#but I at least hope I get news if there is a hiatus or if it had been dropped
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Do No Harm
CHAPTER TWELVE: Oh, Chaos!
Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Summary: You have an eventful day at work rekindling with a new acquaintance and dealing with a peculiar trauma case, but the most prominent thing on your mind is dinner with Matt, and you could really use some advice from someone who knows a thing or two about dates to keep you from canceling.
Warnings for this chapter: slight angst, self-hatred/doubt, mentions of past abuse, mentions of injury
Word Count: 5.3k
A/n: I'm sorry this took so long. I took an unexpected hiatus, and I couldn't break out of the writer's block, so this took close to a month to finish. I read this a dozen times, and I fixed what I could. This is rather "boring" compared to what came before and what I've got planned, but there is plot in there that will become important again later down the line. Just so you know what you're getting yourself into in advance. 'Kay, thank you!
Read Chapter 12: Oh, Chaos! here on AO3
Four missed calls, and twenty text messages. The chat is full of one-sided advances. ‘Claire’ is written on top, but her contact resembles an empty void in contrast.
I don’t know what I did to deserve this radio silence, but I thought you would like to know I asked Matt out again. I like him. We’re having dinner on Friday. Do with that as you will.
Hope you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere.
Call me when you can. Please.
I’m worried about you.
Love you.
It has been like this since Matt called you when you least expected it. Whether he was looking for support, professional advice, or just the sound of your voice, you’re not sure, but it warmed your heart to know he thought of you and no one else, and he picked up the phone to call you.
Before, you tried telling yourself that there isn’t much between you. You tried telling yourself that perhaps, it would never go anywhere and not to be disappointed because from the start, Matt has been too good to be true, but after sharing a glimpse of your past, you feel closer to him, and you don’t want to let him go. He is the first good thing that has come to you in years.
Claire’s radio silence hurts. You don’t want to admit it, but sending text after text to your best friend and receiving not even a ‘read’ sign both concerns and upsets you. Ever since she took you under her wing when you came to New York, you’ve—sometimes involuntarily—shared your anger with her, your sadness, your pain, and those rare moments of happiness.
She was the one who told you to go for it, so her behavior remains suspicious. You want to ask her; you want to confront her about everything and get the truth out of her, but unless she answers your contact attempts or shows up to work, there is not much you can do. You tried from the moment you got home to the second leading up to your next shift at the hospital. So far, nothing. A few days ago, you would have called the police and said that this was nothing like Claire, but now, you’re not so sure anymore what to believe, and it is pissing you off when you should be excited.
Things are looking up. You don’t want to look down and ruin this for yourself, knowing there is a chance your thoughts will most likely turn against you again at some point. You have to enjoy it while it lasts.
Glancing down at your phone, you walk down one of the hallways at Metro General. You shake your head. It’s been hours. Perhaps after you get off work, you will head to where Claire is staying. Just to check on her. The nagging feeling that shit is about to hit the fan won’t leave you, and it seems like the right thing to do, even if just to ask her what her problem is.
She’s always so quick to tell you what’s good for you. She gives you advice you never even asked for, but you end up appreciating it regardless. She knows what she’s doing, and she is a lot smarter than you are most of the time. You know her as well as you possibly can after two years; Claire is hiding something, and that is unlike her. If she gets herself in danger because of something she feels like she can’t talk to you about, or if she has an opinion afraid to share with you, you need to know because it is important to you. Your mind is disordered and distorted; you are well aware that sometimes, you don’t see things as clearly as you should. Claire’s rationality is a blessing and a curse. You’re dependent on it.
“Hey, Doc,” a familiar voice sounds from the nurse’s station.
You stop in your tracks, looking up from your phone to the man standing across from you. You haven’t seen that face in a while, even though he spends a lot of time here—almost as much as he does at work. You doubt he ever goes home to sleep.
Your face lights up, and you stuff your phone back into the pocket of your coat. “Ben!” you exclaim, your lips curving into a smile.
“Long time no see,” he says in an attempt to match your delighted reaction.
You hate to admit it, but Ben Urich looks worse for wear. Dark circles under his eyes match the deepened wrinkles of exhaustion, and his lips are cracked in more places than one. His shirt shows the slightest of coffee stains he tries to cover with his visitor badge. You doubt he has had the time to do his laundry in a long time. And there is that expression of agony he usually knows how to hide, but the walls he once built around himself are starting to crumble.
The sympathy you have for this man cannot be put into words—because your feelings are unpleasant most of the time, too, and unless you have been in an impossible situation, all you can have is empathy. You, however, are not a stranger to despair, and the people around you all seem to be carrying too much of it, too.
You clear your throat, putting the file in your hand aside to shake his. “How have you been?” you dare to ask.
He shrugs. “Could be better, but… I’m alive. Healthy,” he says. It’s a modified standard answer you do not buy for even a second.
Your eyes soften, but you try to keep the mood light. God knows what he has been through since the last time you saw him on this very floor. “Yeah? That’s good. The Bulletin still giving you a hard time about the things you want to write?” You chuckle.
“Ah, you know how it is.” Ben leans against the counter. “Readers these days are apparently more interested in celebrity scandals and gentrification than true crime.”
The pen scratches against the chart you have to sign. “Well, just know that you will always have a loyal fan of your true crime section in me, and I would tell that to Eric’s face if you ever need me to.” You offer him a smile of pure honesty, and his eyes actually light up this time.
He chuckles. “Can I quote you on that?”
“That depends. Am I getting paid?”
“I’m afraid the only form of payment I have is cheap office coffee.”
“You’re in luck then,” you say, “I am a sucker for cheap office coffee because it’s still better than cheap hospital coffee.”
His face contorts. “Yeah, I’m not going to argue with you on that,” he says.
Again, you chuckle. The question rests on the tip of your tongue, but only when the silence stretches out painfully long enough to prompt a drop of sweat to run down his temple, you ask, “How’s your wife?” No pain or pity in your voice—you know he doesn’t need it.
Ben swallows in response, scratching his fingers through his hair. “Uh, hanging in there. They told me she’s had a good day today. Lucid,” he tells you.
“That sounds like progress. You know, with her condition, every good day is a success.”
“Yeah, yeah, I, uh… I agree. But… she’s not the only reason I’m here. Shelly called me here today to, uh, discuss my wife’s future at this hospital…”
The muscles in your shoulders tense and stiffen. You slowly lift your head. “Oh,” is all you can muster up to say. You know where this is going.
“Yeah,” he says. “I tried convincing her to keep her here a little while longer. But apparently, you guys can’t accommodate her much longer, and she wants me to look into hospice or some other form of long-term care.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
But what else are you supposed to say? You clear your throat. “I, uh… Shelly’s under a lot of pressure, you know? We’re having funding issues in every department, and she is just trying to make due, but… I know your wife’s been here for a very long time, and she’s dependent on the care. Alzheimer’s can be incredibly cruel, and I’m sure hospice is a lot more expensive than what your insurance covers if she stays here, so it isn’t fair. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” says Ben.
“Can I help in any way?” you ask.
“Well, unless you can win the lottery or find a cure for Alzheimer’s in the next seven days, I’m afraid not.”
“Believe me, people are trying, but—”
“I know,” he cuts you off. “I still appreciate it. You’re one of the few doctors here who still care about the people.”
You shake your head, saying, “It’s not that easy. The system is rigged against us. We’re all aware of it, but some of us just… fall off the wagon because they think the only way through is to become what we hate the most. Selfish, egotistical money-makers always chasing recognition rather than caring about the patients we’re supposed to serve,” you explain. “These new fancy medical centers only those with millions in their bank accounts can afford are where all the funding goes, and those who cater to the underprivileged and uninsured—like us—have to suffer the consequences because we don’t chase after money. I would know; I did my residency at one of those hospitals, and I hated how some of these people treated their patients, so I always tried to use the resources we’ve got to help people, even those who couldn’t afford it. Of course, not all of my fellow residents stayed on that path with me. The more high-risk surgeries, the better the payout, even when unnecessary. Upcoding and needless tests were the standards we were held to. I’ve always hated that. Public hospitals are at the bottom of the food chain, and the patients end up pulling the short straw, but most doctors don’t start with the mindset that it’s just something we have to accept. That lethargy comes with time. And the system.”
“Kind of reminds me of that kook in the black mask,” Ben muses. “With his disbelief in the system and his…his twisted sense of justice.”
You scoff. “Well…”
Your mind flashes back to the other night in that alleyway. The way he interfered when he heard you in trouble. The cockiness he seemed to exceed, but it quickly vanished when he realized you may have risked your life to save someone else’s, but you were not going to leave another person injured. You don’t have a lot of trust in the justice system, but that man seemed… different; like the only way he could believe in justice is when he does something against the persistent injustice that so many turn a blind eye to.
But it’s not just Hell’s Kitchen, which the Man In Black seems to gracefully ignore. He does what he needs to where he thinks he has to, but it is not just the system in his beloved city that is wired against the people it is supposed to protect and serve. It’s not just the justice system or society overall, it’s the government, too. And you truly believe he knows that, too, he simply does not have the manpower to fight all battles at once. No one has.
Ben eyes you curiously, up and down. “What, you don’t agree?” he asks.
You sigh. “I don’t think he has a twisted sense of justice, no.”
“Why? You met him?”
Saying yes would make you an accessory to his crimes. “I’ve heard the same things you have, Ben, and I think he really is trying to change something,” you answer instead.
You find a sudden determination in his eyes as he leans closer. “You treat his victims, right? You’ve seen what he can do with his bare hands. Taking out entire syndicates that have been bothering Hell’s Kitchen for decades, going up against bad seeds and corporations, and he never backs down,” he says.
“If you’re trying to say it’s a bad thing…” You trail off.
“I think it’s a grey area. A fine line.”
“Well, as fine as that line may be, I don’t feel as much empathy for the people he puts in here because I’ve seen what they can do just a few blocks from here,” you state and close the chart in front of you on the counter. “I had to watch lives and families get destroyed. The ones responsible for serving justice either didn’t have the evidence, or they were too late, or the only witnesses died on my table, or—and that happens quite frequently, too—they just didn’t care,” you say. “The times I watched them make arrests, the legal system ended up failing the victims anyway. Now, I’m not saying I condone violence, but this city needs help. Depending on the area, police sometimes don’t even bother to check, and that pisses me off because a lot of the time, tragedies could have been prevented if first responders just got there on time. Or if the perpetrators involved in a crime suffered the consequences for their actions instead of bailing out the same day on a domestic violence charge. I know that the police can't be everywhere at once, but… A lot of people feel safer with this guy out there because they know he tries.”
Ben desperately scribbles along on a small notepad you’re not sure where he got it from. He’s not even wearing a coat.
“It’s like David and Goliath,” you tell him, too animated to pay closer attention to your surroundings. “It’s a contest wherein a smaller, weaker opponent faces a much bigger and stronger adversary. I just… I don’t know. In this city, there are a lot of metaphorically weak individuals who don’t have the means to fight back against the big guy. Like I said, a system rigged against its people does not help the people live a safe and happy life in a city that makes them feel like all their advances are futile.”
“That’s excellent,” he murmurs.
You glimpse down at his hand, frowning. “It’s just my opinion.”
“There’s nothing ‘just’ about it. I know a lot of people feel the way you do, and yes, that’s fucked up. But that’s why we need people like you to speak up. People with more influence than the little guy. People who serve the people.”
“Ben,” you try to get a word in.
“Hear me out,” he says. “If I can get Eric to sign off on it, I want to write a think piece for the public. About the man in the mask. About Hell’s Kitchen and New York, and the things no one likes to talk about. And I’d like to get you on the record.”
“With all due respect—and I do love the concept—I don’t think interviewing me would be such a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Your pulse has inevitably gotten higher. Because if my ex finds out where I am, he’ll kill me. The thought screams like a banshee, echoing like the trajectory of a bouncing basketball. It takes you a moment to realize that the thudding is your heart. Dull, aching, and infused with a panic as old as time.
You squeeze the pen in your fist, feeling the plastic crack under the weight. “I can’t have my name or face on the record,” you confess. “It’s a, uh… protection thing.”
The most human thing to ask would be, ‘Protection from what?’ You don’t have to read minds to know that those are the words forming on Ben’s lips the second you offer him an explanation that is not quite the truth. It couldn’t be further from it, but your truth is a tank and tanks can take down everything in their path without suffering as much as a scratch.
You take the stage before he can ask—before you can ride yourself further into this pile of dirt and lies. “I treat people for a living, and my opinions out there… I need to protect myself if someone ever wants to file a lawsuit against me for prejudicial behavior because they could easily use an interview I gave as evidence,” you say. “I could lose my license.” Your license, and your life.
He releases a strangled breath. “Yeah, no. Of course,” Ben says. “I knew that. But I could always refer to my source as anonymous. Most of the time, people don’t care about who said what anyway. They just want something to talk about.”
You want to scream. The alarm is blaring loud enough for the nerves in your body to hear it. The rage is so hard to swallow. Not at him though. It isn’t Ben’s fault that even now, you have to live your life as if it was never yours to begin with.
“But,” he adds upon seeing the look on your face, like a deer in bright headlights, “unless a certain Man in Black decides to leave another stranded criminal on my doorstep, Eric will never sign off on it. I’m sorry,” the exasperation in his voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard. “I didn’t mean to jump this at you. I know you have more…important things to do than worry about an old journalist who knows damn well his best days are behind him.”
The shake of your head follows in an instant. His confidence lies drowned in the invisible puddle at your feet. “You don’t always have to go with the flow of time,” you tell him. “If you want to write something, you should. People’s tastes change, but there will always be someone out there who wants to read what you have to say.”
Ben smiles at you. “Does that mean you’ll think about my offer?” he asks.
You return the gesture. “When I’ve done my important things, maybe I will.”
And chances are, you will think about it. You will think about it, and then you will cry over a bottle of wine and wish you were never born or that, once again, he killed you when he had the chance. You will wish that you didn’t run, and you will curse John and your entire existence to hell and back because without him, you wouldn’t have to guard your heart like a maximum-security prison, and you wouldn’t have to hide who you are like a secret from Pandora’s box. In the end, though, you know you will have to decide if he doesn’t forget what he offered you—and knowing Ben Urich, when he is allowed to write about what he wants, he won’t forget the sources he tried to recruit along the way.
You look up suddenly when the sirens start blaring above your head.
Attention all staff, Code Red, Emergency Department. Code Red, Emergency Department. Trauma team to the Emergency Department immediately.
“That sounds bad,” Ben comments.
You turn back to him, but before you can open your mouth and excuse yourself from the conversation (and your internal self-hatred party), one of the nurses behind the counter picks up the phone with a knowing nod. A second passes and all color fades from her skin before her features contort. “I’m sorry, what?!” she damn-near screeches.
You frown back at her. “Hey, Evie,” — you snap your fingers — “What’s going on?”
She moves the speaker away from her lips. “Um,” she stammers. “Have you ever seen Texas Chainsaw Massacre?”
“Oh, my God.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s 11 am!” you say, your eyes darting between her and the wall as if that would change anything.
Ben cuts in, “That doesn’t mean much in a city that never sleeps,” he says. “People are always crazy ‘round here.”
You scoff. “Apparently! I’m so sorry, but I’ve gotta–”
“Yeah, no. I know.” He nods, his eyes softening in an instant. “Go!”
With a grateful nod, you leave your work on the counter and head into a sprint down the hall.
A life-saving surgery can take up to several hours. There really is no margin for error, so you tune out the noise of the world outside and focus on the chaos you have to control. You focus on what you know and what you have learned because if you don’t, the person you are cutting into with a scalpel could die at your very touch. For those few critical hours, you are nothing but a doctor, but the world doesn’t stop or disappear in real life when you cease to exist; when you come back after those few hours, the world is still falling apart, and you still have to go back home and face the reality you are forced to live in. But how can you think that when people are fighting for their lives every day before your eyes; when you can try as hard as you want to help them, but you fail more often than you do not? Mental scars often out-rule the physical scars of a trauma patient, and whenever you tell them it gets better, you feel like you are lying to them. Because it never gets better, it feels like.
People are dying and falling apart, and so are you, and it hurts that nothing ever seems to change, not even when you try to tell yourself that people are dependent on you and that your world can’t stop again because this is your job; you signed up for this. But you didn’t sign up for this kind of life. You fell in with the wrong person, craving a love like in the fairytales you used to read as a little girl. You missed the feeling of being loved because the people who were supposed to love you died and fell apart, and you were left fantasizing. It’s a downright mess in your head and everywhere around you, and you are continuously stumbling over the broken glass on your floor, falling into the shards and cutting yourself over and over again until you’re bleeding out but never fully dead.
You spend the next six hours in the operating room, forgetting about Matt and the implications of your dinner. The one you asked him out to. You forget about Ben and his offer, and you think finally, finally, you can breathe. Human anatomy isn’t quite as complicated as this. The one thing you have been worrying most about, the person who has occupied your every waking thought for days now, fades into the shadows for a little while, but then you’re threading the needle through the skin of the man whose life you have saved, and your second to breathe turns into a riot.
Ben’s words return to your conscience; the masked individual he seems most fascinated with moves to the forefront of your fragile mind. He is all over you again, and it sends a thrill down your spine that positively terrifies you; it terrifies you that it doesn’t terrify you. He shouldn’t matter, and you shouldn’t lose another thought to him, but Ben Urich knows how to cast out a net to catch even the most unlikely adversary.
You redial the last number on your phone. Standing in the emergency room that has grown quiet for the afternoon, you feel the weight of the world sinking back in. The clock keeps ticking closer to the end of your shift and inevitably, dinner. Forgetting is a blessing until you realize that thinking about it would have prepared you more, and now you barely have time.
You want to cancel. You should cancel. Claire has not been picking up, and you’re worried about her. But she’s an adult, isn’t she? She pushed you into doing this, and then she bailed. A good friend would at least give you a reason for her change of mind. She hasn’t said a word because she refuses to answer, and it’s starting to leave a bitter taste in your mouth.
“This is Claire. Leave a message,” her voicemail greets you.
You sigh. “Hey, I don’t know why you refuse to pick up my calls, but I could use your help. I’m, uh, freaking out about this stupid dinner that wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for what you said, so the least you could do is call me back and help me pick a dress, maybe talk me off the ledge,” you say. Your voice cracks. “Please, Claire, call me back.”
The silence is defeating. You put your phone down, staring at the paperwork before you. You have a lot more of that in your office, but you can’t be bothered to be entirely alone right now. Not when you are fighting a war with yourself inside your head. The one soldier you thought you could count on has retreated from the frontlines.
You look up when your peripheral vision picks up on movement. “Trouble?” one of the nurses asks, motioning to your face.
“Depends on the definition,” you say.
“Hit me with it. Maybe I can help.”
You couldn’t shut up even if you wanted to. “Well… Do you know anything about proper date attire?”
She grins, dropping whatever she was holding before to turn her undivided attention to you. “A date?” she asks. “Well, well, Doc. Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Oh, just… a guy I met. A good guy.” You smile sadly at the thought of those beautiful brown eyes, and the green forest that he hides in his irises whenever the light hits his beautiful face just right. The wrinkles, the dimples, and the faint freckles on his nose, too. He is so beautiful.
She leans forward on her elbows on the counter of the nurse’s station. “The good guy who left your number here the other day?”
You raise your eyebrows, flabbergasted. “Wh—” The blood rushes to your face, and you suddenly feel very warm as you gape at her. “Does everyone here know about that?” you ask, your voice bothered on a high-pitched siren of embarrassment.
The nurse only smirks. “He is very handsome,” she states. “It’s hard to forget a face like that. And he’s come here twice. One of those times he sat by your bedside. Now, I don’t know about you, but I would marry a guy like that in a heartbeat. Bodies in the basement included.”
You hope he doesn’t have bodies in his basement. What if he does though? What if he is just another bad choice waiting to be made? What then? You can’t imagine it, and the things you’re feeling… you have only felt them in your mind because nothing you had was ever real, but you love feeling them now more than you thought possible. It’s the fact that you love that treacherous feeling so much that you feel like you’re not thinking clearly enough to make rational decisions. But you don’t want to make rational decisions, you’ve realized. Life shouldn’t be about that. You can’t turn the voice in your head off and make it stop screaming at you, but you know how to feel. If you only knew how to channel that without falling apart at the hands of your self-doubts though. If only you knew.
You run a wary hand over your face. “Okay,” you murmur, closing your chart so you can look at your colleague. “Claire isn’t answering her phone and this date… it’s freaking me out. She said I had to get back out there, but she bailed on me,” you tell her. “I don’t know what to wear or how to behave because the place we’re going to is… fancy? And I don’t even know how to pay for it. I… I don’t know if I should go because the last time I was on a date… let’s just say it didn’t end well. So, if you could just tell me that this is a bad idea and I should take on a second shift instead so I won’t feel bad about lying to him, I would be forever in your debt.”
She shakes her head, not having missed a second of your rambling. “Oh, hell no!” she exclaims.
You match her incredulity, propping your hands up on your hips. “Excuse me?” you ask.
Her head stops, and the way she stands there reminds you of your English teacher from high school. Tall, brunette, and sassy. “You are not bailing on that date like Claire bailed on you just because you’re experiencing anxiety,” the nurse tells you. She’s insistent. You doubt you will get a word in that isn’t an utterance of agreement.
“You don’t understand,” you try to convince her, or are you trying to convince yourself? “I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Did you miss the part where I said my last date ended in disaster?”
“So what? I’ve had a lot of disastrous dates.”
“That’s not…ugh!” It is your turn to shake your head, looking at the sterile wall as though it were a screen.
A life built on a lie is not much of a life at all. You have as good a reason as anyone to bail on this date, and it’s not just a disastrous date. You didn’t pick the wrong guy off of Hinge and fall in love with him. What happened to you was different on a level you can’t easily describe, but it also shouldn’t define you; she’s right. Your insecurities are going to be the death of you one day.
“Let me ask you this,” she says. “Do you like him? Or do you just think he’s a really good guy because he was nice to you?”
Your jaw slacks. The Audacity. “I… I think he’s a great guy. Nice. Forthcoming. That’s all,” you answer. It’s not a lie, but it is not the full truth she wanted to hear.
“Uh-huh. I may not be a human polygraph, but I can smell a lie from miles away like a bloodhound. And you, Doctor, are lying and therefore interfering with your treatment.”
“I’m not a patient.”
“Are you though?”
You sigh. You should not have confided in her, but also, perhaps it was the best choice you could have made.
“I like him,” you confess upon looking into her eyes. “Okay? I like him. He’s not just a good guy. He’s… different, and that’s why I like him.”
She stands up straighter, a newfound energy filling her veins. “That’s more like it. Now, let’s forget the whole ‘canceling and using work as an excuse’ thing. What’s the vibe?” she asks.
The change of subject throws you off for a second. You’re walking on eggshells, fragile train tracks you could fall off and electrocute yourself with if you only take one wrong step. But that doesn’t mean you can’t take risks.
“Fancy-ish,” you answer. You don’t have any strength left to fight. “I don’t know. It’s dinner.”
“Dinner’s romantic. Put on a silk or velvet dress because those are the fabrics with less risk of becoming a sensory nightmare, possibly some jewelry, but you don’t need much more than that. He’ll fall in love with your personality first. The rest is just… for your confidence and his imagination.”
She looks so proud of herself. You can’t deny that it’s good advice. It’s not the sound of your voice filling a voicemail to the brim or a solely blue chat history; it’s something you can work with.
You nod slowly. “If I didn’t have mountains of paperwork waiting for me, I would kiss you,” you say.
With a chuckle, she retorts, “Save that for your date.”
“I’m not kissing him.” You grab your pile of work. “It’s just dinner. I don’t even want to kiss him.”
On your way to the elevators, you catch a glimpse of her smirk. She’s not buying it. You don’t want her to. You don’t even trust yourself to tell the truth.
“I don’t,” you say, loud enough for her to hear but mostly to yourself. “I don’t want to kiss him,” you repeat because you don’t.
You don’t want to kiss Matt Murdock.
Except that you do, and you would do anything to make that happen—if your world wasn’t so unfair to begin with.
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#matt murdock#daredevil#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock angst#matt murdock fluff#daredevil x reader#charlie cox#reader insert#doctor!reader#do no harm
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I don't even like men and I'm somehow already a military wife, what goes on
PS. Don't open the tags unless you want a big ass wall of text of me rambling on your screen
#hit#im just honestly so glad that I've become a lot more chill with the whole being an army thing#in the sense that i used to be a lot more attached and hyped over everything#i do still get very hyped and i do still have an attachment to them n their work but y'know just more toned down#(i mean i remember the days of staying up all night to watch award shows knowing damn well they'd always perform last)#(mma 2018 was an emotional rollercoaster like i legit cried a little from the tiredness and being overwhelmed with the performance)#so im glad im a lot more calm about the enlistment news than what i would've been say three years ago before they started to#take longer breaks and eventually announce the hiatus this year#it's like they did it in purpose so that the fandom would grow a bit more used to it n im glad to see that a huge majority are very calm#many are sad ofc but its not being treated as some kind of horrific news#if anything ppl are coping with humor including me lmao#so idk im mostly just happy for them that they're taking their VERY well deserved break before doing their service#i just hope everything goes well and is decently peaceful (as peaceful as enlistment can be at least lol) for them once they're there#now why am i rambling in the tags? bc i need to put my thoughts in order but i don't wanna clog my blog with a long ass wall of text 💀#I'm at least relieved to know that they already have a set plan of when they're going to go and return + BH is sure af gonna keep putting#out a lot of content that they've filmed over all these years#i mean run bts; documentaries; probably even music and ofc not all of them are gonna go at the exact same time#and ofc stuff related to the HYYH and Chakho#them being absent won't as hard for most hopefully#and hey 2 years aint nothing ive waited far longer for stuff to come out than that we'll be fine!#*cries in silksong and the YOI movie
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describing this year’s work as lackluster is being generous. Id think i have stumbled down a bit. Still, progress is progress..... oh well.
To those who miraculously stuck by despite the lack of actual promised oc content, THANK YOU!!! T__T
#summary of art#art summary#my art#artists on tumblr#afreen talks#ok year 12 is absolutely draining my will to keep going on with this#the fact ill be a legal adult next year?? hh#i want to promise ill get better but i gave up hope#basically im rlly tired. lot of shit going on#ill be taking an actual hiatus from art next year. publicly at least!#so yea see ya happy new years everyone!#ty for everything#time to somehow beat the shit out of my finals im done being a failure
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Love Machine.
Android! Leon Kennedy X Fem! Reader (smut)
A/N: I got this idea while listening to a song with the same title. This was my first time writing for Leon, I hope it isn't too clunky or too short! I am slowly coming out of my hiatus, so my writing skills are a bit rusty, I need you all to give me a little grace for the next few posts in case they aren't great LOL. Love you all so much, thanks for your support!
Part Two: Here
Wordcount: 2.4K
Tags: sex doll/living sex robot (?), sex toys, oral (fem receiving), reader is called things like "pretty girl", p in v, creampie (but not really because he's a sex doll??), unprotected sex, fingering, nipple play
“Welcome in, can I help you find anything?”
(Y/N) gave the cashier a polite smile and shook her head as she walked past him at the check-out desk, trying to be as non-awkward as possible, especially since she was the only customer in the small store at that time of night. It was an in and out trip, she tried to convince herself of that. She needed something small, just enough to get the job done.
Normally, she would’ve waited until the next day to run an errand like this, but days of stress had left her needy and frustrated, so when her trusty wand finally gave out on her mid-fun, she grabbed her car keys and headed out into the night.
Her eyes scanned the wall of toys in the back of the store. Pink and purple covered the shelves, vibrating toys and dildos being her main focus.
“Mini-vibe, bullet vibe,” she mumbled, squatting down to read the boxes on the lower shelves. “What’s even the difference–?”
She settled on a purple rabbit vibrator. Its packaging was the least indicative of its contents, and it was on the smaller side. Easy to hide.
“Will that be all?” the cashier asked, looking over the box.
“Yeah, that should be it.”
“You know,” he said, giving her a wide grin, “I can’t say I can suggest this one.” He held the box back out to her, waiting for her to take it. “We’ve gotten a lot of refunded purchases due to it.”
“Oh, shit, really?” (Y/N) took the box back, tucking it under her arm. “Okay, uh, I guess I should ask what the best option would be, then?”
The cashier gave a nod and waved her over, lifting the divider between behind the counter and the rest of the store. “Come with me to the back, we’ve got all the good stuff tucked away back there.”
She chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking about whether or not to follow him. She didn’t immediately catch any red flags in his behavior: he was polite enough, no major creep-vibes. (Y/N) finally walked past the open divider and followed him into the stock room.
“So, over here,” he said, waving his hand over a heavily stocked shelf, “is all the high-powered stuff. These over here have a high-customization level, lingerie over here, and over here ....”
The man continued to go over the ‘hidden’ options in the store, but (Y/N)’s eyes traveled over to a large, sheet-covered box.
“Hey, what’s that over there?” she asked, pointing at the box.
“Oh, that? That’s new, uhm, probably a little out of your comfort zone, though, he’s a little advanced.”
“He?”
The cashier sighed and stepped up to the box, gripping the corner of the sheet. “It’s—it’s a long story, but, here, have a look.”
He pulled the sheet down, dropping it to the cement floors of the room.
“What the fuck is that?!”
A blond man stood in the plain box, the only adornment on the cardboard being his name in bolded letters: Leon. His eyes were closed, his hands sat idly beside his sides, and his body stood bare before them both.
“His name is Leon, he’s a prototype for a new line of responsive sex dolls. I mean, most of the bugs are out of the system, he’s not faulty or anything.”
(Y/N) walked up to the box and scratched the cellophane covering, trying to get his attention. “Is he awake? Or on, I guess?”
“Nah, he has to be set up, there’s a manual in the box, I think,” the man replied, bending down to pick the sheet back up to throw over Leon’s box. Just as he began to shake the sheet off, clearing the residual dirt off of it, (Y/N) spoke again.
“How much for him?”
She mentally smacked herself for asking. There was no doubt he was expensive, hell, he probably wasn’t even up for sale.
“You want him?” He raised his eyebrow, looking the girl up and down, confusion painting his features.
“I– I don’t know, can I have him? How much?”
He crossed his arms for a moment, thinking. “He’s not for sale, per se, but– so, listen, okay?”
“Yeah?”
“You can have him for free, okay? But if you aren’t satisfied with him, you can’t bring him back here, you’re stuck with ‘em.” He held his hand out expectantly. “Deal?”
“Deal,” she said, taking his hand quickly, giving it a few affirming shakes.
The boxcutter in her hand worked quickly, slicing open the cellophane. (Y/N) bunched up the plastic and threw it to a random corner in her bedroom, turning back to face Leon. She gave him a testing poke, and when he didn’t respond she turned that poke into a gentle tapping on the side of his face.
“Leon?” The name felt like acid on her tongue, guilt already creeping through her. “Wake up.”
She dropped her hand from his face and guided it further down his chest. The synthetic skin felt real, almost in an uncanny way. He was warm to the touch, not plastic-y and cold like how she assumed other sex dolls felt.
“Come on, big boy.” she muttered, pulling Leon’s large, heavy body out of the box and placing him on his feet near her bed. “Where’s your–? Oh, got it.” (Y/N) snatched the instruction manual from the box. The print was foggy, and some words were horribly misspelled, but she flipped through the pages and located the directions page. She read the page to herself quietly. “I am Leon, your AI-powered male sex doll. The setup process of a Leon doll is extremely easy. To turn me on, just set my dial. After that, just sit back and let me love you for a little while!”
(Y/N) walked a small circle around him in search of his ‘on-switch.’ She found it right on the back of his neck, almost hidden by his swoop of blond hair. On the silver dial sat three options: Off, gentle, and rough. A hand rose and ticked the dial to gentle. She stepped away from him quickly after hitting the switch, nervous to see what would happen.
His eyes opened slowly, and a weak blue light beamed from them, scanning outwards before shutting off completely. A grin slowly spread across Leon’s all-too-real features as he powered on.
“Hey there, pretty girl,” he said, standing still in her room, only moving his head to face her. “Looks like you could use some company.”
“Uh, hello.” Her mouth was dry as she spoke, feeling like she made a bad decision the second he had snapped to life.
“Hm, why don’t you come closer to me? I don’t bite,” Leon paused before cheekily adding “unless you want me to.” He took her in his arms and let his eyes drift down her body. He eased her shirt over her head and tried to undo the clasps of her bra.
“What are you doing?” She tried to pull away but he held her in place.
“You have all your clothes, but I’m exposed over here. That’s not so fair, is it?” He looked down at his hardened length, ushering her to look down with him.
Her eyes widened a bit. “When did you even get hard–?”
“I’m always hard around pretty girls like you.” He slipped off her bra and groped her breasts with his large, somewhat calloused hands. “Look at these, baby. You have pretty tits, and a pretty face, huh?”
A hum left her throat as she felt his head dip down and take one of her swollen nipples into his mouth. He swirled his tongue over the bud, latching on to properly suck it after a few teasing moments. She ran her hands through his hair and gripped onto it tightly, whining at the feeling of his mouth popping off of her tit.
“Bet you’re getting wet from this, aren’t you?” His voice was airy and muffled while he spoke. He left open mouthed licks over her pebbled nipples, grazing over them with his tongue’s warmth.
She gave a weak nod in return.
“Mm, maybe I should take care of that,” he chuckled lightly and lowered himself to his knees. “Gonna let me take these off you?” He tugged at the waistband of her shorts.
“G’head,” (Y/N) said, feeling her thighs rub against each other impatiently.
He pulled them down to her ankles and she stepped out of them, leaving her in just her panties. She shuddered at the feeling of his tongue darting across the cotton covering her wet center. Again, Leon laughed a bit at her reaction and licked a heavier stripe against the fabric. When he was rewarded with a gasp from her open mouth, he pulled the panties to the side and pressed his tongue at her slit.
“F–Fuck, that feels good,” she whined, hand still messily buried in his hair.
Leon kept his eyes on her the whole time, not letting a moment pass where his blue irises weren’t piercing hers.
His tongue dipped out of her entrance and moved up to her clit. He fidgeted with it, trying to see which motion worked best on her, and settled on a circular movement. The longer he sat slotted between her thighs, her knees thrown over his shoulders, the more frequently he felt her cunt jump from pleasure. He placed his tongue hard on her clit, giving it rough, pressured licks.
“Almost there, I’m close,” (Y/N) said, feeling a coil form in her stomach. She had felt this with other toys, but by far, Leon was the best at the job. “Don’t stop,” she hummed, voice catching in her throat while he moved his head side to side, dragging his mouth sloppily over her cunt.
A string of profanities escaped her mouth when she felt her orgasm hit. A sputtering wave of warmth flushed through her body, her pussy clenching around nothing.
“That’s it, good job,” Leon cooed. He held his hand up to her face expectantly. “Spit.”
Her mind already felt melted, like it could’ve oozed out of her brain at any minute. She mindlessly complied with him, spitting onto his lengthy fingers.
“Ah–! S’too much, Leon.”
“No, no, you can take it. I’ll be gentle, I know you want another one,” he said with a slightly mocking tone. “Greedy girl needs something to fill her up.” Plunging his fingers into her pussy, he groaned at the feeling of her slick walls still fluttering. “Y’haven’t even recovered from the first one, but I’m gonna give you another one,” he said, curling his fingers, “gonna be twice as strong.”
“Fuck, it’s too much,” (Y/N) knew her sobs of pleasure were pathetic sounding, but she couldn’t muster anything else up as she tried to push his wrist down and away, not being able to stand the feeling of his two fingers prodding at her most sensitive spot.
“Don’t fight it,” he warned, “not when you’re so close. Yeah, I feel you getting all tight on me. Mm, you’re gonna love how it feels, it only gets better from here, pretty girl.”
Leon became more aggressive with his movement, moving his whole arm as his fingers jammed in and out of her. (Y/N) was lost in her ecstasy. Her hands shook and flew aimlessly before taking purchase of Leon’s shoulders and holding onto them, nails digging into the skin.
Her second release, as promised, was much stronger. Her legs clamped around him, her moans came out in long, shaky intervals, and her brain was mush. She couldn’t force herself to focus on anything but the cum dripping out of her cunt and down Leon’s fingers and forearm. She screwed her eyes shut, feeling even the dim light of her bedroom to be too much for her now fucked-out, slutty head to handle.
She hardly noticed when he had placed on her back in the bed with her legs spread. Not until he guided his cock across her folds, tapping the head of it against her swollen, abused clit.
“More?” she asked, voice breaking and weak. “Can’t take it ‘nymore.”
“C’mon, sweet thing, you can give me one more, can’t you? Just one more?” He whispered into her ear, slowly pushing into her, holding himself back.
“Jus’ one? No more after that?”
“Mhm, just one.” Leon bottomed out and stretched her walls with his girth. The tip of his cock gave sweet, shallow kisses to her cervix’s tip, gently pressing into it with each thrust. His hips rocked into her, but he felt his dick being forced out of her walls, pushed out of her heat. “Even after all that, still tight f’me.” He slid back in, rougher this time, trying to keep himself inside. “Need somethin’ to stretch you out, baby. Good thing y’got me now.”
His hands were placed under her knees, scooping and holding them apart while he fucked her. He slowly transitioned from fucking and burrying his cock into her, to bringing her body forward, bouncing her on his cock.
“Leon—”
“Hush, now, you’re okay. Mm,” he wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth, “look at how you take it. It’s like you were made to be used like this, sweet girl. Maybe you’d be better off as a toy.”
She moaned at this, feeling her cunt twitch at his words.
“Yeah? You like that?” Leon’s eyebrow raised at her a bit, teeth barring in smirk. “You like being a little toy. Being– oh, fuck, you’re enjoying this so much. Your pretty little face...”
(Y/N) threw her arms over his neck, pulling him closer to her body. Their chests pressed together, her sweat slick between them both. “God, Leon, please!”
Leon pressed his mouth on her to quiet her down, swallowing her moans as their tongues and teeth gnashed against each other. He winced as (Y/N) bit down on his lip, choking back her sobs when she clamped down on his cock. Taking this as a sign, Leon emptied his thick, synthetic cum into her.
Once he pulled out, a mixture of both of their cum pumped out, gushing and wetting in between her thighs.
“Good job, baby,” he said, stroking her face, grinning at the warmth of her cheek. “You did so well, getting all cockdrunk for me. To think I was being gentle. Wanna try my rough mode out for size?” He joked, letting his hand grip her hip.
“Goodnight, Leon,” she responded, unimpressed at his teasing and tired from what he had done to her. She brought her hand to the back of his neck and turned his dial to ‘off.'
#barleyxnighteye#fanfiction#smutfic#smut#leon kennedy#resident evil#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#fanfic#leon kennedy x y/n#x reader#smut fanfiction#resident evil x reader#leon scott kennedy#alternate universe
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If You Lie Down With Me
pairing: (pre-ellie) dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!reader
summary: there’s only one guy in all of boston that can get you a morning after pill. unfortunately, on top of being a huge asshole, Joel Miller also happens to be your dad’s closest peer.
warnings: rough sex / smut (masturbation, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content; unprotected sex; light choking & restraint; light dom/sub dynamic; fem afab reader; reader has long-ish hair (that gets touched); plot-typical violence (guns, death); plot deviations (no Tess); medication ingestion; pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel); dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance, no explicit consent).
word count: 6.5k+
no use of y/n in this fic
alright y’all I’m baaaaAAAaack! so this is basically the other version of Dark But Just a Game that I started back when I was writing it & figured I’d finish it to get out of my hiatus. like any devilmademewriteit fic, it’s dark and nasty and deprived like meeeeeee <3 hope u enjoy !
don’t forget to reblog, check out my masterlist, sign up for the taglist, & leave any comments / feedback / & suggestions!
(ps: new part of Salvatore up next !)
—
“three times the guy I ever thought I would meet, so don't say you're over me when we both know that you lie”
— lana del rey, ‘If You Lie Down With Me’
—
Fuck.
Waking up to a racing heart, a pounding head, and a stomach swimming with nausea was never ideal, although it was always a better experience alone — when you could squint and hiss at the light slicing through the weaknesses in the drapes without hearing your groans echoed by a lower, louder, and annoyingly more pitiful voice.
Right. What was his name?
Jared? Jordan? Jermaine?
Ah, who cares.
If he’d wanted a safe place to nurse his hangover, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep in your bed. Sure, the odds of dad being conscious at this hour (especially the odds after a party like last night’s) were Kate Moss — no, Rolling Stones — slim, but the man would get up at some point, meaning that this poor J-whatever was likely sleeping through his only window of escape from certain homicide.
You whisper. You shake him gently. You gingerly tap the roundness of his bicep.
Huh — Not bad.
You congratulate last-night-you for reeling in this morning’s good-looking catch.
Still… nothing. Not a twitch. Nary a croaked ‘lemmesleep’ graces your ears.
After loosing an exasperated sigh and running through your options, you decide to take the most effective (and least girl-next-door) route. The corner of your elbow collides with his ribs, and the boy jumps up, his loose, blonde curls as wild as his eyes, searching the room for his attacker.
You want to smile at the scene, but the motion hurts your head.
“Y’gotta go,” you croak out, thumbs rubbing circles against your aching temples.
He collapses onto his back, copying your movement with his own fingers to his brow. “God. I feel like shit.”
Despite muttering your agreement, you let your eyelashes flutter closed and your weight turn you away from last night’s paramour: no use figuring out who he is after the (f)act — that just makes it personal.
After a few breaths, the boy moves back up to a shakey sitting position.
Probably sourcing for his clothes.
He reeks of booze and sex — but then again, so do you. His roughened, unfamiliar tenor climbs to barely above a whisper, “Z’something stuck on my leg… blood, or something…”
His interrupting your suffering comes as a deeply unwelcome annoyance, so you try to sort him out to clear him out: “Prolly just the condom,” you mumble, rolling back onto your shoulders, reluctantly supervising his movements.
He lifts up fully, sitting criss-cross and pulling his calf towards him.
“No,” he tries to laugh but succumbs to the nausea, settling for a low breath instead, “S’blood, dude, from beer darts — and I didn’t use a condom.”
Your eyes immediately dart over, settling on his naked, wretched, shivering form. He notices your ire and the hitching of your throat, immediately defensive.
“I asked if you wanted to.”
Unfortunately, he had. The memories of your drunken entanglement start to resurface inside your mind. “It just feels better without one.” This time, you curse last-night-you for being such a careless, inconsiderate, horny bastard.
You’re making problems for me, girl.
“J’s get out.”
J-whatever spares no time complying, collecting his few strewn belongings and staggering out the front door. Once it slides shut, so too do your poor, weary eyes.
Shit.
There goes the afternoon.
Getting your hands on condoms in the QZ was at least fifteen times easier than snatching a morning after pill. Those were a hot commodity, especially among the younger, less responsible crowds.
Luckily for you, as a member of aforementioned younger, less responsible crowds, you knew where your best chances lay in finding whatever it was you needed (if what you needed was deeply immoral or wholly illegal). Unluckily for you, that ‘best chance’ happened to be your dad’s closest and longest-running business partner: temperamental, judgemental, frustratingly competent, Joel ‘Local Asshole’ Miller.
But that could all be dealt with after another eight hours of sleep.
—
Opportunity strikes sooner than expected.
Miller’s in your living room by the time you wake up, the low rumble of his southern baritone recognizable even through the closed door. After scrambling to throw on some clothes, you press an ear to the chipping paint, hoping to determine the number of bodies gathered in your home.
Not many. Just Miller (and the old man, of course).
The latter’s presence bodes ill for you. This would all have to be done in secret, which was not an uncommon strategy where ever the former was involved. No one dealt with Joel Miller to conduct clean-cut, wholesome activities. No one was calling him up for a spare copy of the holy book.
No, getting him alone was essential.
A drink slams down on the counter. After a good, patient ten minutes, you hear your father (‘s rather crude way of) excusing himself to the washroom and heavy-set footsteps decrescendoing down the hall.
This is it.
You slip through the door.
At first, your company takes no notice of you, his eyes still glued to the maps and papers littering the counter before him.
Then, a low grumble: “fun night?”
His voice makes you weak in the knees — an involuntary, near ritual-like response you’d noticed around your mid teens and hadn’t managed to kick yet.
You swallow before responding. “Yes.”
It’s all you manage to muster. Miller finally looks up, wincing slightly as his back straightens. He looks tired, at least more than usual, with his wild, grey-streaked hair tousled and the lines by his mouth cutting deep into his skin.
You’re sure you don’t look much better, a suspicion proven by the man’s slowly spreading, barely-noticeable smirk. That gaze makes you self conscious, mute; your right hand snakes up, absent-mindedly dragging a fallen bra strap back to its proper position.
“So, what was his name?”
He’s teasing, sure, but Miller was there last night. He’d always had sharper perceptions than your father did, especially — and ironically — when it came to you. That skill tended to squander your confidence as the daughter of a modern-day mafia-boss and the owner of a hard, violent heart.
Rushed by the sound of your father’s footsteps, you default to honesty.
“I don’t remember.”
“Try.”
“Josh.”
Amusement flits across his stern expression. “Again.”
“Jamie.”
“Warmer.”
“J-J-something—”
“Gettin’ colder, sweetheart—”
“I need the pill.”
It just tumbles out, an exasperated, desperate plea. Miller, a bit taken aback by your candor, drains of his previous playfulness. You almost notice the split second those dark eyes glaze over. For a second, you’re almost convinced he’s distracted by his imagination’s recreations of the act that had you making such a request.
You almost notice the tingling between your thighs.
He stares. You stare back.
Fuck.
It was moments like this that made you wish Tess was still around. Oh, she wouldn’t be any kinder — no, not at all — but she’d certainly be more professional. Tess was all work, no play. Joel was…
You’re enjoying this, you bastard. You’re enjoying that I’m cornered like this, aren’t you?
The bathroom handle clicks when it turns, and your heart drops into your toes.
Maybe Miller really wasn’t going to help you. Maybe he didn’t have the pill and you’d just embarrassed yourself for nothing. Or, maybe he did, but preferred outing you to your dad at the very first opportunity — letting him deal with you the only way he knew how.
Your fears seem confirmed: his eyes leave the grace of your own, trailing back to his big, splayed hands on the countertop. Unwelcome tears burn the corners of your eyes as the panic begins to set in, as footsteps begin to fall…
“Mine. Tonight.”
It’s low and rushed, but it’s clear, cutting off to the sound of your father lumbering in. A man who saw, thought, and lived through transactions, he’s (thankfully) blissfully ignorant of the tension collapsing around him.
“Morning,” he throws your way.
A taunt, of course — it was well past noon.
You nod in acknowledgement, slowly backing into the doorway of your sacred, beckoning room. They resume their conversation from before, letting you sink into irrelevance.
Before shutting yourself in, you catch a few of Miller’s hushed words. They’re spoken casually to your father but, you later decide, surely meant for you:
“Not that one kid — Jeremy — don’t trust him.”
The door seals (well, not seals… it creaks on its rusty hinges and squeezes into its shrinking frame), and relief courses through you, reaching the very tips of your fingers.
That only lasts a minute.
Soon, you’re negotiating with the rising anxiety of being at Miller’s place alone, asking for his help with a problem that could’ve been avoided if you’d only kept your legs shut.
Alone with Miller, the both of you knowing that you hadn’t.
Crawling back under your covers, you begrudgingly make a vow of celibacy. If this was the cost of attention and a (potential) mid-range orgasm, you were about to become very frugal.
Dreams come easy, but they don’t come sweet.
Flashes of last night’s sins overlay Joel Miller’s unintelligible speech, his voice from the next room over lulling you into a rather confusing, disturbed sleep.
—
At nighttime, it’s a short walk to his building.
Down this alley, past this street, up this back stairwell. Part of being in with Boston’s seedy underbelly gained you access to the best and most up-to-date intel; by the age of twelve, you could run the safest — well, least policed — post-curfew routes from memory.
(Which had come in handy in situations a lot more dire than this.)
Sneaking in was easy, although you cursed him for being so preoccupied during the day. Coming in at this hour required some delicate maneuvers through a half-shattered window, and a less-than-graceful leap down left you with a nick on your cheekbone and a shallow cut along the side of your hand.
Thankfully, the blood mostly dries on your walk up the six or eight or ten flights of stairs. You don’t resent the exercise; it feels good to move, putting the jitters building in every still moment in abeyance.
Still moments like the kind that passes after a barely-audible, coded knock delivered by a girl sucking on the side of her hand, almost wishing for the door not to open.
It does.
He’s in jeans — dirty jeans, dusty — and a simple flannel. It’s Miller — it’s Miller at his most Joel-Miller-like-ness.
So why am I so fucking nervous?
He holds the door open, brows knitting at the sight of your hand in your mouth.
“Window,” You offer.
He mouthes a silent ‘ah,’ before leaning forward to duck his head out the door and, in the process, somewhat sandwiching you against his chest.
Maybe it’s because he smells like forest-fires, but your skin burns red-hot.
Miller looks both ways, checking the status of the hall (empty), then nudges you into the dim light of his place with the weight of his hand against your lower back.
The door shuts behind you.
You’d been here at least a million times before, but the thoughts rising now feel so… new. The jacket strewn on the side of the sagging sofa is his — Joel Miller has sat at this table and showered, slept, fucked inside these walls.
Cut it out. It’s just ‘cause you’re alone. And older.
But what about it, now that you were alone and older?
Old enough to know what goes on between a man and a woman and a little bit of desperation at just the right amounts… and there sure was a lot of him, and some desperation, too…
“Nervous?”
Your feet hit the floor, all thoughts evaporating at the sound of his word. Blushing, you try to de-code his taunt, spoken with playfulness and too much condescension.
“Wh — what’d you — nervous for what? No.”
He’s already across the room, sifting through a box of miscellaneous items. A yellowed lamp shade catches his side-profile, illuminates the smirk spreading across his face. Then, a low command:
“Relax,” and your spine settles, acceding to his wish. “Some girls get nervous, y’know, takin’ it the first time.”
Oh.
You clear your throat, daring to take a step into his place, incensed enough to trace the indents and stab-marks decorating his kitchen table.
“No.”
You’re taken aback by the accuracy and the strength underpinning your answer. It’s true, you aren’t afraid, and hadn’t been afraid of much in a very long while.
What’s a Joel Miller to your best friend’s public hanging? What’s he to a dozen rows of semi automatics raining down on your zigzagging toes? What’s he to a period cramp?
Like a bolt of lightning hitting you in the chest, that cocky, gauche and indelicate rebel you’d grown into reappears.
“I’ve been told I take things pretty well my first time.” The tension rises — this time, at your command — just as Joel does, carrying a leather pouch in his right hand. “And it’s not, anyways,” you add for good measure.
The leather drops onto the marked-up table. Joel crosses his arms.
“Not sellin’ me on givin’ you one of these, sweetheart.”
He gestures to the bag.
A mock-frown as you draw closer to him. His eyes, although severe, reflect the playfulness dancing in your own.
“Why not?” You ask, voice dripping with false innocence.
Joel’s gaze doesn’t stray as it hardens, focused on your own. “They’re for accidents, mistakes, attacks,” he explains, deep and dangerous, “Not girls who can’t keep their pretty lil’ legs together.”
Oof.
On one hand, it sounds like he’s genuinely chastising you for your careless behaviour. But, on the other, he sounds jealous, taunting, hungry.
I’ll play that hand.
Sleeping all day had left you wide awake, and that long-time, school-girl crush on the man before you was dying for content to fantasize about. Even if he pushed you off, you’d get to feel the weight of his hands on your body, right?
So, you return with a taunt of your own: “You think my legs are pretty?”
He shakes his head, his signature scowl spreading as he mostly ignores you. “I think you should at least use condoms,” a breath, “N’ know their first names.”
Ouch.
“I usually do.” you murmur, “and it broke last night.”
“Bullshit.”
“What do you mean, bullshit?”
Joel sighs and lowers himself into one of the four old, rickety chairs lining the table. His hand comes up to his temples and you notice how his legs, exhausted, part.
The man doesn’t deign to respond.
Irritation begins to well in your core, sneaking through your arms and up into your throat. The muscle in your jaw must be twitching like crazy.
How does he know? How the fuck does he always know?
Across the QZ, as a skilled liar and born and bred bandit, people tended to hold whatever image of you that you’d crafted for them.
Not Joel. Never Joel.
He saw through you in a way that had always felt… intimate. It was one of the reasons, you guessed, he didn’t dare spend too much time alone with you and why you’d always been curious about him (as a man, of course). Now, there was no avoiding your obvious vulnerability from either of you — you were stripped bare, your dressings in his hand.
It makes you want to flee as much as it makes you want to leap into his arms.
You snatch up the pouch, opening it up to find a mass of differently coloured and shaped pills. Rifling through, you ignore Joel’s stare boring into your hands’ erratic search.
“Yellow ones,” he says.
“I know what they look like,” you retort.
“‘Course you do.”
He moves faster than he should be able to.
One moment, your palm is slicing through the air, headed straight for the highest point of his cheek. The next, you’re facedown on the table. Your attacking hand is caged in by a much larger, much stronger one, pinned to the decaying wood; the other, he pins behind your back. Pills litter the floor — Joel’s boot crunches into a wayward one as he adjusts himself behind you, leaning over your struggling, smaller frame, immobilizing you with his weight.
“Let go of me—” you hiss, words smothered by the wooden surface pressed to your profile.
“—Shut up ‘n listen,” he commands, leaning over to tower over his trapped victim. “Try that again n’I’ll do worse’n kill you. Understand?”
Despite the authenticity of his threat, a strangled laugh wracks your lungs.
“Gonna turn me in for contraband, Miller? Watch them gun me down in the square?”
You smile through your heavy breaths. There, behind your hips, is a growing movement indicative of some other kind of punishment he’s got in mind.
“Or,” you continue on coyly, “Give me another reason to need that pill?”
Joel pauses, untangling your meaning.
Then, an exasperated scoff. His hold tightens on your wrist and you wince. “You always thinkin’ of the fastest way to get a man to fuck you?”
“Only when his cock’s pressed against my ass.”
He goes quiet — only for a moment. Somewhere outside, rounds echo through the night.
“Z’that what you want?” His voice is deep and threatening, promising of the kind of hard, mind-numbing fuck you’d been craving for weeks.
After a hard swallow, you nod, catching the raise of his eyebrows in your periphery.
A moment passes as he mulls over your answer. Only your shallow, anticipatory breaths populate the quiet space.
“Alright.”
And he lets go.
Heart racing, wrists aching, you flip around to his neutral, impenetrable expression.
“Get down on your knees.”
Without taking a moment to decide whether you’re living anything more than just a really fucked up dream, you sink to your knees, folding your hands in your lap (to stop them from shaking). Before you, Joel’s bulge twitches while he watches you yielding to submission, and you try to ignore the excitement building between your own two legs.
His eyes burn into yours: black, starved, weighty. He tells you to shut your own and you do, unable to resist the tone of his command. Within the self-imposed darkness, Joel’s following order — ‘open your mouth,’ — parts your lips as if they were under his spell. You wonder what you must look like to him, needy and ready to receive whatever you’re given.
He speaks again.
“Show me your tongue, angel.”
The gruffness punctuating his arousal doesn’t let you stand a chance. You let your mouth fall open wider.
Next, there’s rustling. You try to remember whether or not he’d had on a belt, listening and failing to hear the soft clinks of a buckle coming undone.
Too soon, something wraps around your chin — thick, calloused fingers — and the pressure of a thumb running down the middle of your tongue sends a rush of electricity down every stacked vertebrae. It’s slow, tantalizingly slow, as if the man were trying to memorize the feel of every groove, ridge, and bud on his leisurely way out.
When Joel drops his hand, a small weight remains at the back of your throat.
“Close.”
You do, opening your eyes to meet his own: severe and wanting — or wanting for severity?
It’s a pill. That much is obvious once the taste begins to spread, bitter and chemical and totally gag-worthy. He follows up with ‘swallow’ for his own sick enjoyment; by the time he says it, it’s clear that you already have.
What kind of game is this, Miller?
Your cheeks burn when your company kneels down. He places his big, broad hand partly on your neck, partly to the side of your jaw, and you’re still too taken aback to tear it off. The feel of his rough palm against your racing pulse silences every urge to enact revenge. Words don’t come — too quickly forgotten on one’s knees.
“You’re way too easy for your own good, sweetheart,” he near-whispers, shooting to kill in a blow packed tight with condescension. “Don’t let me see you here again.”
And that’s it: your cue to get lost.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Miller pulls away from your reddening skin, straightening to stand. You follow suit soon after, heart pumping lead, tongue bruised by the memory of his touch (more overwhelming than the metallic residue dripping down your throat).
He turns, running a few fingers through his hair. It’s the last look you get before resigning yourself to the journey back home.
Still, before turning the rusted handle, in a brief moment of respite, of clarity, you seize the final word:
“I’m only ‘easy’ when I’m drunk. Or interested.”
Silence courses through the room as Joel registers the meaning behind your confession.
“Goodnight, Miller.”
With that, you see yourself into the hallway, checking its status before tearing into the stairwell.
You barely breathe.
He wanted me — he had to have wanted me.
Miller was a pragmatic player; surely, he’d only bother to play with toys he liked like that… right?
Right?
Unable to clear your head or cool the heat radiating through your core, you take the long way home, the distant sounds of a war between rivals soothing the cacophony of noise swimming between your ears.
—
For the next two weeks, all you’re able to think about is him.
You think about him when he’s gone and when he’s in the room, grumbling in hushed tones to your father. You think about him when you’re unable to fall asleep, letting your hands slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, imagining your own fingers as thick, tan ones running through the warmth between your legs.
He takes no notice of you — a fact you deeply resent. Even in your skimpiest clothing, he’s like a damn horse with blinders on. You decide, in the past weeks, he’d either acquired the patience of Job or purged every sinful craving from his system when he’d stuck his fingers down your throat.
Naturally, you’re more than happy when, at breakfast (two in the afternoon), your father gives you the heads up about tonight’s gathering at the Bar (which was really just an asbestos-ridden basement equipped with enough prohibition-style gadgets and architecture to host a good ‘strategic meeting’ every other month).
“Everyone’s gonna be there,” he mumbles. “Need you to keep your ears open. Had to take a couple rats out last week…”
Everyone’s gonna be there.
Smiling to yourself, your thoughts start to spin out. Business, distractions, booze. Tonight would host a million opportunities for you to get him alone.
Hope blooms through your chest.
Do your worst, Miller.
—
“Man, I wish we could’ve experienced cocktails. Straight hooch is ass.”
A peer named Mel, just a year older than yourself, cringes as she sips on whatever murky liquor’s found its way into her cup.
You don’t mind the taste so much, having grown mostly immune to its taste and burn. In fact, you’d come to welcome the subsequent lapse in breath and judgement.
There was little else in this world that made you feel alive.
“Mhm,” you respond absent-mindedly, looking for a familiar scowl among the mass of scowls peppering the crowd.
A sigh to your right. “Always awesome, having your attention.”
The criticism snaps you back into your body. You smile sheepishly at your friend, apologizing through a wince.
She shrugs, her raggedy, pin-decorated jacket jingling with the movement. “S’okay. Known you long enough to know that look.”
For that, she receives a quizzical glance.
Mel comes back with a scoff. “No victims tonight?”
“Oh god,” you shoot her a look of disgust. “Do you mind not using such weird vocabulary? Make me sound like a predator.”
As the words tumble out, you zero in on the object of your search. There he is: eyebrows knit together in concentration, drink in hand, unsurprisingly (and annoyingly) in conversation with your father. A few other stragglers are in the mix, too, but they’re easily overlooked. Time slows to a full stop in his wake —only for the briefest of seconds —
“Well since the last guy actually wound up dead a week later, I think it’s fitting.”
Once again, Mel’s managed to wrangle your interest.
You stare blankly into her onyx eyes, ringlets falling through molasses around her face. “Jeremy?”
And she’s bewildered. “You didn’t hear?”
This time, both of your heads turn in the same direction.
“Ratted to FEDRA about the storehouse off tenth,” she explains, gesturing towards Miller and your father with a tilt of her head. Famous for her bravery, she stoops into your shoulder, averting his gaze and speaking under her breath, “Judging by the way they found him, my guess is it was mostly Miller’s stuff.”
It’s as if she’d screamed it.
The subject of your conversation turns to face you right as your company’s words drift off. Despite the level of noise, the amount of people, and the cloudiness of the air, you’re trapped in the corridor of your mutual stare, cornered.
The challenge, the knowing marking his expression.
“I need some air.”
You twist into the body standing behind you, shoving row after row of criminal scum out of the way. Mel doesn’t follow — she’d never hung around to comfort you, only to inform you. A mutual, typical relationship for the age, and just how things worked in the QZ.
You slam into the door, stomping into a deserted, silent alley, empty save for a few drunk strays. Your lips begin to tingle and a scream builds inside your lungs. Stalking blindly into the night, unsure of your direction, alone in half a top and a plain, ass-length skirt, shivering despite the warmth of the air…
You’re practically begging for trouble.
Just as your eyes catch the numbers on the old, rusted street sign above, just as you realize you’re on a monitored street tonight, only safe after curfew every other Monday and Wednesday, you’re grabbed by the waist, pulled into the space between two buildings, and shoved into a sheltered nook.
A dim, yellow light clicks on automatically. There’s a door (chained closed) leading into the building to your left and darkness to your right.
And there’s Joel Miller above you, his expression indeterminable.
“You asshole,” you barely hear yourself breathe over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears before lunging forward in a useless attempt to, once again, strike his profile.
He catches your wrist, no doubt having anticipated the attack. It’s written on your face, in your eyes, in your shallow, uneven inhalations. He takes your other hand before you’ve even thought to use it, lifting it above your head and slamming it against the old stucco behind you.
“You’re violent,” he says flatly.
He tightens his hold when you struggle against it. “Proud of yourself, yeah? You’re a killer.”
That inspires a slight smirk. You half expect him to return with an ‘as if you didn’t already know that.’
Instead, he says, “Sweetheart, you didn’t even know his name.”
“You should’ve told me.”
And that’s the real source of this anger: it’s rage at being the last to know.
And for what? To protect your feelings? Since when had anyone in your life bothered to do that?
“And don’t call me ‘sweetheart’,” you add for good measure.
You’d wanted him to touch you so badly for weeks now, but here, scorned at being left in the dark and confused at the death of a paramour, you only want to get free.
“And what’d he call you?” He spits, leaning down and in, inadvertently pressing his thigh between your legs — when his breath grazes the skin of your ear, it causes them to part (against your better judgement). “Got lots of names, right?” He continues to tease, “Heard your boyfriend’s pretty one for you before I shut him up — ‘that fuckin’ slut,’ f’I’m rememberin’ right.”
Despite your rage-shakes, you’re warming at the core, Joel’s pressure against it dizzying your already-addled head. It confuses you, makes the scorn easier to access.
“How did I come up, Miller?” You exhale, jutting your chin towards him. “Couldn’t help asking for all the dirty little details, could you?”
He smiles, and the act lacks any sort of kindness. “‘Lot easier gettin’ him alone once he thought he was meetin’ you.” Joel slams your wrist harder into the wall when you try to wriggle away. “Not sure you wanna keep making that kind of impression, angel.”
It’s hard to rationalize with him so close, as his pet-names echoe inside your head. He’d used your name to enact gang-law violence on a boy who’d been inside you, and yet, all you can think, all you can hear, is the way ‘sweetheart’ sounds tumbling off his lips.
“Fucking let me go, Miller,” you manage to exasperate, resenting the begging edge to every word. “I don’t need another abstinence lecture from you.”
Kicking one ankle off balance, Joel turns you around, pressing your stomach to the wall, your back into his chest. Ignoring your whines and pitiful struggle, he wraps a free hand around your neck, pushing your head against his collarbone. Your stomach erupts with butterflies as the rough pad of his thumb traces the front of your throat.
Yes — no — yes, he wants me — no, no, this is wrong, this is so wrong —
“‘Be wasted on you, anyways,” he says, rough and earnest, like his hand sliding down your chest, your breasts, your stomach, “Startin’ to realize if I can’t fix your dad’s mistakes…” and he’s finding the hem of your skirt and yanking it up, bunching the fabric around your hips —
“Might as well take advantage of them.”
He moves hungrily. He’s everywhere, sliding into your underwear and across your breasts, his big arms and suffocating biceps enveloping your entire frame.
“Joel—”
But he claps a hand over your mouth, silencing any hope of your pleas being effective.
“Think I haven’t seen you? Your lil’ looks…” a low laugh, “n’ those fuckin’ clothes?” God, the rumble, the sheer want in his voice hammers at your initial resistance, and you feel yourself welcoming the feel of his thick, long fingers, sliding between your wet folds. You’re clay, melting against the curved, firm wall of his chest.
You mewl pathetically into his palm.
Another low laugh wracks his lungs, dances at the top of your ear.
“Knew you’d be this wet for me.”
“Knew since you got down on your knees,” Joel continues, uncovering your mouth only to ease a few fingers between your lips — lips that part as though commanded, and a mouth that welcomes and caresses whatever it receives, “‘N opened this pretty lil’ mouth for me to fuck it. Can’t close my eyes without seein’ you like that — so fuckin’ needy.” He exhales from between his teeth, signalling his approval while you suck him down to the knuckles.
His fingers tease your clit and you give him your thanks by pleasuring those of his other hand.
When his hands move, it’s to hold you steady and balanced as he drags your underwear down your legs. That thick, heavy cloud of arousal hides any and all rational thoughts from view.
And he knows. He knows you’re past the point of no return, restraining you only out of his desire to rather than out of a real need to. He knows from the whine you breathe at the loss of his hand against your clit, moving to work at his belt buckle instead.
“Gonna use a condom?” You breathe, emboldened by your clearing senses at the temporary lack of stimulation.
At first, you think he’s missed your taunt.
He backs up, pulling your hips along with him until the tips of your fingers are no longer touching the decaying wall before you. Joel pulls you upright and against him with an arm around your waist and a hand around your throat, turning your head and tilting it back to meet your eyes.
You grasp onto his forearms, failing to stand, unable to breathe. His hardness digs into your back, and his cruel eyes show you just how much pleasure he takes in your struggle.
“Don’t like to waste ‘em,” he finally answers, rocking his cock against your spine, “But I will if you beg. You gonna beg?”
He manipulates your answer, fingers moving to your red-hot core — he barely grazes the nerves, only dancing over the needy flesh. You can’t tear your eyes from him either, tethered to your body through his gaze.
Joel Miller was a frustrating lover.
“N-no,” is your answer, slightly strangled and softly stuttered.
He smiles. “S’what I thought.” Then, “Show me what you can do, angel,” he coos, lips just inches away from yours, his hold on your body relaxing —
“Use your pretty lil’ hands n’ put my cock where you want it most.”
And you both know exactly where that is.
After a nod, Joel allows you to bend forward slowly — it’s like moving through honey. Your legs burn with effort as you reach between your legs to wrap a hand around his thick, hard length.
Christ, he’s huge.
He groans when you touch him and uses his own hand to help guide his tip between your folds. One hand holds your waist, fingers extended under your ribs to support your weight in a skilled show of experience.
With his tip at your aching entrance, you try to lean back, to slide yourself slowly down his many inches.
But Joel doesn’t allow it.
He pushes into you in one go, clicking his tongue at your strangled gasp —
The man hadn’t even bothered to open you up with his fingers.
“Ah, c’mon,” he condescends, “You can take it.”
Then he’s setting a hard pace, hands moving from your hips to your ribs to your biceps to your hair to your neck — anywhere he wanted to go, he went. One eventually comes to the front of your throat, tilting your eyes back and up towards the ceiling. Every one of his thrusts arches your back further until you’re contorting into a half-moon shape, standing only by the grace of his support.
And it feels so good. Joel fills you up to the brim, takes you to heaven and floods your ears with hymns, punishes you in the kind of way you’d only experienced in dreams.
Words tumble out, but they’re filled with nothingness. “Joel,” “fuck,” and “yesohgodyes,” quickly become staples of your vocabulary.
He laughs whenever you sob, grows harder every time you moan, restrains you when you try to run away.
The hand around your throat tightens, digging unforgivably into the flesh as you start to let go, as your walls begin to clench and flutter appreciatively around his cock.
“M’I making you happy, sweetheart? My cock making you smile?” He asks gruffly, pulling you back into his chest. Joel readjusts you into whatever shape you need to be in at the new angle, hips still slamming into your ass. Struggling to stand on your tiptoes, he steadies you with his arms and his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look up into his rugged face.
“Mmhm,” is all you can offer him, the pitch jumping up halfway through when the head of his cock grazes that perfect spot inside your cunt.
He doesn’t let up.
“Show me, baby—” he commands, out of breath, too, but not nearly as tortured as you, “—Show me your smile.”
You do your best, smiling up at him, degrading yourself even more at the hands of Joel-fucking-Miller. And he eats it up, loves the way your grin turns into a bitten lip and knit eyebrows over closed eyes, slowing his thrusts to rock even deeper inside you.
You moan something unintelligible, and a laugh rustles through your tangled hair.
“Am I makin’ you come?”
You nod, feeling that familiar rush of pressure blooming somewhere within that throbbing bundle of nerves under his spell.
He smirks in pride and victory, the last look you get before your head falls against his shoulder, your muscles going lax as the peak builds, as your half-sobs grow louder.
“S’it, baby, tell ‘em,” he coos, nipping and sucking the skin on the side of your throat. “Gonna tell the whole street how you take it like a good lil’ slut.”
His fingers fall to your clit, enticing you right over the edge. You vision blurs and your legs shake, but Joel talks you through your orgasm, sweet nothings starting with, “S’right — show me — yes, fuck — good girl…”
And then —
He stops.
You whine, stars dancing before your eyes as the mean, mean man inside you refuses to fuck you through your climax.
“Joel,” you plead, grinding back against him in a pathetic show of need, “Come with me.”
He does the opposite, sliding himself out of your sore opening. You turn to face him, restoring your balance with hands against his chest, gazing up at him in desire-stricken reproach.
“Use your mouth,” he says, voice gruff at your ruined sight and from his own hand on his cock, keeping his arousal level, “Not gettin’ any more help from me.”
It’s unclear whether ‘help’ means pills or his cock, but you assume both to be safe.
You try to argue (having spent the last few weeks dreaming of Joel dripping down your legs) but he just won’t budge.
Then, his voice softens.
“You know your dad’d kill me, angel.”
And it’s really the sweetness of his tone that does it.
Sinking to your knees, it’s déjà vu when you open wide for him, steadying your shaking knees with both hands on his half clothed, half naked hips. Gravel and debris dig painfully into your bare knees, but you ignore the sting, smiling instead at the taste of yourself on Joel’s cock, lips sliding adoringly down the thick length of it.
He groans his approval, tangling his fingers in your hair to help guide your movements.
As you take him in again and again and again, pleasing every inch of him, he chokes out a laugh.
“Never seen you so quiet,” he muses (mostly to himself), caressing your cheekbone with his free hand —
“Gagged by an old man’s cock.”
You pull off, pumping him with both hands, asking breathlessly, “Are you all so big?”
He smiles, eyes darkening at the dirty compliment. “Give you a few numbers n’ you can tell me.”
God, he’s beautiful from down here.
You hold his attention and lick a slow stripe down the underside of his cock, half-grinning up at his lust-filled expression.
“I only want yours, Joel Miller.”
An uneasy inhale as you take him back in, his brows furrowing and his cock growing impossibly harder. Your words please him, he returns by groaning orders and praises like: “S’all yours, baby — take it all — take aaall that dick — good fuckin’ girl.”
He’s so close and you know it, moaning in submission at his hand’s pressure against the back of your head. With your nose crunched into his abdomen, you hold your throat open for him to use it however he pleases — reduced to nothing more than the man’s plaything.
There’s a low “ah, fuck,” from above, and then you finally know what Joel Miller tastes like.
It’s better than the Plan B.
You hear nothing beyond his recovering breaths, feel nothing past pride, lust, and exhaustion.
Eventually, he loosens his grip. You pull off of him delicately, drawing a groan from between his gritted teeth when you make sure to suck every last drop of his seed into your mouth.
Sitting back on your ankles, you roll your head up to face him.
He swipes a thumb under your lips, clearing the saliva connecting you to his softening cock.
“Still mad at me?” He asks.
You’d be crazy to say yes.
“Only for pulling out.”
You note the twitch at the corner of his mustache.
Joel helps you back on your feet, using one hand to pull you up by your arm and another to arrange himself back to decency.
You adjust your shirt; Joel fixes your skirt. It’s a strange kind of silence settling inside this pocket at the side of a random, ruined building.
Then, your company clears his throat, that mask of seriousness falling over his expression once again.
“You gonna be smart?”
What ever could he mean?
Stay away from him? Stay away from men? Practice abstinence? Use protection?
Either way, you’re not one to make promises you know you can’t keep.
You cross your arms.
“No.”
He sighs.
Well, looks like things are already back to normal.
His face softens and he shakes his head, already regretting his next words. “Just — just come find me, then. I won’t do… this again, but — but I’ll help.”
You frown.
“What do you mean, ‘this’?”
He stares down into your accusatory eyes with a look you’d received many times from him, one screaming, “get real.”
“Fine,” you mutter, breaking eye-contact, “Thank you.”
With a stoic nod, he walks around you, heading back into the night. You try, in vain, to watch him go in silence — god knows you had some thinking to get to — and find that, instead of getting it out of your system, the entanglement had only left you wanting for more.
And more and more.
“Is this what you meant?” and you hear his footsteps halt, “When you told me you’d do worse than kill me? When I tried to hit you?”
It comes out before you can help it, and you twist around to face his still, broad shoulders.
You can hear the smile teasing his lips as he utters the words.
“Why are you askin’ me that?”
Still facing his back, you break into a smile of your own. “So I’ll know what I have to do to get you to do it again.”
You watch him shake his head, grey-streaked ripples in the low light.
“Try your best not to find out, angel.”
With that, he disappears into the darkness, leaving you in the flickering doorway. Thighs aching, heart racing, you take a deep breath, trying to memorize the feeling of what it felt to have them taken from you by Joel Miller.
A feeling you’d chase.
—
Put your red boots on
Baby, giddy up
Baby wants a dance
Baby gets her way
Dreamy nights
Talk to me with that whiskey breath
Twirl me twice
I'll treat you like a holiday
And don't say you're over me
When we both know that you ain't
Don't say you're over me
Baby, it's already too late
Just do what you do best with me
Dance me all around the room
Spin me like a ballerina, super high
Dance me all around the moon
Light me up like the 4th of July
Once, twice, three times
The guy I ever thought I would meet, so
Don't say you're over me
When we both know that you lie
If you lie down right next to me
Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie
If you lie down right next to me
Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie
When you lie down right next to me
Get your jacket on
Be a gentleman
Get into your truck
And pick me up at eight
'Cause we were built for
The long haul freight train
Burnt by fire
Without trial like a stowaway
And don't say you're over me
When they all know that you ain't
If you lay down right next to me
Dance me all around the room
Spin me like ballerina super high
Dance me all around the moon
Like six times 'til I'm sick and I cry
Once, twice, three times
The guy I ever thought I would meet, so
Don't say you're over me
When they all know that you're lying
If you lie down right next to me
Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie
Lie, you lie
If you lie down right next to me
Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie
Lie, you lie
When you lie down right next to me
—
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title: Forever Yours, Faithfully
pairing: lee jihoon x fem!reader
genre: romance, fluff, slight angst, smut
warnings: mentions of food (sushi) and alcohol, mentions of clothes not fitting (jihoon buys reader something new, but one of the items are uncomfy bc women's sizes are weird), nsfw content (make-out in hot tub, fluffy smut, unprotected sex (don't do this, wrap it up pls), oral (f receiving), slight overstimulation)
synopsis: Ever since you had Valentine's day ruined for you by an ex, you decided to never pay the holiday any attention ever again. However, when your new boyfriend finds out about this, he just has to do something for you and change the connotation you have with the fourteenth.
wordcount: 9.7k
taglist: @enhacolor, @shuabby1994, @junhui-recs, @dkakapizzaboy, @just-here-to-read-01, @loviehan, @userjunhuii, @novalpha, @bubblymoon, @aaniag
a/n: breaking my hiatus for a moment to post this valentine's fic! this is a @svthub fic swap for @wooahaeproductions! happy valentine's day, i hope you enjoy!🩷
and a special thank you to @wongyuseokie and @strawberryya for proofing this!
see the rest of the posts for the collab here
join my taglist
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
“... I hate it. I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh. Even worse when you make me cry…”
A knock at your door interrupted Kat Stratford’s monologue on your TV screen, forcing you to look away from the movie and put down your bowl of ice cream. Pausing the romantic comedy, you listened to see if you were just hearing things - secretly hoping that was the case. However, there was another knock. It sounded cautious rather than angry, so you had no real reason to worry about who was on the other side of your door. You reached for the tissue box to dry your tear-stained cheeks and adjusted your clothes to make you look at least halfway decent. Before you had even stood up from the couch, there was yet another knock at the door.
“I’m coming!” you shouted and stood up.
You weren’t expecting anyone and silently hoped it was just your neighbor needing something and not one of your friends trying to take you out for drinks. Valentine’s Day was tough for you, it had been for a couple of years now, and you knew that your friends were only trying to cheer you up. However, when you opened the door, you were met with someone that you hadn’t anticipated.
“Hi.” Jihoon stood in front of you, fidgeting with the strap of a bag.
“Hi,” you said, trying to hide your disheveled self behind the door.
“Have you been crying?” He asked with furrowed brows.
“Oh, uh… I was just watching a movie.” You wiped your face with your sleeve. “10 Things I Hate About You… the ending always gets me.”
“Right, I’m sorry I interrupted… I know you said that you didn’t want anything for Valentine’s Day, but…” He sighed and looked down at his feet. “I talked to Soonyoung, and he…”
At the mention of your mutual friend’s name, everything fell into place. He wasn’t a bad friend, not at all, but sometimes he found the most particular ways to get in your business. You knew it came from a good place. However, a warning would be nice.
“He blabbed, didn’t he?”
“Yeah…” He looked back at you. “I know it’s only been a couple of months or so, but I don’t want our first Valentine’s to be… well, this…”
“You’ve got something planned?” You couldn’t hide that you were pleasantly surprised, your joyful tone giving you away.
“It’s a bit last minute, but yes.”
You look into your messy apartment, internally fighting with yourself over whether or not letting him in was worth the embarrassment. When you look back at him, he seems patient - Jihoon always had a way of communicating without having to say a single word, his feelings coming through his expressive eyes or his gentle smile. You didn’t need to worry about making him agitated. He was always patient with you. Moving to the side and opening the door ever so slightly more, you silently invite him in.
You met Jihoon a few years ago, when you were still with your ex. The two of you never talked much, as a result of Jihoon being so introverted and your ex being a possessive jerk. The time spent with your ex wasn’t all bad, but the good times were drowned out by the bad times - such as your last Valentine’s together. Neither of you planned anything for the day, but you decided to do something last minute: dinner and a movie. When you told him of your plan, he exploded at you.
“I hate Valentine’s, okay!? It’s not my fault you think one day of pampering will fix our problems! Just go out with one of the other guys you’ve been texting- I’ve seen your messages!”
The words rang in your ears every time the holiday came, creeping back each year. Throughout the relationship with your ex, your needs were never met when you were with him. Things were different with Jihoon. Once you had broken up with your ex and a few months had passed for you to heal, Soonyoung introduced you to Jihoon again. It started slow, the two of you stayed friends for a little over a year before even considering dating. Mostly because you were still hurt but also because neither of you seemed to figure out what you both felt for each other. You remember your mutual friends’ reaction when you told them you had started dating; “Finally… we can stop pretending that you don’t make googly eyes at each other whenever you’re in the same room”, or something along those lines.
Now that you had been together for a couple of months, you didn’t understand what took you so long. Even though he was busy most of the time, he always put all of his attention on you whenever the two of you were together. However, when Valentine’s Day rolled around yet again, you didn’t plan anything. You didn’t ask or hint at anything that you wanted to do. You just let it be. That way, your heart stayed safe. Valentine’s wasn’t meant for you, or so you thought. Soonyoung had been with you through it and had been a shoulder for you to cry on from time to time. You swearing him to secrecy about the meaning of the day didn’t work when it came to Jihoon.
“What’s in the bag?” You asked and tried to take a peek.
“You’ll see.” Jihoon smiled proudly and pulled the bag behind his back, away from you. “Go get some things packed - just enough for one night. I’ll wait here for you.”
“Do I need to get dressed?”
“Whatever makes you comfortable.”
You looked at Jihoon in his usual attire - an oversized t-shirt, big pants, and slippers - and decided you could leave as you were. While throwing a few necessities in a bag, Jihoon stayed in the hallway and watched you. His proud smile never left him, and it made you all the more excited. Just the fact that he wanted to do something with you at all, and pulled himself out of work on his own accord, made you happier than you had ever been on any other Valentine’s.
Your happy jitters turned into nerves when you saw where Jihoon was driving you. A five-star hotel. Suddenly, the idea of staying comfortable over being dressed up didn’t feel very smart. It was an expensive part of town; people dressed to the nines walked up and down the streets, and you slowly sank further into your seat. As if he could sense your anxiety, Jihoon put a comforting hand on your thigh.
“We’re going in through a back door. Is that okay with you?” It was his way of reassuring you without pointing out your insecurities. “I want it to stay private. Going in through the main entrance could cause a scene.”
You nodded, although you were mostly happy to hear that you didn’t have to walk around in your sweats amongst people with thousand-dollar suits. Usually, you would’ve considered this a negative side effect of dating someone famous - but this time, it was welcomed.
“... why don’t you take a look in the bag now?” he suggested.
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to.”
“Just take a look,” he said, “I think it’ll calm your nerves.”
The bag sat between your legs, so you pulled it up to sit in your lap. Inside the bag was a beautiful green fabric. It felt expensive to the touch. When you pulled it up, you saw that it was a dress - a gorgeous, designer dress. Looking at the bag again, you finally recognize the high fashion brand.
“Jihoon…” You were at a loss for words.
“You’ll have time to freshen up inside, then you can put it on for me.” His eyes stayed on the road, but his ears turned red. “And there’s something else in there too… but you probably don’t want to pull it up in front of the window.”
You rummaged through the bag, seeing something lacy at the bottom of it. Turning to Jihoon with wide eyes, he still didn’t meet your gaze but was smiling. The two of you weren’t necessarily an innocent couple, you were not abstinent, but this was something that he hadn’t done for you before. Any nerves that you had felt before were now replaced with pure excitement. If this was just the beginning, then what else did he have planned?
The two of you made your way up to your suite rather easily. Jihoon got the keycard from the reception and helped carry your bags to the elevator. There weren’t many people around, seeing as you had just missed rush hour, and you ended up getting the elevator all to yourselves. The eleventh button was glowing. You couldn’t remember if you had ever been in a hotel room so high up. While you were lost in your thoughts, Jihoon snuck up right next to you and wrapped his arm around your waist. The bags were on the floor right by your feet, right next to the bag with your dress. The memory of the silky fabric made you smile. He had found something to your taste just for this occasion.
“I’m going to order some food when we get up,” Jihoon said. “But there’s a very nice bathroom with a waterfall shower so, if you want to freshen up before we go out later, I can postpone dinner.”
“We’re eating dinner in the hotel room, but still going out after?” You turned to him with an intrigued look. “What do you have planned?”
“It’s a secret.”
The suite was huge - which, to be fair, is what you should expect from a suite. When you walked in, you were met with the king-sized bed, its headboard against the wall. To the left of it were the windows and balcony, and if it hadn’t been for the cold, you would’ve stepped out on it immediately. To the right of the bed, the floor dipped down one step. There stood what seemed to be a jacuzzi. It was covered with a gray sheet, but the nozzle was still visible. On the other side of the jacuzzi was another small step up and a door - which you assumed was the bathroom.
“Where do you want your things?” Jihoon asked after putting his bag next to the bed.
“I’ll take it to the bathroom,” you hummed.
Jihoon gave you a small nod and a smile before handing you your bag. You carried your bag across the room to the bathroom. Once the door closed, Jihoon’s smile faded. He hated that he had to figure all of this out through Soonyoung. The history between you and your ex, the meaning of Valentine’s Day for you, and even what you wanted. It felt like he didn’t know you at all, even if you had been friends before you started seeing each other romantically. A big clump of sorrow had grown in his throat ever since he talked to Soonyoung about you earlier that day.
He was in his studio, working like any other day of the week. You had told him that you’d rather not do Valentine’s Day. That it wasn’t your thing, and Jihoon had taken that at face value and respected it. He thought it was what he was supposed to do as your boyfriend. If it weren’t for the city's decorations, he would have completely forgotten the holiday. In fact, he had forgotten that it was the fourteenth already. It was only when Soonyoung burst in with a cute bouquet that he remembered what day it was.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Soonyoung had shouted jokingly as he handed him the bouquet.
There was a small pink note attached to it. It said “Be Mine?” in curvy red letters. Jihoon scoffed at the gifts but still put them somewhere he wouldn’t forget them. The flowers had a small plastic bag with a wet paper towel wrapped around their ends, so they could make it another few hours before he put them in a vase.
“Where did you even find a floral shop right now? It’s only eight in the morning.”
“I have my ways.” Soonyoung shrugged. “What do you have planned for tonight?”
“Nothing,” Jihoon said nonchalantly.
The sudden silence from his usually loud friend made Jihoon push off one of the ear cushions of his headphones and turn to him.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re not doing anything for Valentine’s Day?” Soonyoung was unusually serious.
“Y/N said that she’d rather not do anything,” he answered. “Am I not supposed to respect that?”
“Did you ask her why?”
“I just assumed she didn’t like this kind of stuff. She doesn’t like those cheesy things.” Jihoon tried to brush off the sudden feeling of stress that he had done something wrong, but Soonyoung’s sad face only made him worry more.
“Maybe not, but you didn’t plan anything at all?”
“What?”
Soonyoung sighed, before going to make himself comfortable on Jihoon’s couch. Jihoon followed his friend’s every movement, suddenly feeling like it was hard to breathe. Had he really done something wrong by just respecting your wishes?
“I’m going to assume you don’t know anything,” he said.
“Know what?” Jihoon started getting frustrated.
“Okay, well… do you remember that guy Y/N was with a few years back?”
“You don’t have to remind me…” Jihoon sighed and leaned his head back. “Yes. I know what happened between them and that she hasn’t seen him since.”
“Yeah, but you don’t know about Valentine’s,” Soonyoung explained, “She broke up with him the day after- I don’t know all the details, but they fought about what to do on Valentine’s. She was trying to keep the relationship together, and he just snapped - said he didn’t like the fourteenth and basically made her feel like a burden for trying to patch things together.”
Jihoon put his face in his hands, trying to navigate how to handle this new information. How could he have known? Maybe he should have asked, but he didn’t want to intrude on her privacy… Everybody told him that communication is key, but nobody warned him that it would be this difficult.
“Y/N loves Valentine’s Day, as long as it’s not some cheesy thing- she didn’t lie to you about that,” Soonyoung said, “She’s just scared that if she put pressure on you about it, you’d blow up on her.”
“Why would she think that?”
“Because everyone’s not always rational.” Soonyoung stood back up and walked over to him. “Like you right now, you’re probably worrying about her not feeling safe around you. She does. She just has her problems to deal with. Instead of worrying, you should do something.”
“What? Like dinner and a movie?”
“No-” Soonyoung cleared his throat. “No. That’s what she wanted to do with her ex. Find something else.”
“What do people do on Valentine’s?” Jihoon’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to find the answer to his question in some corner of his mind.
“Wine tasting.”
“Wine tasting?”
“She’s always wanted to go, and I know a place- and the owner…” He paused and quickly added, “Well… Mingyu knows the owner, but you get my point.”
“And you think Y/N wants that?”
“Definitely. Go find Mingyu and ask him to help you out.”
“I will, thank you.” Jihoon stood up and walked over to the door but turned to face his friend again. “When did you start acting wise?”
“I’m a man of many mysteries.” Soonyoung joked. “You can thank me by letting me borrow your studio.”
“... fine.”
“Yes!” He quickly got up his phone and started tapping. “If you see me go live, no, you don’t.”
Not even wanting to think about what that meant, Jihoon left the studio with a huff.
The sound of the water turning on in the shower brought Jihoon out of his thoughts. You seemed happy, albeit nervous, so he shouldn’t have anything to worry about… but he couldn’t help worrying about you and your feelings. He would do anything to make you forget about your past connotations with today. Jihoon got out his phone and looked at his messages. “Do you know that Soonyoung’s in your studio right now?” sent in different variations from many different people… he would have to worry about this later. Tonight was supposed to be all about you, so he turned off his phone and put it back in his pocket.
You were blissfully unaware of Jihoon’s troubles as you stood in the stream of the waterfall shower. The warm water created a comforting barrier around your body. The steam from it created a mist that seemed to silence all sounds except the water hitting the floor. You could close your eyes and forget everything around you for a moment. Letting the water run over your head yet another time before turning the nozzle off, you let yourself have a moment of pure silence. Without the water running down your body, the cold air started tickling your skin. You reached outside the shower and grabbed your towel, drying yourself off before wrapping it around you.
The bathroom of the suite was as luxurious as the rest of it. There was a window, currently fogged up from the steam, facing another part of the city than the windows in the bedroom. The toilet seemed to have different settings, given the many buttons you didn’t dare touch, and the sink had a wide marble top. In a box on the sink, there were a plethora of travel-sized sample products - and you looked through their assortment before doing your skincare. You could hear Jihoon talking on the other side of the door, probably ordering the two of you room service, but his voice was too muffled for you to hear what he was saying. You wondered just how much Soonyoung had told Jihoon for him to act this way. Jihoon wasn’t neglectful. However, he didn’t always know how to express how he felt through acts of service or coming up with cute dates. The two of you spent most of your time together the way you had when you were just friends, with some changes of course. Your most precious memories with Jihoon were from the simple times; watching movies together, going out to get coffee, or laying in bed together during the morning when neither of you could get up. He knew he didn’t have to do something like this, you had told him yourself, but he decided to do it anyway. You smiled to yourself as you put on the fluffy hotel bathrobe.
When you got out of the bathroom, you looked to your left to see an entire area of the room that you seemed to have missed. Your want for a luxurious shower was bigger than your want to explore the room, it seemed. The unknown area of the hotel room had a couch with a TV in front of it and a lonely armchair standing in the corner. There was a small bar with a minifridge, and on the coffee table stood a pink, heart-shaped box and a bouquet of red roses in a vase. Beside the coffee table stood a very flustered Jihoon, looking puzzled at the sight of the box and flowers.
“Are those for us?” You asked, making Jihoon look at you.
He paused for a moment at the sight, forgetting the box of chocolates on the table, his jaw first going slack before he started smiling. Clearing his throat, he looked back at the coffee table and picked up a note to show you.
“It looks that way,” he said.
You took the note from him; “Enjoy the evening! Happy Valentine’s Day, from the staff of Prestige View,” it said in bold golden letters. You turned it around in your hand, but there was nothing else on the back.
“I told them it was a Valentine’s getaway. I didn’t think they’d do something like this so last minute,” Jihoon said and took another look at you. “Did you enjoy the shower?”
“It was the most wonderful shower I’ve had in a while.” You put down the card and approached him with your arms open. “Thank you for doing this. It’s very sweet.”
“You don’t have to thank me… I wanted to do this,” he assured you as he wrapped his arms around you.
Jihoon nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, and you could feel his cool breaths against your warm skin. You squeezed him tighter as he whispered how beautiful you looked. It was barely audible, and you silently acknowledged it by pressing a kiss to the side of his head. He pulled away from you with a small smile, his eyes sparkling with adoration. Your moment was ruined by a knock at your door and a voice shouting, “Room service!”.
“I’ll get that; make yourself comfortable.” Jihoon left your side.
You sat down on the plush cushions of the couch, practically sinking into the fabric - almost like floating on a cloud. Just as you put a blanket over your legs, Jihoon comes back with a big tray. You let out a delighted gasp as he put it down on the coffee table.
“You still like sushi, right?” Jihoon joked as he went to grab two bottles of water from the mini-fridge.
“Yes.” You looked over the large tray and the many different kinds of sushi bites.
Quickly, you patted the space beside you for him to sit down. Jihoon put the bottles on the table and sat down. You captured his face with your hands and brought your lips to his cheek for a thank-you kiss. The sudden act of affection had the man beside you stumped - barely moving while you reached for the tray with your chopsticks.
“You’re being ridiculous,” he chortled with a reddened face.
“No, am not- dish ish amashing,” you said with your hand over your mouth to hide the piece of sushi you were still chewing.
You looked over at Jihoon, who had still not touched the food. He was still stuck looking at you as if he was trying to memorize every detail of how you looked at this moment. With one hand, he reached over to your head and ruffled your hair despite your grunts of protest coming from you.
“Eat well,” he said and started eating himself.
Once the food was finished, at least as much as you could muster, and after a food coma nap on the couch, the two of you started getting ready for the mysterious evening. Whatever he had planned, Jihoon wasn’t telling you. All you knew was that he wanted you to wear the dress he had gotten you, so while Jihoon was in the shower, you picked up the bag and looked at the garments inside. It was a silky dress and lingerie with a matching color. The thought of your boyfriend knowing exactly what you were wearing under your dress throughout the rest of the evening felt exciting in some strange way.
Your fingers grazed the green fabric of the dress - you were almost too afraid to put it on. It looked expensive. A part of you wondered how he had gotten it so fast. Had he gotten someone else to get it for him? Had he gone into stores himself? Picturing it in your head almost made you start laughing. You could see him furrowing his brows at the sizes and different shapes. Mustering up the courage to put it on, you sadly find out that the underwear doesn’t fit very comfortably. And although you want to wear it for him, it would just not work. So you put on the undergarments that you had brought with you - which were not as luxurious as the ones he had bought, but they were still pretty. You had packed it at the last minute, just in case you needed it. More importantly, the dress fit you perfectly to the point that you questioned how he could pick it out.
When Jihoon got out of the bathroom, he was already dressed. His hair was still slightly damp, it was slicked back to the best of his abilities, but a few strands of hair still fell over his face. His all-black suit made you think of one of those dramas where the main female character gets together with a demon.
“You look beautiful,” he said, but his eyes drifted over to the bed where the lingerie he bought was still lying. “Are you…”
“It didn’t fit,” you answered quickly. “I put on something that I brought. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course, it’s okay.” He walked over to the bed to return the garments in their bag. “I’ll just get you a better size next time.”
“Next time?” You raised your eyebrows in surprise.
“Sure, why not?” He put the bag down on the floor and turned back to you. “I liked getting you these…”
“Well, I won’t stop you.” You walked up next to him and held onto his arm. “You look very handsome, by the way.”
Jihoon put his hand on top of yours, still holding onto his forearm, and gently squeezed it as a silent thank you. A soft squeeze of your hand was his usual way of communicating things to you that he didn’t know how to express verbally. The casual compliment proved too much for him; he avoided eye contact, and you could see his ears turning red. You would never think that this man could get so flustered the first time you talked to him. He was quiet then too, but he was calm and collected. Maybe it was a front, and maybe he was good at hiding these things from strangers - either way, you were happy that he felt a little more comfortable now.
The two of you made your way to the hotel restaurant, and you were looking for something that could tell you what you were in for. Dark hallways and furniture, lit up by elegant chandeliers in the ceiling and sleek lights on the walls, made the hotel seem endless. You and Jihoon walked in comfortable silence, mostly because you were trying to focus on finding signs. There were other people around you dressed in visibly expensive clothes, so you knew that it wasn’t a private event. However, you had no idea what kind of thing Jihoon could come up with.
At the entrance to the restaurant, you were greeted by a tall man with a slim mustache. He was dressed in the colors of the hotel and had a small name tag. You neither had the time nor energy to read what it said, as it was written in complicated cursive, and the man quickly opened the door for you after Jihoon said his name. In the restaurant, there were round tables placed in a half-circle. By each table stood two chairs, and the man by the door brought you to one by a large floor-to-ceiling window. Out the window, you could see the entire city. It wasn’t very late, so most of the windows in the buildings surrounding you were lit. The man pulled the chair out for you, and you sat down.
“Thank you,” you said, and the man walked away.
A tall candle, a small plate and knife, and a myriad of wine glasses were on the table. In front of you was a small card, and on the front of it said “Menu” in the same kind of cursive as on the man’s ineffective name tag.
“Are we eating more?” you asked with a worried glance at Jihoon.
“Open it,” he answered simply.
You opened the card and read a list of French and Italian names, most of which you couldn’t pronounce.
“Wine?” You looked back up at Jihoon with big eyes. “Is this a wine-tasting event?”
“Do you like it?”
“Are you kidding? I love it,” you said with a big smile. “Thank you, honey.”
Jihoon didn’t have time to respond as another man, dressed similarly to the man by the door, stood in the middle of the half-circle and began speaking. The murmur of the people in the room died down as everyone turned their attention to the man.
“Welcome to our Valentine’s wine-tasting event,” he said with a clear and loud voice, “I will be presenting the wines for you all tonight, along with the assortment of refreshments that go along with them. To start the night, our servers are currently providing you with an extra dry Prosecco.”
A server approached your table and poured the sparkling wine into your glasses as if on cue. The murmur started up again as everyone began talking about the wine. You thanked the waiter, and he walked away.
“This 2022 sparkling wine, made of the Glera grape, has hints of apple and honey,” the wine presenter said. “This is produced in the province of Trieste, Italy…”
The man kept talking, but you started to tune him out when he started saying words you didn’t recognize. You carefully sniffed the wine before taking a sip of it.
“Good?” Jihoon asked.
“Very good.” You put your glass down and opened the booklet of wines. “I don’t know how much I should drink of it… how many glasses are on the menu?”
“Six,” he answered. “Including the Prosecco.”
You looked at the list; Pinot Grigio, Chardonnay, Merlot, Nebbiolo, and Vin Santo… yeah, you’d be drunk by the end. The glasses weren’t extremely big, and they certainly didn’t fill the glass all the way, but there was no way you’d walk out of here just barely tipsy if you drank everything.
“Drink as much as you want, okay?” Jihoon brought you out of your spiraling thoughts. “I’ll take care of you- even if I have to carry you out of here.”
You chuckled at his joke and comfortably brought the glass of Prosecco to your lips again. Jihoon was still looking at you when you put your glass down. He had a certain look in his eye that you had only really seen a couple of times before. Mischief mixed with something sentimental - playful and romantic.
“What?” You asked.
“All of this…” He motioned to your surroundings. “It suits you… it’s sexy.”
“Sexy?” You raised your brows as you raised your glass to your lips again. “Good to know.”
Jihoon looked away from you, one of his hands coming up to hide his reddened face. He let out a huff and straightened his back.
“I just mean that-”
“No, I heard you,” you teased.
Before Jihoon could get another word in, the servers came out with the next wine; Pinot Grigio, paired with small crackers with goat cheese and apricot jam. The presenter began speaking about the wine again, but your head was already buzzing, and you were far too distracted to listen to him. One of your feet was running up the inside of Jihoon’s calf. Your hand was resting on the table between you, and Jihoon quickly put his hand on top of yours.
“What are you up to?” He asked with a strained smile.
“Hm?”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” You picked up the second glass of wine as you brought your foot up higher.
You brought the wine to your lips, letting out a delighted hum before putting the glass down again. Jihoon squeezed your hand as your foot was now brushing against the inside of his thigh. Instead of backing down, you let go of Jihoon’s hand and picked up one of the crackers. A little bit of jam got on your finger as you put the appetizer in your mouth. You locked eyes with him as you put the tip of your finger in your mouth.
“You’re insatiable,” he said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shrugged and grabbed your drink again.
Jihoon shook his head slowly, picking up his glass. However, just as he started to enjoy teasing, you brought your foot back down. He gave you a confused look, trying to figure out your motive.
“Did you like the wine?” You asked, ignoring the tension growing between you.
After each glass, the soft buzzing feeling in your head grew more prominent. You got giggly and touchy - you couldn’t seem to let go of Jihoon’s hand across the table. The restaurant offered you bread and other refreshments along with your drinks and played romantic ballads over the speakers. It wasn’t like anything you had done with Jihoon before, but it was just perfect for tonight. Your teasing under the table had stopped, although you sometimes nudged your foot next to his, but the tension it had left between you didn’t break. At this point, you weren’t listening to the wine presenter nor taking his advice on how you should drink the wine. Maybe some of the wine-tasting experience was gone because of it, but you were more than content with the night still. When they brought out the Vin Santo, they also came out with a dessert; a tiramisu shaped into a heart and two spoons. Jihoon quickly picked up one of the spoons and let it sink into the dessert. The spoon dipped into the creamy dessert, ruining the layer of cacao powder laying on top. Picking the spoon back up with a perfectly bite-sized piece on it, he held it up to your mouth.
“Are you feeding me?” You asked with a giggle.
“I want you to have the first bite.” He smiled and urged the spoon toward you again.
You opened your mouth and as you closed it around the spoon, you were hit with an explosion of flavor - the strong espresso, the bitter cacao, and the sweet lady-fingers and cream. The two of you laughed, for no real reason, as Jihoon pulled back the spoon.
“This has been so nice,” you said and motioned to the last glass on the table. “But I won’t be able to finish this drink…”
“That’s alright,” he hummed. “Do you want to… go back to our room?”
“Yes, please.”
After, not so carefully, sneaking out of the restaurant while the wine presenter was talking, you walked through the long hallways towards your room. Jihoon's hand was at first only placed on your lower back, but eventually snuck around your waist to keep the both of you upright. The two of you had been drinking a lot, but the long walk helped sober you up just a little. You'd definitely get a headache in the morning, but it wasn't something you couldn't handle. As the two of you finally got to your hallway, you were ready to throw yourself in bed - but Jihoon apparently had other plans.
“I still have another surprise for you, you know.” He held your waist firmer, keeping you close to his side. “They should’ve set it up for us in the room by now.”
You excitedly giggled as you watched Jihoon fumble with the keycard before unlocking the door. As soon as he opened it, the smell of roses hit your nose. By your feet laid a trail of red rose petals, which was leading you into the room. You followed the trail with careful steps and looked up as they came to a stop. The jacuzzi was now turned on and bubbling. In the water, even more rose petals were floating. Jihoon came up behind you and wrapped his strong arms around your waist.
“Is it okay?” He whispered next to your ear.
“It’s perfect,” you answered softly and with a warm smile. “If this is last minute, I can’t even imagine what you could do with time on your hands.”
“You could find out,” he suggested and pressed a kiss to the area where your neck meets your shoulder.
Jihoon’s words, although softly spoken and barely over a whisper, sent a shiver down your spine. His hands played with the fabric of your dress, and you leaned back against his chest to fully welcome his embrace. The soft kisses he was placing on your shoulder and neck didn’t stop, and you leaned your head to the side to allow him more access.
“I’d love to keep this going,” you whispered. “But I don’t want to waste all this.”
Your boyfriend sighed and let you go, the absence of his arms leaving a chilly imprint around your waist. You went to take off your shoes. After putting your feet on the floor, you looked up to see Jihoon taking out his button-up from his pants to unbutton it. You watched in anticipation as he shrugged off the shirt, watching the muscles in his back move as he did. He threw his shirt on a chair before unbuckling his belt, all while being unaware of you ogling at him. When his pants had been unbuttoned, he finally looked back at you - at your fully dressed form.
“Are you going to make me get in alone?” He asked.
“I…” You paused to find an excuse. “Well, since I didn't have time to get you a Valentine's Day present, I thought you could unwrap me instead.”
"Ah, so that's the only reason you were just standing there looking at me?" Jihoon teased.
"Definitely." You nodded, content with your answer.
Jihoon motioned for you to come over to him, which you quickly did. You had no trouble unzipping yourself from this dress but getting a little help never hurt. His hands made work of your zipper, slowly dragging it down your back. The soft touch of his fingers tracing the edges of your lingerie had your head buzzing more than the amount of wine you had been drinking.
“Thank you,” you murmured and let the straps slide off your shoulders.
It always felt a little nerve-wracking to get undressed in front of him - being vulnerable with him like this was still somewhat new to you. Nevertheless, the feeling of him embracing you again comforted you.
“You look beautiful,” he said. "I thought it'd be fun to buy lingerie for you, but letting it be a surprise might be better..."
You got out of his grip and turned to him, putting a hand on his chest to prevent him from wrapping his arms around you again. Jihoon was grinning like a love-sick fool - an expression that you hadn’t seen much of before, but that you could definitely get used to.
“Stop fooling around,” you said. “We haven’t even gotten in the hot tub yet…”
"Then let me finish unwrapping my present," he argued with a flirtatious tone.
You let your hand fall to your side, allowing Jihoon to approach you again. His hands went behind your back, playing with the edge of your lingerie again before unhooking the bra. He took his hands back from behind you and gently, almost innocently, pulled the straps of your bra down. The garment fell to the floor with a soft thud. Jihoon brushed your hair to the side, pressing a few kisses on your neck before trailing them down your clavicle; down between the valley of your breast, over your stomach. When he was down on his knees, he looked back up you - silently asking for permission as he played with the hem of your panties. You nodded, and Jihoon pressed a kiss to your hipbone before pulling them down.
After getting fully undressed, and after Jihoon grabbed the box of chocolates and two bottles of water, you sat down in the jacuzzi. With one hand, he opened up the box and put the lid on the floor. He picked up a random piece and put it in his mouth, making a weird grimace.
“Not good?” You asked.
“No.” He shook his head. “Could you hand me the water?”
You picked up one of the bottles for him, unscrewing the top and handing it to him before you grabbed the second bottle for yourself. Drinking the cold water contrasted nicely with the hot bath. While it didn’t help you to sober up completely, it helped you clear your head a little.
“Sad to let them go to waste…” you said as you put the cap back on your bottle, and he hummed in agreement.
“I’ll take them with me, maybe someone else likes them.” He put down the water bottle and offered to put yours down as well, which you gladly accepted.
Jihoon let out a sigh and leaned his head back, while you moved over to sit beside him. One of your hands caressed his chest and landed on his shoulder, while your head rested on his other shoulder. Jihoon wrapped one of his arms around your frame, trying to pull you impossibly close.
“Tonight was perfect,” you confessed.
“You’re talking like the night’s over.” He turned his head to look at you.
“It’s not over?”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Jihoon cupped your face in his palm, bringing your face closer to his.
The two of you looked into each others’ eyes before he suddenly broke out into an embarrassed fit of giggles. His forehead leaned against yours.
“Sorry… that was cheesy, wasn’t it?” His thumb was caressing your cheekbone, slowly going back and forth over the soft skin.
“It was sweet,” you assured him. “But a little bit cheesy, yes.”
He let out another short laugh and turned away from you, suddenly very shy. Your hand left his shoulder to turn his face back to you. The way that he looked at you drowned out all sound, even the sound of the hot tub jets, and for a moment you let yourself be engulfed by bliss. It wasn’t how you had imagined spending Valentine’s Day - it was better than you could have imagined. You wrapped your arms around Jihoon’s neck and brought him closer for a kiss. At first, it was gentle, practically just a peck, but then you grew hungry. In a sudden need for more, you pressed your lips against his again. Your lips danced for dominance, all the while Jihoon gripped your hips to maneuver you to straddle his lap. Everything was spinning, you found yourself completely lost in his kiss - only for Jihoon to break it, the feeling of him smiling against your lips making you smile as well.
“What?” you asked, out of breath.
“Nothing,” he said. “Just you.”
You rolled your eyes at his comment, but couldn’t help your smile growing wider. Jihoon pressed another kiss to the corner of your lips, then on your jaw, down your neck, and on your clavicle. Exploring every inch of you that he could reach, Jihoon pulled you in closer. The action made you come closer to his already hardened cock. Testing out the waters, you started slowly grinding against him. Between lingering kisses against your skin, Jihoon let out soft groans and whimpers - it wasn’t even in his head to tell you to stop. Your fingers raked through his hair, silently urging him to keep going.
“Jihoon.” You let out a shaky breath. “Baby…”
“What?” He pulled away and looked up at you, pupils blown out to double their normal size and hair messy by your doing. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes,” you whimpered. “I need you.”
“In here?” He looked amused at your sudden desire. “Right now?”
“I don’t care-”
In a split second, Jihoon manhandled you to sit with your back against his chest. Water splashed around the tub, possibly spilling off the edge as laughter spilled from your lips. One of Jihoon’s arms was wrapped around your waist, while his other hand was spreading your thighs apart. His lips were back on your neck again - his kisses and his fingers drawing patterns on the inside of your thigh were making you dizzy.
“Is this okay?” He asked.
“Yes.”
At this point, you were aching - the simple touch of his hand where you needed him most had you falling apart. While his middle- and ring finger circled your clit, his other hand ran across your body. Jihoon was everywhere, there was no way you could escape him - so you let yourself be engulfed by all of him, slowly sinking into your body. Your mouth hung open, and your moans and whines were impossible to hide. His hot breath fanned against your neck, teeth grazing against the delicate skin before his soothing tongue made contact with it. His other hand reached your chest, fingers circling your nipple. Suddenly, in desperate need to ground yourself, you grabbed his hand. Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers plunged inside you, his palm still grazing against your clit. The grip you had on his hand tightened, and you could feel him smiling against your neck. Jihoon’s hand moved expertly as if he already knew every crevice of your body - and where his touch would drive you mad. Your hips stuttered against his hand.
“There you go,” he murmured in your ear. “Fall apart on my fingers, baby, you can let go.”
The feeling of him lightly biting down on your earlobe, and the persistent thrusting of his fingers, made something snap in your lower stomach. A wave of pleasure washed over you, your body moving on its own against his hand. You could hear water splashing on the floor, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about it at that moment. Jihoon left his hand in between your legs, letting you ride out your high against it. His other hand lovingly held onto yours still, not even planning on letting go unless you did so first.
“Are you alright, darling?” His velvety voice brought you back to the real world.
As soon as you tried to move, Jihoon helped you to move your legs to sit across his lap. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you finally found your voice.
“I’m more than alright,” you answered.
One of Jihoon’s hands rested on your back, while the other held your legs. In his arms, you were safe - you had a feeling you always would be. You snuggled your face into the crook of his neck and closed your eyes. However, the feeling of something hard pressing against your thigh had your mind drift off to other things.
“Jihoon?”
He hummed in response.
“Could you help me get to bed?”
“Tired already?”
“Not a chance.”
The two of you managed to get out of the hot tub and dry off quickly - not caring about being completely dry before moving over to the bed. Plush pillows and covers welcomed you as you practically jump into them. You held out your arms to Jihoon, and he quickly came to your embrace. Leaning over you, his hair fell in front of his face - but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead of brushing it to the side, he leaned down and placed a kiss on your lips. Clearly, he had a more important objective, and so it was up to you to brush his hair away from his face. You held it back, intertwining your fingers in his locks, and he let out a delighted sigh as your nails gently scratched against his scalp.
“Let me take care of you too,” you suggested as you broke the kiss.
For a moment, Jihoon considered it. He couldn’t deny that he loved having your lips wrapped around his cock, or even just your hand, but he couldn’t forget why he was here in the first place.
“Tonight’s about you,” he reminded you. “Just relax and let me take care of the rest.”
You couldn’t exactly say no to that kind of proposition. One of Jihoon’s hands traveled down your body again, separating your legs for a second time tonight. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him closer. The soft and slow was nice, but now you were getting antsy. A smile flashed across Jihoon’s face, which he tried to hide by biting down on his bottom lip. Showing him your unabashed want for him was something he’d never get used to. As he lined himself up with your core, you moved your hands to grip onto his shoulders. The stretch of him entering still managed to feel like the first time you had been with him like this. As he bottomed out, you let out a guttural moan - still sensitive from your earlier orgasm.
“Fuck, you feel amazing…” Jihoon rested his head in the crook of your neck.
Having struggled through the entire night, trying not to take you on the couch earlier or even on top of the restaurant table, this alone was almost too much. The sting from your nails digging into his back cleared up his fogged-up head slightly, and he started moving. Jihoon’s movements were slow, agonizingly so, but if he moved any faster he was afraid he might cum on the spot. This entire night had been a tease for him, and now that he finally got what he wanted he didn’t know how to act. Jihoon lifted his head and looked at your face. Your eyebrows were furrowed, your eyes shut tight, and your bottom lip slipped between your teeth. Brushing his thumb against your cheek, and cupping your face in his palm, your eyes fluttered open to look at him.
“Please, Jihoon,” you whimpered. “Just a little faster?”
How could he say no to you? His hips picked up their pace, while his head was back in the crook of your neck. You let out a surprised moan as his teeth dug into your skin, as he tried to contain himself. How could you look more beautiful every time he laid his eyes upon you? Jihoon swore that you’d kill him someday if it continued like this. He leaned back up on his arm. The hand that wasn’t holding him up went to grab your thigh, pulling one of your legs up to rest on his shoulder. A string of swears flooded out of his mouth, and he switched positions so that he was sitting up. Your hips were pulled up on his thighs, your back arched up from the bed, and your jaw went slack as Jihoon’s hips pistoned into you - hitting a spot inside you each time that made you see stars. Your hands went to grab something, anything and landed on the sheets. The white fluffy sheets creased under the pressure of your grip. You couldn’t hold it in anymore - between managing to hit your g-spot with each thrust and your previous orgasm, you were getting all too close to the edge.
“Oh- shit,” you moaned. “I’m gonna cum-”
“Cum for me, baby,” he groaned in response.
Your body twitched as you let go, cumming a second time this night. Jihoon, filled with a sudden determination, didn’t stop. He switched positions to lean over you again. The more intimate position allowed you to grab onto him again. Even when you had come down from your orgasm, he didn’t stop - and you weren’t about to tell him to to do so.
“Give me another one,” he practically begged.
“I can’t-”
“Yes you can, darling,” he growled. “Just let go of everything, just focus on me.”
Your legs were around his hips again, and your arms wrapped around his neck. Jihoon leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes staring into your soul. One of his hands slipped between your bodies, messily rubbing your swollen clit. You felt like you were about to explode, spasming at his movements.
“Fuck- I love you,” he groaned, “Cum for me again, darling- cum with me…”
At his command, your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you came for a third time. Jihoon followed shortly after, pulling out to cum on your stomach. He threw his head back as he pumped his cock with his fist. Your limbs were unmovable, falling to the bed with a thump. His words rang in your ears. “I love you”. Was it a slip-up? Something that just happened in the heat of the moment? Or did he mean it? You didn’t have much time to think about it. Jihoon placed a kiss on your forehead, mumbling something about getting you cleaned up, before he got off the bed and went over to the bathroom.
Jihoon came back with the forgotten water bottles from before and a warm, wet towel - cleaning you up with a gentle touch, making sure that he wasn’t too rough with your aching body. When he was done, helped you under the covers before he got in himself. The water bottles were standing on the bedside table, waiting for you tomorrow morning when you’d need them most. You lay on your side, and Jihoon curled up next to you - his arms wrapped around your frame. The words he had spoken never left your thoughts. Jihoon, unaware of your spiraling thoughts, cuddled closer to you, but your stiff body caught him off guard.
“Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?” He asked quickly.
“No- no… I’m fine,” you said. “It’s just… did you mean that?”
“What did I say?” Jihoon’s eyes widened.
“When you-… before-… you said ‘I love you’,” you mumbled.
With his body lying so close to you, you could hear his breath hitch. A moment of silence passed between the two of you. Jihoon’s fingers were nervously drumming against your back, you could almost hear the gears in his brain turning to think of something to say. He stirred around the bed, moving to look at you. There was no regret in his eyes, only worry.
“I’m sorry-”
“I love you too.”
Jihoon let out a short breath, which turned into a relieved laugh. The sound of his laugh made you relax, melting into his embrace again. You were struck with a sudden wave of embarrassment, hiding your face in his chest. He put his chin on the top of your head, wrapping his arms tighter around you.
“I didn’t mean to let it slip out like that,” he murmured. “I mean- I was planning on telling you, just not… like that.”
“I know,” you said and adjusted yourself to look back at him again.
Jihoon’s body relaxed under your hands, his muscles releasing any sign of tension. There was a little voice in your head, anxiously asking “What now?”, but you decided to ignore it for now. At this point, you had no reason to worry. You had an entire future ahead of you, and you got to spend it with the man lying next to you. It was more than you could ask for. Suddenly, Jihoon got a weird look on his face - as if he had just remembered something important that he had forgotten to do.
“Shit… did I forget to ask you to be my Valentine?” he asked.
You thought back to the day, trying to remember if he had ever carried out the silly tradition, and couldn’t recall that he had asked you.
“I think so,” you hummed. “You have to hurry, the day’s almost over.”
There wasn’t a clock nearby that you could check, it might have already been the fifteenth, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Jihoon cleared his throat ceremoniously and tried his best not to burst out laughing again.
“Will you be my Valentine, Y/N?”
“I’ll always be your Valentine, Jihoon,” you answered.
Quiet laughs echoed through the big room, as the two of you lay in bed talking until you fell asleep.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
✦ B O N U S ✦ ⁺
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
"Sooo?"
Jihoon hadn't even noticed that Soonyoung had approached him, or that he was even in the building, and jumped a little as the man came up beside him.
"So what?" Jihoon kept walking towards the elevator.
"How was the date?"
"Good."
"Just good?"
"Yeah."
The two of them stood in silence, both of them waiting for the elevator to reach their floor. Jihoon adjusted his sunglasses and hoodie, trying to not avoid the bright lights as much as possible. He had wanted to stay at the hotel with you, to spend a quiet morning in bed together was all he wanted. However, when he's suddenly called into an important meeting he can't just ignore it - no matter how much he wanted to. Jihoon let out a quiet sigh. You were probably still in bed right now. He had paid the hotel to make sure you could take as long as you wanted to get up, all you had to do was leave the keycard in the reception before you left. As Soonyoung started whistling, Jihoon seriously started to regret not giving into your pleading to stay in bed with you. He'd kill to get to still be under those covers - he'd even let you press your cold feet against his warm body if it meant that Soonyoung would just stop whistling.
"Would you stop that?" He hissed.
"Damn... you woke up on the wrong side of the bed." Soonyoung huffed. "Poor Y/N... she probably can't even walk, right?"
"What?"
"Because of the hangover," he explained. "If you're like this, I can only imagine what it's like for her. How much did you drink last night?"
Jihoon stayed quiet.
"Wait, what did you think I meant?" Soonyoung asked with a knowing smile.
"Shut up," Jihoon groaned.
"I'm just joking, come on!" He poked Jihoon's arm. "Did you bring me back a souvenir?"
Jihoon, struck with a sudden wave of evil genius, reached into his bag and took out the weird-tasting chocolates. He handed them to Soonyoung, who giddily accepted them.
"Chocolates? For me? Gosh, you're such a romantic!"
Finally, the doors to the elevator opened with a pleasant ding. The two idols walked in, still completely silent. Seokmin came running down the hall, holding his hand out and shouting at them to hold the elevator. Jihoon held his hand out before the doors could close, and the younger man managed to get in just in time.
"Thank you," he said breathlessly.
The elevator started going up, while the three of them stood in silence. However, Seokmin quickly took note of the big pink box Soonyoung was holding.
"Who gave you chocolates? Isn't it a little late."
"Jihoon got them for me," Soonyoung bragged.
"Is that true?" Seokmin looked over at Jihoon who nodded. "Wow, I almost thought you'd bite his head off after Soonyoung's live yesterday... I mean I know it was Carat Day, but I didn't expect you to do that in..."
Soonyoung tried to shush the younger man, but it was already too late. Jihoon sighed, and turned his head to the elevator doors again. Maybe turning off his phone for the night wasn't the best idea, even if it was worth it to spend a quiet evening with you.
"Soonyoung," Jihoon said with a stern voice. "What did you do in my studio?"
#svthub#svthub.collab#svthub cupid#svt#seventeen#kpop fanfiction#kpop fanfic#svt fluff#seventeen fluff#smut#fluff#angst#woozi seventeen#woozi#woozi x reader#svt woozi#seventeen woozi#woozi smut#lee jihoon x reader#lee jihoon#lee jihoon smut#bee buzzed εїз✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
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Progress Update - 3/4/24
Hello and happy March!
It’s been a while, hasn’t it? 😅 Well, I finally have some good news for you this time: I have some actual news!
I'm happy to be able to announce at last that an update is on its way! I’ve still got some assets to make and code cleanup and testing to finish, but I should finally have something to show you soon.
I’ll put a cut at the end of this and go into more detail about the what and why of what I’ve been working on during this long and unintended hiatus, but the tl;dr is that I hope to have an update out by the end of the month, and that said update will break any saves made in Chapter 4. Unfortunate, but unavoidable, since Chapter 4 had to be recoded from the beginning 😞
I just want to thank all of you once again for sticking with me through my extended silence! Especially to my patrons who’ve put up with me putting everything on pause month after month while I dealt with my real life shit, and to everyone who’s sent me kind and supportive messages to let me know Speaker hasn’t been forgotten. It really means a lot to me.
Okay, enough of that sappy shit! I’m gonna get back to work finishing this up 😁 I’ll put out another update later this month once I have a more definite release date.
Thank you all for reading! I hope you’re having a fantastic 2024 so far, and that the rest of the week treats you kindly. See y’all soon! 💙💙💙
(For those who want a more detailed breakdown on what’s been happening and what to expect, hit the readmore)
I won’t go into the personal life stuff I’ve been dealing with this past year that has slowed down my work, but as far as the actual game goes:
To put it simply, I just wasn’t happy with it. Some of it could be because of how many times I had to reread the same section while I was coding the scenes that would’ve taken place after the last update, but no matter how much I edited or rearranged it, I didn’t like how that scene turned out. There was something… formulaic that had been happening with the way I always laid out scenes, and a bit of stagnation in the story, character, and relationship development that bothered me.
So I rewrote it. And when I still didn’t like it, I rewrote it again. And I still didn’t like it. I thought about scrapping the whole thing on more than one occasion as I struggled to get out of the corner I’d written myself into.
Inspiration finally struck at the beginning of this year, thanks in part to another interactive novel I follow, and I really like the direction I’ve taken it now.
Instead of the RO split scenes happening where the last one left off, Speaker, Seer, and Gavin are gonna have a chat about Things™ to move the next story arc forward. Then Speaker will get some downtime, by themself at first and then in an extended scene split with the RO of their choosing.
All the Big Plot Things that were going to happen in Chapter 4 will be moved to Chapter 5 instead, and 4 will be a bit more of a filler episode. A deep breath before the plunge, as it were.
This split won’t just be a quick conversation/reaction from the RO, but a full on different direction for the rest of the chapter based on who you choose. Most of them will involve leaving the house; all of them will involve actual one-on-one time (or one-on-two time, as the case may be) away from the others. And though romance isn’t required, all of them will have the potential to really move the romance forward if you so choose. One or two might even have a lock-in choice (maybe. I’m not 100 percent on that, so don’t hold me to it)
These scenes won’t be in the next update, because they’re all very complex, but the update will definitely have the Seer chat and at least some of the by-yourself stuff. The update after will have the rest of the alone time stuff (including the clothes/body CC you’ve all been waiting for), and then the one after will start the RO scenes. I think.
I may actually split the RO scenes into separate updates, and let my darlings over at Patreon vote for the order they’re released. That way I can focus on one at a time instead of trying to split my attention six ways at once.
Okay, that’s enough rambling for me today. Time to get back to work! Still got a lot to get done before this is ready, but it’s so close now.
#speaker game#progress update#so happy to finally have some progress to update about XD#maybe I can finally start answering some asks again too and fully resurrect this poor blog
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Happy new year, everyone! Welcome to 2024, the year that will mark the 10th anniversary of Thanks Ken Penders. I'd like to go over my plans for the blog for this year.
First of all: in the very near future, I'll have a post with my thoughts on Sonic Dream Team, and I'm sure I'll write one last Sonic Prime review once the final episodes drop on the 11th. I've also been sitting on an unfinished piece about the Sonic LEGO sets. I wanted this to be longer and more detailed piece that not only reviewed the sets but also went into the weird disconnect between homogenized image of Sonic the Brand and the actual fiction it's based off of, but it'll probably end up getting cut down a lot just so I can put something out. Let's just say I did a fun little thing with one of the sets.
Second: yes, I would like to return to regular TKP updates this year. As I've said many times, I wanted to do this in 2023, but I've been suffering from creative burnout after finishing SLARPG and have generally been unable to focus on any of my creative goals this past year. I'm hoping that this year will be better and I'll be able to get back into the swing of covering Archie Sonic issues. Even doing one issue every week or so would be vastly preferable to continuing the hiatus. I'm still only halfway done!! But aside from burnout, my other main hurdle is that I need to reread my own archive to refresh myself on all these things after nearly three years away. This will take some time.
The thing is, though, this year I'll have an extra incentive to go back through my previous writing and brush up on all things Archie Sonic. Because you see...
I've decided that I want to make a video essay about Penders. The comics, the copyright battle, The Lara-Su Chronicles, everything.
The why
I've thought about doing this before, but I never committed to the idea. I was too busy with gamedev, or I thought it'd end up being too long, or I figured that there were already enough videos on the subject, or I just lacked confidence in my ability to put together a video essay. So I told myself it wasn't meant to be, and let the multiple YouTubers who have cited me as a source on their own Penders videos fill that void.
Recently, though, a few things have happened that have convinced me it might be time. For one, YouTube video essays/media retrospectives/etc. are just getting longer and longer. When Quinton Reviews is out here doing 21 hours of videos on Sam & Cat, a subpar Nick sitcom that only lasted one season, I don't feel so crazy for wanting to make a video about several hundred comic books and two lawsuits that'd be at least an hour or two long lmao. Admittedly, I've also been self-conscious about doing a long video essay like this as a trans woman who has yet to do any vocal training. But these days I feel like I see a lot more transfem YouTubers who have done little to no vocal training, and that's given me more confidence on that front.
But the big one was Hbomberguy's recent plagiarism video. As I sat there watching it, I kept thinking about the time I found a CBR article that was just a crude 800 word summary of my two previous articles on Penders, published by a CBR writer who's put out over 4000 articles since 2019. If I've already been plagiarized before, and my writing is so frequently passed around as a go-to source on Archie Sonic drama, then I wouldn't be shocked if there were YouTubers out there straight up just plagiarizing me. I don't watch other peoples' videos on Archie Sonic, so I'd never know! So if people are just gonna paraphrase me when covering these topics anyway, why not take matters into my own hands and make what I would consider to be the definitive video on the subject? If hacks like James Somerton and iilluminaughtii can churn out these shitty video essays and people will still watch them, surely it can't be that impossible to make my own, right? (And also, uh, Hbomb literally told me I should make the video lol. If you're reading this, thanks for the encouragement.)
The what, how, and when
So here's the plan.
Part of this video essay will be an adaptation of my Medium article on the recurring themes of Ken's Archie Sonic run, with its content touched up and expanded upon. There were a few things I skimmed over in the article because I didn't want it to get too long, but again, people are out here watching ten hour videos about bad Nickelodeon sitcoms now. I can get away with elaborating a little more. I can add a few paragraphs talking about the Chaos Knuckles arc, or throw in a little more historical context I've discovered in the years since.
After covering the comics, the back half(-ish?) of the video will be dedicated to the copyright battles and their ensuing controversies, trying to give an accurate picture of what actually went down, the sheer scale of how bad Archie fucked up, and what our takeaways should be. This will have some similarities to my New York Magazine article on the subject, but I'll be rewriting it from scratch. I REALLY had to keep things short for that article because I was already way over the expected word count, and my tone was a little more straight-laced than normal because I was trying to keep things Professional. I can riff more and insert more of my own opinions this time, like I normally would.
I'll inevitably have to touch on some of Ken's Bad Tweets when discussing things that have happened after the lawsuits, but I don't want the video to just devolve into a list of times people got mad at him on Twitter, so I'm gonna try to keep that to a minimum in favor of focusing on his actual work. Things like the Scourge the Speed Demon incident and his continued statements on certain characters' copyright statuses probably warrant mentioning, though. And finally, assuming that the book really does come out this summer, I would like the grand finale of the video to be about those first couple chapters of The Lara-Su Chronicles.
I don't currently know when this video will get done, but it'll probably be in the back half of the year, especially with me waiting for the book to either drop or get delayed yet again. But I've actually already started writing a bit of the script, and will keep chipping away at it for a while.
So, uh, yeah, look forward to that? Wish me luck?
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Little pieces here and there (5)
Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)
Chapters: one, two, three, four
Word Count: 3K
Warnings: light flirting, light metion of sex, a lot of feelings, super fluff (in their particular way)
A/N: I'M BACK WITH THE NEW AND LAST (????) CHAPTER OF THE SERIES AFTER AN HIATUS WEEK. I wanted to post something good, something beautiful, true to the characters and the story you all enjoyed reading as much as i writing! (sorry for the possible grammatical mistakes!)
Side note: this chapter is to be read with different time frames, so changing the lights of the room and their resting positions in bed!
"Say it."
"Nope."
"Why not!?" he whines, his beautiful dove eyes pleading. "C'mon baby. Say it. I deserve it. All the awards. All the honors." The fact he’s beneath her, trapped between her body and the mattress, doesn't help make him look less submissive. She has to admit, it’s extremely pleasant to see how his dignified ass drags himself for her.
"But it would be a lie," she says, sticking out her tongue in a gesture intended to make him suffer a little more. Unbelievable that this is the same man who forced her to beg for sex a couple of hours ago. "and I’m no liar."
''Didn't seem like a lie to me when you were moaning my name and cumming on my cock for the third time some minutes ago.'' Ah, there it is, his ego is back again. Or at least, a glimpse of it. Took a while to appear.
In front of him, (Y/N) just smiles devilishly, which makes Buggy growl and look at her with pleading eyes again. "Look, we already established I know and even like how you need to play difficult, it's part of your charisma, but I need to hear it, okay? I will give you anything your wayward, fussy heart could desire. Consider it a prize."
''Anything?''
''Anything.''
Hmm. She plays along, and pretends to think about it for long, torturous seconds, shaking her head from side to side in slowmo, taking a deep breath.
As expected, soon enough she decides to give in-- she’s satisfied after making him beg in her own particular way.
''Fine.'' She takes a breath and starts her dramatic performance, with one hand on her own chest, eyes closed. ''Oh, Buggy, you were right, you are the best lover I’ve ever had, thanks to you my soul has ascended and I have seen the One Piece.''
That is not the praise he was expecting about his sexual skills. Not even close. But was so /him/, so dramatic, exaggerated, and incredibly hilarious, that despite faking offense on his face, eyes half-closed, lips pressed together, fingers pinching her hips as punishment, he has to admit -he will not-, was funny.
''You're a moron'' That’s about everything he has to say on the matter.
‘’Like Ol’Axe-Hand?’’ She asks, raising an eyebrow, hoping he gets it. And of course he does. He's so surprised that he widens his eyes, smirking. Is she actually admitting how incredibly funny he is? ''You still remember that joke?''
''Was so bad it stuck with me since then like a fucking nightmare.'' Hit and sunk.
''Ouch''
"Don't worry, there's still time to improve the quality of your jokes. But for now I'll take the prize you promised.''
''Ugh, fine. What do you want?’' Buggy thinks he knows (Y/N), so he’s convinced she will ask for something impossible. A challenge that will ridicule him or an astronomical sum of money. ''If what you want are berries I’m sorry to inform you, sunshine, I'm broke, I still have to find...'' but the clown shuts himself when he feels the girl's fingers slowly caressing his sharp jaw, finally pulling him by his chin towards her. He leans in too, eyes fixed on her lips, yearning for the kiss he can see so clearly written in the dreamy way she looks at him.
There’s no need to announce it, nor to start it with their usual flirting or provocations. It's slow and doesn't demand anything at all, nor is intended to be the trigger of their next round.
It's just a kiss. Something so simple and intrinsically complex at the same time. And in the same way as if it had been the most fiery and passionate of his life, as not long ago, this kiss leaves him breathless, unable to form a single coherent thought that has nothing to do with her.
Oh, he’s down bad. Just like she is.
…
And there they are on the mattress, she’s sitting on his lap, legs around him, his hands on her hips, hers on his abdomen in a relaxed pose. The scene is typical of two lovers who have known each other for a lifetime -or at least for years- and not of two people who just had the wildest sex of their lives less than a couple hours ago. For the first time.
They tell each other anecdotes, surreal stories, and laugh together inside that little bubble they don't even know how it was created, where it came from, or how the hell it could have absorbed them so much, making them completely ignore the outside world.
"What do you mean a giant bird!?" she screams in laughter, her stomach hurting, her lungs burning. "Aha, yeah, laugh all you want but imagine thinking that you’re about to die turned into damn bird feed. It would fucking piss me off."
As it can’t be otherwise, (Y/N) ends up laughing until she cries with the story of how Buggy arrived at Loguetown, and the clown finds himself exaggerating his story more and more with each laugh he manages to get from the girl, eager to hear it again, knowing he’s the only cause of this beautiful melody.
It’s absurd how he would love -kill- to know more about her, ‘cause if he stops to think about it, he doesn't know this woman at all. He knows nothing beyond her name, her crew, and the fact that she has a bold sense of humor. She’s brave and sarcastic, keen, sharp, and much more intelligent and savvy than -in his opinion- all the idiots around her.
And this is how and when he realizes the post-nut clarity theory hasn't worked for him. Getting her out of his twisted mind will not be as easy as fucking her a couple times, get his needed ton of personal satisfaction from making her beg for him, and moving on to the next thing to do/achieve on his list.
Goddamnhim.
"Alright, as much as I love and enjoy being the main character, it's time for you to drop your femme fatale facade and show me who you truly are."
"Awh,’’ she smiles tenderly, reaching for one of his cheeks. ‘’you see me like a femme fatale? That's so cute."
"Cut the crap.’’ The clown slaps her hand away, not in a violent way, but offended. ‘’You're not easily intimidated and I noticed you're good with knives too. That's sexy, and it makes me curious as hell about what you did before you joined those shitty heads."
Fair enough, she would be curious too, so she thinks about it, a bit wary of talking about her private life because there is a part of her that prefers to keep it intact -in case she wants to come back to it-. However, she reasons, mentioning what she did without being very specific doesn’t reveal anything at all. It would piss her off if Buggy casually knows her mercenary name -by which she’s fairly known among marines and pirates alike- and connects some dots all of a sudden.
Is he actually that smart?
"I was a mercenary." She says calmly, shrugging her shoulders. "With that angelic face?" He retorts in disbelief, raising both eyebrows, even though he knows it fits her personality just right. "You'd be surprised what you're capable of with it."
"No, no, I actually believe you." He cracks an amused smile, looking directly into her eyes after carefully scanning her face. ''I mean, If someone like you tried to sneak onto my ship I would know it’s a trap, either to kill me or to steal from me but I would end up saying ''whatever you say beautiful'' and would actually let you do your thing.''
He's an idiot but still, once again, he manages to make her laugh. “Looking like that, anyone would give you anything,” he adds because he is, in fact and undoubtedly, willing to give her a little more of himself. More time and more attention, because he should definitely be out there gathering his crew -only God knows what they'll be doing- and figuring out how to get to the Grand Line without a damn map.
The idea of asking her, or even suggesting she steals it for him, doesn't even cross his mind. Not even after having shared this /intimate/ afternoon together. He knows she won't do it, she doesn’t own him shit, she’s not one of these women who fall in love and suddenly do everything, and leave everything behind, for the man of their dreams.
And of course Buggy can see the way she looks at him, without an ounce of contempt or distaste for his extravagant appearance or the atrocities he's sure she knows he's committed and of which he's not one bit ashamed. She sees him as he is and still, she’s here, offering him back something as valuable as her time and company.
But she won't give him more, he is aware of that. That's why he didn't offer (Y/N) to run away with him when he escaped from Arlong Park, because as much as she enjoys his company and maybe, just maybe, the clown imagines, feels something for him, he has the impression she’s a disgustingly loyal person, to her principles and her people, and as much as she likes to flirt with him, she would have said no.
He must admit, that's also how he likes her. Strong, capable, independent. He would kill no matter who to have her by his side as part of his crew, although he knows it won't happen. He would settle, however, with the -hypothetical- opportunity to meet from time to time on the high seas or on any random island. To sneak away from their crews in secret, to disappear for a few hours in which all his attention, his entire being, could focus on her, lower the curtain just a little, leave the spotlight behind and relax.
There is a small part of him, the one that makes him unable to stop looking intensely at her with those blue eyes that mirrors his own soul, that truly hopes she feels the same.
…
''You know'' she starts, absently stroking his hair, the clown's head in her lap. ''I imagine-- no, I know the whole nose topic is a sensitive thing for you but honestly, it shouldn't-- big noses are incredibly attractive, and yours? Believe me, anyone would want to sit on it.’’
What.
He's so taken aback by the suddenness of the comment he completely forgets what they were talking about before and on top of that, he's unable to reply for some seconds, looking at her like she just started speaking in another, incomprehensible language.
He ends up raising an eyebrow, running his tongue over his red lips. ''Including you?''
''Including me''
''Well, sunshine, today's your lucky day then'' Sitting up, in a blink of her eyes he turns, catches the girl's hips and drags her with him, lying down, leaving her sitting on his chest while he rest his head on the pillow. Buggy winks at her, licking his lips again, this time cheekily rather than thoughtfully. “I’m about to make another one of your dreams come true.”
''Horny bastard.'' she whispers, swallowing saliva. What a view, having him between her legs again. ''Never denied, sweetheart'' with a low, erotic, and breathtaking laugh, he surrounds both her thighs with his arms and pulls her body up in a quick movement, causing a sudden brush of his nose against the inside of her thigh.
(Y/N) shudders and takes a deep breath, spreading her legs a little further as she settles them on the pillow. ''Show me what else you can do, captain.'' To that he just groans, already getting hard with just having her on top of his face and her way of talking to him, pushing his buttons just the right way.
In no time she’s a complete, total, and absolute mess, writhing with pleasure. Hands grabbing his hair, hips rocking over his mouth, forcing his nose to rub against her clitoris, she softly moans his name, an occasional insult or any other possible blasphemy.
''Oh, fuck-- Buggy.''
…
Worn off makeup all around her body, sun setting, long hours spent together in which they have told funny, long stories about each other's life and of course, in which they have ended up letting free -once again- that suffocating sexual tension that attracts them to the other like a month to a lamp. Buggy, surprisingly, ends up letting his guard down to the point where he falls asleep, and not long after, he starts snoring.
(Y/N) knows, it's time to leave and look for her friends. She also knows she warned them about her obsession with the city and that the chances of her getting lost were high, and in that case they should not worry about her, blablabla, because she would come back sooner or later. She didn’t even remotely expect the reason for her disappearance would be a self-declared enemy -Luffy’s enemy- of her crew, tho. Neither was she going to spend so much time away from them to be with him.
The excuses she will need to cover her tracks are endless, and a pain in the ass without even started to think about them yet.
Will Zoro still be lost somewhere on the island? Because she obviously assumed, he got lost as soon as they split.
Still in bed, she takes a moment to calmly look at him. (Y/N) is aware of how this may be the last time they ever see each other, and -not- surprisingly, this thought sparks a pang of sadness in her. She really likes him. She wouldn't say she is in love with him, because those are big words and they barely know each other yet, but... he was right, the chemistry between the two was something impossible to deny. And it hasn't weakened, nor disappeared a single bit after sex. Quite the opposite-- It has become something more, a kind of deep and sincere fondness that in this precise moment, dark outside, distant voices over the window from drunkards and bastards around the streets, his breathing calm for a fraction of second, his eyes closed and the fresh breeze that enters the room, invites her to caress his blue hair while he sleeps, sighing.
It’s been a long, long time since (Y/N)’d enjoyed this kind of genuine, absolute peace, sharing with someone she cares about, a room where time does not exist and life is just a thought instead of reality.
Part of her wishes or better said, acknowledges, she would stay here the entire night if she could. The other says that’s ridiculous, and that those are her hormones talking and nothing else. It would pass.
But does she want it to pass? To fade away?
Finally getting out of bed -all her willpower at once- after long minutes in which she simply memorizes every possible detail around her, she begins to retrieve her clothes scattered throughout the room and get dressed in silence, trying not to wake him up.
Through all this process, in the depths of her head resonates a single thought, ringing as loud and strong as an alarm. She’s unable to shut it up. She can’t ignore it either. It's another kind of thought she shouldn't have, and at the same time… feels so natural, so logical, she doesn't feel guilty for having it.
But should she listen to it? Should she follow it?
Taking a seat in the chair that fulfilled its great purpose a few hours ago, she sighs, again, head resting on her hand, elbow on the table. With a small smile, her eyes fall back on that ridiculous, snoring clown. And then, she just knows.
Reaching to a little secret pocket in her pants, she takes out a small piece of folded paper and starts to open it slowly, being careful to not tear it apart, leaving it on the table of the room once the copy of the map of the Grand Line can be perfectly seen. When (Y/N) suggested her crew make a couple of copies in case something happened to the original, she never thought she would use hers like this, but she doesn't regret it in the slightest.
Biting the tip of her tongue, her eyes scan the partially darkened room, jumping from side to side. When she finally finds what she was looking for, she leans over the table, and taking the pen from the inkwell, she writes in the upper right corner of the map "I will be waiting for you right here, come find me" .
If someone asked her why she does this, why she feels this, why does she decide to ignore her common sense and give something so important to someone as -objectively- miserable as him, she would simply answer that there are things… or better said-- not things, but the little pieces here and there, pieces of himself left in her during conversations, shared glances, laughter, flirts, light touches and the deep strong ones that came after those. It's the way he tried to make her laugh at all costs or how he didn't give up trying to win her over. Those blue eyes so intense she would swear, they reached her soul, or the small, genuine smile she knows she has seen this same afternoon, really far from the forced, crooked, exaggerated ones he usually has.
It is all of this and much more, and opening the door of the room, closing it again so that no one disturbs Buggy while she escapes the building and heads to her ship to find her crew, she knows she can't wait to see him again.
She knows she will. Her sixth sense tells her so.
#the gif is an spoiler of the morning after#buggy the clown#buggy one piece#buggy the clown fanfiction#buggy x you#op buggy#one piece live action#one piece x reader#captain buggy#buggy x reader
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In regards to Dana's current leave from disney because people have already lost hope for future toh content because she left-
We don't exactly know how permanent her leave is going to be for now. Dana was always planning to leave for a break after the show ended, she mentioned it several times and given the stress she was under it makes sense she needs time away from disney and working under them for a bit.
But, this doesn't mean she no longer has interest in toh content or making future toh content.
And that the fans should stop pushing, because they shouldn't.
because dana made it very clear even in recent stuff she wants to do comics and other content, so clearly she has interest in more if disney allows for it and asks her.
Dana would probably not ask us to keep hammering disney if she genuinely was done and didn't wanna do more, she wouldn't let us get our hopes up.
When GF ended, Alex put down the fan push for more because he didn't want more, i see no reason dana wouldn't do the same, Its very clear she's at least leaving the door open.
Despite everything, she isn't completely opposed to the idea.
All we know for now, is she wants a break because making the show took a lot out of her, so she was going to leave disney for a bit regardless, how permanent it is depends on disney and herself. If they ask her to come back and she feels comfortable in doing so, she might, but it depends how things go moving forward.
so until further notice, the world of toh will be more on a long hiatus, rather then for certain dead.
It could end here, she could decide never to come back, but she's made it clear the door isn't closed as of yet, even if it's awhile from now.
i don't think any of us would want her to go right back into work after all of that anyway, taking a break and coming back if she wants to is probably for the best for now. Especially if she comes back to make something just as great.
Its a situation that depends on her and disney, and even if they ask and she says no, pushing for the option is still good and still should be done.
Maybe she'll get a new show with another network, who knows with the state of animated shows these days.....
But don't let her well deserved break deter you from pushing.
Especially since she's one of the people asking you to still push.
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Making Porn With The Number One Pro Hero
Pairing: Toshinori Yagi (All Might/Skinny Might) x Fem! Pro-Hero! Reader.
Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Jealous sex (?), Mirror sex, Oral sex (fem receiving), Secret ((established)) relationship, Recording sex (so y'all make porn), Minor hair pulling, Semi-public sex, Intercourse (P in V), Daddy Kink, you two are almost caught in the act, mention of you two previously being caught in the act, I finally used a condom!! (I usually write about creampies but this time I didn't), Some bitch tries to touch our All Might but fails, We accidentally punch her in the face, Toshi is pussy whipped.
Summary: You have a sex dream about your boyfriend which leads to a fantasy, All Might wants to achieve that fantasy with you after you punch another All Might slut in the face. The fantasy doesn't TOTALLY go to planned.
Format: Kinktober Fic, Day 2.
Writing Time: 7 hours (with no breaks, longest amount of time I've ever spent on a fic).
Word Count: 3,308.
A/N:
Day 2 of Kinktober! Enjoy!
The introduction is ridiculously fucking long, idk why but skip to the first —-//— if you're like me and only interested in the sex. I hate the beginning part anyway and it's very obvious my writing has suffered from my hiatus, but oh well. It will get better.Technically you get railed by Skinny All Might in his Silver Age suit, hope that's ok.I have to give this thing a part 2 at some point, this is way too hot and I'm so proud of it.
I kept writing then deleting then rewriting this shit (which is why it took 7 hours) so y'all better let me know if you like it :)
Here is the masterlist for all my Kinktober 2023 works.
---///---
Being in an secret relationship with the Number 1 Hero was difficult to say the least.
Having to sneak around everyone was fun and slightly erotic at first, but slowly became annoying and a bit painful at times.
You had recently told Toshinori about a sexy fantasy you had of him. To have him fuck you in his dressing room right before an interview, ideally from behind in front of a mirror whilst you record, you two had made porn before (for only you two's eyes, no one else's!!) so recording sex wasn't new to you guys.
Toshinori had giggled like a little schoolboy and covered his growing erection when you told him about your little fantasy, and said it sounded very hot. But after you kissed him and gave him a handy right then and there, he calmed down a bit and explained to you how unlikely it was to happen, he feared someone would walk in and catch you both (one person had before) and possibly tell someone.
Sadly your lover had made it clear countless times before he didn't want a public relationship for the sake of protecting you and others. You understood completely and was happy Toshinori valued protecting you over everything, but that didn't mean you didn't long to hold his hand in public.
Very few knew about you two; Young Midoriya, David Shield, Sir Nighteye (RIP) and Aizawa (Aizawa finding out was an accident, he had caught you two in a compromising position in Toshinori's classroom after school hours). But you both was content with those who knew about you two, you trusted all of them, and didn't plan on adding anyone else to the list.
Early on into your pro-hero career, you were introduced to one journalist and news reporter who you honestly couldn't remember the name of. She was young and very attractive, no doubt becoming the face of her news station because of her pretty face and impressive figure. She was well known to interview pro heroes and flirt with them, and unsurprisingly lot of them would flirt back.
She had interviewed All Might a few times and like usual she would flirt a lot. He'd see straight through her and politely respond in a professional way, so you had no problems with her because you trusted your boyfriend to shut down her advances. She wouldn't be the first girl to throw themselves at the Number 1 Hero and definitely wouldn't be the last, so you were used to seeing Toshinori be placed in uncomfortable situations which made you feel bad for him but due to your relationship being a secret you didn't feel like it was your place to cut in. But Toshinori always handled it well.
One interview you didn't see coming though.
It was a standard scheduled interview on set of a news station, like Good Morning America or something. Several pro heroes were in to be interviewed, including both you and All Might. With All Might becoming weaker and weaker by the day and unable to hold his form for long periods of time, this was his last scheduled interview. And you were so happy you could be there with him.
You were lucky enough to be able to be interviewed with your boyfriend.
"So, Mr All Might, I'd love to go over some of your best fights of your career..." The news anchor smiled and batted her eyelashes at him.
"Of course! I'd love to!" All Might grinned.
For the millionth time? Really? You rolled your eyes.
"BUT before we do that, I'd like to talk about your more personal life first..." She grinned back, moving closer to him on the long couch you were all sharing.
You moved uncomfortably in your seat and looked around, not really knowing what to do with yourself.
"Ok, sadly I can't promise I can all questions about my personal life but you can absolutely ask." All Might smiled.
"Great! So... you have had quite a long career as a pro hero who is very much so in the public eye, I imagine forming and keeping relationships in your personal life can be difficult?" She asked.
All Might moved his head to both sides as if he agreed and disagreed with her assumption, "Well it's definitely not easy forming them, but keeping the ones I have been lucky enough to form is easy. I'm very lucky to be surrounded by friends and family who I know care about me both as All Might and Toshinori."
The reporter nodded, "Right. As you mentioned family, are you planning on starting a family?"
You raised an eyebrow, feeling although the question was a bit strange.
All Might laughed, his laugh boomed loudly in your poor ears, "HA HA! Oh no Dear, I don't so. I am an old man now, I unfortunately missed the opportunity for a family years ago."
You and Toshinori had only briefly discussed children, you desperately wanting a child later on in your career and Toshinori feel although being Number 1 Hero made having kids not an option and that by the time he retired he was too old. It wasn't really a conversation you two had managed to find a conclusion to, so you were a little annoyed All Might was talking as if it had been decided.
"Well a lot of young ladies like older men, Sir. I know I sure do. And a lot of young ladies would be more than willing to bear The All Might's children." The reporter giggled and moved closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
She had never actually touched him before.
All Might chuckled uncomfortably and carefully leaned back to make her hand fall off him, but her hand stayed put. Without really thinking, you leaned over and picked up the foreign hand on your boyfriend's shoulder, and threw it back into the reporter's face. She almost punched herself in the face with her own hand.
You gasped and stood up, "Oh I'm sorry!"
You really didn't mean to do that. You were only trying to get her hands off your man. You hadn't meant you almost punch her.
She quickly fixed her hair and glasses and glared at you for only a split second, before laughing nervously and looking into the camera in front of all of you, "Oh Dear! No worries! We can edit that out, this isn't live."
The cameraman nodded at her and three of you continued your now incredibly awkward interview. All Might breathed a small sigh and grabbed your hand, you couldn't tell what the sigh was for.
—-///—-
Backstage you were sat at your vanity table with your head down on the desk, sighing sadly. You felt so embarrassed, you should of just left Toshinori handle her unnecessary touching. The interview went terribly after that and the reporter remained cold to you until the end.
You were also concerned about people questioning your actions, why were you so concerned about some girl touching All Might? It was such a obvious sign of jealously. Oh Well... at least she didn't touch him again.
A small knock was pressed against your dressing room door and without a response it was opened, "Darling?"
All Might.
He stepped into your room and closer the door behind him as you turned to face him. He immediately deflated in front of you, leaving his skinny scrawny figure in place.
"Hi Love." You sighed and walked over to him.
He quickly wrapped his long arms around you, pulled you close and began kissing your neck.
You blinked in shock, "Toshi?"
"Oh my Love. I never thought I'd ever see you jealous." He whispered against you before biting down on you skin.
You moaned in delight, "S-So you're not mad?"
"Why would I ever be mad Princess?" He laughed a bit, in his Skinny form his laugh sounded so good and didn't burst your eardrum.
Toshinori carefully walked you back over to your vanity table and placed you down in your vanity chair and stared down at you. You looked up at your lover with nothing but love and lust and crossing your legs, feeling yourself get hot down there.
With you sitting down and him standing in front of you, you could see the massive bulge in his pants. Whilst shamelessly staring at his covered dick, you hiked up your legs and pulled everything covering your lower half off and happily showed your lover your wet pussy. You felt no shame (he had seen it all before anyway), only the desire to be fucked. Finally, your filthy fantasy was coming true.
"Oh my Love..." Toshinori sighed again at the completely lewd sight of you and dropped to his knees.
He grabbed your thighs in his massive hands and gave your pussy a sweet kitten lick. You threw your head back and moaned again. He started kissing and licking you slowly before sucking.
God, his tongue felt good. You were going to lose yourself to it.
"Oh baby I want you so much..." Toshinori whispered in between eating you out, whilst pulling you closer and closer to his hungry mouth, scaring you for a brief second into thinking you'd fall out of the chair.
It was dangerous but Toshi wouldn't let you fall, ever.
You pulled his head up from your heat and he whined, "Toshi... I'm so empty now...you need to just fuck me..."
Your lewd expression and hushed tone only made him strain against his suit. Without thinking much, Toshinori stood up and ripped a hole into the crotch area of his Silver Age suit.
You gasped, "Toshi! Your suit!"
"This suit can be fixed, Dear. But later I'll need you to go to my dressing room and bring back something to wear when we're done." He smiled softly while pulling you up and out of the chair.
Toshinori picked up the chair by the armrests and placed it against the door, locking you both in. He turned back to you and smiled again.
You smiled back before turning against and bending over against the vanity table, giving your lover another nice view of your ass and pussycat. You watched him in the mirror grin at your behind and give you a nice loving smack. You bit your lip from the harsh contact and moved your legs further apart for him.
"Fuck..." Toshinori whispered, he was incredibly turned on by the sight of you bent over showing him everything you had to offer.
He quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out a Trojan, ripping the wrapper off with his teeth and pulling it down his proud length. You could tell by his fast movements, he was just as eager to get inside of you as you was.
Toshinori then rubbed your aching entrance with his great throbbing cock. You whined for him to just put it in and he was happy to appease you.
Toshinori always started with slow gentle strokes only with the tip but that wasn't good enough for you now, he had already worked you up from eating you out just a few seconds earlier and the idea of your fantasy had you too desperate now. So you whined again and tried to fuck yourself on his cock at the pace you need. Toshinori caught on pretty quickly and grabbed your hips and pulled you fully around him.
Both of you groaned from the sudden action. Toshinori began moving again, this time fast and rough. You managed to pick up your phone that you had left on the table, turn on the camera, point it at the mirror in front of you and hit record.
The sight was beyond erotic. The Number 1 Hero drilling his secret lover from behind in dressing room on set of a news station. God, it made you so wet. The grin on your face with your moans made it evident.
Because of the mirror, both of you were able to see each other's faces. Toshinori's brow full of sweat and mouth covered in your cum and his own salvia was godly. Not to mention his look of determination as he continued pounding you brought you closer and closer to edge.
"All Might!" You cried, not really hearing yourself over the sound of his balls slapping your cheeks.
But he heard you (and possibly some others in the building) and he groaned in your ear, "Princess! Oh my good little girl!"
Fuck!
He knew calling you 'little girl' made you crazy.
"Oh All Might please!" You begged.
You knew you sounded like a bad pornstar, but you didn't care. You knew Toshi loved it and was about to give into your begging.
But before he could, the worst thing you could imagine happened next. A loud knock on the door.
"Miss?"
Both you and Toshinori froze and stared at each other in the mirror in fear and shook.
"Y-Yes?!" You answered.
"Miss, your driver is here waiting for you. They are outside." It was likely one of the crew members of the station. They turned the door handle, shooting fear through you so bad you could scream, but it didn't open.
The chair Toshinori had put against the door temporarily saved you two. Realising this, he slowly began moving inside of you again. You moaned softly at the feeling and quickly covered your mouth with your free hand (hand not holding up your phone that was still recording).
The crew member must of wondered why the door wasn't opening, considering none of the dressing room doors had locks on them for safety reasons, but didn't ask why or for you to open the door and instead just let go of the handle.
"Oh o-okay...t-thank you. Out in a miiintue!" You quickly choked out.
"Great. Do you happen to know where Mr. All Might is? His car arrived first but he isn't in his dressing room."
"Nooo!" You whined.
You could see the see the evil smile on your boyfriend's face in the mirror. No question, you were going to (try to) kick his ass after this.
"Ok, no worries. Thank you for coming Miss!"
Footsteps were heard leaving the door, presumably to go find your man. Toshinori laughed slightly and pulled your head back by your hair and started moving at the same fast pace he was before.
You groaned at the small pain and glared up at your soulmate, "You like torturing me, asshole?"
"Maybe a little." He smiled.
"Oh please just make me cum, Toshinori." You sighed, giving him your best doe eyed desperate-for-sex expression.
Your lover was more than happy to fulfil your request. This was definitely by far would be the best sex tape you two ever made.
—///—
Later on the two of you were getting ready for better, you had finally finished your night skin care routine and was headed back to you and Toshinori's shared bedroom. He was still up reading a book in bed like usual, he looked and smiled when you walked into the room.
"Toshi," You began as you got comfortable in the bed, "What changed your mind today?"
"About what, Love?" He asked and put his book away to pull you closer to him.
"When I told you about my sex dream, you said it wouldn't happen." You pouted at him.
Toshinori's cheeks darkened, "Well, you got me all hot and bothered during the interview."
"How?" You raised an eyebrow.
"I like to see you handle touchy women for me." Toshinori smiled shyly now.
"Oh really?" You giggled, "You like having a jealous girlfriend?"
"A bit, yes." He admitted.
"Aw... maybe I should set them straight more often." You grinned and kissed his neck.
Toshinori shivered, both from the idea and the attention you was suddenly showing his neck, "Yes please...good girl."
You felt your heat burn at his words as well as his erection grow under the duvet and you eagerly wanted to head down under the duvet. But you both still had something to say.
"I'm sorry love, I was just a little scared about people finding out about us, and being intimate outside our home has got us caught before...and I feel like we already take a big risk with recording our moments together." Toshinori sighed.
"So you don't want to record anymore?" You looked heartbroken.
"Oh no, Princess! Of course not!" He pulled you into his lap and wrapped his arms around your waist (you could feel his lover's boner, which you wonder if he forgot about), "I love have something to remind myself of our best moments."
"We don't have to record anymore if you're worried it could get out." You replied, still looking sad.
"Honey, that's not what I was saying.." Toshinori kissed your head, "I love you and I love how excited you get by the camera. And I love watching our little videos."
You looked up at him, "I love you Toshi. And I just want you to be comfortable."
"I am comfortable, I'm always comfortable when I'm alone with you." Toshinori smiled.
You turned to look at him and kissed one of his sunken cheeks, "Ok... so if I keep your female fans in line... what will you do for me?"
"What do you want love?" Toshinori asked.
"I want a reward, All Might." You grinned and slowly stroked your lover's excited friend.
He shivered again. Mustering up all his strength, Toshinori transformed into All Might. His erection underneath you went from poking you ass to almost straight up penetrating you. A loud moan came from your throat, the ending of it was muffled from All Might gently pushing you off his lap and all the way down till you were face down onto the end of the bed and ass up.
The muscular blonde Silver Fox gently rubbed your ass with one hand whilst the other fought off this sweat pants (that did absolutely nothing to hide his lower reigns). Once his pants were off and his length was fully exposed, All Might picked up his phone from his nightstand, pointed the camera down at you and hit record.
"Little Princess... do you think my cock at full size is a good enough reward for being such a good girl for me?"
The camera got a very lovely shot of your wetness soaking through your sweatpants just from his words. You felt your cunt clench around nothing and you looked back at your lover.
"Yes please Daddy."
#stitched#stitched mouth#stitched talks#stitched’s kinktober#kinktober#kinktober 2023#stitched writes#all might#all might smut#all might x reader#toshinori yagi#toshinori yagi x reader#toshinori yagi smut#bnha#bnha smut#boku no hero acedamia#my hero academia#my hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia x reader#mha smut
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So, saw a video on YouTube that was analyzing if Alastor exhibited traits similar to someone diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder. It was interesting, if a bit superficial and missing a lot of the smaller blink and you’ll miss it details (as well as for some reason omitting his past relationships and focusing only on his current ones), but it got me thinking about how much we know of who Alastor is.
And I think that we actually know a lot more about who he is as a person and what makes him tick than we think we do. What we don’t know is what his situation currently is, and that’s sort of conflated with not knowing or being sure of him and his motivations.
So to list what we do know of him in no specific order:
He claims he’s sponsoring the hotel because he wants to watch other people fail for his own entertainment, something that we know for sure now is not the case, or not the entire reason.
He was very desperate when making that deal with Charlie, this is something he was probably aiming for and has been waiting to do for a long time.
His disappearance is a sore spot that he doesn’t want others to be prying into.
He’s trapped in a deal that appears to be restricting either his actions, power, or both and he desperately wants to get out of the deal.
Related, the deal appears to be new, based off Husk’s comment and Alastor’s reaction/surprise at the comment.
Related, he HATES being reminded of his deal.
All his shown past friends are women. Conversely, he seems to get along well with women over men.
Related, he lets Mimzy, Nifty, and Rosie all touch or manhandle him around without showing discomfort or distaste. He also lets Husk poke him in the chest, and appears to have grown equally as comfortable around Charlie.
Related, he offers Charlie his microphone twice when she needed to do a big inspiring speech.
Related, his microphone appears directly linked to some of his powers, and could also be considered a weakness of his should it be broken.
He knows that Mimzy only ever comes to him when she needs something, and doesn’t care that he’s being manipulated and taken advantage of into taking care of her problems. In fact, Mimzy stated that he loves taking care of her (problems).
Related, the hotel is important enough that he can’t risk having that kind of behavior with Mimzy here, that he’s willing to shoo away one of his few friends he’s genuinely happy to see.
Rosie is his best friend, he’s the most comfortable with her and while in Cannibal town. It’s the only time we’ve seen him so cheerful and relaxed and smile like he means it. His smiles here are wide enough to show his gums, but his eyes and lips reveal its not just a well disguised snarl.
Related, he’s very excited to show off Cannibal town to Charlie when he brings her over.
Related, he hasn’t gone to see Rosie since the overlord meeting despite having had 5 months to do so after coming back from his hiatus.
Related, he doesn’t ask for Rosie to help during the battle, he specifically restates his favor to “well your cannibals help at least”. She’s seen sipping tea and listening to the news in the aftermath.
His beef with Lucifer started way before he ever met the guy. In his advertisement, he makes a note to say there’s no tacky circus decor at the hotel. When he sees the welcome sign he visibly sneers at it. When Lucifer finally shows up and hugs Charlie his eye is twitching.
Related, whatever beef he has with Lucifer is unrelated to Lucifer’s attitude towards him when they finally meet, though that certainly does not help.
Related, it’s also clearly not about being the most powerful person in the room because he doesn’t behave that way when speaking with Zestial, or during the overlords meeting.
Related, he’s bothered when Carmilla reveals she wasn’t curious about his absence (which fair. I’d hope my colleagues would ask where I’ve been if I went MIA for 7 years).
He offers Charlie advice on projecting confidence and control when she’s not, a tactic he employs every minute of every day.
He tends to be helpful but in a backhanded way. He helps Charlie get out of her funk by being mean about it and mocking her for accidentally landing the hotel in hot water. He summons an old fashioned mint condition camera for Vaggie at first before replacing it with a beat up and bandaged video camera. He helps Vaggie with the advertisement after watching her struggle. He does get rid of the eggs, but only for a day by taking them with him on his overlord meeting trip.
Related, more miscellaneous menial labor is usually done straightforwardly, like fixing the wall, for the umpteenth time and apparently unclogging the toilet when nifty gets stuck.
He likes listening to people vent about and struggle with their situation.
He does not like listening to people vent about and struggle with their love life.
Whatever he’s up to it appears as though he’s truly thrown his lot in with Charlie and the hotel, at least for now.
Apparently used to be friends or friendly with Vox. And will let people take a picture of him if it’s with an old fashioned camera.
After the battle, instead of returning to the others he drags himself to his radio tower, the one that fell down off a cliff after Adam destroys the hotel. This means he didn’t head there first when he retreated, and only went afterwards once the fight was over. He was probably staying close enough to see how the fight was going, evidenced by how he knew where to go to find his radio tower.
During his mental breakdown, he’s smiling harder than ever before, and only seems to regain some semblance of control when he’s restating his current goals.
Related, Alastor’s current objective is to free himself of the deal or find a loophole around it. He’s probably planning on using Charlie’s favor for that.
Related, Alastor could’ve also wanted a favor from Charlie as general insurance in the off off chance she ends up betraying him. He seems to let his guard down around her more after the deal, and even helpfully supplies her an army without any more prompting or deal making.
Alastor’s expression when talking about making soul deals in general.
Related, Alastor’s expression when talking about how Charlie still has her soul specifically.
Used to take out last overlords for slighting or doubting him, doesn’t do that anymore. There’s a chance he stopped doing that before his seven year absence.
Related, apparently Sir Pentious also didn’t know about what Alastor did to overlords back in the day??? And they’ve fought 20+ times??? Strengthens the assumption that Alastor stopped killing overlords after he’d established himself as a top dog. Deer. And before his disappearance.
Related, while Carmilla was surprised to see him at the meeting, she and the other overlords like Zestial weren’t scared of him and accepted his presence without complaint. If he were still actively hunting down overlords I doubt, as overlords themselves, they’d have been so comfortable in his presence.
Didn’t appear to have any plans in announcing his sudden return until Vox provoked him.
Related, his broadcasts might’ve been about overlord gossip, aside from the screaming.
Shared what he can do to help during the battle with the rest of the hotel. Specifically the shield he conjures.
Related, likely volunteered himself as the one to take on Adam, since he’s the most experienced and strongest fighter in the group (Charlie’s inexperience with using her power means she’s unsuited for the task).
He speaks fondly of the group as a whole when talking to Nifty when she speaks about how much she likes them (and can we keep them, please?).
Apparently he doesn’t just enjoy watching people’s suffering but also the bonds these wayward souls form with each other.
He does, still, enjoy kicking people when they’re down. Or rather kicking people when they try to challenge him and think they have a chance.
He really knows how to get under people’s skin.
Shark snacks go nom.
Additional points from the replies:
If Alastor was sent to the hotel against his will, then whoever sent him there also did not stipulate that he couldn’t make deals with the residents, which is a huge oversight. (Peppersnap79)
Husk and Nifty appeared to stay behind and help the hotel of their own free will, Alastor did not appear to order them to stay in any way. (Peppersnap79)
My Conclusions based on more things than just what I’ve listed out: he’s probably insecure about his status in hell after the seven year absence. Whatever happened during that time is also a sore point for him, something he doesn’t want others to know about or pry into.
His reputation as the Radio Demon is very important to him. He put a lot of effort into crafting the Radio Demon’s reputation and persona as someone to be feared and not to be fucked with. This is put at risk when he nearly dies protecting the hotel.
He smiles to put himself in control, to trick both others and himself into thinking that he’s got control of the situation or himself more than he actually does. He does not like being reminded that he is not in control of his life at the moment, and his current greatest desire is freedom from his deal. The more out of control he feels, he harder he tries to smile.
He is very soft and forgiving/tolerant with the few friends he has, and has grown visibly attached to or fond of the rest of the hotel. He also appears to be protective of them, in his own weird way. Constantly defending Mimzy against whatever trouble she brings and ultimately leaving Rosie out of the actual battle. This is counterproductive to his plans, and interferes in a way he hadn’t been expecting it to. Part of his breakdown is a direct result of this unexpected interference, that his own emotions had gotten him to risk his life defending the hotel (the group).
Restating his goals to eventually escape seems to reassure him and calm him/act as a grounding mechanism when he feels like he’s losing it. He’s using the Radio Demon persona like it’s a lifeline, because the Radio Demon is who he wants to be, needs to be, if he wants to get out. The Radio Demon’s always in control, he’s the one who holds all the cards, pulls all the strings. Nothing scares him, and nothing controls him.
He’s sadistic, calculative, intelligent, spontaneous, a showman, a softie, arrogant, egotistical, insecure and paranoid. He gets attached to things more easily than he’d care to admit, and lies to himself as much as he lies to everyone else. His Radio Demon persona is just as much a part of him as it is a mask to hide what’s going on underneath. What’s there to hide if he shows them what they want to see? The audience should only care for the play, not the actors behind the scene.
#hazbin hotel#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel spoilers#character analysis#long post#hazbin hotel meta#Alastor meta#if anyone has other things they wanna add to the list#feel free!#if I tried to add everything itd never end#also there’s a bunch of stuff here I’m borrowing from other better put together meta#I’ve reblogged the ones I like best if you wanna go check it out
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Hello friends! It's been way way way way WAY too long since we chatted, and to be honest I've been taking an embarrassingly long time to write this update post because godDAMN life just gets you sometimes and you go on an impromptu hiatus that gets super messy. So let's get into what's been going on and what to look forward to!
Pedro Tax for this long-ass post.
(We're gonna get into some personal stuff, but if you're just here for what's coming up skip down to WHAT'S NEXT for the tl;dr version)
So beyond work getting hectic from January to March, which was the catalyst for everything getting wacky, I experienced a weird emotional turn that I wasn't expecting. It made me get a little introspective, which I blame some of my productivity slump on.
As I was finishing up the Bangathon entries, I noticed a sharp decline in interaction. I'm a fairly young fic writer on Tumblr, but I was a little baffled as to why stories I'd posted only a week before got a nice bit of interaction yet the newer ones were only getting half to a quarter of what I expected. For a minute I thought I had been shadowbanned (I was not) or I hadn't tagged the posts (I had) or my taglists weren't working (they were). People were already talking about interaction being lower, so I sat back and tried to go with the flow and not let it bother me. I posted Decoherence, which has a more niche audience, but I was definitely missing and wishing for some of the comments and reblogs I thought I might get.
All this led up to one of the least favorite voices in my head saying something that stuck around:
"Well, you were right not to become a writer if your motivation is this closely tied to feedback."
If you're new here or I haven't talked about it much recently, I initially was planning to be a writer. Went to school for it and everything. While I was there I felt like I hadn't found the stories I wanted to tell yet. My colleagues were developing in their niches and writing "the great American novel" and I didn't feel like I fit in. My stories had a lukewarm reception, and I never felt like anyone was excited about anything I was trying to say. So I wrote myself into burnout by the time I graduated with not much to show for it. I ended up doing a career switch, which I love to this day, but I stopped writing for almost 10 years.
Coming to Tumblr, I felt that spark of excitement writing again, and some of that was definitely due to people commenting and being excited or interested in the stories I was sharing. That truly revived something in me I thought was long gone, and reflecting back on the last two years that I've been sharing stories with this community makes me wildly emotional. I didn't know how much I missed of the life I left behind, and how much joy it brought me to share stories again.
Which is why it was SUPREMELY FRUSTRATING to have that shitty little voice pulverize my productivity and excitement over something as silly as interaction. But I'm sure most of you know how hard it is to get that voice out of your head. I worked to write things I found fun and less stressful than the series I already felt bad for not updating. And while I still love those stories, it felt like I was pulling them from an inauthentic place and finishing them wasn't as satisfying as I'd hoped.
Thus the hiatus! I stopped writing and turned my attentions to consuming and creating in other ways. I watched some shows I'd been meaning to catch up on, started planning to buy a house, worked my butt off at the day job. And I was starting to feel like inspiration was coming back. I didn't want to spook it so I took my time and promised myself I was going to start small and not stress about getting stories out for a bit.
Top that off with some medical surprises, an upcoming surgery, and a little re-evaluation of life moving forward and things have been wild. But I've been missing the daily joy I get from being part of this fandom, and I'm getting back into being here more because I miss you guys! AND! I have stories I want to share and fun to be had. So let's shake off all the heavy shit and get to the fun stuff!
WHAT'S NEXT!
The big thing I'm getting ready to post (after teasing it for so long) is the 2024 Bangathon! This one is different from last year's because instead of requesting stories from me, the Bangathon is open to anyone who wants to participate! There will be a randomizer to play with, and some fun bonuses for those who participate. The announcement will be coming out soon, stay tuned!
As for fics, here are some updates on what's in my WIPs:
Series:
I Think of You: I spent some time rewatching Mando for the newest installment, and I've finally gotten the thread of where to go next thought out. It's been a long time coming so this one's gonna be BEEFY to make up for it.
SW!Frankie: I am crushed to realize it's been over a year since I posted any SW!Frankie! I've got a new story about him and Ms J moving in together I need to finish, then some more asks that are getting into new story arcs I'm excited to share!
Best Laid Plans: Dieter and Murch's first date is bouncing around in my head and I NEED to get it on paper. There's much fun to be had, and I've been binge listening to my playlist for them to get into the headspace.
Midnight Alley: I got all up in my own head about continuing the story with these two and lost a little steam, so I'm going to ease off my "big plans" and start smaller with some oneshots instead. I think it'll help me find out where I want this story to go.
One Shots in Progress:
Decoherence Follow-Up
Incubus!Dieter Ask
You know, laying it out like that makes it feel much more manageable than my brain was telling me! I'm also planning to prioritize more fic reading while I'm getting these updates in ship-shape. Reading your stories always helps get my creative juices flowing, and there are so many good ones lingering in my TBR list that I need to devour.
This has been a rollercoaster of emotions, so thank you for coming on the ride with me. I'm excited to bring more of myself back to Tumblr and have fun with all of you again! To many more stories!
#prolix wips#I'm sorry I've been away for so long!#but I'm back!#if there are things I missed please tag me or send them!#I want to read all your stories!
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The Boy Who Cried Your Name
a/n: HI!!!! I'M BACK AFTER SUCH A LONG HIATUS!!!! I MISSED YOU GUYS! This story was based on this postI hope you all enjoy!
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: none, just fluff <3
2:07am > manjiro: ok this movie genuinely seems really stupid
2:08am > manjiro: i think i'll watch it and tell you all about it during our date tomorrow.
2:11am > manjiro: oh shit, i've seen this actor somewhere
2:13am > manjiro: i know you're asleep but like
2:13am > manjiro: when you wake up can you help me find out this dude's name?
2:13am > manjiro: *image*
It's a Tuesday night, or at least it was when you first went to sleep. The nonstop vibration of your phone combined with the light that comes from it is enough to disturb your deep slumber.
You grunt, eyes squinting as you try to adjust to the brightness. Your warm hand comes out from its place underneath your pillow, only to be received by a rush of cold air that comes from the AC. Your fingers tremble gently while trying your best to type in your passcode, though your brain isn't fully awake.
Ultimately you decide to simply shine the phone on your face in the hopes that it will recognize your features even in the dark of your room.
Before it can even unlock, another notification.
2:16am > manjiro: i am learning so much from this movie already
2:17am > manjiro: did you fucking know that you can make your own butter if you shake milk for long enough?
You can't help but giggle at the sight, 17+ messages from Mikey. Before the two of you became a real couple, he would hardly ever text first, maybe because he could never remember where he put his phone in the first place or maybe it was because he was actually afraid of getting his feelings hurt, after all, a girl like you was hard to come by.
When the two of you decided to become official, his texts became more and more frequent. Most nights, you were forced to put your phone on Do Not Disturb because you desperately needed a good night's rest and lord knows you wouldn't be able to achieve that goal as long as Mikey was awake.
Your thumbs aren't moving at the speed you would like them to, your vision is still partially blurry and your throat is so dry that it feels like you are swallowing nails. Nevertheless, you open the messages to encounter a great variety of content.
Tired eyes skim through the various paragraphs, some quite lengthy as he declares his endless love for you and everything you have done / do for him on a daily basis, describing how you are the most beautiful person you have ever met and how the light that radiates from you reminds him of a sunset lit inside of your chest. How the color of your hair is his favorite because, whenever he sees it anywhere else, he feels like the universe is sending him a small reminder of how lucky he is. You smile at the sight of his gentle words.
However, you can no longer ignore the rain of incoming texts now that he has noticed the "seen at 2:14am" at the bottom of the page. He feels awful for waking you up but he cannot help himself. Every new thing he learns, every new detail of the movie he thinks you will enjoy knowing, he must share with you.
2:15am > manjiro: THIS DUDE JUST ATE HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW WHOLE?
2:16am > manjiro: IS THAT A FUCKING THING THAT SNAKES DO? EAT PEOPLE WHOLE?
2:16am > manjiro: I HAVE TO GOOGLE THIS HOLD ON
2:17am > manjiro: I have learned that, in fact, they can. I'm actually going to jump, I cannot do this
2:18am > manjiro: oh shit, i didn't mean to wake you up, but now that you are here!
2:19am > manjiro: did you know that drinking too much water can kill you? I read it somewhere, let me find the link.
2:19am > manjiro: Oh and also that when the dinosaurs walked the Earth, days were 23 hours long instead of 24?
You take a deep breath, knowing that he is coming from a place of love and care but you can't help but be a bit annoyed. Not wanting to snap at him, you use your full mental capacity at the moment to type a response to one of his many, many texts.
2:19am > manjiro: typing...
2:19am > you: Mikey, I love you, so so much and I wish for nothing more than for you to be here cuddling with me, than to feel the warmth of your body against mine, but you know I have an exam early in the morning.
2:20am > you: but baby, I am begging you, STOP THIS MADNESS.
His texting ceases and it feels like an eternity, certainly long enough for you to regret the way you spoke to him, even if it wasn't malicious or even purposefully mean. You understand that, other than Draken, Mikey doesn't usually confide in anyone else, especially not in a way that makes him seem weak or "stupid."
A sigh escapes your lips and you blink intensely for a few seconds in the hopes of stopping your eyeballs from burning. Time seems to slip by you and the next time your eyes open, twenty minutes have passed.
You bolt awake for a few seconds, heart beating faster than a race car, an irrational fear that you might have missed a message from him taking over you so the natural course of action is to check your texts. It would be a lie to say you weren't a little disappointed that there were no new messages from Mikey in that short period of time and your heart sinks just slightly.
2:41am > you: Mikey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I'm just nervous about my exam and super tired. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I hope you can forgive me.
Not even thirty seconds go by before the three dots inside of the blue bubble appear at the edge of the page. The full sensation of relief doesn't wash over you until you hear back from him, a simple message, spelled completely wrong because you knew he was keeping an eye out on whatever he was watching on the television.
2:42am > mikey: all gpod bsby, u luv u. (all good baby, i love you)
With a smile on your face, you finally allow yourself to relax and place the phone down underneath your pillow, giving Mikey time for himself as he enjoys his tv time. Now, you are finally going to be able to have a good night's rest before your big exam tomorrow. Eyelids become heavy and your breathing finds its own perfect pattern, your pillow is cold and underneath your covers is warm, everything is simply falling into place.
When you are within seconds of falling asleep, your phone buzzes from beneath your head. You refuse to open your eyes and simply roll over, pushing your body away from the device.
Some time passes and you find yourself in the same peaceful vibe as before, a gentle smile on your face as you fully allow yourself to be submerged in the cold feeling of the ac against your face while the rest of your body is nicely tucked away. The feeling doesn't last long for Mikey, once again, decides to start texting you every few minutes, if not seconds.
You grunt loudly, reaching for the edge of your pillow to pull it over your ear. In moments like these, you truly had to remind yourself of how much you loved him and why because he does, in fact, test what little sanity you have left in you. But you didn't know that all he was doing in that moment was being his usual self: the guy who is deeply and madly in love with you.
3:14am > manjiro: oh yeah
3:14am > manjiro: i forgot to tell you
3:15am > manjiro: good luck on your exam tomorrow, you got this!
3:15am > manjiro: i love you so much <3
3:15am > manjiro: have a great night <3
#mikey brainrot#mikey x reader#mikey x you#manjiro sano x you#manjiro sano x y/n#manjiro sano x reader#manjiro sano#manjiro sano fluff#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers x you#tokyo revengers x y/n#tokyo revengers smut#tokyo rev x reader#tokyo rev x you#tokyo rev x y/n
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To Build a Home
seventeen x harry potter au
deatheater!seungcheol x gryffindorprincess!reader
summary: The war has finally come and your entire world falls into ruin. After a surprise attack from the Death Eaters, you barely escape with your life and find refuge in a faraway safe house. Everything would have been fine, all things considered, except for the fact that you had fallen right into the snake’s pit.
notes: hello :'))) i am back from the dead. i can not apologize enough for the three year hiatus. i went through some family stuff, some mental breakdowns, and also just life in general made me not want to write anymore. but all the messages and comments I've gotten throughout the years have been so heart warming and touching. your words of support have genuinely made me want to get back into this again, so thank you thank you thank you. all your likes, comments and shares really kept me going, sometimes I felt like I was writing into the void, but knowing that others read and enjoyed my story was a very validating and heartwarming feeling. again, I am SOOO sorry for the extremely late update, but if you are still around, I hope you will enjoy this next chapter! i love you all <3
P.S if you prefer AO3 viewing, it will be linked in my Series Masterlist :)
word count: 4.3k
Series Masterlist
One l Two l Three l Four l Five l coming soon...
Chapter Five
//
The bed is warm when you wake up, but you can not move.
“If you try to get up, I will incarcerous your ass.”
The air smells bitter and burnt, and it makes you want to gag at how strong it weighs in the air. Blinking past the candlelights, you find Jean sitting in a chair next to your bed.
Groaning, you try and curl your fingers, but you find yourself unable to. Not even needing to look down, you could feel the thick bandages wrapped around your whole chest and the entire length of your left arm.
“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t,” you grumble, voice feeling raw and dry in your throat. “What the fuck did you do to me?”
“What did I do to you?”
“I can’t fucking move!”
“I bloody well put you back together in one piece!” Jean snapped and you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen so much anger in your friend’s eyes. “You nearly got yourself killed, and you’re complaining about a couple of bandages?!”
“A couple is enough to render me completely useless?!”
“You’re not useless.” Jean rolls her eyes. “You’re just forced into recuperation.”
“Well, it’d be fucking nice if I could at least scratch my nose.” You scrunch your nose unpleasantly.
“Your right arm still works, you know.”
“Oh.” You blink. “Right.”
Jean sighs deeply and goes back to focusing on something on your night table. Feeling awkward, you stretch out your right arm the best you can and reach up to scratch the itch on the bridge of your nose.
“What’s that?” You point at the stack of small withered leather pouches and tiny vials of potions.
She lets out a grunt of frustration. “It’s your medicine. You lost so much blood, I thought you turned into a bloody ghost.”
“Well, blame that on—”
“It’s both of your faults,” Jean cuts you off with a sharp glare. “Don’t go blaming Seungcheol when you put him in an equally bad position.”
You can’t help but smirk at the news. “He strapped down onto his bed just like me?”
Glass bottles click and clatter as Jean slams down your medicine. “Wake up! This was all meant for training, not to cut each other’s throats and bleed each other dry.”
Rolling your eyes, you turn away to avoid her glare. “Did you give him the same lecture?”
“I’m serious, can’t you just listen to me?”
“It’d be nice to not, but I don’t think I have a choice.”
She scoffs. “We’re not at school anymore. There’s no more petty house rivalry, no house points to fight over, or exams to stress over. We’re on the same side of the war, we can’t keep fighting with the boys.”
“Don’t be a fool.” You snap back at her with furrowed brows. “You want me to trust these boys? Thought you were supposed to be the smart one—”
A click— the door opens and Wonwoo walks in as if he were coming in like routine.
“Ah,” he says in quiet surprise. “You’re up?”
A brow quirks. “What are you doing in my room?”
Jean clicks her tongue and goes back to refilling your medication.
He holds up an amber glass bottle. “To heal you back into a functioning human.”
You place your good arm under the back of your head and prop yourself up a little to get a better view of your two housemates.
“Jean’s already got my medicine here.” You nod over to the glass vials on your night table.
“Yes, but this one—” Wonwoo holds it closer to your face, the clear glass has no label but contains a sticky, thick liquid. “—is for those cuts that Seungcheol gave you.”
“Of course,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Even the cuts he gave me aren’t ordinary. I need a special potion just for that?”
Wonwoo takes a seat at the end of your bed. “You lost a lot of blood.”
“A lot.” Jean glowers.
“Stop worrying,” you chide. “I feel fine!” You cough, embarrassingly, your throat still raw and dry.
“Fine my fucking arse,” Jean curses, and you know she’s truly mad because when was the last time your friend has ever cursed? “Fine isn’t being completely incapacitated for days. I had no idea when you would even wake up.”
“Wait a sec—” Your forehead wrinkles as your face contorts into confusion. “How long have I been out?”
“Only three days,” Wonwoo sighs, and uncorks the bottle in his hand. “He’s just as immobile as you, thought you’d be interested to know.”
“That is good to know.” You can’t help the grin spreading on your face. Jean’s scowl only deepens.
A cup is conjured out of thin air, and Wonwoo pours some of the amber liquid into it. “This is going to be hard to swallow, but drink the whole thing, okay?” He hands you the cup.
It looks even darker in the cup and moves like molasses. “And what is this supposed to help with? All the blood that I lost?”
“It’s to make sure your wounds heal completely,” Jeans explains. “Unfortunately… you won’t be able to get rid of the scars, but at least they’ll be completely closed.”
“That spell he used on you…” Wonwoo says quietly, his face looking serious as he tries to word it properly in his head before saying it out loud. “It’s— it’s not a spell to take lightly. Obviously, it would have been best to use the counterspell right after you got hit, but you continued fighting—”
“Absolute blockheads, the both of you!”
“— and the lacerations only went deeper and deeper as they spread. It’ll take a few days of rest before you’re fully healed, but just hold your nose when you take the potion because it—”
“Tastes like fucking shit!” You gag.
“— tastes pretty awful…”
//
Mandatory bed rest for the rest of the week.
Those were the orders from apparently everyone else in the house. Sneaking out was not an option because there was a spell that made the entire house ring when you tried to sneak out. It was equally both embarrassing and frustrating, seeing as how you couldn’t even take a piss without having Jean come over to help you over to the bathroom.
The only good thing about being imprisoned inside your own room was Wonwoo’s cup of tea.
He brought you a cup of tea every morning. Earl grey. Always piping hot, and with just enough cream and sugar to make anyone else’s tongue curl from the sweetness.
It was the perfect cup of tea.
The damn snake was slowly creeping his way up your ladder that goes from enemies to acquaintances to just barely being friends. He was still low on the ladder though, just marginally above the other snakes.
But the cup of tea did nothing to make you feel any better. Any less useless.
The wounds have healed completely when you finished up the rest of the amber liquid, and the bandages were finally all released with permission from Wonwoo and Jean, but no one allowed you back into another round of dueling. Not yet at least. They all said it's because you needed more time to get better, but you knew it was because they all thought you weren’t mentally stable enough to go back.
“You almost died!” You remember wincing in pain when Jean readjusted your bandages.
No matter how many times you insisted that you were feeling better and thinking more clearly, she stayed firm in her decision.
“Not. Yet.”
You can only hope that the same was happening to Seungcheol.
//
Minghao sips on his glass and the candlelight illuminates the grimace on his face. “This is not what I meant when I said they wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off each other.”
“I was hoping they’d just fuck each other’s brains out,” Mingyu shrugs. “But I guess this is another way of them taking their anger out on each other.”
“How could you joke like that when they both nearly died?” Trinh scowls, smacking the back of his head for the comment.
“Hey!” Mingyu rubs his head with a groan. “You think I wanted that to happen? I nearly shit myself when I saw the amount of blood in here!” He shudders dramatically. “But they’re both healed now, yeah?”
“Doesn’t make the situation any better.” Trinh tiredly rubs her eyes. “We can never pair them up again for training. I refuse to clean up that much blood again.”
“The reality is,” Minghao sighs, reaching over to pet her hair. “They fucking hate each other. I’m sure they’ll find another excuse to get into another bloody fight.”
“As much as I hated the fight as well, I can’t say that I’m not surprised.” Mingyu sighs. “This was a fight years in the making. We put those two together without any supervision of the professors, and what did we expect? Sunshine and chocolate frogs?”
“Their fighting in Hogwarts was child’s play compared to this,” Trinh groans, looking more tired by the second.
She shifts in her chair just enough for her to lean her head on Minghao’s shoulder, and he suddenly laughs. “Remember that time he spiked her ale with some babbling beverage right before potions class?”
A light chuckle comes from Mingyu. “Or that time she used locomotor mortis right before he leaned in for his first kiss with that Gryffindor girl and he fell right into her breasts?”
Minghao throws his head back with a loud snort. “Then there was that brilliant prank where he charmed her quill to write everything backwards during our O.W.L.S!”
“See? I’m telling you, they just need to fuck.” Mingyu lays his finger on the table to make his point. “They’ve already beat each other bloody.”
Minghao’s laughter slowly fades until his smile is no more, and reaches for his glass again. “Yeah, but he’s not the same boy as before.” He takes a final swig and downs the whole drink. “He’s changed.”
“We’ve all changed.”
Their heads all snap up to see Wonwoo standing at the end of their table. Minghao grimaces, and all traces of laughter have disappeared from his face. Looking forlornly into his half-empty glass, Mingyu stays silent as well.
“Done drinking for tonight?” He asks the trio, looking just as solemn as his crew of snakes.
Trinh throws her head back to finish hers and slams it back on the table. “Now I am.”
Mingyu holds up an empty glass for Wonwoo in offerance. “How are they doing? Still, being stubborn?
Wonwoo declines with a shake of his head and sits down to join them. “I don’t know what I expected from either of them,” he sighs. “She’s still fighting tooth and nail to get out of the room, and Seungcheol’s… well, you know how he gets when he’s moody.”
“Got the temper of a five-year-old.” Trinh shakes her head.
“But thankfully the medications are working well,” Wonwoo continues. “Wounds are pretty much all healed. I still think they need more time to mentally recover from their fight.”
“I’ve got high hopes for the Princess, but Seungcheol? Like that stubborn dickhead has any space in his thick skull to even comprehend how to do that.”
“Mingyu.” Wonwoo places a firm grip on his shoulder. “We’ve got to do something. He can’t keep going on like this, he’s only going to get worse.”
“Well, what do you suggest then?” Mingyu snaps. “Like he’ll listen to any of us.
Minghao’s expression is grim. “I’m afraid the only way he’ll get any better is if he is dead, my friend.”
//
Days and weeks flew by in the cottage and the house was slowly coming into action once again. Mingyu and Jean were still flirting around in every room, Trinh could be found giggling away with Minghao whilst pretending to not care about anyone else.
And yet, you haven’t exchanged a single word with Seungcheol. It was harder than you expected, pretending like someone doesn’t exist under the same roof as you, but you were determined to see past him like a ghost. Unsurprisingly, he had shown you the same courtesy. Seungcheol even ate his meals alone in his room or in the room down in the basement.
Walking around the house post near-death-fight was an even bigger pain than before. There was an unspoken mutual agreement between the two of you, and that was to be completely oblivious to each other’s existence. Although the entire household was pushing for the both of you to make amends, it was clear that they have all underestimated both your stubbornness. You bet you could go months, maybe even years, pretending like Seungcheol didn’t exist within the same home as you.
While the lack of contact with the miserable imp was nice, the tension still weighed heavy in the air, and you knew it was beginning to suffocate the others as well. But as much as you felt bad for your housemates, they were the ones who forced you into this whole situation in the first place.
And so, he continued to act as if you were nothing but an echo in the hallways. He didn’t even sneer or frown, or show any physical signs of threats or discomfort. He simply acted as if you didn’t exist.
And you were fine with that.
Until, well, everyone else wasn’t.
//
The night hung heavy, and the moon cast a haunting glow on the house as you readied for sleep. You were seconds away from slipping under your covers when a timid knock echoed from your door. Wearily, you trudged over to answer, revealing a Wonwoo poised to knock again.
“Wonwoo?”
“Hi.”
“Can I help you?”
Wonwoo’s arms fall to his sides, his body rigid and expression wavering with hesitance. It was clear from his eyes that he was unsure of his presence at your door, especially at this late hour.
The past few weeks have admittedly been easier with the help of Wonwoo’s presence. He took care of you in little ways that you did not expect. He brought medicine with a cup of hot tea on the side for you every day. He would accompany you in silent book readings in the common room, discreetly sitting across from you in your favorite armchair to keep you company. And whenever you felt yourself about to be overcome with anxiety, somehow, almost miraculously, Wonwoo would appear to chase that sinking feeling of fear in your chest away.
Most times, he would ask if you’d like to accompany him in some tasks, like baking muffins for breakfast the next day, or flying on the broomsticks to help clean up the roof, or even picking flowers outside to make bouquets around the cottage.
Other times, he would make you a cup of tea and simply just sit by your side. He would make small talk if you felt like talking, but if you didn’t, he would just sit in silence with you. Sometimes, you would sit in silence for so long that your tea would grow cold, but by the time you noticed, Wonwoo had already gotten up to make you a fresh cup of tea to replace the cold one in your hands.
He had such a keen sense of your anxieties, you wondered if it was because he had the same fears as you.
A heavy sigh escapes you, heart feeling pity for the boy who has diligently stayed by your side everyday since the duel. “What is it?” Your voice is soft, speaking low to not be heard by others. “I was just about to go to sleep.”
“Oh— I’ll come back another night then—”
“Nonsense. Come inside.”
“I… I don’t want to take up too much of your time…”
“You spent the past three weeks putting me back together. You are allowed some of my time.”
He still seems hesitant. A jitteriness that was now making you nervous.
“What is it?” You ask in a tense whisper. “Did you get any news? Has someone else—”
“No! No, not at all,” He waves his hands quickly, immediately banishing the thought of losing yet another classmate. “I just— well, I’m not sure if this may come as a shock to you, but you must know that your fight with Seungcheol is making everyone else in the house deeply uncomfortable—”
You let out a deep sigh of relief. “Is this what you came in the middle of the night for?” Turning your back on him, you wave your hand back, motioning for him to leave your room. “Go to bed, Wonwoo.”
He grabs your left hand, making you halt in your tracks. Turning to face him, you saw the strain etched into his expression. His other hand pauses for a second before reaching over to pull up your sleeve. “Look at what's happened to you.”
Your hand whips out of his and you bring the sleeve down in a defensive rage. “What are you here for, Wonwoo?” You demand this time.
He gathers in a shaky breath as if he were afraid to speak another word out loud. “Have you ever heard of that spell?” His voice drops to a whisper, making sure that you are the only one that can hear him. “That was dark magic, nothing like what we were ever taught in school. Who do you think taught him that spell?”
“You think I care where you learned all your demented spells from?”
“Well you should! I know there’s been a difficult history between our houses, but we’re all here together now. We’re all classmates here, why can’t you just—”
“Just what? Want me to pretend like everythings okay? Like the outside world isn’t burning up all around us? Want me to forget what he’s done to me?”
“I’m not asking for you to forgive him or any of us, but I am asking you to just… accept the situation that we’re all in. Whether you like it or not, we are on the same side now.”
“Acceptance doesn’t come that easily, it’s something to be earned.”
His face falls. “Haven’t I?” Wonwoo’s eyes turn soft, yearning and desperate. “I was hoping that— that at least I am…”
Your heart clenches with guilt. “No… you’re right.” Shaking your head, you reach over to grab his hands in yours. “You’ve— you’ve been a great friend to me the past few weeks, and I can’t ever deny that, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”
His shoulders relax, and he gently returns your grasp. Giving him a faint smile, you guide him into your room as he quietly closes the door behind him. Taking a seat together on your bed, facing each other, a sense of solemnity settles between you.
“This situation in the house…” Wonwoo’s voice is still cautious. “I felt like I needed to come to you, and tell you… if you and Seungcheol continue on this way, it will break us all apart.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes.
“People are starting to walk on eggshells around here, and it’s because of you two.”
“Did you give him the same talk, or are you just lecturing me?” You snap, unable to hold down your annoyance at how everyone’s been treating you since the duel. That loathsome fuck was the one who almost killed you, and yet everyone’s coming to you to try and make amends?
“Oh, trust me,” Wonwoo almost chuckles. “He’s getting lectured by both Mingyu and Hao. You got the lucky end of the stick.”
You bit back a smile at that.
“But you know it’s true. We have to split up with dueling practice, we don’t gather anymore to hear Jun’s nightly news, and we just eat our meals separately now. There needs to be some unity between us in order for us to work together.”
A bitter laugh escapes you. “Since when did you become so pragmatic?”
“I’ve always been,” he responds in exasperation. “I might be friends with those idiots, but don’t lump me in with their antics.”
“You’ve revealed your true self to me six years too late,” You say wryly.
Wonwoo reaches over to grasp your hands again. “I know, and that’s exactly why I refuse to let this chance slip away.” His look is so serious, your smile drops. “Besides, haven’t you ever noticed? I was always the one to pull the boys out of the fights.”
You pause, genuinely considering his words. “I can’t say I have.”
Wonwoo scoffs lightly. “Course not. Your attention was always elsewhere.”
“Like where?” You raise a brow.
“You know where,” he raises a brow back at you. “But now your attention is needed here. I came here because I need you to understand.”
“Understand what, Wonwoo.” Frustration starts to build. “That we’re all in this together now? That we aren’t enemies anymore because we’re fighting on the same side? I get it,” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm. “I still hate the bloody ass, but we’re stuck in this damned house for the same reason.”
The corner of his lips quirk up. “Glad to see that you’re not in denial anymore, but it’s important you know why we ran away in the first place.”
“Because your malevolent Dark Lord is out there murdering people left and right?”
“You’re not wrong,” he says, his eyes darkening. “Believe me when I say that even his most devoted followers feared him. It might have seemed like we were just taking Dark Magic lessons from the Death Eaters, but we were prisoners there. We— we were taught all these different ways to torture, sometimes even forced—”
Your face contorts in confusion, a sick feeling starting to settle in your stomach. “Have you ever…”
“Never.” He shuts you down before you could finish your question. “But… we came close a few times.”
Your hands draw away from his as a chill runs down your spine. Wonwoo looks ashamed, his hands clenched into fists.
“They trained us to be like them. They wanted us to just be another soldier. They taught us how to fight, how to torture, how to kill. They tried to poison our minds.”
A familiar panic starts to fill in his eyes, and guilt washes over you. The fear you’ve developed since running away from the Death Eaters was nothing in comparison to what he went through. How could anyone come out of that normal?
“They made us watch every night. We watched every single muggle, muggle-born or “traitor” be tortured until death. The Death Eaters were creative for sure, I watched some of their bodies be twisted in ways they shouldn’t and others lose their sanity. And on nights where the Eaters had a bit too much to drink, they would make us test the curses out on each other.”
A silence falls on your face, horror-stricken.
“One night… I saw him, Seokmin’s father. I recognized him from the platform before boarding the train. Seokmin looked just like him, the same eyes and smile… I had no idea he was a Muggle. I tried to help him escape.”
Your hands finds his again, gripping his fingers, apologetic for pulling away in the first place. The panic slowly rising in Wonwoo’s eyes.
“I had no idea he was a muggle,” he repeats, the pained look in his eyes begging you to believe him. “I thought we were almost out, but I got caught. Cicero— he was the one who caught me.”
His fingers felt cold in your hands.
“That was the last time I saw his father,” he murmurs. “And Cicero took me away.”
He pulls one hand up to his buttons on his shirt, a slight tremble as he starts to undo them. “Right here,” he guides one of your hands up to the center of his chest. “Is where I have the same scars as you.”
Your heart shatters at the revelation.
He laughs bitterly as you trail your fingers down his disfigured skin. “We all have them. Mingyu has them on his chest as well. Minghao is growing his hair longer to hide the ones on his back, and Seungcheol…” he shakes his head.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I never knew… I never imagined… the things you’ve been through,” your words fracture, not knowing what to say.
He’s back to smiling, a maddening reassurance you know he’s trying to give you despite the panic still in his eyes.
“Jean and I may have mended you back together, but Seungcheol cast the counterspell. He’s the one that saved you.”
“Seungcheol? But he’s the one who—”
“I know,” he nods. “He’s the one who used it on you in the first place, but when you were bleeding out in the common room, shirt torn apart and lifeless, it woke something back up in him.”
You shook your head, not saying anything. You didn’t want to believe him, but there was a quiet stirring in your head.
“He was the Dark Lord’s favorite. He trained the most out of all of us, the Dark Lord wanted to use him for his plans, and after months and months of enduring his training… he just couldn’t take it anymore.”
Tears start welling up in his eyes, his voice a mere whisper. “Something inside him… just snapped.” A tear falls from his face. “He didn’t want to kill the headmaster, but he had no choice. He had to. My closest friend is broken now because of it, and— and I don’t know how to fix him.”
Your chest crumples at the sight before you.
“He’s made the Unbreakable Vow.” Wonwoo reveals. “I needed you to understand. He just wanted to live.”
#scoups scenarios#seungcheol scenarios#seventeen scenarios#seventeen#scoups fic#seungcheol fic#harry potter au#seventeen x harry potter#seventeen harry potter au#seventeen x reader#seungcheol x reader#scoups x reader#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo fic#wonwoo scenarios#wonwoo fanfic#wonwoo angst
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six months - j.m x gn!reader
posted april 10th, 2023 11:31 pm
i've been on hiatus for quite some time now, and my birthday was a few days ago and that inspired some writing. I finally fell down the jj maybank rabbit hole and decided to test this out, lmk if you enjoyed xx - xe
masterlist
wordcount: 0.6k
You didn’t think anything of it when you made it to John B’s and was greeted by JJ with nothing more than a hey and a quick kiss on the cheek. 5 minutes afterward though, when JJ followed John B out to the pogue, Kie sat by you on the couch.
“Isn’t today your anniversary?” She asked, pulling her knees to her chest.
“Yeah, six months, why?” You watched as Pope got up and went to go catch up with the boys.
“Are you guys doing anything for it? To be honest, I didn’t think JJ could last in a relationship this long” Kie jokes, nudging you a little while you laughed.
“No, I don’t think so, I mean, I didn’t plan anything. I don’t know I guess it just flew by so fast it doesn’t feel like its been that long you know?”
And besides, you always thought that six months isn’t even that impressive. Not for you and JJ anyway, he was already your best friend before you got together, now it just felt like he was your best friend who got kissing privileges.
“Do you think JJ is planning anything?” you shrugged in response.
It didn’t seem very JJ to do something for an anniversary
But just maybe a little part of you hoped he had. Or that he’d at least mention it sometime tonight.
Kie stood up, making a comment on how long it was taking the boys to come back just as the three of them came into sight.
“Hey, what took you guys so long-” you were cut off by John B.
“We have to go get some supplies to clean the pogue,” You gave him a confused look before responding, “Clean the pogue? I don’t even think I’ve seen you hose it down before.”
Pope piped up, “It’s filthy, here take this rag and go start wiping down the outside,” he tossed you a grease-covered green rag as John B grabbed his key and signaled for Kie and Pope to follow him.
You saw Kiara nod at JJ before she smiled at you and followed the two boys as they rushed to the old van.
“The fuck’s that about?” You asked, standing up and making your way to your boyfriend.
“No idea but it looks like we got stuck with the outside job,” You looked at JJ, even more confused than before.
“What? You’re actually gonna listen to them?”
“The pogue is practically our safe haven, good to treat her nice by keepin’ her clean.” You scoffed in response, giving JJ a lighthearted glare before he laughed. “C’mon,”
Reluctantly, you followed him to the pogue, playing with the dirty rag in your hand as you walked, occasionally hitting his shoulder and laughing at how he’d tried to grab it from you.
As the boat you spent so much time on came into view, you noticed it looked completely different.
“What the hell?” JJ smiled in response before turning to face you and opening his arms in a “Ta-da!” form.
Inside the pogue was an old picnic blanket from John B’s porch, Kie’s cooler, and some fake candles scattered around the boat.
You pouted, looking back at JJ to see him still smiling proudly. “Happy anniversary, mama”
“Did you guys just do this?” You asked, staring in awh of the setup.
“Yeah, you like it?” “course, I do, I didn’t think you’d want to do something like this,” JJ furrowed his brows at you before throwing his arm around your shoulders.
“Seriously? I’ve been spoken for, for 6 whole months, that’s a new record for me” You laughed in response before asking, “What’s in that cooler?”
Once again that ever so proud smile returned to his pretty face before he happily told you he and Kie made sandwiches and John B stuffed the cooler with beer.
“So it’ll be just us, on the pogue, all night?” you asked, stepping inside the boat and watching as JJ copied your actions.
“All night, baby.”
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