteria and then try to find a job in Australia,” she said.

In addition to the job crisis, Khushi also wants to shift out of Canada as the weather conditions are too harsh for her which can “make it difficult to go out for the job if you are lucky enough to find one. We cannot afford pay cuts or health issues there, so it is better to shift to somewhere else,” she added.

#Canada #Indian students

[plush-rabbit]

The Brothers + Diavolo Making You Flustered

Request: Hi!hi! The aphrodisiac writing was absolutely *chefs kiss*. I have this habit of when I get embarrassed/flustered I immediately bury my face into the surface in front of me. Like if I’m sitting on the floor I’ll lean over and bury my face on the carpet, sitting at a table I’ll lean over and plant my face on the surface etc. How do you think the brothers (+diavolo if that’s okay) would react to seeing MC do that for the first time when they make them flustered? You’re so talented by the way! ily!

Word Count: 1K each

A/N: I hope you like this!! It was a bit difficult since i didn't want to make everything the same, but yeah!!

-

Lucifer:

His sleeves are rolled up, flour coating the tips of his fingers and dusting across his apron, and the smell of garlic and onion fills the room. It smells lovely, it smells like a home. You stand beside Lucifer, watching as the water boils, bubbles fizzling out and steam rising. A box of noodles is held in your hands, your eyes peering over to where the bread is held in his hands. Your tongue peeks between your lips- it’s a soft pink, tinged with blue from candy and for a moment, he forgets himself, wanting to taste the candy that rests on your tongue, wishing that he were your lips to feel the gentle caress of your tongue.

“Remind me what we’re making again?” You ask, sniffing at the pot, only to scrunch your nose at the scent. “And why it’s us making it?”

“A Devildom dish,” he responds, giving a side glance. “It’s similar enough to a human cousine, so you needn’t worry about it being anything unsavory.” He turns to you, his smile almost teasing. “And we’re making it because it’s our turn on cooking duty.”

“If you wanted to spend time with me, you could always ask.” While your words are true, he tries to hold his composure, not wanting to reveal that you had hit the nail on its head. “You don’t have to assign us both to cooking duty. It’s pretty sneaky for you, dear Lucifer.” Your hand pats at his back and he promptly turns away from you

Walking away from you, he starts the timer on the oven, the preheat button lights up as the oven begins to glow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I drew our names on a complete random.” He turns to you, his smile making you unable to see what he’s really thinking. “Do you not wish to spend time with me?” he asks cooly, walking towards you. Despite the flour on his hands that dusts over his face, and the apron wrapped around him, he still holds an aura of confidence and authority that makes you break away from his gaze first.

“You’re absolutely awful,” you mutter, giving him a grin to let him know that it was a playful insult.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he coos, his grin wicked and cool at the same time. “I must not be totally awful if you still wish to spend time with me.” You groan, shaking your head with a smile on your lips and he turns to hide his more giddy smile, smiling calmly when the oven beeps. The preheat session is done. He opens the oven, a wave of hot air making him knit his brows together for a moment. “There’s no need to be ashamed of being so fond of me. I am Pride, it’s only natural that you would gravitate towards me.” He grabs the rack of bread, carefully slipping it inside the oven and closing the door.

“Well you’re a lot more than Pride to me.” His eyes widen and he turns to you, his body facing towards the oven with his head half-turned. “You’re Lucifer. You’re someone close to me and well, I actually am glad that we got to spend time together. I would love to hear you admit that you simply wanted to spend time with me, but-” you shrug- “you’ve got that stubborn pride that I can’t help but adore.” You turn to him, a cheeky smile on your face that matches the light in your eyes.

It’s silent between the two of you. It’s comforting, one that is welcomed and isn’t making either of you awkward. He watches as you carefully stir the pot, your index skimming under the words of the cookbook. Your brows furrow as you carefully read over the direction, careful to not add the wrong ingredient or wrong measurement. You’re methodical, carefully going about everything, and in the kitchen with Lucifer, he can’t help but smile at you, his smile soft and eyes crinkled as he watches you carefully.

“I know I haven’t told you this enough- or perhaps before-” silverware clinks together as he reaches over from a baking brush, his eyes never leaving yours- “but I’m actually quite proud of you.” He tears his gaze away from you, his smile widening and his chest puffing. “You have this knack about you that makes it so easy for others to fall for you, that I have to admit that even I have fallen victim to you.” The baguettes are painted over with a mixture of garlic and spices, his words never stopping or falling to hesitation as he speaks. “You’re-” he sighs, not knowing how to put what he wants to say into words- “I’ve been Lucifer for such a long time, living and holding power, but I must say, when I’m around you, I feel more me than I ever had in my entire existence.” He turns his body to you, his hands open and knuckles brushing over your cheek, a thin line of white left against your face. “I’m glad that I’ve gotten to meet you.”

His eyes widen, his words finally registering to his ears. He looks up, eyes meeting the stone wall before he turns to you, his mouth agape and hands still holding a baguette, and the baking brush. The garlic and onion sizzle on the stove, the yellow glow of the kitchen and the buzzing sounds of the outside do everything to fill the room, not a single ounce of silence is graced to either of you.

“You can’t just say stuff like that!” You say in a hurried tone, your face hot enough that you can feel sweat start to bead. “It’s- It’s-” you can’t find the proper words, it isn’t embarrassing but it isn’t something that you hear everyday- “Ah!” You decided, burying your face further into the table, your hands cushioning the blow.

His hand claps over your back, slowly rubbing between your shoulder blades in an attempt to soothe you over. “I would have thought you would have enjoyed hearing the truth,” he teases lightly. “Was I wrong about that assumption?” he presses, his elbow nudging against your shoulder where you still lay with your head rested in your hands.

You peer upwards, your face slowly revealed to show a flushed color that makes his chest puff with pride, his smile . “You wanna know why I know that you wanted to spend time with me?” Lucifer raises his brows in confusion. “I hadn’t written down my name yet.” His smile twitches away for a moment. “You called it before I could even write my name down.” You smile at him, your smile gentle. “I still have the paper in my pocket. You really like me, huh Lucifer?”

Mammon:

Textbooks are left open, pencils and pens sprawled over the coffee table as you and Mammon rest on the couch. He talks vividly, and as he’s excited to tell you stories of his past, his mouth works faster, skipping over details and returning to them moments later. Your hands are wrapped tight around his bicep, your face hidden as you try to stifle your laughter. He can feel your hands tighten, the way that you cling to him and even try to push yourself closer to him. “So that was when I decided to just grab all the things I could carry and just book it!” Mammon exclaims, clapping his hands together and extending his right arm forward. “You should’ve seen how angry those witches were, but hell, they deserved it for thinking they could pull one over on me.” He turns to you, his grin wicked, slowly widening as he leans back cautiously to not let you move away from him. “Fuckers should’ve known to not touch my stuff.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head and leaning onto him. His smile twitches for a second, softening into a gentler smile, watching as you turn your face into his arm, trying to stifle your laughter. It’s loud, infectious and it’s something that reminds him of a spring day that he once spent in the Human Realm. He isn’t sure how to explain it- something about it that screams life and youth, something that sounds so unapologetically like you, that it makes him breathless. When you start to pull away, he lets his grin widen, eager to look at you again.

He’s so close to you, your hand within arm’s reach that if he really wanted to, he could just take it in his. His mouth goes dry, his tongue too invasive in his own mouth and he watches as you adjust your hair, his eyes fixated on how your hair slips through your fingers. There are words stuck in his throat, but no matter what he thinks of to say, he isn’t sure what he should say. He’s at a loss, wondering what would be the perfect way to bring back the mood, to continue the conversation without it being forced, but in all honesty, he’s fine, just sitting here with you. He’s more than fine with just staring at you.

“Hey, Mammon?” He jolts at his name being said, a shock running through his spine. He nods his head, swallowing what little saliva is in his mouth. “I really like hearing your stories, you know?” You smile softly at the book in your hands. He watches you with unblinking eyes, wondering what it is that you’re getting at. “I really just like listening to your voice. I know you were stuck with me at first-” internally he flinches, he doesn’t like to reminisce when you were first put under his charge- “but I’m glad that it was you.” He is left breathless, his muscles tense as you look at him, a smile stretching past your lips and gracing your lips. You look at him for a moment, your eyes darting to where his hand is clenched tightly and you nod to yourself, turning your attention back to the book.

You’re facing away from him, your fingertips tracing over the edge of a page as you try to focus on the words but he can tell from the pout on your lips that you aren’t registering anything from the book. What should he say? What can he say? He knows he has to say something. He knows that he should match your energy or at least attempt to but he can’t. There are so many things he wants to tell you, and they all seem so disorganized. You’re pretty. You’re nice to him and you always let him sneak into your bedroom late at night. You rely on him and as much as you need him, he needs you more. You have such a soft touch that it leaves him tingling all over as if some ghost were the one responsible for it. He lets out a slow breath, his lips parted slightly as he breathes out. “You know,” he says quietly, his fingers twitching and moving to clutch at the end of your shirt, “you got a real nice laugh. It’s nice to spend time with you, ya know?” Once he’s started talking, he’s unable to quiet himself, unable to register the things that he’s saying to you. “I like hanging out with other demons and all, but there’s something about you that I like more. It’s like with you-” his hand waves in the air, eyes glancing around your room- “I get to just feel safe. I get to relax and know that I can count on you. And I want you to know that no matter what, I’ll always be on your side. Forever and ever.” Mammon turns his head, his smile stretched wide and hand going to cover yours. “You turned me into a sap, ya know?’”

The moment is tender as he smiles down at you, only to slowly realize the weight of his words as you stop in your movements, your fingers letting the page fall back to the others, words lost upon themselves as your shoulders rise. His eyes widen and his lips thin. Heat creeps upwards from his chest and scorches its way to mar his features, his face turning into a darker shade as he flushes. His mouth goes dry, unable to produce any type of saliva as he sits beside you. Slowly, his mouth parts, and he’s unable to find the words to deny what he just said, but before he can, you curl in on yourself, burying your way into your hands, your hands spread and fingers parting to cover as much of your face as it can.

“I-” he coughs loudly into the rook of his elbow. You can tell that he wants to resort to his usual denial of feelings but he stops himself before he can even reach the middle of his sentence. “Listen, just because you-” you can feel his eyes on you- “will ya look up at me? I’m not gonna tear your head off or anything, I just don’t want you getting a bigger head than you already have.” You slowly turn to him, watching as he tries to avoid your gaze. “Let’s just go get a bite to eat. We can’t study on empty stomachs or whatever.” He rises quickly, his hand held out to you as he keeps his attention out on the door. “Come on, I’ll pay for ya and everything.”

Your lips thin and you look at his hand. You inhale a sharp breath of air, slowly letting it go. His face is still flushed, a deep color that burns against his skin. “Like a date?” You ask, hoping to see more of his reactions. He stiffens at your question, his brows furrowing to meet each other. He stammers out a response, clearly flustered. You lay your hand on his and he immediately quiets down. You smile at yourself, your heart skipping a beat as you realize that it was you who brought him to such a state. Slowly, his hand curls with yours and he gives a brief nod of his head.

Leviathan:

Leviathan sits alone in his room, a blanket pooled around his lower half, his eyes have begun to burn, tinged with red from lack of sleep as bright colors flash across his pale face. An empty bowl save for kernels that rest at the bottom of the bowl, his fingertips tinged with red and he can feel his mouth heavy with acid and past snacks.

His hands tap against his controller, his fingers already reaching toward a button before he can even register what he should press. His mind is on autopilot, reaching and stiffening when an enemy nears and even so, his character is still killed. He lets out a frustrated groan, careful to throw his controller towards his pillows and not the walls- he can’t risk losing yet another controller; least of all having to patch a hole- or in his case, covering it with a poster. His hands are thrown into the air, fingers outstretched before they are curled into a fist. He arches his back forward, the heels of his hands cushioning his eyes. He tears up slightly, wincing at the sudden realization of burning pain that lingers in his eyes. Slowly, he pulls away just in time to hear his door creak open.

“Password,” he says with a lack of conviction, turning slightly to watch as you enter with a bag in your hand. He raises his brows, his arm stretching outward as he blindly searches for his controller. “What do you have there?” He jerks his chin, returning his attention to the game in front of him.

The light clicks on- something bright that fills the room in a soft blue that stretches around him. He winces at the sudden light, the controller dropped onto his lap as he rubs his eyes vigorously. If it weren’t obvious enough that he kept himself secluded in his room, it was obvious from the way that he rubbed at his eyes, and had to blink multiple times before he could finally look at you without shielding his eyes. You end him a wicked smile that slowly grows until you reveal your teeth, the bag in your hand held slightly tighter. In response, he sticks his tongue out at you, his cheeks tinted with a pale shade of pink.

“I’m surprised it’s taken you so long to defeat the boss,” you say, walking towards the bathtub where he sits. You sit in front of the porcelain, your gaze fixated on a television system that he has set up for a more immersive gameplay experience. When you are met with a lack of response, you turn your head to see him with narrowed eyes. “What? No witty remark?” Once more, you’re met with silence. “Levi?”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “I- Fuck, you know?” This time, he’s met with silence. “First, I can’t get the concert tickets, then I can’t even get the new figure and now, I can’t even defeat this stupid game.” His cheeks fill with air, and he slowly lets the breath go past his lips. “And the concert was going to have passes to meet them behind the stage and the figure was signed and-” his character dies once more and the controller is tossed pitifully onto the pillow. He leans over the tub, his arms crossed under his chin, and his eyes on you. “My luck isn’t usually so bad, you know?”

You pat the floor beside you, your hand meeting the cold tile. “Come on, sit beside me,” you comment, shuffling over a few inches to give him even more space. With a huff, he rises out of the tub, small bits of crumbs falling onto the porcelain. He sits beside you, his arm brushing against yours but neither of you make an effort to move.

“I’m sitting, now what?” He asks, the television blurry as it replays his death with the words “Game Over” in bold letters.

“Well, Levi-” you hand him the bag, with fingers pinched over the handles- “since you’re having such rotten luck, why don’t you open the bag?”

He gives you a narrowed stare, slowly retrieving the bag from you and pulling out the pastel colored tissue paper. At the bottom of the bag sits a box, the words of a favorite anime of his stamped beside with the usual font. His heart skips a beat, as he slowly clasps his hand around the box, his fingers pushing against the plastic and he gaps, reality crashing onto him like a wave.

“It’s-” he doesn’t even finish saying the sentence, your nod is an answer to everything. “The figure that I wanted- I- How?” He asks, looking at the box, so worried that if he were to take his eyes away, the box would vanish.

“Ah, ah-” you wag your finger in the air- “that is a story for another time, my dear Leviathan.” You sound so smug and a smile is already evident in your words.

He bounces in his seat, his legs shaking rapidly, knees softly knocking against each other as he lets his excitement show. His hands flap eagerly, his smile wide and eyes closed. A sharp breath is sucked between his teeth, as he stares at you with bright eyes. You’re startled, your shoulders raising a few centimeters into the air with wide eyes as you stare at him. A nervous smile stretches across your face with him so close to you and looking at you with such eager eyes. If you were to be honest with yourself, you’re a bit flustered with how he looks at you. Your heart races and it beats against your chest, rattling at your ribs and echoing against your body. You nod rapidly, gulping what little moisture you have in your mouth when he grabs your hands tightly in him.

He shouts your name, enthusiasm laced into his word, his hands pulling yours close to his chest. “Ah! You’re the absolute best!” His smile is so wide that it’s almost comical, leaving you smiling both in response to and because of him. “I’m so glad that you’re here! Of course, you’d be my Henry!” He drops your hands and pulls you in for a hug, squeezing tightly around you, his head nuzzled into the curve of your neck. “I don’t know what I would do without you, but I’m just glad that you’re the one that’s with me!” He pulls away, his hands now holding onto your biceps. Deep breaths exhale through him, his chest rising and dipping rhythmically. He calls your name and it’s sweet like honey on his tongue. “You really are the best. I mean,” his tone becomes softer, his smile less eager and more true, “you do so much for me. I couldn't ever imagine my life without you. You mean so much to me.”

“Levi,” you mumble, and when his hands fall from you and return to hold the box, you pull the bag towards your face, hiding away from him. Your neck grows hot, scorching your skin and making you breathless. “I’m glad that you like it,” you manage to squeak out, the bag further pressed towards you.

A few seconds pass until he finally realizes why you’ve pulled the bag to your face. Leviathan stiffens, clearing his throat and turning away, his hand covering his lower half of the face. The figurine sits beside him with a delicate smile plastered on their face. With the air so light and heavy, he reached into the tub, eager to pull out the controller. With a meek cough, he fumbles with the controller, passing it over to you, with his eyes still glued on the figurine. “Would you like a turn? Maybe you’re better than me.” He can feel his chest tighten when his fingertips brush against yours and the hundredth time, the game tune plays in the room.

Satan:

Satan’s eyes narrow unconsciously as he reads over the same page for the tenth time. No matter what, he is unable to focus on the words, the letters and lines meshing into one that nothing fully registers past the first word of the page. If he were to be honest with himself, nothing has registered since the last few pages that he’s read. With a huff, he closes the book, a small gust of air blowing at the hair that rests over his forehead. The book rests on the table beside him, nudging against the lamp that makes the room flicker for a brief moment.

The room is filled with sound, the hum of the air conditioner unit, the distant sounds of footsteps and talk across the house, the demonic animals that roam around outside. He’s sure that if he were to focus, he’d even hear the scratching of a pen. Scratch that- he can now that he thought about it. All the sounds make his skin crawl, uncomfortable and itchy and as he drags his nails across his arm, he’s only offered a second of relief before the feeling returns. He leans against the chair, his neck arched over the back of it, as he lets his eyes flutter to a close, the bright light of the library barely shining through his closed eyelids. It’s not like to be so distracted- especially when it comes to a favorite pastime of his. And yet, his mind is distracted, wandering to images of you where you were talking to others that weren’t him. He isn’t the jealous type- at least, not when he compares himself to his brother, but it seems that you brought out something different for him.

His leg twitches and there’s a burning sensation on his arm that he chooses to ignore. It only intensifies when he hears footsteps approaching. The sensation spreads and becomes sharper, insatiable as it burrows itself in the demon. There is a presence standing beside him and he already knows that it’s you. He can tell by the steps, by the breathing, by your scent. He frowns at the thought. He doesn’t know if it’s romantic or not to know such small details about you.

Something clicks- your knee, perhaps- and your hand rests above his slender one, cupping and still, there are gaps where his skin is unfortunate enough to not to be touched by you. “Satan?” You call out to him in a quiet voice- not quite a whisper but not your usual volume either. “Are you asleep?”

“Is it you wondering or someone else?” He responds, slowly opening his eyes and turning his head, meeting the top of yours. “Is there something that you need?” He makes no effort to move, stuck in his position as he is content just sitting on a chair with your hand over his.

“It’s me,” you answer him, turning your head to meet his eyes. His lips slowly turn into a smile with his eyes slowly growing heavy. “You don’t normally sleep in the library without cause. You okay?” Your hand slips from his and his eyes widen his hand closing into a fist, already missing your touch. But, he is soon reconnected with your hand as it rests on his forehead. You soon look down at him with pursed lips. “I- uh, I can’t tell if you have a fever or not.”

He smiles at you and sits up straight, holding in a moan when his back is already sore, feeling the muscles whine as they had already grown taut. “No- No I just, I have quite a few things on my mind, is all.” He gingerly goes to grab your hand in his, uncaring that your eyes are on him and that the door is open for anyone to walk in and see Wrath so tender. “I’m sorry that I worried you.”

Your hand in his is turned, pulled slightly away but not enough to be taken away from his grasp. You walk from the side of the chair to stand in front of him, and when you meet his eyes, you nod down, gesturing to his lap. He smiles softly, nodding his head and leaning back, humming under his breath when you situate yourself on his lap, your head resting on his shoulder.

“You’re oddly touchy today,” he comments, his hand curved on your lap as the one he held is moved to behind his neck, your fingertips barely touching his collarbone. “Did I do something to deserve this?”

You give a half-hearted hum, and in the corner of his eye, he can tell that you have closed your eyes. “Think of it as a way to make you feel better.” You give him a play tap and he nods, his eyes staring straight ahead, lost against the colorful spines of the books. “So what does have you so worked up?”

Is now his chance? Is he now able to tell you the full extent of his feelings? He has you sitting on his lap, comforting him in a way that few people would ever dare to. There's feelings there, bubbling and forming on both ends and he knows that it’s both ends. It’s you that is on his mind. Filtering in when you shouldn’t, invading every space of his that he has until he’s completely overwhelmed. It’s a strong feeling, something that rivals his own wrath and for the first time, he welcomes it- he doesn’t put up a fight against it. He wants to feel whatever it is that you make him feel. He wants the intensity of it until he’s exhausted, until the wrath that has been boiling inside of him ever since he can remember, can finally evaporate, can finally be extinguished.

You call his name once more and he looks at you, his smile tight and eyes closed for a moment. “How do I tell you that I care for you in a way that says exactly what I’m trying to say without scaring you off?” His eyes close and his hand turns over on your thigh, palm open and empty. “How do I tell you that you’re the thing on my mind? That it’s you that is reducing me into a mess at the simple thought of you.” He turns his head enough, shrugging his shoulder to make sure that you’re looking back at him, your chest still and the hand that you had relaxed, is slowly crawling over to his open one. “The thought of you warps into this- this jealous demon that isn’t exactly something I’m fond of. I you to myself and yet, that I want you to myself and that the thought of you with anyone else, makes me more of wrath than I have ever been.” Your hand closes above his and he nods slowly, clasping his hand over yours. “It’s you, and it’ll always be you.”

With a jolt, his words finally register to him. He turns to face you, but you’re buried into his shoulder, your hand holding tightly onto his, as if he were your lifeline and the one over his shoulder is grasping at his sweater, bunching the knit fabric into a mess. Your heart beats over the sound of the room, the hum of the electricity erased, the steps and chatter muffled under you. He smiles softly, a slow chuckle taking over, until he’s laughing widely, his chest shaking and vibrating under you with every laugh. You moan his name and he can only say the first letters of an apology before his laughter takes over.

“Really, really- I’m not laughing at you,” he says through an attempt at laughter. “I just forgot how different you are. How you always seem to change depending on your mood.” He feels a harsh pat against him, your head shaking as you press further into him. “Please, never change,” he says with a laugh at the end, his head turning, his lips meeting against the side of yours in a quick press.

Asmodeus:

He’s flawless. He has to be. Or, maybe he’s just naturally like that. You are not the best when it comes to reading Asmodeus- too enthralled by him that you can’t seemingly tell when he’s told a joke or not that pertains to his beauty. Very little of it matters to you- you may appreciate that he is quite gorgeous, but you’ve also gotten to know the demon that embodies Lust.

Perhaps it’s because he knows who he is, that he is Lust, that he has to appear the best at all times. He can never make a mistake or it’ll be all that’s talked about- he knows as well as anyone else how easily a reputation can be damaged. However, when he looks at you, he doesn’t have to worry about that. He still wants to look his best for you, but he knows that if he were to slip, you wouldn’t see him any differently than how others see him.

You sleep beside him, nestled under his covers, the blanket pulled a little bit past your lips. Your hair is askew, small strands that stick up or curl around your face. Slowly, he takes a slender finger and softens the hair back to you, smiling when you try to lean into his touch. Your eyes flutter open, and you turn before he can see you, yawning and stretching your arms upwards, the cover crumpling above you. You lie still for a few more seconds and he sits upwards, daring to peek at your face. As if already knowing that he was going to watch you, you run a hand through your hair in an attempt to make yourself look more refined, to fix your appearance before him. You rub your eyes with a knuckle, turning to him and opening your mouth only to have a yawn cut through.

“Did you have a good nap?” Asmodeus asks, watching as you stretch your limbs, your muscles pulled taut as you let out a whine of satisfaction. You nod in response to him. “I’m glad. You know, I do have to tell you that you were right. I try not to ruin my sleep schedule but that nap felt simply divine. I think I feel more rested than I usually do.”

You smile at him, turning over to rest your head on his chest. His hand immediately comes to curve over the back of your head. “I like sleeping with you. You have such a soft bed and you always give such nice hugs.” He laughs in response, his hand lowering to hold near your shoulder. “It’s true. Devildom is still-” you take a brief pause- “different. And somehow, when I’m with you, all my worries are just-” you blow out a gentle puff of air- “gone.”

“I’m here for whenever you need me. All you have to do is just call,” he comments, his hand running past the sleeve of your shirt, his index and middle fingers touching against your warm skin. “I think it’s almost time for dinner. Would you like to accompany me? I’d be more than happy to take you to that little restaurant we found the other day.”

The edge of your sleeve is toyed with, pinched between the fingers and released. His hand returns to where it lay only to be disturbed when you rise, causing his hand to rest beside him. You give him a blinding smile that makes his heart flutter as he looks at you. “I’d be more than happy to, but I would like to get ready before we go out.” He raises a brow at you, tilting his head to encourage you to continue. “I want to look my best for you.” You lean forward and he smiles, fully ready for a kiss, only to have you pull away and kiss his shoulder. He frowns, his lips pushing towards a pout as he looks at you.

“Not even a kiss?” He asks, a tease of playfulness loosely attached to his words. “I have to say that I’m hurt.” He watches as you move, curling your legs underneath you as you watch him with a hint of smile on your face. “After all that I do for you, and yet, you have the gall to deny me a simple kiss?” he lets out a huff, not trying to hide the smile that graces his features and you. “You should be ashamed of yourself. There are demons who would kiss my steps to even look at me.”

“Asmo,” you call to him and he quiets, looking at you with expectant eyes. Despite him being the demon who can be considered one of the strongest- and is- you’re still the one who holds all the power in the relationship. He nods, encouraging you to continue. “Why do you want to go out with me?”

He can’t help the smile that forms, that twists the already playful one into something more bitter. It’s a question that he asked himself the first time he realized his feelings towards you. He could have it all and you’re just a human with minimal magical abilities. He’s met countless lifeforms who were and are beautiful, their beauty forever imprinted and never seeming to age. But, he still chooses you. And he’s content with that. He’s more than happy that he’s with you.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, his eyes focused on your cupid’s bow. “You know, there are times when I look at you and I wonder if you see yourself the way that I see you.” He knows what to say, it all comes so natural to him when he compliments you. “Your scars and blemishes, the stretch marks around your tummy and how they pale and wrap around you. The little moles that you have are kissed along your sides and cheeks.” His thumb moves down and now his hand holds yours. “I have to be perfect- I have to be loved and admired, but then I see you and I think to myself how as long as I’m loved by you, that’s enough. You really have changed me in a way I never saw myself. Beauty means everything to me- or at least it did. But now I have you, and I have to admit, that I prefer you over anything else in the world.” He leans forward and lets his lips press against the corners of yours. “I want to go out with you, because to me, you’re the best that there will ever be.”

It all happens in a flash, seeing your face darken, feeling the hand slowly shake and then your face is hidden by the covers. He can hear you whine his name, and when his hand touches between your shoulder blades, his nimble fingers reaching above the collar of your shirt and touching your neck, he can feel how hot it is. He laughs as his arms reach around you and pull you close to him, giggling and accepting your odd human behavior.

Beelzebub:

Detention is quiet, save for the ticking of the clock, but other than that it’s silent. The room is occupied by a total of three people- you, Beelzebub, and the unfortunate professor that is stuck to watch over the two of you who scrolls through their D.D.D. while music plays loudly every now and then. You suspect they are on an app similar to one from the Human Realm, complete with word play and aesthetic from Devildom.

You turn over to Beelzebub, quirking your brows when you see him scribbling over a paper with a pen. You peer over, sitting straighter to get a closer look only to find him mindlessly doodling, similar drawings cover the paper in blue ink. As if feeling your stare, he turns to you with slightly wide eyes before relaxing them, sending you a smile and raising his paper, to show you his work. You return the smile, pleased at his cute antics and his boyish smile. You send him a thumbs up, before the professor coughs, catching the attention from the two of you.

They stand up, their tail curling around their leg and with a yawn, they expose their teeth. Their phone is stuffed into their pocket as they slowly walk to the front of the desk. “I’ll be back. I expect the two of you to still be here. You both have an hour left.” With that, they walk to the door, the heels of their shoes clicking, the door creaking before it finally closes leaving you and Beelzebub alone in a room.

Immediately, you turn to Beelzebub, your chair squeaking as you shift it hastily. “Beel,” you say excitedly, patting your hands on your thighs. He answers with a hum, tilting his head to the side to show that he is listening to you. “You have power over the professors, don't you?” You see the corner of his lip twitch upwards. “I mean you're the Avatar of Gluttony, can’t you just get us both out of here?”

The pen is set down and he leans back on his chair, his legs sliding underneath the desk until they are stretched to their full length. He turns to you, his smile lazy and eyes half-lidded. “I don’t feel like getting in trouble anymore than I already have.” His smile is crooked, teeth barely glimpsing from behind his lips.

“But we’re already in trouble,” you try to argue, pushing forward. “Please?” You lean forward, holding onto his bicep, with a pout on your lips. “If I use the pact powers, I’ll probably be the only one in trouble.”

He snickers, crossing his arms and lowering his head to side his smile. “We have an hour.” He looks up at you, a hand coming to cover yours. “Just sit and wait, okay? I’ll treat you out later.” You stick your tongue out at him and he laughs, pulling away from your touch and turning his own chair to face you, his hand resting over the desk, pulling on the tip of the pen until it is pulled underneath his hand. “What makes you want to go home so early anyways?”

“Why don’t you wanna go home?” You shoot back, your arm bent above the desk, with your chin resting on the palm of your hand. He shrugs in response, his attention back to the paper as he starts to bounce the pen between his index finger and thumb. “What are you drawing, anyways?” it doesn’t go unnoticed that he stiffens at your question, his lips pulling into a thin line as his leg starts to bounce. “It’s the same image, right? Like the same character that you’re drawing?” You lean closer, watching as he bounces the pen faster in his hand.

“It’s- It’s for art class,” he responds, clearing his throat. His hands grab at the paper and for a moment you think he’s about to crumble the paper, but instead he slips it between a notebook, careful to not let an edge slip out before it’s stuffed into his bag. “We have to draw-” he hesitates, squirming under your attention- “a thing.”

“I thought sports took care of your electives?” He sucks in a breath through his teeth, turning his attention to the board smeared with chalky remains. “Oh? Are you lying to me?” Your hand flutters to your heart, your voice faux hurt as your slump over in your seat. “Beelzebub, I’m actually hurt. Here I thought we were close and yet-”

“I’m drawing you,” he says, effectively making you stop in your theatrics. You turn to him, your mouth parted. “I wanted to draw you and give it to you as a gift but I can’t get your smile right.”

“Well that didn’t take much probing,” you mutter, scooting your chair closer to him, the toe of your shoe nudging against his backpack.

“I don’t like lying to you,” he states, his body becoming still and eyes returning to where you sit so close to him. Close enough where he can smell your cream. “I just didn’t want you to find out.”

There’s silence between the both of you, your lips pursed as you nod. “My smile?” He nods. “It should be simple, shouldn’t it?” Just a curve and some smaller curves for the lips and boom, you’re done.” You grab his backpack, holding it in your hands, the opening pointed towards him.

“No,” he says with a frown, pulling the same notebook out and slipping out the paper. Upon closer inspection, the images of what appears to be you are roughly scribbled. They aren’t the best but the thought of him drawing something for you and being nervous about you finding out makes the drawing much sweeter. “You have a nice smile. It’s like- like,” you look up at him to see his brows furrowed. “I don’t know how to explain it. Your smile is nice. It’s a lot more than nice. When you smile at me, it’s just nice. I like seeing you happy. You smiling at me makes me feel special and I don’t want to half-ass some drawing of you. I want to make it special because you’re special to me. Your smile makes me feel warm, like I’m being hugged and everytime you smile, it always reaches your eyes and when your eyes crinkle, it’s like you’re just looking at me and that makes me feel so-” he takes a deep sigh and releases it slowly- “so safe.” His words come to a soft close, his face a warm shade of red. He lets out a nervous chuckle. “That sounds dumb, doesn’t it?” When he looks at you, you’ve curled into a ball in your seat, your face buried into his backpack. He calls your name frantically, his hands on your shoulders, only to pull away when you let out a high-pitched whine. “Did I offend you?” His name is muffled between the fabric. “Yeah?”

“You’re really sweet,” you moan pitifully, clutching the bag tighter, hoping that it effectively hides your burning face. “I think I’ll actually die from what you just said.” Your heart beats in your chest, the sweet confession echoing in your ears and when you smile, you can only hide it, not wanting him to see the wide grin that is now plastered across your face. “I’ll take any drawing that you give me.” You hold your hand out, ready to receive the unfinished work, not yet lifting your head.

His hand covers your outstretched one. “Maybe if I can see your smile right now, I’d be able to get it right,” he teases slightly. Your only response is shaking your head, giggling through the fabric as you feebly try to shake his hand away. He laughs widely, holding your hand tighter as he urges for you to look upward at him.

Belphegor:

The room is quiet, no footsteps that echo from above, no noise that travels from the stairs into the room that was once Belphegor’s prison. Beside him, you lay curled on your side, resting against him, your hand playing with a drawstring of his hoodie, playing with the frayed ends at your fingertips.

“I thought being around you would make me sleepy,” you murmur, an ill-placed yawn ruining the validity of your statement.

Even where he lays, he knows that you’re pouting, with your brows knitted together. “It seems that I am already making you quite tired. You only lasted how long?” He’d make a show of checking his nonexistent watch, but he rather not, already too comfortable in his current position to risk moving. You blow a raspberry in response and he lets out a giggle, his hand that is placed underneath you is bent to hold a strand of your hair in between his fingers. “Come on, be nice now. I can also make you unbelievably tired but unable to sleep.”

“You’re so cruel Belphegor,” you say in a whisper, your hand finally still from playing with his drawstring. “You’d take away my sleep for a simple noise? How juvenile,” you tease, nuzzling further into his side, humming when his fingers part through your hair and scratch lightly at your scalp. “Here I am, whisked away from my homework to come and nap beside you. And what do I get in return? Teasing.” The last word slowly drifted off into a simple breath of air that was tickled against his side.

It really hadn’t taken you so long to fall under his own sleeping spell. A part of him is a bit bitter, wanting to spend more time with you where the both of you were conscious and could actually talk, while the other part of him, is simply glad that you’re resting beside him, that you’ve taken time out of your day to lay next to him.

“It’s not like you don’t deserve it,” he says through a smile, twisting your hair around his index. “I mean, out of all the reactions I can get, yours is possibly the best of them.”

“Thank you,” you say, sounding a bit more like a question. “You know, I’m glad that you invited me up here. I haven't been getting the best sleep as of late.”

“You can always come to me,” he’s quick to say, eager so evident in his voice that he’s drowning in it. He wants to be near you, he wants to be with you.

“I don't want to bother you,” you confess with a faint voice.

“You could never bother me.” It’s the truth. He’d crawl to you if it meant even a fraction of your attention would be given to him. He’d do what he could just to hear your voice. You’d never be a bother to him. You’d be his saving grace. It’s silent for a moment, one where he can hear the house come alive under him and feel your breath with even more vigor than before, feeling each and every pause, every gust of air a kiss against his skin that makes him yearn for more. He calls your name, and it’s thick on his tongue- foreign and light, and yet it sounds like he’s said it countless times before, as if he knew the name by heart. You hum in response and he takes a deep breath.

His finger twirls around a small piece of your hair, letting the hair curl around his finger before he releases it, only to do the same thing once more. “I’m always surprised that you let me get so close,” he says in a quiet voice, careful to not ruin the moment but a part of him knows that it might have been ruined already when it alludes to him. He can feel your eyes on him, watching him carefully as your lips part. “I know that I’m not exactly a knight in shining armor or anything and uh-” he lets the strad of your hair go, watching it bounce in freedom- “I just want you to know that I appreciate that you even let me touch you. I really like you, you know? I think you’re a much better person than I’ll ever be.” His lips stretch into a bittersweet smile that soon falls into a frown, twisting his features into something more somber. You say his name and it makes his breath hitch, a hiccup in his throat as his name fills the momentary silence. “I mean it. I think that’s why I- why you mean so much to me. I could never be like you. I can only admire you from afar and want you for myself.” He lets out a breathless puff of air that has humor etched into it. “I just wanted you to know that you mean a lot more to me than I’ll ever be able to put into words.”

With every continuation of his words, you felt your body respond to him. Your stomach twists with butterflies causing a storm inside of you, your chest tight and the sweet relief of air has escaped your lungs, and you’re hot, heat flush against your face and creeping from your chest and upward. You wonder if he could hear every change in your breathing, in your heart that beats, in just you.

He looks at you through half closed eyes and for once, you don’t think that it’s sleep that’s causing his soft smile and tender eyes. You stiffen, your muscles going rigid under his stare. The pillow is cool under your face as you stay hidden from him, gripping at the edges and turning away from his gaze, unable to keep as tight face as a smile creeps across your face.

He laughs as you lower your head, hiding your face from his after the tender words that were shared. “Come on, was it that easy to make you flustered?” He teases, the bed dipping as he moves. His hand tugs on the pillow that is held tightly in your grasp. “Oh come on, just look up,” he whines, weakly tugging at the pillow. “Seriously, you’re so dramatic and for no reason. It shouldn’t be news to you that I like you.” His smile is clear in his voice, light and full of kittenish behavior. “If you don’t pay attention to me, I’m going to continue, you know.” His grin widens when you finally peek at him, and he can’t help but laugh.

Diavolo:

There is chatter in the room, accompanied by the heels of shoes that click against the tiled floor. The room is lit in an orange glow that makes the atmosphere of the room seem almost dream-like. You tug wine glass, pulling it closer to you, careful to not let a drop spill over and stain the pristine white tablecloth. You glance around the room, watching people chat amongst themselves, their own eyes glued to their partners.

You look at the prince before you who takes a sip from his glass, his tongue peeking to wipe at the taste on his lips. “Diavolo?” The glass is set down and he looks at you with slightly widened eyes. “When I said I wanted to go out for dinner, I was fine with just some Akudonalds or ya know-” you glance once more around the room, your gaze focused on the silverware set carefully in front of you- “anything.

“This is anything,” he says, his smile cool and hands resting above the table. “We hardly go out and when we do, the others tend to accompany us. While I enjoy their company, I’d also like to just enjoy yours. So I thought, since this is a rare occasion, we’d make the best of it.” He leans close to you, and you know that there is no malice or hidden intention with him. He is honest, able to tell you what he wants without finding it necessary to hide himself. “If you are uncomfortable with such a restaurant, we can always go somewhere else, next time.”

“It’s not that, it’s just-” you clear your throat, leaning against the table, lowering your voice- “I’ve never been to such a high-end place. I don’t want you to overspend because of me. I’m fine just going somewhere low-key.”

He laughs, shaking his head and his fingers drum against the table. I’m a prince. There’s no such thing as overspending and even if there were, I don’t mind it if it’s you that I’m doting on.” You nod slowly, your fingers running at the edge of the fork handle. “Really, there is no need to worry. I’m just happy that you agreed to join me on this outing.”

You do your best to not shake your legs, mindful of the wine beside you. “‘M glad I was able to join you as well. I- I like spending time with you.” You smile sweetly at him, a hint of nerves tracing against your smile. “I just have to admit that I was taken aback when you invited me out. I know you mentioned how it’s always us with the others, but I don’t know-” you fingers find themselves tracing around the base of the glass- “I guess I always figured you liked me because I was able to get you out of work since you know, I am part of your work. I never would have assumed that you actually wanted to spend time with me.”

For a moment, it’s silent, a brief moment that couldn't even be considered silent, just a short pause but it's enough for him. “May I admit something to you?” Diavolo asks, his hands fiddling with the napkin beside himself. You nod, leaning forward, urging him to continue. “I was always fascinated with humans. I loved humans- they were these beings who had free will and they all lived different lives but in the end they shared the same fate.” He chuckles softly and his hand goes to the stem of the wine glass. “It’s the same for demons, of course. Any life can be taken and for the most part, they have free will, but I think I love humans. Or at least I thought I did.” He looks up at you, his smile faltering for a moment as he struggles to keep it up. “But I think rather than love, I hold admiration for their humanity. For their tenacity, and kindness; their love and warmth that they have with each other. And when I look at you-” his hand leaves the glass and is left open towards you- “I’m reminded of how beautiful humans can be.” His smile turns bitter for a moment, falling and he makes no attempt to keep up the facade. “I’m reminded just how fragile they are. I need you to know that I admire humanity, but I think I love you. I love how you do your best to help those around you, how you adapt to your environment, and just how easily you can make others fall for you.” He lets out a short laugh through his nose. “If I have to be honest, I think I’m also jealous of you. I wish I were the only one who could have the opportunity to fall for you.” His hand is still held out towards you, vacant without yours.

Throughout his monologue your body has been on fire, pooling in your stomach and against your back. You stare at his empty hand, trying to will yourself to hold it but the most that you can do is lay your head on the table, silverware clicking together and a dull thud heard. You want to let out a whine but you’re sure you’ve already called attention to yourself and- oh dear. What will people think of when they see Lord Diavolo with a human who has planted their face against a table. Your thoughts race, clouding your mind as the silence in the room is deafening, echoing in your ears as you rest with your face down.

“Is this a human custom?” Diavolo asks, his voice full of genuine wonderment. “Should I also be doing it?”

“Dia,” you mumble, your body slowly squeezing against itself in order to make yourself smaller. “You can’t confess so nonchalant,” you say in a hushed whisper, wanting to let out any type of noise that is slowly building up inside of you. “It’s- It’s too much for me,” you whine, slowly raising your head to peer at him.

“Well, I am a prince- a demon one at that. I suppose you can say that there are different customs for us as well.” His smile is jovial, and he reaches across the table, his hand open and this time you take it. Unable to look him in the eye, you resort to watching as his hand slowly threads to intertwine himself with you. “I must say, if that’s the response I were to get, I might as well continue it. I rather liked whatever it was that you did.” He’s so honest, looking at you with a wide grin that shows his pointed teeth and you can’t help but bury your face once more, grinning when you hear him let out a small laugh, his hand closing around yours.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me headcanons #im gonna scream #this took so long #someone fight me #why did i over do it #oh god please enjoy it #like im crying and laughing #finally done #one requests out #now i got others to do #gonna scream #also i should have lunch #what should i have

[thrillridesz]

heart racing ▫ j.yn

in part of the adrenaline rush! collab hosted by @lucas-wongs​ + @ickjun​

⇢ pairing: jaehyun x reader (f) (ft. other nct members + twice’s jeongyeon)

⇢ genre: fluff, angst, racer!au, best friends to lovers

⇢ warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating, mentions and consumption of alcohol, alcoholism, hitting rock bottom

⇢ synopsis: once a revered member of the racing industry, jaehyun has been living at rock bottom for the past few months following a tragic accident that effectively put him out of racing. it seems as though nothing would get through to him, not even you. will he ever break out of the constant loop of doubt and start seeing things for what they really are?

⇢ word count: 8.04k

⇢ fic playlist: get you to the moon - KinaBeats ft. Snøw | Amnesia - 5SOS | You Belong With Me - Taylor Swift | Confetti Falling - Big Time Rush | Go Season - Devin Bronson (highly recommended for the racing scene) | Love Story - Taylor Swift 

⇢ a/n : unedited! also posted on this account because I’m considering merging my nct account with my tbz writing blog also PLEASE check out the other writers’ works ^^ we’ve all worked hard on our fics

“Jaehyun, you’re ruining yourself.”

The dim room reeked of stale alcohol and something mouldy as the empty beer bottles that littered the floor clanged noisily against the surrounding furniture, leaking golden yellow liquid all over. Old, worn clothes were draped everywhere, stained and darkened with murky stains while the battered television flickered weakly to live, showing nothing but static. The walls were streaked and striated with scratches, as if someone had just been clawing desperately at them and on the floor amidst the empty glass bottles, were pieces of scrap poster paper. Sunlight peeks in through the drawn blinds, giving a teasing glimpse to the bustling outside world from the sad, decrepit apartment Jaehyun lived in.

Sprawled on the couch with nothing on except a wrinkled pair of jeans, Jaehyun’s eyes were devoid of emotion - blank and dazelike. In his hand, his fingers held on limply to the neck of yet another bottle of beer, possibly his nth for the day. His usually shiny hazel brown hair was greasy with filth and his bare chest was sticky with sweat from being cooped up all day in this tiny, stuffy apartment of his. His jawline was starting to grow a hint of stubble given how much he’d completely let himself go and dark circles were appearing underneath those intense eyes of his.

Slowly, Jaehyun lifted his gaze from the floor to look at you, the first flicker of emotions that he’d ever displayed in the whole day. You stood before him, arms akimbo, your gaze sharp and piercing. He smiled, a smile that held no mirth or happiness.

“Oh, you’re still here.”

You shook your head, ripping the bottle of beer from his grasp. As you approached, the bottles, clothes and torn pieces of paper on the ground almost made you trip and you tutted under your breath.

“Of course I am. I’m your best friend who is somehow still here with you. Best friends help each other.”

He chuckled nonchalantly, waving his hand at the door. “Well, feel free to leave then. I don’t need your help.” His eyes held a hint of anger as he did, something that did not escape your notice.

“Jaehyun,” you said softly, placing the bottle on a nearby table as you dread what was to come next. “Please, not this again.”

Your words only served to fuel the fiery spark of anger in his eyes as he said in a barely controlled tone, the irritation radiating from him in ripples that threatened to evolve into waves, “Why not? I’m a fucking wreck and a loser anyways. Leave like everyone else did. Leave like…” His voice wobbled, “leave like Jeongyeon did.”

Your heart fell and it took almost a godlike willpower not to let your emotions show. Was he still thinking about her?

“Jaehyun-”

“What? Are you gonna say I’m not a loser like you always do? Cut the fucking lies. Everyone out there is saying the same thing, what makes you think you can convince me that you’re not thinking it either? Hm?” He spat, the drowsiness in his demeanour dissipating fast as red hot anger replaced it. There was so much internal frustration within Jaehyun that just seeing him like this was enough to break your heart. It was one thing to see him in this terrible state but it was quite another to see him directing his anger towards you.

You drew in a deep breath, trying to calm your pounding heart and to stop the tears that pricked at the corner of your eyes. Having been there with him every step of the year ever since the both of you were children playing and horsing around the neighbourhood, you found yourself desperately missing those much simpler times and wondering how things became so wrong.

For as long as you could remember, Jaehyun had always been interested and had a natural flair for racing. There always existed a competitive streak in him that thrived off a challenge. It didn’t matter what it was, as long as it was a game that could have a clear winner or incited competitiveness, he was all up for it. As kids, the two of you used to compete over everything, be it for the last popsicle in the convenience store down the street or past the gates of your school. It was as if racing was something he needed in order to live. It wasn’t until sophomore year of high school did Jaehyun decide to take his love for racing to a professional level. He began to dive deep into the motorsport industry, starting out as a mere rookie in auto racing. He never did apply to college, preferring instead to invest all his time into his newfound life career.

His rise to fame was quick, quicker than most. Within his first year, he had won a number of races, beating even some of the well known names in the sport. Every other month, he was winning trophies and exorbitant cash prizes which in return earned him the recognition of famous sponsors and racers. Bumper stickers from the various sponsors decorated the back of his ride and it was no time at all before Jaehyun began to don some of the most expensive sports gear on the tracks. With his smouldering good looks, he also appeared on the front pages of magazines and newspapers, all while attracting a loyal fanbase made up of both racing enthusiasts and adoring admirers.

To everyone else, he was the suave, handsome and effortlessly cool young racer who was practically born to race and to do it well but to you, he was your childhood friend… and your first love. In front of the flashing lights and cameras, Jaehyun knew his way around the crowd. He knew exactly when to flash one of his dazzling, dimpled smiles and how to work the crowd - it was just one of his innate charms. Yet, you knew that underneath that, that flashy, extravagant Jaehyun, was the Jaehyun you grew up with and had gradually fallen in love with.

As children, he was there for you whenever you needed him, always ready to lend a helping hand when he noticed that you were stuck in an unfavourable situation. You distinctly remember what had happened in second grade. It was a bright and warm summer’s day, the lovely scent of sweet peas floating in the air as the sun bore down on the earth. Pigeons flitted over the sidewalks, pecking at the cemented floor and the leaves of the oak trees that lined the streets rustled gently in the wind.

You fell with a loud and heavy thud on your bottom, feeling the leaves crunch noisily under your weight. Fear and trepidation coursed through your veins as you stared with eyes wide at your tormentors.

“Look at her, she looks pathetic. Do it, Johnny! Do it!”

A tall, hunkering boy flanked by his cronies stood over you, his dark, massive shadow engulfing you as you frantically scrambled backwards. Tears were beginning to stream down your face and a sharp pain shot up your spine with each move, owing to the impact of the fall. There were scratches on your hands as you dragged your palms over the rough gravel in an attempt to move away.

There was a malicious glint in Johnny’s eyes and his lips were curved into a devious smirk as he stared down at you, domineering and intimidating. The veins in his arms and hands were bulging angrily and as he clenched his fists, you felt your stomach sink. Your legs began to feel like jelly and your vision was beginning to blur from all the salty tears. You were struck with fear and the sense of helplessness you felt made you feel both ashamed and furious at yourself yet there was nothing you could do.

You held your hand up to shield yourself from the impending attack as the bully lifted up his fist.

“Hey! How about you pick on someone your own size?!”

The group of you turned to see Jaehyun, eyes blazing with anger as his chest heaved. His wind-swept hair hung over his eyes, a surefire sign that he’d run over and his cheeks were red from exertion. Even from afar, he was clearly no match to Johnny’s larger build, much less the whole lot of them.

“J-Jaehyun?” You spluttered, shocked.

“Who is this clown- Ow!” Johnny stumbled backwards as a rock pebble hit him on the head, promptly ricocheting off his forehead and bouncing onto the ground. His jaw was clenched in pain and when he removed his palm, a reddish bruise had blossomed and there was even a faint trace of blood. There was a split second of stunned silence before Johnny turned almost magenta with rage.

“GET HIM!” He roared and his cronies shook out of their daze, immediately going after Jaehyun who’d already ran a good distance before the reality of what had just happened set in. His mocking laugh rang through the afternoon amidst a cackle of profanities and threats yelled at him.

It was a laugh that remained in your memories all these years. It was a laugh that strengthened you, a laugh that spoke so much of willful courage and youthful rebellion which was everything you’d eventually come to associate with Jaehyun. That laugh was bright and so… him.

Yet now, you could see none of that playful mischief and vibrancy in those eyes. All that is left is emptiness.

“You’re not a loser, Jaehyun,” you began softly, “you never were in my eyes. You were a fighter.”

Those beautiful eyes you adored so much narrowed at you, his face twisted into a scowl.

“A fighter? Guess what, y/n?” He sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “I fought. I fought endlessly but did that work out for me? I threw in everything I could, every little thing. I worked hard and put in a hundred and one percent of my effort.”

You stared at him, your heart aching for him as a single tear began to roll down his cheek, tears of anger, indignation and pain.

“But did that work out? No, it didn’t. If anything, it left me a wreck. People out there call me a loser, a has-been and even my girlfriend has left me. It doesn’t matter how much effort I put in, how much I fought because at the end of the day, everyone is only here because of what they think I am. They saw me as a champion, an up and coming and the moment I wasn’t anymore, they all dropped me in a heartbeat. What are you waiting for, y/n? Why the hell are you even still here?”

His words echoed through the empty apartment and out loud, it sounded bleak, harsh and biting. His anguished voice tore at your heart and as each word left those lips, it felt like your heart was slowly breaking apart. Neither of you said anything for a moment, locked in a silent, unspoken fight as he held your gaze steadily. His eyes were cold and there was the look of a broken man in them.

“I am here because I love you, Jaehyun,” you said finally, your voice quivering. “I don’t care who or what you are and it pains me to see you tear yourself down like this because I know you are not the loser you believe you are. I don’t know how much of this I can take, seeing you ruin yourself.”

You can see the slight softening in his eyes and you gritted your teeth.

“I’m going to go. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I can’t see you ruin yourself and be able to do nothing about it. I’m not strong enough for that.”

With that, you left the apartment before he could see the tears in your eyes.

The miserable, empty can of beer clattered loudly against the hardwood floor, the sound echoing through the dank apartment.

Jaehyun barely lifted an eyebrow, his fingers growing slack without him even knowing. He stared up at the dark ceiling, a hooded look in those once bright eyes. The stench that hung around him was growing more intense by the day and it was reaching a point whereby he could almost smell himself but there was nothing in him that seemed to care.

Sounds of active civilisation outside drifted in through the windows and occasionally, he’d hear the honking of angry drivers on the roads or the laughter of children playing at the playground at the courtyard below. Normally, he loved waking up to these sounds or at least when he wasn’t off to the race tracks, when he was relaxing with a book in his hands. Now however, he found them irksome, irritating and he wanted nothing more but to block them out. He wanted absolutely zero reminder of the world outside.

Grunting, Jaehyun dragged himself off the couch. As he trudged heavily back to his room where his comfortable bed beckoned to him, he turned to stare at the large, imposing front door where moments ago, you’d slammed shut as you left him to his own devices.

Guilt tugged at his heart and for a split second, Jaehyun contemplated running after you. When you left, there was an indescribable sense of hollowness that engulfed him in a way that he couldn’t quite understand or explain. The apartment was filthy, dark and small but somehow with you around just a few minutes ago, it felt just a little bigger, a little warmer. As much as he hated to admit it, his heart was calling to him to reach out to you, run after you. The crumpled look on your face haunted him but he shook the thought from his mind.

It would be better if you left him. If you knew what was good for you, you would.

The anger in him was beginning to resurface at the thought of everything that had happened over the past few months. His career plummeting on a downward spiral right after his recovery, the exact opposite of what was predicted by his agent.

He was born to race, his family and his friends had always told him so. He knew it himself, he could feel it in his blood, his bones, his spirit. Ever since he was little, Jaehyun had known that his career would have something to do one way or another with racing. As a child, he loved running, competing but most of all, he loved riding in his father’s pickup truck on the way to school. He loved the way the vehicle would zoom past the streets, overtaking other vehicles and he loved the feeling of the wind against his face. He loved the speed and everything about cars or racing. It felt natural for him to pursue a career in competitive racing and a natural he was.

After getting signed with a racing company, Jaehyun quickly rose to fame with his numerous championships, bagging trophies, medals and cash prizes in almost every event he participated in. Sports magazines and reporters would clamour over each other to score an interview with him. People wanted pictures with him, wanted him to sign an autograph for them.

He was the golden boy in the racing world, an untouchable.

In the racing world, everything goes a mile a minute and nothing waits for anyone. After the morbid crash at the June Tokyo Prix, Jaehyun had sustained several fractures to his ribs and a severe concussion that left him in the hospital’s intensive care unit bedridden for several months. The pain was unlike any other and every single move hurt immensely but what suffered more damage than he did was his career and his relationships.

Within months, the racing career he had so painstakingly built up for himself collapsed before him. Due to long inactivity, brands and sponsors began to drop him, slowly at first then steadily one by one. He was also constantly under the media’s scrutiny for a period of time, their cameras and microphones thrusted in his face while he lay helpless on the hospital bed. The bright flashes blinded him and the loud noises made his head pound and even now, he still remembered how that experience was like, shuddering every time it crossed his mind. It had taken Jaehyun countless hours of physical therapy before he could even think of racing competitively again.

Yet when he did, he quickly realised he never could revert back to his old self, the one who got off on adrenaline kicks while zooming along the tracks at breakneck speed, the one who only knew what it was like to win. He was slower, less coordinated. His body could no longer take the pressure racing would subject it too, or at least not quickly enough for him to make a full, stunning comeback.

The tabloids and news had run wild with his fall from grace, writing up horrible, demeaning articles about him. His rivals had mocked him to his face and he could even sense the visible disappointment from his fans emanating from the stands whenever he’d lost yet another race. The thing that really broke the camel’s back however, was when his girlfriend Jeongyeon initiated a breakup.

Jaehyun had hoped that things would turn for the better, never one to give up. He’d trained tirelessly everyday, pushing his brittle body to the limit. He never let up on himself, gritting his teeth through all the physical and mental pressure he had imposed on himself. When the final text was sent, Jaehyun could remember distinctly how hopeless and distraught he’d felt. It felt like his world, the empire he had so painfully and relentlessly crafted for himself from scratch was breaking bit by bit. To add salt to the wound, the next time he’d seen her on television, her body was plastered against his biggest rival, Yuta. Her arms were wrapped around his and her lips pressing against his cheeks with no shame whatsoever for the interviewer interviewing him, no sign of the girl who’d once told him that she loved him with all her heart.

What was once determination and naive hopefulness soon devolved into anger and resentment. Jaehyun began to let himself go and the change was drastic. Where there once existed a time whereby he’d rise from his slumber early to visit the gym, he now regularly slept well into the late afternoon. His diet began to consist largely of takeout, junk food and alcohol and his apartment got more and more cluttered by the day. He’d stopped contacting his friends and family, ignoring their calls and texts, preferring to fester in his own solitude. It wasn’t long before an odour had started to emit from his place, a nauseating mixture of stale pizza, beer and pure filth from the lack of showers.

His appearance was also no longer polished, but rather haggard as if he’d aged five years in a matter of months. He was beginning to lose his fit stature, the healthy glow he’d once been prized on by magazines and gossip columns dimming. It got to a point whereby Jaehyun had begun to avoid looking at his hideous reflection in the mirror, his self-hatred growing with each day.

A poster of him in his racing gear and his race car was tattered and wrinkled on the floor, stained with ketchup and soda. Staring at it blankly with eyes empty of any emotions whatsoever, Jaehyun swiped it up and in a swift moment, he tore it up with a large rip before trashing it somewhere on the floor.

Flopping onto his comforter, he almost moaned in pleasure as he sunk into the soft sheets. Reaching for the air conditioning control, a loud smack on the ground roused him from his hedonistic haze. His hair was sticking up in all directions as he peered over the edge of his bed to see a picture frame that had fallen from his night stand.

Holding it in his hands, he looked at it with a nonchalant air.

It was a picture of the both of you a few years ago, back when he was just kick starting his racing career. He hadn’t yet made a name for himself then as the two of you leaned in for the picture.

You had on a bright, illuminating beam on your face, your eyes alive and glittering with happiness. Your hair was down, wisps of it framing your face as the sun brought out the colour and shine of it. Next to him, you’d completely dwarfed in comparison. He had his arm around you, bringing you to his side and from the picture, Jaehyun could feel a smile begin to crack on his face at the comical height difference.

He’d looked completely at ease here, carefree with the recklessness and restlessness of the soul beneath shining through his dark eyes. His hair was wavy, styled down in that ridiculous fashion he wanted so badly to leave back in high school. He had worn a dimpled smile on his face, the look of someone who knew he was destined for greatness and believed in it.

Jaehyun was about to put the picture down when something caught his eye. He leaned in closer.

There was something about you. At first glance, it would have been clear that you were smiling for the camera but upon closer look, it looked as if you might be smiling at him instead. Your smile was softer, eyes gentler from the first time he’d seen the picture. It was the sort of smile that struck him in his heart, the kind of smile that would make its recipient feel loved, appreciated.

“I want to be a racer when I grow up.”

You turned to Jaehyun, eyes wide as saucers as you popped the ice popsicle out of your mouth.

“Why?”

He shrugged, still struggling with the wrapper of the popsicle. The two of you sat on the wooden bench, side by side as the other kids ran around the park, playing rounds of tag while their parents or babysitters sat watching over them. The sun was glaring down on the earth and though it was a great day to go out to play and sweat it out, it was also a perfect day to find an excuse to buy popsicles with what little pocket money your parents had given to you two. It wasn’t an opportunity to be missed.

“I really like racing. I don’t know if there’s anything else I’d want to be,” he said simply, grinning as he finally succeeded in breaking open the plastic.

You tried to hide the blush that was beginning to creep up to your cheeks, looking away from him.

“My mom says being a doctor is good.”

As soon as you said it, you immediately regretted your words. Jaehyun scrunched up his nose in disgust.

“No way! It’s so boring. Do you want to be a doctor?”

Quickly, you shook your head fervently. “No!”

“Then what do you want to be?” He asks curiously, sucking on his popsicle.

You are quiet for a while as you ponder over his question. What exactly do you want to be when you grow up?

“...A writer.” You said finally and he swiveled around to look at you, clearly not expecting your answer.

“A writer? Hm, why?”

“I just really like reading. I want to write interesting stories that people will like,” you take a tentative lick of your popsicle, the icy, sweet taste of apple flavouring coating your tongue, “Like fairytales!”

Jaehyun broods over your answer, seemingly deep in thought. For a moment, neither of you say another word as you sit together under the warm, sunny day, enjoying your popsicles.

“I want people to like me too.” He says suddenly, his eyes shining. “People will like my racing! I’m going to be a racer and people will like me to win!”

He hops to his feet, his popsicle raised as he made his declaration. There is a triumphant, toothy smile on his face and he says it with so much hope and gusto that you can’t help but feel drawn to his driven spirit. For a boy of five foot, there was a lot of motivation and energy in him and there was just something about him that got you transfixed.

Under the sunlight, his smile seemed almost blindingly bright with the shadows highlighting the charming dimples on those round cheeks. The butterflies in your stomach were going crazy and your heart began to pound. Your words seemed stuck in your throat and you choked out, “I t-think you’ll make a good racer, J-Jaehyun.”

You thought your heart might burst as his smile grew wider, his dimples making deeper indentations. It felt like the sun might just be a little too hot since your face felt like it was positively flaming.

“Thank you, y/n.”

Suddenly, something caught your eye and shakily, you pointed at him.

His smile dropped as his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“What?”

“Y-your popsicle is m-m-melting… down your a-arm.”

The elevator button made an uncharacteristic squeaking sound as Jaehyun jabbed repeatedly at it, his jaw clenched in impatience.

“Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up,” he muttered frantically under his breath, pacing the lift lobby. The red letters above the elevator were moving at a snail’s pace and it seemed as if it’s stopped to pick up some passengers on the 5th floor. How long does it take for people to move into an elevator?

Jaehyun groaned in annoyance as he watched the number on the display crawl up slowly.

This wouldn’t do. By the time it’s here, it would be too late.

Immediately, he sprinted for the stairs instead, his heart hammering against his chest.

There was great fanfare as the rowdy crowd erupted into raucous cheers, the large, industrial sized party poppers going off with a bang, covering everyone in glitter streamers and confetti. Cameras were flashing and clicking away at every corner while throngs of sports reporters flooded the holding area, all trying to reach the champions for their coveted exclusive interviews. Agents and pit crews were all celebrating with the sound of champagne bottles popping and yells and cheers of congratulations ringing through the air.

Jaehyun stood at the top of the podium, shooting the cameras his trademark stunning grin as he posed with his golden trophy that looked to be about the size of his torso. The racing suit he was wearing was uncomfortably hot and he wanted nothing more than to strip from it but the adrenaline and euphoria he was experiencing far surpassed any feelings of discomfort.

This was it, the taste of success. It was everything he lived for, raced for. This was why he always trained so hard, from dawn to dusk. This was why he put his own body through all those hours of endurance training, gym and dieting. It was all for this single moment of true bliss enjoyed and savoured after the extreme thrill of racing. Here on the podium, towering above everyone else… He was truly where he needed to be, where he was born to be.

As he stepped off and the bodyguards swarmed in to escort him to his own holding room, Jaehyun couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Yet another trophy for display on his shelf back in his apartment. He didn’t think he’d ever get sick of it, the feeling of winning but then again who would?

Reporters were attempting to accost him at all sides, all screaming out the same old questions he had grown tired of early on.

“How do you feel after winning the prix for the third year running?”

“You hit a record timing today! How did you train for the race?”

“What do you have to say to your rival, Nakamoto who came in second this year? By a mere few seconds at that!”

Jaehyun nodded and waved at a few of them, still wearing a smile on his face but there was no answer evoked from him. He’d kept up a calm and cool demeanour throughout but once he was in his holding room alone, the moment the door closed shut behind him, he let out a loud, jubilant howl.

“Fuck yes!” He roared out in happiness before collapsing onto the couch, laughing to himself as he held his trophy above him. He badly needed a shower but he couldn’t care less, not with the trophy in his hands. Under the light, the gold shone and even as a seasoned racer, the excitement and happiness from winning never grew old. In the empty room, the victory felt even more profound, the reality of claiming the championships for yet another year sinking in.

He was in the middle of celebrating and basking in his own victory, he received a text.

Jy: how’s my man doing? congratulations on the win honey ❤️

Jae: thanks babe, it feels fucking amazing. you have no idea… also i missed you so much

Jy: we should celebrate. together, alone. tonight at my place? ;) we haven’t done it in awhile, i miss your body, your kisses

Jaehyun stared at the text. He should be happy, excited to see Jeongyeon again after so long. He had been so preoccupied with training for the big race that he’d barely had any time for her. He had missed her yet now that they were finally exchanging texts again after so long apart, he didn’t seem to feel the same anticipation.

There was something about that text she sent that seemed weirdly… detached. He had imagined their first interaction in over a month to be one that warmed him up in the inside, brought him to a whole new level of euphoria even after winning but if anything, this reality paled in comparison to the scenario he had looked forward to in his mind.

Jae: yeah sure

After pressing send, he tossed his phone onto the coffee table and rested his head against the velvety cushion of the couch. Somehow, that very short exchange with Jeongyeon had dimmed his excitement and readiness to celebrate.

His phone suddenly rang, disrupting him from the reverie he’d found himself in.

“Must be Jeongyeon,” he thought to himself and for some reasons as he swiped to answer the call, he found himself reluctant to talk.

“Hello?”

“Jung Jaehyun! I was watching your race on television, congratulations for coming in first yet again! You were terrific out there.”

Y/n.

Jaehyun smiled, feeling his heart swell at your words.

“Thanks, y/n. I really appreciate it.”

“How about we meet for dinner tonight? I know of this amazing Italian place that serves the best lasagna, your favourite! My treat too to celebrate your win, how’s that?”

At the mention of lasagna, Jaehyun could feel his stomach rumbling and his mouth watering. The tangy tomato sauce, copious amounts of cheese and spiced minced beef with soft pasta… He would absolutely be down for some well-deserved lasagna after weeks of feasting on plain, watery salads. Dinner sounded like a great idea.

“Sure, I- Wait, I can’t,” he groaned, suddenly remembering his plans with Jeongyeon. Plans he didn’t even particularly look forward to.

“Why not?” You asked.

“I um…”

Fuck, why is it so hard to say it?

“I have plans with Jeongyeon tonight,” he said, ignoring the strange pang of guilt and indignation that hit him square in the chest.

“Oh! Oh, uh… That’s completely fine. Don’t worry about it, we can always have dinner some other day.”

“Really? That would be great! How does next week sound?”

“Sounds good to me!” Even on call, he could imagine you bobbing your head enthusiastically like you usually did and that brought a chuckle out of him.

“Alright, I’ll see you then y/n.”

“See you! Please rest well, you deserve it.”

“Thank you,” he replied before hanging up.

What is this warm feeling in him?

Jaehyun raced out of the apartment complex, his eyes searching his surroundings.

The sun was glaring and he couldn’t see straight without squinting his eyes. He must have been a weird sight to behold - scruffy, pale from the lack of the outdoors and reeking of the garbage piled up in his apartment. An elderly woman walking past him tutted disapprovingly at his disheveled appearance, holding her nose as she did but Jaehyun didn’t seem to notice her. His mind was on something else, something more important.

A boy from across the street was staring at him with his mouth agape, looking like a deer caught in headlights as he shakily fumbled in his pockets for his phone. Jaehyun let his sights linger on him, wondering if he should have at least thrown on a coat but as he turned, he caught sight of a figure hanging by the bus stop, looking miserable.

He swallowed thickly, feeling the slight clench of his heart and without hesitating a single second longer, he made his way over.

The heart monitor’s methodical beating was driving him near insanity. If not that, then certainly the suffocating atmosphere of the hospital and the bandages wrapped tightly around almost every single inch of his body would. Not to mention the occasional undercover paparazzi who would try to inch their way into his ward.

Jaehyun stared up at the white ceilings, still as a plank. Every part of his body hurt to move, he couldn’t even turn his head without feeling a painful pounding in it. Sometimes, he would get dizzy spells so intense he actually felt nauseous. His appetite for food or anything in general had since plummeted. Everything, but racing.

He yearned to go out there onto the tracks, to resume his training. The Roman Prix is coming up in a month’s time and he was so far from ready. He needed to get out of this place as soon as possible, even if it meant jeopardising his own safety. His career mattered more than anything.

Jeongyeon hadn’t called either since the day he got admitted. Jaehyun had soon grown tired of checking his messages or asking his publicist for news from her, the feeling of disappointment felt deep within him. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling a wave of fatigue wash over him.

There was a gentle knock on the door and as the door creaked slightly open, you poked your head in. Upon seeing him, you smiled softly and made your way over to him. Jaehyun watched you approach, his eyes following you.

You had brought along a basket with you, seemingly full of items. As much as he wanted to know what you’d brought, he tried not to look overeager. “I made you something special today,” you said, settling down and practically vibrating with excitement.

“What?”

“Tomato minestrone soup!” You exclaimed, uncovering the lid as the tantalising aroma of tomatoes and a medley of vegetables drifted in the air. Jaehyun almost had to restrain himself from moving, lest he shift a bone out of place somewhere.

Somehow seeing you had sparked a certain kind of joy in him. Maybe it was a sign nobody had really forgotten about him yet. He had watched his number of visitors trickle down day by day and now that it was close to a month since he’d been hospitalised, after the tragic accident, he barely got any. Perhaps three or four a week if he was lucky.

You, however, you were different. You visited him almost every other day, no matter how busy you were. You visited his bedside even if you were worn out from a long day of work, even when you had things to attend to, even when no one else bothered to. You would bring along snacks whenever you did or homemade get-well food like fish porridge or chicken noodle soup you’d whipped up yourself, though they might be far from the usual gourmet fare he was used to back when he was still active when he would go for exquisite dinner parties. Usually, you stayed for a substantial amount of time and sometimes, you even stayed the night.

Jaehyun didn’t understand why you would do all of this for a friend, a friend who never seemed to have time to spare for you at that. More than anything, the feeling of guilt in him only grew stronger with each visit yet he was grateful, extremely grateful. Your presence was like a warm ray of sunshine in this dreary hospital ward. Whenever you visited, he couldn’t help but smile even though he could not find it in himself to smile. But when it came to you, it felt natural.

“Y/n!”

At the sound of Jaehyun’s voice, you turned and even from afar, he could see your reddened eyes - a surefire sign you’d been crying. Guilt and anger washed over him in waves and he tried not to think how many times he had been the cause of your tears. If only he could turn back time, he would have shook himself for ever dismissing you so lightly like he did, before he saw the situation for what it was.

He was blinded. Blinded by his obsession for winning, fame, glory and pleasing the wrong people. In a way, it felt like a fog had been lifted before him and now that he could see, think, feel clearly… He wasn’t going to let the right person out of his grasp. The person who loved him unconditionally, not just for his fame and achievements. The person who stuck with him through thick and thin but he was just too daft to notice it. The person who always felt like home whether he knew it or not.

You.

“Jaehyun? W-What are you…” You spluttered, desperately trying to wipe your tears from your face as you stared up at him.

It took a couple of seconds for him to regain his breath, his face turning red from embarrassment and exertion. He should really start leaving those beers and junk food alone.

“I…” He panted, both out of fatigue and relief, “We need to talk.”

“Jung is getting closer, any minute now Hendery!”

“I don’t believe this! Are we looking at a potential comeback for this prix? Push, push, push!”

“It seems like we might be! Here he comes! He is absolutely mad!”

The nascars zipped along the race tracks, smoke and some bits of burnt rubber and chipped metal trailing along its wake. They were a blur of colours to the spectators, who were practically glued to their seats as they watched the race reach its climax. A massive telescreen was displaying close ups and the ranking board with huge overhead lights that illuminated the stadium. The crowd was growing wilder by the second as the racecars zoomed past them, their attention fixed on one racer in particular.

The sleek nascar was streaked in royal blue and crimson red over a metallic black base, looking almost purple and black with how fast it was flying across the tracks. The wheels were spinning so fast that the friction between the tough rubber tire and the rough granite almost lit up the tracks. It was charging forward with a steely determination and ruthlessness, closing in rapidly on a green and white nascar ahead of it.

The adrenaline coursing Jaehyun’s veins was unlike any other. The thrill he got from racing could practically send him into an all time high and a cunning grin tugged at his lips as he stepped his foot down hard on the pedal, his hands gripping tightly onto his steering wheel. Rounding around a bend, he clenched his jaw as he pushed his body weight to the left, the muscles in his abdominals and biceps flexing and straining against his racing suit as the car drifted across the tracks in a perfect arc.

“Did you see that perfectly executed drift?! Insanity!”

“Jung is absolutely on fire!”

The thunderous cheers of the crowd and the loud hum of the race cars racing across the tracks faded into the background as he kept his eyes trained steadily forward. Any time now…

“Watch out, Nakamoto,” he whispered under his breath.

Steering his wheel sharply and accelerating much to the crowd’s excitement and trepidation, his race car was now driving side by side along Yuta’s. For a split second, the two turned to look at each other through the window and even though there was no way of seeing the other’s face through that helmet, something in Jaehyun told him that his rival was angered, shocked and… Fearful.

Jaehyun grinned beneath his helmet and without a second thought, he zipped forward, leaving Yuta behind in the smoke.

“He’s going for it, he’s going for it… Wait for it… And he crosses the line! The legend has reclaimed his spot on the top!”

“And that is how you execute one of the greatest comebacks of all time, ladies and gentlemen. Jung has done what we believed to be impossible and dominated the race! I wonder how Nakamoto feels about that?”

The other commentator chuckles into his microphone.

“Well Haechan, if I were him, I’d be pissed off for sure! But I’d also be worried… So very worried.”

The crowd was absolutely wild when he’d disembarked from the car and as he removed his helmet, he was greeted with camera flashes all around him. He shook his head, running a gloved hand over his hair and he took a deep breath. The air smelled of burnt rubber, smoke and… Success.

He had done it. He had made his comeback.

His pit crew made a beeline for him, slapping him on the back, their faces jubilant and lit with pure joy. His new manager, one that he trusted and helped him inch his way back to the top step by step, shot him a thumbs up which he nodded in acknowledgement as the crowd of sports journalists, reporters and photographers began to swarm in on him.

Yet, he paid them no attention. If this was three years ago, he would have basked in the glory, the attention but now he had greater concerns on his mind. His heart was pounding now for a different reason altogether and he could feel his hands growing clammy.

Jaehyun craned his neck and searched the rowdy media crowd. Where were you?

“Jaehyun!”

At your voice, he turned and immediately almost stumbled backwards as you crashed into him for a hug. The feelings of you against him sparked a joy in his heart, a joy almost greater than winning. He enveloped you in a hug, holding your waist as he nuzzled his face into your hair. Your scent of honey and jasmine was intoxicating, alluring and a welcomed change from the smell of smoke and rubble.

The two of you had been dating for about two years now, each day together better than the previous. After he’d caught up with you that day, it was as if you were seeing a different Jaehyun from the one you’d seen in his apartment. That Jaehyun who had caught up with you at the bus stop was the old Jaehyun you’d missed and it was as if a switch somewhere had been flipped. To this day, he had never admitted what changed while you were gone for those few minutes. He had subsequently apologised for everything he’d done, even things you didn’t see a problem with. It was shocking to say the least to see the unapologetic Jaehyun apologise for anything at all, but not more shocking than what entailed a few days later.

It started with a vase of luscious red roses being sent to your workplace followed by an invitation for dinner. Before you knew it, the boy you’d loved almost all your life was courting you with a passion. It felt like a complete dream, so much so you had been afraid to wake up suddenly and realise it was all just your imagination. He’d been more of a romantic than he’d let on and many times, you had found yourself completely smitten by his stunts that stretched from learning how to make homemade chocolates for you on Valentine’s Day knowing that you liked them, even though he was well known as a terrible cook to sending flowers up to your doorstep every other week.

Within a couple of months, the two of you were dating and deeply, wildly in love.

Amidst date nights filled with laughter and kisses, he had also been steadily climbing his way back up the ranks of the racing world. After ditching his unhealthy lifestyle he had been living for the past year, the change was apparent. He’d started hitting the gym, eating healthier and before long, he was in prime condition to start racing again. Training was long and tough but he never did give up. He was more determined and driven than you’d seen him and though the old Jaehyun would have been gutted at a loss, this new, better version of him never fussed over a loss of any kind, instead learning from his mistakes.

All of his efforts had led to this ultimate moment, the taste of victory on his lips.

You noticed he had been shifting uncomfortably and you looked up, puzzled and concerned.

“Jaehyun? You okay?”

He looked at you, his ears red, a sign that he was anxious, nervous.

“Jaehyun? What-”

Your words got stuck in your throat as he knelt down on one knee, the lights overhead bringing out the sparkle in his eyes and the shine in his hair. Those dark orbs were so full of hope, anxiety and love all intermingled in one and you found it difficult to believe that those eyes were looking at you directly, the emotions in them all for you.

Jaehyun withdrew a tiny, velvet box from his pocket and popped it open. In the box, was a tiny diamond ring, glittering and absolutely regal. The diamond itself was beautifully cut and interwoven into the metal band with microfibres of white gold and it simply shone as the camera flashes went off. The crowd was going bonkers, screaming and cheering with wolf whistles.

“Y/n,” he spoke softly, his voice gentle. “You have always been there for me, always been my better half. We have been friends for over a decade and lovers for merely two but it seemed as if we always were meant for each other. It took me so long to realise that and there is not a day I don’t regret not realising it sooner. You are my everything - my past, present and future. Falling in love with you was gradual, unconscious. I guess my heart knew you the one before I even did. It started with me being in a dark, dark place where I drowned in my own self-hatred and insecurities. I was beaten, defeated and I just gave up. Where everyone did the same, you never did. You were like a beam of shining light, shining upon me and guiding me even if I didn’t notice it at the time. But when I did, you glowed even more brightly than I’d envisioned. I’d been oblivious to your beauty both inside and outside for far too long and god knows how much I fucking regret it. I’m different now though, because of you. I am the best version of myself right now because I have you in my life. You taught me how to love, allow myself to be loved. There’s no universe whereby I’d want to be without you. I can’t see myself without you in my life. I need you, I love you.”

Tears were beginning to stream down your face and the stadium had grown quieter, all tuning into what was happening.

Jaehyun looked up at you, hopeful and so full of love that you thought your heart might burst.

“So I guess what I’m saying is, will you marry me, y/n?” He asked breathlessly.

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