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lovebugism · 1 year

Note

hiii idk if you’re still taking requests but can you do something smutty with steve in season 3 w his scoops ahoy uniform on after he gets home from work or something🙏🏼🙏🏼

like sub!babygirl!steve is so 🤤🤤😽😽 and a

dom!femreader 🫶❤️❤️ AND OMG HE HAS A MOMMY KINK😧😧 I BEG OF YOU

✶ ┄ OH, BABY !

summary: after a long day at work, steve harrington needs someone (*cough cough* you) to take care of him. pairing: sub!steve harrington / f!reader word count: 5.6k warnings: sub!steve, brief use of a mommy kink, r calls steve daddy like twice i think, mention of a breeding kink, 18+ mdni (ignore any typos, i am way too tired to proofread <3) a/n: hi, it's me again, turning a blurb request into a full length fic. also i can't stop writing for sub steve apparently. all i can say is baby girl is baby girlin real hard in this one lol thanks so much for your request! enjoy xoxo

( BLURB SLEEPOVER ) | ( MASTERLIST )

It’s sunset by the time his shift at Scoops concludes. He serves the last few remaining customers while Robin less than kindly ushers out the loitering teenagers that have stuck around all day.

A group of moms clad in vividly colored spandex tells him “we’re being bad today” like some sort of mantra that makes them feel better about ordering plain vanilla ice cream. Some middle school aged girls with a mouthful of braces, crimped hair in pigtails, and absolutely wreaking of fruity perfume and daddy’s money try helplessly to flirt with him while they use a matte black card to purchase a banana boat sundae.

His last customers of the night are an old married couple, all gray and wrinkly and smiling like life’s still so new to them. They order one strawberry cone to share between them and hold onto each other’s shaking, frail hands as they make their exit.

Steve smiles as he watches them go. He sees a lot of you and him in them. He hopes by the time you both are all old and brittle, you’ll still be happy like that, still so in love.

Working in the downstairs abyss of Starcourt makes him feel crazy sometimes. With no windows and only manufactured fluorescent lighting for ten hours straight, it makes time feel less and less real.

Sometimes he’ll be in before sun out and cower like some sort of vampire when his shift is over. Other times, he’ll come out when it’s pouring down rain and be absolutely baffled at the sight of it because it was perfectly sunny when his shift started.

Everything else but ice cream all but ceases to exist in the hole of Scoops Ahoy — weather, time, life.

Even though it’s closing when he leaves, Steve doesn’t realize how dark it’s gotten outside until he’s walking through the desolate parking lot to his car. The bustling mall has fallen asleep with the rest of the town. The sky has long turned to a navy velvet, the stars and full moon bright white silk.

It makes his limbs heavy and his eyelids heavier as his tired bones ache for rest.

Steve makes the longer drive out to the cabin rather than his own home to see you. Hopper’s out for some conference which means El gets to spend every ounce of her time at the Wheeler’s and you and Steve get to play house.

He doesn’t bother to knock before he comes in. He shuffles through the entrance like his feet are made of lead and leans his weight against the door after he clicks it closed.

The sound of his arrival gets your attention from where you scurry around the kitchen. A smile pulls slowly at your face as you turn over your shoulder to look at him, placing a cover over a pot of something that smells like your infamous chicken alfredo.

“Hey, Stevie,” you greet with a beam and a sort of sunshine in your voice that Steve’s been missing all day.

His body relaxes for the first time since he got up this morning at the sight of you, freshly showered and in your pajamas for the night — an oversized t-shirt that definitely didn’t belong to you before, because it used to be his.

You look more like home than any four walls could ever be to him.

Steve tries his best to give you a smile in return, but it’s weighed down by fatigue and not all there.

You can see it all over him, every ounce of exhaustion on his lax and tired features. Slinging ice cream for less than grateful customers for ten hours straight has taken an obvious toll on him. The bright blue sailor’s uniform makes him look more boyish, but no less tired — or hot.

Your heart swells at how cozy he looks, fatigued and warmed and in dire need of being taken care of. It makes you glad that you started dinner earlier than normal, even happier that you’ve got the house to yourselves.

You exit the kitchen and walk the short distance to him, taking his scruffy cheeks in your palms and rubbing your thumbs against his cheeks.

“Hard day?” you wonder softly and smile to himself when you feel Steve nestle further into your touch.

The boy hums lowly in reply — neither a yes or a no, but a short hmph that means he doesn’t want to talk about it now. He doesn’t like thinking about work when you’re in his arms and all over him. He’d rather pretend like you’re the only thing that exists and let the rest of the world slip slowly away.

He turns his face to kiss the inside of your wrists. You smell like lavender, he finds, and it makes him that much more tired and needy for you.

His hands settle on your arms, fingers wrapping themselves just below your wrists. “Just tired,” he answers finally. “How was your day?”

“Better than yours, I’m assuming,” you quip with a smile. Your hands drag from his face, down the tense columns of his neck, and settle at the white lapel of his uniform. Steve lets you pull him down by his red neckerchief until his lips press against yours, the pillows of them far cozier than the bed and blanket he so craves right now.

He grows somehow heavier against you. He exhales deeply through his nose as his aching muscles start to relax, the warmth of it brushes against your cupid’s bow. His hands fall to your back and ball into your shirt as he clutches so ardently onto you, as though terrified he might have to go another agonizing ten hours without you.

Your smile contorts against his mouth. A laugh exhales sharply through your nose at this tired boy, exhausted and too willing to let you swallow him whole.

As much as you want to take care of you him, you want him to get a little food in his belly and fresh clothes on his skin.

He’s got freshly laundered cottons sitting in a drawer you cleaned out in your room especially for him and a pot of his favorite food simmering on the stove. He’ll be golden in an hour or more and you’ll happily take care of him then.

Steve whines when you pull away from him. The pathetic sound bubbles from his throat and his face screws up like you’ve actually pained him by not kissing him more. He ducks down, looming over you, as his lips chase yours.

You giggle at him, letting him kiss you — one, two, three quick pecks and a fourth sweeter, more drawn-out one he presses against you as the two of you stumble back into the living room.

“You need to eat first, okay?” you protest when you part from him again, lips clicking wetly as they separate. “You probably haven’t had anything all day.”

“I had half a banana in the break room at lunch,” he retorts, half-heartedly.

“Exactly,” you scold. “Go get changed and then we can eat, ‘kay?”

“If you wanted to see me naked so bad, you could’ve just said.”

You roll your eyes at him and how he’s still so sly despite being so damn tired. You push playfully against his chest and squirm out from under where he’d cornered you between his body and the back of the couch. “You smell like a sundae and cheap cologne—”

“Blame those assholes from Abercrombie.”

“—hit the showers, Harrington,” you tell him with a playful sternness, swatting him on the ass as you pass by him.

The action stopped surprising him a long time ago. He’d complained relentlessly about corporate and the stupid outfit they made him wear to work every morning until he realized how much you liked it.

After that, Steve figured he could put up with the itching and the chaffing and the weird stares from other mall-goers. As long as it meant you being unable to keep your hands off of him, dropping to your knees in front of him before he left for work, visiting him at lunch because you just had to see him again.

“You comin’ too, or…?” he jokes in reply, already inching towards the bathroom, but secretly hoping you’ll say yes.

You refuse to amuse him, though, and instead tell him that you have to keep stirring the pasta so it won’t burn. He’s too tired and too excited to wash all the muck of the long workday from his body to beg.

You knew just what he needed — like you always do. He’s as good as gold by the time he gets out of the shower, smelling of your shampoo and practically glittering at how good he feels.

His skin gets to breathe for the first time all day when he slips on a pair of boxers and a faded forest green Hawkins High sweatshirt. They’re freshly washed. He can tell by how soft they feel and the way they smell of fresh detergent.

It makes his heart swell.

While he’s been slinging ice cream and questioning all of his life choices, you’ve been washing his clothes, folding them and putting the in their own drawer in your dresser. You’ve been cooking him his favorite dinner, knowing he hasn’t eaten all day, because you know everything about him.

You do it all because you love him. You don’t have to think twice about it before you so effortlessly take care of him.

He swears you’ll feed him if he begs hard enough, but Steve hasn’t reached that level of tiredness yet. He does, however, force you to sit halfway in his lap while the both of you opt to eat on the couch in the living room rather than the kitchen table.

A repeat of Miami Vice plays on the tiny television across the room and you tell him about what you’d done on your day off in between shoveling forkfuls of pasta into your mouth with your legs slung into his lap.

Most of it was spent taking care of chores, a feat made harder without Hopper and El to take on the extra workloads but easier because their absence meant less shit to get done.

You drove Dustin and Lucas to the Wheeler’s house later that morning, then doubled back across Hawkins when Max called and all but begged you to free her from the hellscape on Cherry Lane, as she so lovingly put it. You picked her up and dropped her off with the rest of her friends.

And even though they all swore they had rides back home, they’d called again some hours later and asked too sweetly if you could take them back across town.

You complain and grumble about it, but you do it for them anyway.

Because you take care of people. That’s just what you do.

“So you were a personal chauffeur for a bunch of kids all day?” Steve jokes and laughs to himself as he swipes a smudge of alfredo sauce from your chin with his thumb

“Basically,” you nod in reply.

When that’s all done — and the episode is over and the dishes are in the sink and your teeth are freshly brushed — you tell Steve to get into bed, and then to get his head out of the gutter at the look he gives you after.

He’s pleasantly surprised when you bring a whole basket of things from the bathroom and into your bedroom. He watches silently, obediently, as you light a candle on the far side of the room before climbing into bed beside him.

“Scoot down a little,” you tell him. “And take off your shirt.”

He does it all without question. He rises, strips himself of his top, and tosses the thing mindlessly on the floor beside the bed. With his lean torso and bare chest on display, spotted with tufts of chestnut-colored hair and smelling of your body wash, he lazes back onto the bed again with his head on the pillows.

Steve holds his breathe when you straddle his chest.

“Comfy?” you ask him quietly.

He can only nod in response.

His eyes are wide, twinkling with love and curiosity. It makes you smile. He’s always so soft in his way, so compliant with you — and, fuck, if you don’t love how he looks when he’s underneath you.

You lean down to press a chaste kiss to the chiseled tip of his nose then reach for one of the many bottles stacked inside the wicker basket. You drip the rose-scented liquid onto a cottonpad and tell him that it’s cleanser.

“I thought I was already clean?” he retorts.

“Well, this shit is gonna make ya glow like a baby, Harrington,” you tell him and swipe the stuff up and down his face — across his forehead, along his nose, and around his stubbly jaw. “Which means it’s perfect for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’re a baby,” you quip once, then smile lovingly down at him. “My baby,” you correct.

“Damn straight,” he hums with a soft smile, then shuts his eyes when you trade the cleanser for what you call a liquid exfoliator. He doesn’t ask what that means. He doesn’t say much of anything really, because he’s enamored with the way you dote on him.

Your day has been just as busy as his, maybe not as mind-numbing, but still busy. You’ve been bouncing all across town, trying to make sure a bunch of kids weren’t putting themselves in total danger — Steve knows firsthand how hard that can be.

And yet, you keep caring for him, like it’s more important than how tired you must be.

The way you’ve settled on top of him is just a bonus. It’s not as domineering as you usually are in this position, straddling your legs over him and forcing his face between your legs with your fingers tangled in his hair. He wouldn’t have minded if that’s what you’d done in the first place. He would’ve thanked you for it, really.

It’s comforting more than it is anything, the subtle weight of you on top of him, keeping him grounded.

You rub something that feels like lotion into his skin. The tips of your fingers massage his face — they dig softly into his temples, relieving all the strain there, then trace around his curve of his jaw. Steve sighs and melts into your touch. It makes you laugh.

“Look at you,” you giggle, all soft like the moonlight streaming in rays from the windows. Then you tease him. “My baby’s gettin’ all pampered tonight, huh?”

“That stuff smells really good,” he notes. “Think it’s safe enough to taste?”

You know he’s joking, but you flick him in the center of his freshly moisturized forehead anyway, when his tongue darts out the side of his mouth to lick around his lips.

“You’re such an idiot,” you scold with a laugh. “There’s no way we’re gonna be able to have a kid if you keep acting like one, Steve Harrington.”

The boy's eyes fly open. “…A kid?” he repeats in something short of a whisper.

You only hum in reply with a little shrug like you’re trying to play it all off. Like you didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on him and left him to pick up the pieces. Like it isn't the sweetest goddamn thing he’s ever heard in his life (even though you are sort of making fun of him).

“You want a kid with me?” he presses, eyes sparkling and full of hope.

“‘Course I do,” you shrug again, focusing on capping the moisturizer and putting it away rather than meeting his intense gaze. “Want anything and everything with you, Stevie.”

The boy doesn’t bother to hide the grin your words put on his face. He’s all but beaming from where he lays beneath you, trying to make sure he’s still breathing because his heart has started to flutter something fierce.

It was something the two of you only ever talked about in passing — usually him bringing up the idea of having kids and you swatting them all down.

“We’re too young,” you tell him. “We’re too broke”, “we’re too dumb.” The occasional “my dad is literally in the next room, he’ll kill you if he hears you talking like that” shuts him up real quick.

But here you are now, telling him you want a baby with him, that you want everything with him. It drives him absolutely insane.

“Yeah?” he hums in response, idle hands rising and settling upon your bare thighs, rubbing at the smooth skin there, petting you almost. The room gets suddenly and unbearably hot with the look he gives you, innocent and knowing and hungry.

You feel him shift from underneath you, the hardening cock in his boxers making it hard to stay as comfortable as he had been.

“You wanna be a mommy, honey?” he all but coos. “Wanna take care of our kids like you take care of me?”

Though his words set a fire in the pit of your stomach, the tone of them makes you roll your eyes. It’s like flipping a light switch when it comes to Steve. It takes next to nothing to turn him into a puddle of mush.

He’s always raring to go when it comes to you, and you’d be lying if you said it was totally invigorating.

“What happened to my sweet, sleepy, baby Stevie, huh?” you tease, hands leaving his face to caress the ones he’s got resting on your thighs. “Thought you were too tired?”

He shakes his head defiantly. “Never too tired for you.”

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you scold with bubbly laughter when you feel his large hands trail up your legs. His finger falls beneath your shirt, the tips of them sneaking into the rounded hems of your underwear, all but cupping your ass to drag you further up his chest.

He’s practically salivating at the mere thought of tasting you. Of knowing that the only thing separating you from him is a couple of inches and the thin fabric of your underwear.

He knows that when he slides them to the side, you’ll be wet and needing him underneath, slick enough for his tongue to slip right in.

And, truth be told, oral sex wasn’t the easiest when you weren’t alone. It was too precarious of a position. If Hopper knocked on the door and barged in hardly a moment later, you needed to break away quickly.

So when your dad and little sister were home, it was easier to use your hands to get each other off. And, maybe, if Steve was real good, you’d let him fuck you.

But his mouth on you? There wasn’t enough good he could be for you to let him do that, not when your father was on the other side of the door in the living room. Because you’re pretty sure death would be easier than your dad catching Steve Harrington giving cunnilingus to his daughter. You’re pretty sure you’d die on the spot, anyway.

But Hopper is miles away. Your sister is on the other side of town. And you’re alone with your boyfriend, hidden away in a cabin in the middle of the woods. It’s the perfect recipe for the best sex of your life.

“Don’t care,” Steve murmurs, pressing kisses to the inner parts of your thigh when he settles you more intently over his shoulders. “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah?” you croon. From below you, the boy notes the arched brow and knowing glint in your eye that usually means trouble. “Daddy wants to make mommy feel good, huh?”

Steve knows exactly why you said it. Why you chose to say it like that. It’s the same reason you brought up the kid thing in the first place. Because you knew it would drive him crazy.

And it’s not like you ever had to try to make him mental, all you really had to do was walk into a room and he was done for. But you didn’t just want to just make him go insane, you wanted to ruin him.

And you know you’ve done just that when a groan spills from his mouth and two strong hands dig rather ruthlessly into your hips. He pulls you down without warning, pressing your clothed pussy closer to his face and dragging his nose between your covered lips. A moan leaves your mouth in a heavy exhale when the tip of it nudges your clit.

“Like being called daddy, huh?” you tease through bated breaths.

Steve nods in reply as he hooks a finger through the hem of your panties and slides them to the side, putting your pretty, glistening pussy on display for him.

He was right about what he said before — you were soaked.

All but drunk on the sight of you, he presses open-mouthed kisses to your inner thigh. “Like the other thing, too,” he mumbles against your skin, like he’s hiding himself there.

“The other thing?” you question with pinched brows. The confusion ebbs like a rolling tide as you realize: “Oh. You wanna call me mommy, Stevie?” you ask with a joking lilt.

“Shut up,” he groans against you.

He’s pleasantly surprised when your hand grabs the strands of his hair like reigns, pulling him back just before he puts his mouth on your pussy. He’s even more stunned at the stern expression taking over your features, not nearly as playful as you’d been moments before.

Suddenly you’re ten feet tall, and he’s nothing more than an ant, at the mercy of your boot.

“That’s no way to talk to your mommy, is it, Stevie?”

He shakes his head with glazed over eyes. “Sorry.”

“Sorry… what?”

There is an underlying tone in your voice, something teasing and yet somehow serious all at once. It’d make him roll his eyes if he weren’t lying beneath you like this. Now, with your pussy mere inches from his face, he isn’t quite sure how to be anything but obedient.

“Sorry, mommy,” he corrects.

A flip switches and you’re smiling again. “Good boy,” you praise and it makes his cock twitch in the confines of his boxers. Your hand guides him to your pussy again.

Steve’s always been good at oral. A little too good, actually. It made you jealous sometimes, to know that his technique has been perfected over years of experience.

“All the other girls were just practice for you, honey,” he’d soothe your seething rage with a wink and a tongue shoved deep into your cunt.

You believe him now, that every other girl was just an obstacle for him to get to you, because no one’s had him like this. No one will ever have him like this.

You’re the one who’s got him on his back with his mouth on your pussy. You’re the one who’s got him calling you mommy.

And it makes you feel like a fucking giant.

He wastes little time to envelope your cunt with his mouth. You feel the muffled grunt he lets out at the tangy and familiar taste of you. His tongue pushes into your cunt, licking you with the intent of devouring you entirely. His nose presses intently against your clit, prodding the little button as you ride his face. He encourages every thrust, guiding your hips up and down his mouth.

“Fuck, Stevie,” you whine and feel him smile drunkenly against your pussy, never ceasing his assault against your sensitive skin.

Your head falls back, suddenly too heavy to hold up. Your gaze settles on the ceiling, though you’re not exactly looking at it, and moans fall from your open mouth and into the heavy air — billowing laments in the moonlight.

“You make me feel so good,” you murmur to yourself, but to him especially, knowing he turns into a ticking time bomb when he’s praised. “Always make mommy feel so fucking good, baby.”

He groans against you, and it makes your hips twitch over his face.

Your head turns and your glazed over eyes fall on the hard cock trapped in his underwear. It’s more than apparent against the thin fabric with a wet patch of precum darkening the plaid cotton. The sight of it, paired with his lips wrapped around your clit, makes you moan most pitifully.

“Fuck, Steve,” you cry. “You’re gonna make me come. Holy shit, baby— gonna come so hard in your mouth.” The promise makes Steve double his efforts against you, wanting nothing more than to taste every drop you can give him. “I’ll ride you after, 'kay? Make you come so hard you can’t see straight. Fuck. I’m so fucking close.”

You figure his muffled whine is an affirmative.

“If you make me come now, maybe I’ll let you come inside me—”

You barely get to finish your sentence before Steve’s wrapping his arms around your thighs and keeping you pressed against his face. His tongue works overtime inside of your cunt, attentively flicking against every part of your velvet walls that it can reach, while his nose nudges your clit most relentlessly.

It has you reaching your climax within seconds, hips jerking against him while his hold on you tightens. Steve only lets you go when he’s certain you’ve ridden out every inch of your orgasm.

You’re shaking and half-numb when you unfold your body from his and settle next to him on the bed. You press yourself over him as your lips swallow his, tasting yourself on his mouth that glistens with you.

Your torso is splayed over his bare one, knees digging into the mattress at his side as you arch your back to push yourself further into him.

“Was that good for you?” he mutters after you’ve pulled away, sliding the tip of your nose up and down the bridge of his.

A laugh escapes you in a sharp scoff. If he couldn’t have felt how good it was for you — after you all but writhed against him — surely he must’ve tasted it dripping like honey from your cunt.

“It’s always good,” you assure him, then murmur more quietly, “Always so good for mommy.”

You keep the promise you’d made him no more than minutes beforehand. You pull down his boxers at the same time he’s trying to get you out of your shirt, and it’s just a mess of yearning limbs until the both of you are naked.

You rub yourself over his cock a few times, getting it all slick with you in the place of lube, because you know taking him is never an easy feat. The stretch of his dick inside you is always delicious but fuck if it doesn’t burn. It’s like fire in every sense of the word, hot and filthy paired with a distant ache.

Steve lets you set the pace as you get used to his length nestled deep inside your velvet. His hands rest compliantly on your hips as you grind against him, honeyed gaze fixed on your fucked out features as you take him — brows pinched, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

Then, when every inch of him is snug in your cunt and your senses return to you, you deny him of his want to touch you. Your fingers wrap around his wrists and push them into the pillow on either side of his head. “Mommy didn’t say you could touch her, did she?” you purr to him as you lean over him. He shakes his head obediently, if only it meant that you kept fucking yourself on top of him.

And you do. Most ardently.

You keep your bare chest pressed against his fuzzy one, nose-to-nose as you slide your hips over his. And even though he’s had you like this before (in this position and many others), it feels brand new every time. It’s like he’s never felt you before despite how familiar you feel.

It triggers his body into a sense of fight of flight, as though frightened he’ll never get to have you again. It leaves him fucking you like it’ll be the last time he’s inside you, every fucking time.

It never is, though — obviously. Most times he only has to wait a couple minutes or more before he gets to take you again.

But now, with his hands balled into fists beside his head and your’s braced on his chest, digging into the patch of hair there as you rock back and forth on his hard cock — the tip of it nestled deep inside of you and hitting every sweet spot that makes you keen — has left him an absolute wreck beneath you.

He’s chasing his pleasure like he’s never felt it before. Like he won’t feel it again.

“Your cock feels so good, Stevie,” you moan above him.

“‘M not gonna last long, baby,” he mutters between harsh and labored pants.

“’S okay… I want you to come,” you promise and press a too sweet kiss to his swollen, pink lips. You move your hips more intently over him. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills your bedroom. “Want you to fill me up.”

“Yeah?” he breathes out in something short of a whimper. His eyes are glassy and his brows are furrowed and it takes everything in him not to fuck up into you — because he wants to be good, he wants to be good for you.

“Yeah… Want you come in me… Fuck me until it takes,” you babble over top of him, knowing exactly what it’s doing to the whining boy beneath you. “Wanna give you a baby— fuck— I wanna make you a daddy, Stevie.”

A whine spills from his throat. His toes curl into the fabric of your comforter, eyes rolling back into his head, body tensing as he digs his fingers into the skin of his palms that still ache to touch you.

Your name spills from his mouth along with a string of curses and pretty little cries when he stuffs you full of his come.

You happily accept every load he shoots into you as work him through every aftershock of his orgasm. Yours doesn’t come so easy — you roll your hips over yourself and rub your clit until you’re twitching right along with him.

You come down from your highs together with a tender softness. You lay over him, one hand combing through his curls and the other stroking softly at his sweat-slicked bicep. You watch with heavy eyes as his orgasm rolls over him.

His chest rises and falls with every heavy breath, stuttering when another pang of pleasure hits him all of a sudden. “Fuck,” he whines harshly into the heavy air.

He’s happy you don’t deny him when his arms wrap around your waist, hands rubbing up and down the expanse of your slick back.

You press tiny kisses to his face as he comes down — his nose, his cheeks, his forehead his stubbly chin and jaw. You press one, two, three pecks to his lips before you slide off of him, then laugh when he whines.

You’re gone for hardly more than three minutes, but to Steve, it feels like an eternity’s gone by.

You return from the bathroom, wiped freshly clean, and blow out the nearly burnt-out candle on your dresser before you slither back into his side. One of his arms curls beneath your shoulders to pull you closer to him with his other rests on the back of yours that’s settled on his chest.

You share one pillow, noses inches away from one another’s, while you bask in the warm moment and the sex-coated air around you before you have to break it.

“You know I’m still on the pill, right?” you ask him.

He nods.

“And that we’re—”

“Way too young to have a kid right now?” he finishes for you, though the idea makes him sad. He nods.

“Yeah… And—”

“Too broke? I know that too.”

“Also my—”

“Your dad would kill me if I got you pregnant?”

It makes you laugh. You hadn’t realized you’d talked about having kids this many times — at least, not enough for him to memorize all the reasons why it’s not the best idea right now.

“Yeah, I know it’s not happening any time soon,” Steve says with a sigh. “I like to pretend, though. Plus, it’s not even about that to me, you know? I just… I just like being with you and… everything.”

Everything, you repeat to yourself. A word that means so much and nothing at all.

No one knows what everything means, they just know that it’s a lot, a whole lot. That’s what makes it so special. Steve wants it all with you — the overbearing dad, the sister with powers, the teenage kids who never let you have a single second to yourselves when they’re around.

It’s a lot sometimes, most times, but he’ll weather it all with you.

“You like being with me?” you echo just to see him nod.

He does. “I love being with you,” he corrects.

“Love calling me mommy, too, huh?”

He realizes then, the sincere moment was just a set-up for that stupid joke. He groans and flops his head back on the pillow, but makes no move to distance himself from you.

“Oh, my god,” he moans in annoyance. “Am I gonna have to deal with this the rest of my life?”

You nod. “Sorry, Harrington, but I’m never letting that shit go.”

Good, he thinks to himself, even though he pretends to hate it because it makes you laugh. He never wants you to stop.

#published by bug #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stevie oneshot #st oneshots

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be-with-me-so-happily · 10 months

Text

Not Another Time

ONE SHOT

[ or Part 2 of Could We Not ]

<< Request >> "I loved could we not. Can you maybe also write when that guy came running on stage and he maybe pushes reader out of the way or something like that😅" - anon

<< Request >> "Omg PLEASE could you do more parts or ‘could we not’ literally loved it!!!" - @loza--may

Summary: Harry is used to things getting crazy on tour. What he wasn't ready for is how much he misses YN during the Latin American leg of his tour. But at the Rio de Janeiro show, he needs to expect the unexpected.

AN: Highly requested part 2, which I wasn't expecting but am so honored to have written for you all. Sorry it took me FOREVER to write and post this. I hope you like it.

Warnings: Some explicit language, attempted attack by a fan, mild head injury

Not much can shake Harry when it comes to wild moments on tour, throughout his entire career. There once was a fan hiding in a trash bin, dildos thrown at his face, wedding proposals, canceled shows due to illness, and there was even a time when a girl tried to dolphin her way onto the stage, back in the early days. But he still loves it, loves it all. It's titled 'Love On Tour' for a reason.

Now, he's in Latin America. Any and every performance here has such a special place in Harry's heart. He has a 'brasil' tattoo on his thigh, after all. However, the time is a little different.

The horn players have not accompanied the band for these shows. No trombone, no saxophone, and no trumpets. Which means no YN. No sweet but subtle winks onstage, no flirtatious comments backstage, no seeing her bright smile, no hearing her pure laugh, or getting lost in her beautifully deep eyes. No gazing at her lips and wishing so desperately that he could kiss them again.

Unfortunately, their first kiss was their last. Harry hopes that's not forever. But after it happened, he got sick, putting a crimp in his plans to further things with her. When he recovered, their time was taken up by those last few shows in Los Angeles. Then he was off to Mexico. And she wasn't.

Needless to say, her absence is very apparent. To him, at least.

So, like he has done every show since Guadalajara, Harry checks his phone after getting dressed. He wants to make sure he hasn't missed any 'good luck' texts before going on stage, but a disappointed sigh releases as he sees that he has no new messages.

"Alright, H. Ten minutes." The stage assistant announces.

Harry nods, handing his phone over and grabbing his mic pack from the sound tech. The band gathers around for a little pre-show ritual and Harry feels the tug on his heart, wishing there were four more members in their huddle, so there could be one particular member tucked under his arm. But he commits to staying focused on his performance, to put on a good show for the people of Rio de Janeiro.

Despite a few fans fainting in Bogota, things have been relatively smooth so far, and this night should be no different. All he has to do is get out there and get through it.

"Do you know the words to this one Rio?" Harry shouts to the crowd as the band begins to play 'What Makes You Beautiful'.

Despite his efforts, this song always makes him miss YN. The trumpets in the backing track just don't do this song, or any of the songs, as much justice as when she is there, with him, playing live. The other three too, of course, but he has always been able to distinguish her trumpet from the other horns, and he would always dance near her while this song played. Without that, without her, it's just not nearly as exciting.

As he begins the second verse, Harry moves to his left, twisting around to tug on the mic cord that feels as if it's caught on something.

"I don't know why you're being shy…" Harry's eyes shoot up and then around as a security guard strides past him, settling his gaze on a figure charging towards him. "And you turn away when I look into your eyes."

It's like a flash. He is walking, then swiveling around, moving over, and then backing up into another security guard. All within a matter of a few seconds. It takes a moment for him to fully understand what's happening, as multiple crew members grab hold of the man.

Watching him be dragged offstage, Harry moves back to the center mic, still in shock of what happened but still wanting to continue the song.

He glances over to each side of the stage, shaking the disbelief away when he meets the gazes of a few of the band and crew. Each one reciprocates the sentiment, yet seem to keep their caution, as a few of them motion over that way. Harry turns back, just for a quick check, and notices a small group of people gathered in a huddle. He turns back to the crowd. He trusts his team, he knows they are handling whatever it is, and he won't let this one moment take away from the show. It can't stop him. It won't stop him.

As the song ends he takes a quick moment to gather himself and take a breath before turning to the crowd.

"Well that was different…" He states sarcastically, though truthfully. It's probably one of the more accurate ways to describe that moment, especially if he's trying to keep this a 'family show', as he always claims. "Is everybody okay?"

The fans laugh and cheer, seeming to answer his question with the same disbelief he feels.

"I'm shooketh… I'm shooketh!" He exclaims, receiving another laugh from the audience. At least they are recovering and feeling good. Now he can recover and feel good too. He twists around, looking from one side of the stage to another, meeting the gaze of a few security guards and crew as he does so. "Thank you, thank you. You saved me!"

That's when he catches it. The glimpse of a familiar face, of YN's face, off to the side of the stage, among the small group he had noticed earlier. However, her expression is not one he's seen before. Well, only once before. It's pained, again, but this time it looks worse, and Harry feels his stomach drop.

He transitions into a quick acknowledgement of his band members, his mind wanting to focus solely on the one who wasn't even scheduled to be there, but as soon as he's done, he takes advantage of what's next.

He uses the band mic to let everyone know he'll be off to the side while the extended introduction to 'Late Night Talking' plays on the screens, and once the lights dim he swiftly makes his way over.

"YN. What's-... what are you-… umm, hi." He fumbles, his thoughts racing with so many questions. He didn't even know she'd be in Brazil, or at the show, let alone on the side of the stage, and now she's standing there in front of him, with an ice pack on her head.

"Hi." She chuckles minimally, hurting Harry's heart with the lack of usual enthusiasm and joy. "I came… to surprise… everyone."

"Well, you did that!" He exclaims, managing as best of a smile as he can. His gaze travels from her eyes, to her lips, and then up to her head, and his expression immediately drops. "What happened?"

"It's nothing." She attempts to play off, much like the last time he saw her injured. "Don't worry about me."

"That's impossible." He retorts. "What happened?"

"The guy… the fan, just… knocked me down… on his way out with security." She shakes her head, scoffing, though Harry feels as if she's directing it towards herself more than anyone else.

"Okay. Umm… go backstage and get checked out." He states, his ears picking up on the music, knowing he'll have to return to center stage in just a few moments. "I'll… I'll see you after, yeah?"

"Harry, I'm fi-"

"Just do it!" He exclaims, immediately wincing as he watches her eyes widen with surprise. He's never talked to her like that, never even raised his voice even remotely in her direction without it being out of excitement or flirtation. But he cares about her, and now he will only worry more seeing her there in pain. "Please."

She nods, opening her mouth with a reply, but seemingly deciding against it.

Harry gives YN a quick kiss on the cheek and hustles back over to his mic stand, shooting his gaze to the side for one last glance of her as she walks out of sight.

It's not as if he's going to stop worrying, but maybe it'll be a little less than it would if she were still there watching him. He knows she'll be taken care of, and he'll see her when it's over. Right now, he needs to get through the rest of it, preferably without any other issues.

"... on a Summer evening, what is happening? An-... you're the end of… we are going to stop the song."

Technical difficulties. During 'Watermelon Sugar'. Of course. As if Harry's mind wasn't already somewhere else. He knows it's an easy fix, hopefully, but it's just another thing added to the existing thoughts already causing chaos in his mind. He's a professional, sure, but everyone has a limit and he just doesn't want to find out where his is.

Get through it. That's all he has to do, just get through the next song, the show, and the night. Just get through it and then get to YN.

'Love of My Life' is next. Thankfully it's a slow song, so he can calm his mind and body down, even just a little, before the break in the set. And at that point he can finally regroup.

It works, for a moment, until he notices that some fans need help, and despite making his team aware, they are still there struggling. He lifts the mic stand up and turns his head back, motioning with his finger, with some intensity, for someone to help them and get them out of there.

He feels himself spiraling, just a bit, and has never looked forward to the end of a song as much as he is tonight.

As Harry waves to the crowd, with a mouthful of water, he impatiently waits to spit it up in the air, thank the crowd, and get the hell off stage.

The crowd continues to applaud and cheer as he says goodbye, turning around and using the last bit of energy he has to run backstage.

He stops among the hustle of the crew, realizing he isn't sure where to go, or where to even start looking for YN. The most likely place is his dressing room, so he swiftly shuffles his way there, doing his best to acknowledge anyone he passes by that congratulates or compliments him. He feels bad, he usually takes time with each person, always grateful for their work and feedback. But not tonight. He only has one person on his mind. One person he wants and needs to see.

He swings the door open and takes a quick scan of the room, finding no one. Not anyone. Not her. He runs his fingers through his now very sweaty hair, inhaling deeper to catch his breath and figure out where to go next, where to look next.

He takes a seat on the couch, elbows resting in his knees, and glances over to the table in front of him to find a note that wasn't there before. He grabs it immediately, blinking the salty moisture out of his eyes as he looks over the words.

"Hey H.

Went back to the hotel.

Hope you had a great

rest of your show!

- YN"

"Fuck." He mumbles, suddenly remembering how he yelled for her to go backstage. Well, he could argue that he only raised his voice, but in that moment, that hectic moment, it didn't matter. He shouldn't have done it at all. And truth be told, it would've made the entire night better if she had stayed. But he yelled, and sent her away. Now all he wants to do is go to her and make it better, make her feel better.

After the fastest shower and outfit change of his life, Harry found Jeff and discovered that his manager helped YN get there, so he knew which hotel room was hers. At least Harry didn't have to spend countless hours searching all of Rio for her.

He stands in front of her door and takes a deep breath, nerves on edge as he knocks, and fully prepared for her to open the door and ask him to leave. Immediately.

"Harry?" He hears, causing his gaze to lift from his shoes to the woman in front of him. She's dressed in cotton shorts and a t-shirt, looking comfortable and yet more beautiful than he's ever seen her. He just wishes she wasn't also holding another ice pack to her temple.

"YN." He breathes out, unable to form any other words as he looks her over, hopefully more subtle than he fears it might be. "Are y-... how… I mean, umm…"

The sweetest sound grabs his attention and he watches her step aside as she lets out a small giggle.

"Come in."

He nods, and without hesitation steps into the room. The sound of the door closing causes him to swivel on his heel, and his eyes stay fixed on YN as she motions him over to the edge of the bed.

"What's up?" She asks, casually, removing the ice pack and placing it down beside her.

"I, umm, wanted to check on you." He answers, not convinced his volume was even loud enough to be heard. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore." She swiftly responds, and he cringes at the lack of emotion with it. Even though it was only one word, he feels as if he knows her well enough to know that's not her normal tone. "Hit my head when the guy knocked me to the ground."

"I'm so sorry, YN. I didn't know you were there tonight, or I would've…" He pauses, looking down to where his nails pick at each other. "I don't know… I could've done… something…"

"No, Harry, I'm sorry." She states, causing his gaze to shoot back up to find hers filled with, what looks like, embarrassment. And maybe even regret. But definitely with insecurity, which is not something he's used to seeing from her. "I shouldn't have come."

"Oh." His heart drops.

"I feel like I may have been in the way. Well, I was for that fan…" She states, the smallest smile lifting the corners of her mouth, despite the roll of her eyes and shake of her head. "But I definitely didn't want to be in yours."

"No! I'm glad you're here!" He replies, without hesitation, and watches as her eyes widen, now allowing him to see the depths at which they usually take him to.

"You are? Because it seemed like…" YN clears her throat, confirming for Harry that she is in fact nervous. Not confident. And it seems to be his fault. "It seemed like you were upset when you saw me."

"No! Not at all." Harry replies, his frustration with himself appearing in the crease between his brows. "I wasn't upset seeing you there, I was upset seeing you hurt. Really upset. I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, H. I'm alright."

"I know. I know that. I just… I was worried for the rest of the show, wondering if you were okay. It was torturing me."

"I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm really sorry." She lets out a sigh, and it almost breaks Harry's heart as she drops her gaze and squeezes her eyes shut.

"No, don't-... that's not-..." Harry lets out a low growl in frustration. He doesn't know how to express what he means, and if he even should. But at this point, he doesn't know if he can hold back. "It was torture because all I wanted to do was fix it for you. Like last time."

"Like last time?"

He hears her breath hitch, and his heart races more, feeling each beat thump against his chest. They had shared a kiss the last time she got hurt. They spent the rest of the night together, hanging out and talking until the sun was almost rising. But then nothing. Was that it? Was it just a one time thing, just a momentary thing after an adrenaline-raising show? No, it wasn't. Not for him. And she needs to know.

"I… like you, YN. A lot. And that night… meant a lot to me." He fully turns his body towards her, gaining a fraction of the confidence for himself that he has always seen in her, and since she is now there in Brazil, he won't waste another minute without sharing his heart. "We didn't really get to talk much afterwards, or see each other even, but I just need you to know that… I want to be with you. If… if that's something you want too."

Harry watches as she pulls her lips inward, hoping that the expression he sees underneath is pleasant. Pleasant for him. But he suddenly realizes that if she doesn't feel the same, he doesn't want to lose her. For the band.

"If it's not, no problem. We can move past it." He swallows the lump caught grasping against the walls of his throat. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable, and don't want you to leave the band over it. You're very talented, YN."

"Thank you." She replies, looking over at him with those gorgeous eyes and a tenderness she's never given him before, and despite him offering to move past his feelings, for the sake of his heart, he desperately hopes that she feels the same. He wants her to only look at him like that from now on. "And that night meant a lot to me as well."

"Yeah?" He responds, shifting in his spot at the edge of her bed, with all the giddiness of a lovesick school boy.

"I want to be with you too, H."

His palms fly up to her cheeks, receiving a warmth from them that flows right to his chest. His gaze flickers to her lips, yearning for them, desperate for them.

"Are you going to kiss me or not?" She chuckles, and his heart swells from the self-assurance that she always expresses, that he has fallen for.

He grins, wider than he ever has, but only for a moment. He's not going to wait any longer. He leans closer, and her eyes close, pursing her soft lips to meet his in a gentle kiss.

Her hands run up his arms, applying pressure as they move over his shoulders, and connect behind his neck. She pulls him closer, and his tongue teases her lips before she parts them, each sighing as they deepen the kiss.

His chest tightens, this time out of need for air, so he pulls back, only leaving enough room for a breath, and smiles as he hears her release her own, happy exhale.

"How are you feeling now?" He asks, resting his forehead against hers as one hand strokes over the hair covering her temple.

"Much better. I do need to rest now, though." She whispers. "But, you know, I may have a concussion…"

"That's not funny."

"No, it's not. It's very serious." She pulls away more, hands still behind his head, and his mind fills with worry. Worry and confusion, as he watches her smile reappear through her solemn expression. "I should probably have someone stay with me tonight. To make sure I'm alright, of course."

"Of course." He smirks, feeling his heart burst, following as she scoots up the bed and rests her head on the pillow.

He does the same, laying down to face her, and sees her eyes begin to flutter shut. It's been an exhausting day for the both of them.

"Come here." He whispers, opening his arms for her to settle in, wrapping them around her body, and pulling her to his chest. "You doing okay?"

"More than okay." She utters, drowsiness now coating her words. "Thank you, for fixing things."

"Anytime." He replies, placing a tender kiss on top of her head. "I'll fix things for you anytime."

A silence falls between them, and as he hears her soft breaths leave her even softer lips, Harry hums in contentment, allowing his own body to succumb to the rest it now needs too. He shuts his eyes, and one last thought appears as he feels himself happily drift off to sleep.

Despite all the chaos, this night didn't turn out so bad after all. With YN, it's been the best one yet.

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kittyball23 · 6 months

Text

Ways to Tell (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: It’s a little challenging, but four Trolls find a way to tell their biggest secret, whether to family, friend, acquaintance, or pet

A/N: Taking place before TBT :)

_________________________________________

“There’s something I need to tell you…”

Rhonda cocks her head at John Dory, her green eyes wide with curiosity as he starts to pull out a photograph from his hair, setting down the emptied bag of marshmallows they’d just finished wolfing down on the ground.

_________________________________________

“I probably should’ve told you a long time ago, but I wasn’t sure how to bring it up…”

Bruce looks down in shame, feeling a little guilty from keeping the secret for so long. Brandy pauses in her dishwashing and looks down at him, knowing something serious is up that would require her full attention to be on her husband. With a hand on her belly, swollen with her fifth pregnancy, she asks him a question.

_________________________________________

“What is it?”

Clay breaks his gaze away from Viva’s for a second to scratch the back of his neck, feeling a little embarrassed. “You know, I wasn’t always a very serious businessman and licensed CPA like I am now, Veevs. You see, I… um, I…”

_________________________________________

“... I was part of a boyband.”

Crimp’s eyes widen with interest. “Wow! Really?”

“Yeah,” Floyd responds, nodding his head. “We really were something, too. The biggest one that there was, I think…”

_________________________________________

“... and the most brodacious!”

Rhonda blinks, trilling with excitement at how excited John Dory was getting telling her about it. He holds the picture up before her nose and points out each figure.

_________________________________________

“You see, there was five of us. John Dory, he was the oldest. Always liked to be called ‘The Leader.’ My brother Clay was ‘The Fun Boy.’ Floyd was ‘The Sensitive One.’ Branch was ‘Bitty B, The Baby.’ And me, well… I was Spruce. ‘The Heartthrob….’”

“‘Spruce?’” Brandy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah…” Bruce sighed. “I didn’t really want that whole ‘boyband’ thing following me for the rest of my life, so, when I got here, I changed my name…”

_________________________________________

“... because I’m not ‘The Fun Boy’ anymore,” Clay said firmly. “See, ‘Serious Boy Clay’ doesn’t do the ‘Rusty Robot’ anymore. He does the well-oiled machine robot, and it is NO fun at all.” He demonstrates by doing the dance.

Viva cocks her head. “Oh! Okay.” She still thought that it did look pretty fun, and was going to ask him if he was sure, but then another question popped into her mind.

“Wait, so if you guys were big and all, I mean… what happened?”

_________________________________________

Floyd sighs.

“A fight happened,” he explains. “It was mostly between John Dory, Spruce, and Clay. Spruce and Clay were getting tired of John Dory telling them what to do for the ‘Perfect Family Harmony,’ so they all quit. And I haven’t seen any of them since.”

“Aww…” Crimp slumped at hearing that. “Say… what’s the ‘Perfect Family Harmony’?”

_________________________________________

“It’s something we should’ve done that night, and if we did, we would’ve gone on the rest of our tour!” John Dory huffs, suddenly getting upset remembering the band’s breakup.

Rhonda notices his tension, and rubs against him, purring in an attempt to make him feel better.

JD pats her side. “Sorry for getting worked up, girl. It’s just that I know we could’ve done it. I wish things would’ve gone differently…”

_________________________________________

“... and maybe if they had, we would all still be together today.”

Brandy bent down, putting an arm around Bruce’s shoulder. “It wasn’t right for him to be so controlling like that,” she tells him. “You guys didn’t try to talk things out?”

_________________________________________

Clay shakes his head. “Nah, man. We were all too mad for that. The talking we did was yelling. And me n’ Spruce didn’t wanna put up with it anymore.”

“Oh…” Viva rubbed her arm. That was too bad to hear. A real story about a family divided by anger and differences was sadder than any sad book she and Clay would read in their sad-book club.

“Well,” Viva said, trying to remain chipper, “I mean, you can never say never, right? Maybe you guys will find each other again someday, and you’ll all be friends!”

_________________________________________

Floyd tilted his head, thinking about it. “Yeah… that really would be nice. I really wish I could see them again. Especially Baby Branch.” He smiled wistfully, thinking about his smallest, blue-haired brother, and wondering how many games of rummy he’d allowed their Grandma to win.

“I bet they’d be happy to see you,” Crimp assured.

“Yeah…” Floyd agreed, but then his smile disappeared. “If I ever find a way out of here…” He put his hands up to the diamond walls around him, still as firm as ever.

Unbeknownst to him, his two captors had been listening in on his conversation with their papery assistant, from just behind the door of the studio they were in.

“Did you hear that?” Velvet said excitedly to her brother.

“Uh-huh! It really is kinda sad,” Veneer replied, wiping away a little tear that had formed at the corner of his eye.

Velvet rolled her eyes at her brother’s emotions. “I think I can find a way to help our little friend, if you get what I mean.” She smiles sneakily, and Veneer isn’t quite on her train of thought yet.

“Uh… no?”

Velvet scoffs and drags her brother behind her. “Come on! Let me show you.”

She grabs a sheet of paper and takes the next five minutes composing a letter. When she’s done, she reads it out loud. “‘Dear John Dory, I am being held against my will by superstars Velvet and Veneer. Come to Mount Rageous at once and bring our brothers! Love Floyd, The Sensitive One.’” She beams and looks at him. “So, whaddya think?”

Veneer grimaces. “Um, are you sure you want those guys to come rescue him? I mean, we can’t lose a Troll, what we need is more Trolls, and how are we gonna do that if - “

He stops talking when Velvet gives him a “duh!” look, and the cogs begin turning in his head. “Ohhhh…” he drawls, a smirk tugging the corner of his lip. He puts an arm around Velvet and grins widely. “You know, I’m proud to call you my sister.”

Velvet nods, proud of herself, too. “I know!”

_________________________________________

“I’m glad you told me,” Brandy says, taking the news much better than what Bruce anticipated.

“Yeah, I’m glad, too. I promise I got no more secrets, honey.” He leans in to give her a hug, and then they are off. After all, four kids couldn’t be left alone for very long.

_________________________________________

“I never would’ve guessed you had four brothers, Clay,” Viva says, once he’s done telling his tale. She then grins, pulling out a scrapbook from her hair and opening it to show her friend the little family that was depicted there. “Would you believe I have a sister?”

Clay’s eyes widen and he grows curious. “Go on…”

_________________________________________

“Anyway, thanks for listenin’, girlie. You’re pretty good at it.”

Rhonda gives a bark, wagging her stumpy tail and giving John Dory one big doggy-kiss lick. He laughs, giving her a scratch behind the head and then making his way inside the caterbus, hanging up the photograph of him and his brothers up with the rest of his memorabilia.

He stares at it for a moment and then heads off to sleep, a dream visiting him of a time in which he was happy to sing alongside his brothers, and they were happy to be by his side, as great friends and bandmates.

_________________________________________

A/N: I tried following the “Two Scenes, One Dialogue” TV Trope, hopefully it makes sense!

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #dreamworks #brozone #john dory #spruce trolls #clay trolls #floyd trolls #branch trolls #fanfiction #kittyball writes #brodacious fanfiction #100+

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hongism · 2 years

Text

heartbreak hotel. (k.sw, 18+)

» k.sunwoo x fem!reader » pretty much just smut + filth 👍 » language, explicit smut, alcohol consumption, semi-enemies to lovers » summary; you’re keen on playing the game with the expectation of winning against a man like kim sunwoo - someone rich and equally arrogant, who expects to have everything handed to him on a silver platter - but you both underestimated how well he plays and overestimated your ability to withstand what he throws your way. » wc; 11.6k

a/n; standing man emoji. that’s all. in honor of my queen melty sometimes i still hear her voice (affectionately screaming yelling and threatening me) also this was only one third of the original outline so im not saying more to come but... act surprised if more does come...

Tempo up and down like that, becoming honest This fading line between us, let’s tear it down Just acknowledge our feelings and take a step forward

» smut warnings; semi-public sex, protected piv, oral sex: m & f receiving, manual stimulation, grinding, edging, dirty talk, some degradation, petnames: doll, kitten, slut, big dick kink (almost), (slight) hair pulling, car sex (please always wear a seatbelt don’t do this...)

“Hey, mind grabbing that customer for me?”

All it takes is one glance down the line of the bar to understand why your coworker is requesting such a thing, but you can’t find yourself too enthused to take her up on the offer. A young man — probably early twenties and younger than you by at least a couple years — dressed to the nines in what you consider to be a rather run-down and dirty dive of a bar given his neatly crimped suit and pressed tie. Even the way he wears his hair with too much gel and carefully styled to only exposed half of his forehead seems to scream the phrase ‘I’m a douche, do not approach me!’, but alas you care for your coworker far too much for your own good and won’t turn her down even if the guy is a raging prick.

“Yeah, pop this drink over to Jerry for me, please?” You leave the drink in question beside her at the other side of the bar before wiping your palms down over your ratty apron and stepping over to the newcomer. “What can I get you?”

Instead of a response, or even a basic human acknowledgment, the kid lifts his hand and shows off the unmarred skin of his palm while typing away at his phone with his other one. It takes every bit of your willpower to not roll your eyes and snap right then and there, frankly, but the promise of tips and money far outweighs the desire to be an ass in return. You do bite into the inside of your cheek, however, in the hopes that it will keep your expression from showing too much annoyance when the man finally sets his phone down and glances up at you.

“Scotch on the rocks, top shelf stuff if you can manage it. I have a friend on the way too, get him a Mai Tai if you would, doll.” His gaze flits down to your shirt, scanning the little metal tag that has your name etched into it for a few seconds, but he’s looking back at your face moments later without any intention to address you by your proper name. “You can go now, that’s all.”

“Gonna need to see a license first.”

“I don’t have a license.”

“Then you can’t drink alcohol.” We have a kids’ menu crosses your mind too but you don’t dare say such a thing with other customers in close quarters.

“I have my identification card in my wallet, don’t be so huffy,” he huffs out as he twists at the waist to fish around in his suit pockets. He flashes the little card in your face to your dismay, and the birthdate does indeed confirm that he’s perfectly legal so you relent with a little sigh.

“Coming right out, sir.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t make me wait too long.”

His looks are also a bit deceiving, it seems, because according to said card, he’s not nearly as young as you predicted him to be — twenty-three and turning twenty-four within the next few weeks — and it’s only disheartening because you can’t pin his attitude and demeanor on being an immature rich teen. You’ve dealt with enough of that type to at least know how to throw some harmless quips in their faces when they get a little too arrogant and dick-headed, but this one just seems to be the run-of-the-mill rich ass who thinks he’s got plenty of better things to do than be kind to the people serving him. Setting the pair of drinks down before him on the counter doesn’t even earn you a thank you, let alone any sort of attention in the slightest even as you inform him that the brand of scotch you’ve given him is the best of the best and ready to put a proper dent in any average man’s wallet. He barely blinks at the information.

“How bad is he?” Your coworker asks as you move back to wipe down your hands.

“Not nearly as bad as I imagined. Just the rich kind of asshole.”

Yuna shakes her head ever so slightly, letting brown hair fall from her bun to frame her pretty face. She’s still new to both the area and the job, especially compared to the several years you have under your belt being here, but she has managed to go above and beyond all your other coworkers (even the ones you’ve got on with for years). You don’t doubt that she could easily handle some tougher customers and still manage to get a pretty tip out of them but you’d feel a bit awful throwing her to the wolves when she directly asks you for help the way she did.

“Those are the worst ones, aren’t they?”

You hum your approval and glance back over your shoulder. The seat next to the man is now occupied by another body, someone of similar build and age to him it seems but you’re still required to do your job even if you have an inkling that he’s of age. Pushing yourself back to that edge of the bar, you plaster a little grin on your lips before speaking to either man.

“May I see your ID before you drink, sir?”

“Oh! Of course, yeah, just one second!” At least this one is far friendlier than the first, despite wearing a similar suit and tie. He flashes a license in your direction, and your eyes gravitate to the birth year and nothing else as usual.

“Perfect, thank you.”

He returns your grin with one of his own. You feel heat rush to your cheeks as you turn around to glance over the rest of the bar. Either your standards have dipped considerably low or you were simply that put off by his less than stellar companion to a point where you find the other’s kindness that palatable.

The next few hours pass in a flash as the bulk of your clientele come through for happy hour, and you don’t have time to catch your breath so thinking about a rich prick and his hot friend is out of the question entirely. That is until the end of the rush when you have to go back over to that area of the bar when one of them waves you down.

“Refill and a water, if you would.” His tone is nothing short of demanding, and even his friend has the decency to offer you a sympathetic glance in the face of his friend’s shortness.

“I’ll take a water as well, please,” he enunciates his gratitude that way despite the way the man at his side promptly ignores you before you’ve even stepped away. You return his smile with one of your own as though to say that it’s entirely fine and nothing out of the ordinary for a job such as this one. Still, the little bits of kindness you do receive throughout long and grueling shifts like this one are few and far between so it’s nice to have some of that, especially from a handsome face. A job’s a job at the end of the day, a way to make a living and get money, and while you don’t have the most groundbreaking paychecks to bring home to you and your pet betta fish Earl, it’s a living nonetheless. The work can be unforgiving at times, sure, yet you still keep coming back because you do enjoy it. Maybe one day you’ll have to move off to a different job, a different place, but for now, you get to enjoy how things are. It makes having to deal with that one rude customer for the rest of the night much easier when you think about it like that, at least.

That and the fact that when he slams his black card down on the bar counter at the end of the night for both him and his friendly companion, you get to take it back to the register and feel unadulterated glee when the payment refuses to process. Three attempts on the chip reader and two backup swipes to check that it isn’t just a faulty reader later, you’re walking back to the pair at the end of the bar with a bitten-back grin.

“Sorry sir, but your payment’s been declined. Do you have a different card you can use to pay?”

“Declined?” He sounds positively scandalized, which you’re sure is utterly humiliating for a man like him. “For fuck’s sake…”

“Did he cut you off again? Jesus man, that’s the third time this mon—”

“Yeah, I fucking know, Juyeon!”

“Here, I’ve got it covered. You’ll just owe me next time, Kim.” The man — Juyeon, as he appears to be called — pulls his own wallet back out and slides a more modest and normal-looking credit card across the counter to you. The apologetic smile paints his lips yet again, his companion snatching back his precious yet defunct black card from your fingers. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“No worries. I’ll be right back.”

True to your word, you only disappear for a minute this time around as there are no further issues with Juyeon’s card.

“Is it alright if we hang around a bit and nurse our waters?” he inquires when you return his card to his possession.

“Sure, go on ahead! If you decide you want anything else to drink, just flag down a worker!”

“Ah, if I—” he chokes on nothing but saliva a second later before the words can get out, and you pass a worried glance over at him from where you were trying to make a speedy getaway. “Um… sorry, if I want to have you wait on us again, who — who should I ask for?”

“Oh?” You blink at his wide brown eyes for a moment without really processing the request. “Oh! Oh, um, okay — uh, just ask for Y/n. But I’ll be on break for the next thirty minutes or so…” His companion releases a snort, and you’re certain that if you glanced over at him now you’d find the man rolling his eyes back into his head.

“Y/n? Perfect, will do.” He passes a smile your way that shows the pretty expanse of his white grin, and you find yourself a little too flustered to do anything other than nod awkwardly and step away from the bar counter.

“Yuna, I’m gonna take my break now,” you say through a sigh, hands already reaching around your back to tug at your apron. As lovely as it is to be propositioned by hot customers, you typically don’t find it in good taste to engage in that sort of behavior back when you’re on the clock. Maybe, however, you’re a bit hopeful that said man will see you stepping away from the counter for a bit and find an opportunity there for him to take advantage of. If not, then c'est la vie and so be it.

It’s a great pleasure though when stepping into the hallway where the single-stall bathrooms reside has you greeting said man the moment you come back from dropping your apron in the back. He’s leaned up against the wall with arms crossed over his chest, and he’s abandoned the black suit jacket he had been wearing at the bar minutes ago to leave him in a simple form-fitting dress shirt alongside his slacks.

“Maybe I’m being a bit presumptuous but…?” Slowly, he pulls his arms down and offers a cheeky shrug coupled with a half-grin. You hum and smile back, not giving him the pleasure of seeing anything more than a thin-lipped smirk as you reach to grab him by the silk tie hanging about his neck.

“I’ll give you twenty minutes.”

“Perfect.”

You hook him into the ladies’ room solely because you noticed few women in the bar tonight, and you ought to manage to go undisturbed for a bit if you’re really lucky. He’s smothering you the moment you get the door closed behind you, hands on your body and lips seeking yours as you flip the lock and secure it into place. The touch is messy at best — clashing teeth and a quick press of his tongue against yours without any preamble — and while you understand his rush, you think he’s doing a shit job at getting you riled up with how he’s nearly biting through your tongue instead of simple teasing. You’re the one who tries to guide the pace back down to something more manageable and enjoyable for the both of you, but Juyeon inches his body closes to yours and nudges the bulge in his slacks against your inner thigh with no intention of slowing down.

“I’d love to have that pretty mouth wrapped around my cock, Y/n. Care to spoil me a little?”

You nearly scoff. It’s a wonder you thought he was that much better than his friend, but it seems as though all rich kids like them think the same. Still, you have no qualms with what he’s asking for even though you know it means he won’t be making any effort to get you off with how little time you have together.

Your fingers hook into his dress shirt, and you spin with enough momentum to get his back to slam into the door in a flip of your positions that has you pressing him up against the surface now.

“Fuck.”

A little hum slips free of your lips in response, one that’s accompanied by fluttering lashes and a coy gleam in your eyes as you sink down to your knees against the cool tiled floor. A few strands of gelled hair fall in front of his eyes when he tilts his chin down to gaze upon you in your new position.

“Just like that, pretty girl, pull my cock out, yeah?” He brings a large, veiny hand around the side of your head to tangle in your hair. You preoccupy yourself with tugging his belt free and once that’s out of the way, you go a bit above and beyond with the seduction factor by taking his zipper between your teeth and pulling it down, nose brushing into where his length sits trapped behind black underwear. “Come on, lemme fuck your mouth.” Crude, but you aren’t sure why you expected anything else. He seems entirely uninterested in your ideas of foreplay, however, do you decide to go on and forgo them by doing what he’s asking you to instead.

Slipping his member free of both pants and underwear, you waste no time in taking the tip between your lips, letting your tongue rest along the underside for only a few seconds before taking him deeper. It earns you a soft groan and matching thud as he seems to let his head fall back against the door in light pleasure. You wouldn’t say you’re known for your mind-blowing oral skills or being terribly enthusiastic without ample buildup, but the hasty noises of his pleasure give you enough of a confidence boost to get you dragging your tongue over his length as you sink deep enough to have his cockhead pressing into your throat. Swallowing there, you pull him all the way into your mouth, nose pressing into the neatly trimmed hairs around his base, before starting to find a steady rhythm to your bobs. Despite his hand being firmly placed in your hair, he makes no effort to guide your movements or fuck your face, which you’re a tad grateful for because you have to go back to work after this and don’t want to look like you’ve had your throat fucked raw the rest of the night.

Not the kind of fun you were hoping for, all in all, especially not as you pull off his cock less than three minutes later because he’s nearing his high. You lean to the side to grab a paper towel before he can blow his load all over your face — or worse, your clothes — and the moment you cover his member, he cums into the towel with a bitten back groan and hand still threaded through your hair to the point where it’s leaving a painful sting. The perk to him cumming so early, you suppose, means that there’s still time left for him to return the favor. At least, that’s what you thought just before turning around after throwing out the soiled paper towel to find Juyeon pulling his pants up and resituating his belt and clothes without so much as glancing in your direction.

“Thanks, pretty girl. You’re not half bad.” He winks but the gesture is more sleazy than actually attractive. You can do nothing but blink back at him as though too stunned to even speak. When he reaches for the lock, you finally do scoff and find it in you to speak.

“What? Not gonna return the favor?”

He shifts enough to glance at you over his shoulder. His bewildered expression shows that that’s a thought that never even crossed his mind.

“Why should I?”

And with that, he’s flipping the lock and stepping out of the bathroom without saying anything further.

“All the fucking same,” you mutter to yourself, kicking at the edge of the door with your foot until it snaps shut again.

There’s a headache beginning to form in your temple, one that persists even after your break ends and you get back to your shift once more. Neither Juyeon nor his prick of a companion is at the bar when you return, and your only solace is that you most likely won’t have to see either one of them for the rest of your life if you’re really lucky. That fact alone nearly makes you tell Yuna all about it on the spot but you decide it’s best to preserve what’s left of your dignity by pushing the thought of both men into the back of your mind for the rest of the night.

« ✦ »

To your credit, you don’t see Juyeon again after that night.

The more unfortunate issue is that his friend has started becoming something of a regular in the bar, and he always manages to come whenever your shifts are going. Twice a week, eight o’clock on the dot, usually Tuesdays and Fridays. The situation would likely be entirely fine if not for the fact that he always sits on your side of the bar and asks to have you wait on him every time he’s there.

You maintain a semi-friendly front to the best of your ability, and while some of that is genuine (you’re at least grateful he never asks about Juyeon even though he most definitely knows about your rendezvous with his friend in the bathroom), the majority of it is the customer-service worker in you that wants to avoid issue.

It’s one of those said nights — a Friday this time — that he comes in dressed in his usual suit and tie regalia, only this time he has a woman on his arm. She’s dressed equally as fancy as he is, wearing a slinky black dress that leaves little to the imagination. You wait over by his end of the bar with a smile already plastered across your lips before the pair even sits down.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted your usual, but it seems you’ve mixed things up for once.” Upon closer inspection, he’s simply wearing a silk vest under his blazer, a silver chain hanging down where his tie would normally be, and the outfit seems to almost intentionally match his companion’s.

“Ah, no, I’ll still have a scotch on the rocks. To—”

“Top shelf stuff, yup. We just got a new batch I can break open for you. And for you, ma’am?”

“Hm, just a martini.” He doesn’t have the decency to pull a stool out for her, but luckily she doesn’t make to sit down right away either. Instead, she sets her little black bag down atop the cushion and lingers behind the stool. “Is it alright if I run to the restroom first?”

“Go on ahead.” His gaze lingers for no more than two seconds when he sends her off; in fact, the way he pulls his gaze back down to the bar counter is almost hasty. Your curious stare must linger a little longer than necessary because he snaps his chin up to connect sharp eye contact that has you spinning on your own heel and heading back to start their drinks. It’s none of your business, honestly and truly, but one of the perks to this line of work is the subtle allowance for being nosy, and you find yourself curious nonetheless.

As it turns out, you get the pair’s drinks done and ready before the woman returns from her trip to the bathroom, and her companion — whose name you have yet to learn even after several weeks of serving him — barely bats an eye when you set the drinks down before him on the bar. His gaze is instead glued to the glowing screen of his phone, thumb pressed against the side of the screen as he seemingly scrolls without thought. You don’t bother making any sort of snide comment despite the urge to; you doubt he would even make an effort to look up from his phone if you did. It’s a slow night for once, however, which means that you spend more time lingering around the counter on your own rather than serving customer after customer. Even with some of your regulars pulling you into conversations here and there, you have fairly little to keep you occupied beyond people watching (ie watching this new regular and his date barely interact or speak for the next forty-five minutes).

He waves you down right as the clock hits nine o’clock, almost like he was counting the seconds until the hour came around. You take the black card he extends in your direction without thought and pass a slightly sympathetic smile to his date when she glances up with a rather defeated expression painting her pretty features.

It’s only poetic that you have the same issue that you had the very first time he came to this bar. Two attempts at the chip reader leave you helpless and with a declined card yet again, and you give one desperate swipe in the hopes that a miracle will strike but it’s to no avail.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you catch sight of the girl’s downcast eyes and her companion’s flat, unreadable face. You could easily return to him and humiliate him by passing the card back and telling him it’s been declined again. You would have no issue doing that if it were just him present, but your heart goes out to his date because the humiliation would bleed to her shoulders too. When she’s already having such a god-awful night as it is, you think you would much rather avoid that sort of issue altogether. So, against better judgment, you clear the register and pen yourself a reminder to fulfill the bill on your own card at the end of your shift. He only bought two drinks tonight, and although one of them had a heftier price tag, you have enough of a cushion in your bank account to spot the payment just this once. When you walk back to where the two are sitting, you swallow involuntarily to keep the lump in your throat down.

“Receipt?” You ask out of pure instinct despite knowing the answer.

“Not needed.” He takes the card out of your hands before you can even extend it in his general direction.

“Of course. Have a nice night.” Your words are moreso directed at the girl, but he doesn’t need to know the difference.

You are in the middle of reaching for their empty glasses when she clears her throat out of the blue, whipping her chin up and looking to her side with none of the earlier warmth that she entered with in her gaze.

“I’ll head out first. Thanks for the drink.”

That’s all the effort she spares on him, tone so icy that even you feel awkward just standing close enough to hear it, but you can’t find it in you to blame her for being so cold when he treated her with equal distaste. It’s only when she steps out of the bar that you decide to say something.

“You could’ve at least spoken to the poor girl.”

“Why? I hardly wanted to bring her along.”

Your frown turns into a deep scowl, but the man doesn’t look at you long enough to see your expression shift.

“Ah, right. Forgot how you rich folk work. Did daddy dearest set you up to close out a business deal or something else that’s equally ridiculous? In my eyes, she gets the short end of the stick being treated more like a bargaining chip than a human being.”

“Did you also consider the possibility that I am the bargaining chip rather than her?”

Given her nerves at the beginning of the night, you find yourself doubting such a thing.

“Shouldn’t I get a say in what I want too?” he continues, leaning forward on his elbows against the bar counter. There’s a certain edge to his tone that sharply contrasts the little glint in his eyes that shows he’s taking this exchange with a grain of salt.

“Okay then, what is it you want?” you fire back, hoping that your response is enough to make him flatline and wave you off. It’s just your luck when that isn’t how he reacts in the slightest. No, instead, he leans further across the counter in such a way that makes the deep vee of his satin vest fall lower and tease the tanned skin underneath. The silver pendant hanging around his neck dangles to the point of distraction, making your gaze drop to follow the movement only to get caught staring directly into that exposed skin. Full lips grin wide at you.

“Isn’t it only natural that I crave you more than anything else?”

“Right, and I want a million dollars. But I work in a bar instead. Can’t we be realistic?”

“Send me the bank details and I’ll have it deposited by morning.”

“With what? Your fancy little black card? By the way, daddy cut you off again and that dumb thing declined a second time. You’re lucky I had enough pity on your date to not humiliate her by announcing that her rich date couldn’t pay for one measly drink.” In hindsight, you wish you had led with that because it has him both stunned into silence and a bit flustered on top of that. He sucks in a sharp breath that almost hurts to listen to before reaching down into his pocket and pulling the same wallet as before out.

“I have cash on me, how much was it?”

“Fifty-eight. Your date was a lot cheaper than you.”

He forks over the money with an ease that isn’t all too surprising given how well off he is and how willing he is to drop fifty bucks on a drink multiple times a week. Still, you double-check the bills with a furrowed brow.

“This is… way too much money.”

“Well, it includes a tip.” He waves his hand at the wad of cash sitting in your palm like it’s nothing, but even so, he has never been so generous in his tips before tonight. A thought hits you as he blinks up at you with wide, expectant eyes.

“You can keep your money if you think I’m gonna sleep with you for a nice tip.” You pull the extra bills out, lip curling as disgust creeps up your spine, and toss them onto the counter without sparing him a glance.

“How much would it take for you to give me a chance then?”

“I’m not some — that’s not the kind of job I work. It’s not some pay-to-win game where the prize is a night in bed with me. I don’t even know your name.”

“You carded me.” The man says that like it’s supposed to change the fact and like he can’t possibly believe you wouldn’t have remembered his name from such a quick glance over his id.

“I don’t typically look at names; only birthdays. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Sunwoo. Kim Sunwoo, that is.” The belated introduction comes with a half grin that looks more uncomfortable than natural.

“Lovely to put a name to a regular’s face, thanks, but I’m still not keen on accepting that money from you.”

“Didn’t my companion tip you well after you snuck off to the bathroom with him the first time I was here?”

Your expression goes from shocked to horrified in a record-breaking amount of time, mostly because rather than wearing a stupid smirk or having a teasing lilt to his tone, Kim Sunwoo seems genuinely curious about the matter.

“He left me high and dry and without any sort of tip, so no. Your friend did nothing of the sort,” you spit back, perhaps a little too passionately in retrospect. “But I expect nothing less from the likes of you. Rich pricks with nothing better to do than take advantage of people poorer and less well off than you for some form of sick enjoyment, I suppose? I looked an idiot thinking he’d have some decency. I’m shocked he didn’t run back to you and tell you all about his spoils and fun.”

“He’s hardly someone I’d call a friend so no, we don’t exactly exchange stories like that.”

There’s a little lull in your conversation then, one that lets you pull away from the conversation almost naturally, and you find a decent excuse to not return to Sunwoo’s side of the bar by tending to a customer on the other end. It’s nearing the end of your shift anyway, so you won’t need to bother with entertaining the guy for much longer. You half-expect him to disappear and leave while you have your back turned; however, every time you turn around, your gaze flits over to where he sits and finds him still seated in the exact same spot. His dark eyes find yours each time, and your embarrassment amplifies more and more as it continues to happen. You hate to give anyone the pleasure of digging their way under your skin, yet all it took for Sunwoo to do it was a well-placed jab and a reminder of the shameful situation you’ve been trying to put out of your mind for the past several weeks.

You consider it a small win when Yuna finally comes to relieve you and you step out from behind the counter without speaking to the man again. It’s a short-lived victory, unfortunately, because rounding the corner to head to the break room where all the belongings that you brought with you to work leads you to find Sunwoo leaned up against the wall rather than at his seat at the bar.

“I’m off the clock now so customer service is out the window.”

“I don’t intend on asking you for a drink back here.”

“Then what exactly is it you want from me? I already said I’m not interested.”

“I’m not used to not getting what I want, I’ll be honest.”

“Oh, that much is glaringly apparent.” You nudge your way past him to reach the door to the back, but Sunwoo leans forward a little to block your path.

“What if I said I could do better than the last guy?”

“Then I’d call you a fool again.”

“You never know unless you try.”

“And risk getting humiliated and playing right into your hand? I know what game you’re playing, Mr. Kim. I’m afraid I don’t want to let you win it either. Maybe you should have given your date a better chance.”

“Could I at least have your phone number? You can block me at any time if you don’t wanna play anymore. I won’t even get a new number to try to contact you if you do!”

You spin on your heel partially out of sheer disbelief but also because you really want to see the expression on this guy’s face when he’s saying something so antagonistic. To no one’s surprise, he’s smiling back at you like a cheeky bastard. Backing down now would be the easier, simpler option. You’re well aware of that. But the more stubborn part of you would really love to play into what he wants if only to come out on top, the part of you that wants to prove a point — you’re dumb enough to believe that you can hold out against a serial player and beat him at his own game.

“Fine. But if I want out then that’s it.”

« ✦ »

rich prick: ur working tonight right?

me: why are you asking exactly?

rich prick: need to know whether i wear my sexy black shirt or just go with a vest for you to look down again :p

me: …two seconds from blocking you

rich prick: ohh should i dress casual? how about a crop top? you wouldn’t be able to see very well with the bar in the way but i wouldn’t want to distract you during work hours anyway ^^

Three weeks later, you’re certain that you have made a grave and irreversible mistake that there is no coming back from. Because as incessant as Kim Sunwoo can be at the bar, you have learned that he likes to be even more insufferable over text. He always texts for meaningless conversations that you know are just attempts to get under your skin, but your already-short patience can’t tolerate his teasing for more than a few minutes at a time. Mostly because you have already made peace with the fact that you are fighting an uphill battle that you’re losing dramatically.

You don’t have an edge on the guy — nothing to put you over him or win you any points. Because, without fail, each time you try to throw the cards back in his face, he manages to flip it around on you.

Make a comment about his dick probably being small? He pins you down with the oh so you’ve been thinking about it already?

Tell him too much confidence isn’t that appealing? He hits you with a and you have yet to block me.

You even went so far as to tell him that he needs a girl to put him in his place, and his response was to insinuate that you could dominate him any day of the week if that’s what it took to please you.

In all of your (misplaced) wisdom, you imagined it would be quick and easy to disarm a guy like him, but here you are weeks later glaring at the door you know he’s about to step through waiting to lose another game to him. it is entirely unfortunate that he looks right at you upon stepping into the building, and you’re caught spinning around to not look so expectant.

“Is it a slow night or do I suspect that you were waiting on me, doll?” His voice reaches your ears moments later, and you huff out an unamused little laugh before deciding to face him for real. Thankfully, he decided not to be entirely insane and wear a crop top or something equally ridiculous (read: distracting) — just a simple suit with a proper shirt underneath. He resituates the collar upon sitting down at the bar counter, popping two buttons free and letting a bit of skin shine through. If you didn’t know better, you would assume it’s simply hot outside and he’s doing it to cool off, but you’ve found yourself far too acquainted with his games these days and that means you know the exact reason behind his actions. Rather than giving him the pleasure of seeing you sweat, you push a glass down in front of him, one with a sphere of ice in the center, and showcase the bottle in your hand.

“Someone just had me crack this open. Will you be having it tonight by chance?” Not entirely the truth because that customer left nearly forty minutes ago and you were keeping an eye on the clock to gauge when Sunwoo would be coming in, but he doesn’t need to know any of that.

“Of course, you know my order by now, don’t you?”

It is a rather slow night, mostly because it’s a Tuesday and that’s far from your busiest day of the week. That’s the sole reason why you’re allowing Sunwoo to have even this much of your attention, along with the extra insurance of having a coworker on the other end of the counter chatting up some other customers.

Sunwoo levels you with a stare as you pour his drink. You try to ignore it to the best of your ability, but the heat of his gaze lingers even when you turn to put the bottle back on the shelf behind you.

“Did you get all dolled up just for me?”

You hesitate where you’re stretched up on your tiptoes to cast a glance back at the man over your shoulder.

“Do you think you’re really worth that effort?”

“That all depends on whether you want me to have you or not.”

You neglect to respond until you have the liquor firmly placed back safely on the shelf — it’s probably worth more than you are and you don’t want that put on a damages tab of any sort — then smooth down the front of your apron. You didn’t put any special effort into what you’re wearing, even if Sunwoo thinks otherwise. There’s a limited selection of clothes you can wear to work, and because you are dramatically lazy during the weekend, you neglected to wash the jeans you typically wear on Tuesdays. The only other option you had was the pleated black skirt that hugs your waist now, and while it’s not riding up your ass and showing anything unprofessional, Sunwoo has a way of seeing exactly what he wants to see. So of course, he would flatter himself with the thought that you chose the outfit specifically for him.

“Are you drinking alone tonight, or can I expect another failed date to come through?”

“Ha ha,” Sunwoo accentuates the forced laugh with a small roll of his eyes. You take innate pleasure in irking him even a tiny bit. “I’m free for the night for once. When does your shift end?”

“I get off early tonight because my manager is bringing in someone new to train. He like doing all the training himself so I get to leave in thirty minutes rather than in four hours.”

Sunwoo nods, fingers tracing the rim of his glass as he purses his lips. No words leave his mouth, however, and you’re left to piece together what his expression means in lieu of hearing another teasing remark. You don’t need to think too deeply about it if you’re being perfectly honest because the implication is there — the inquiry about whether he’ll have a guest, him asking about your shift, the subtle yet very obvious pokes around the same bush that leave you wondering how the night might end. You think he knows as well as you do that you’re fighting a losing battle, so truly it’s only a matter of time and whether he moves the right pieces into place. Rather than speaking just yet, however, he passes a little grin your way before lifting his glass to his full lips.

“Don’t let me get in your way for those last thirty minutes then,” he says, tone something low and borderline sinful. “I can gladly wait my turn.”

You suck your lower lip into your mouth to keep from smiling back.

The next thirty minutes pass in a blur of soap and water solely because you finish out your shift by cleaning the dishes thanks to the lack of customers. It keeps you busy and away from Sunwoo, leaving the man to Yuna while you carry out your work duties with no distractions from said man. Without you needing to return to the counter, you fully expect the night to end without another word from him.

It’s a slight disappointment when you leave through the side door after your shift officially ends without even a text from the man. It feels a bit like a repeat of what happened with his friend that first day you met him, albeit with a few key differences. It would be quite the blow to your ego if these weeks of playing into his hand ended without any sort of physical gratification, and if you were to lose so spectacularly here and now, you imagine Sunwoo would be more than happy to lord that over you.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long?”

You glance up from your phone in search of the offending voice, and your glare settles on the exact man you were just thinking of moments prior.

“What I supposed to be waiting for you?” you ask in return, prompting him to peel himself away from the sleek black luxury car he’s leaned against to stand at his full height.

“I believe we had something of a mutual understanding in there but…” he trails off in favor of smiling over at you. With one hand, he gestures over his shoulder and tilts his chin a bit in question. “You could always prove me wrong and head home on your own.” You regard both the man and the car behind him with as little interest as you can feign at the moment, but you imagine that your fate is already perfectly sealed with no mystery about whether you’ll take him up on his offer or not. “I didn’t magically get my license either, but the backseat does have a lovely partition that offers quite a bit of privacy.”

“It sounds to me like you’re making quite a few presumptions, Sunwoo.”

His grin extends as he pops the door to the backseat open.

“After you, doll.”

You take the bait for precisely what it is and without a further fight, stepping into his space and laying a hand atop the edge of the door. As you lower yourself into the vehicle, your fingers brush past where his linger. It’s the first contact of the night, as well as the first bit of physical teasing you’ve managed to pull off with him. It’s awfully difficult to ‘accidentally’ brush hands or nudge into his personal space with your job and the distance between your end of the bar counter and his, so getting to ease into it now adds a layer of excitement to the already overflowing cup of anticipation in your gut. He shuts the door once you’re safely seated inside, leaving you to glance forward at the clear partition separating the front seat from the back where you now sit. There’s a dainty black curtain covering half the transparent material, and it in turn shrouds your view of the driver in the front seat.

“Doesn’t your driver need to know where he’s going before he takes off anywhere?” you inquire when the door opposite yours pulls open.

“Someone seems to be in quite the rush.”

“You forget that I’m the one at your mercy right now, Sunwoo.”

“Oh hardly, kitten. If I wanted you at my mercy, our positions would be much different.” He settles into the leather seat and snaps the car door shut with a little huff of laughter. Seconds later, he’s leaning forward and shifting the curtain to expose the driver to your eyes, knocking on the surface until the man in the front rolls the partition down enough to hear better. “Please escort us to this fair lady’s residence.” Sunwoo shifts to glance back at you, gaze almost expectant as he nods towards the driver. You recite your address without much thought. Against what is likely better judgment, you find yourself trusting your companion enough to not behave out of turn; if he really did have nefarious intentions with you, you imagine he would’ve acted on those desires a long while ago and not stuck around to play this game with you for as long as he has.

When the partition rolls back up, Sunwoo tugs the curtain back into place and once again shrouds the front end of the car from view. Soft music is filtering through the speakers but it acts as nothing more than white noise once Sunwoo settles his gaze on you.

“You can almost taste the tension, can’t you?” he remarks through a grin. His gaze is nearly lidded thanks to the purely sinful way he’s staring over at you, and you find yourself feeding right into his palm without much effort.

“If you’re gonna fuck me, then do it and get it over with.” You hardly feel a thing when the car begins to move, although all your focus and attention has shifted towards the man on your left who now leans across the middle seat to press closer to your body.

“Ah, that’s how you imagined this going?” A laugh leaves him, but this time it’s full-bodied and swamped with mirth. “That’s not at all how I intended to have you, doll.”

“Are you trying to prove a point? Is that it? Make me think you’re any different than the next rich prick who wants to bang me?” You twist at the waist to better look at him.

“I doubt I have to make you think one way or another. If I’m going to have you, Y/n, I simply wish to make certain you are left satisfied and feel the full extent of pleasure with me. Is that such a crime?” He leans further into your space until he’s close enough to cascade hot breath over your neck and down the front of your shirt. And almost like a woman possessed, you find yourself shifting to accommodate his weight against your body, drawing a leg up onto the seat and all but granting him passage between your legs as he brushes his nose into the underside of your jaw. “I hardly wish to simply fuck you and get it over with, but if you wish to believe that of me, I’ll take it as a challenge to prove you wrong.”

“And if I said I wanted it hard and fast?”

“Oh, I can be a little mean, a little rough, if that’s what you like. But only if that’s what you like, doll. Tell me what kind of slut you are, and I’ll pace myself according to your desires. I get off to seeing a pretty girl falling apart over me, so it’s a win-win situation for me.” He’s inches away from your lips now, each word pushing more of his heated breath into your parted lips in a way that feels far too lascivious for the lack of privacy you two have. Just past the partition sits a man who is essentially a total stranger, and all that separates you is a partition wall and a tiny black curtain to shroud your activities from view. He must notice the way you glance from his face to said wall a few times as your thoughts go back and forth because he leans back just enough to look over in the same direction. “You can stay quiet, can’t you, kitten?”

Your close proximity leaves no room to hide from his sharp gaze. Ducking your chin to the side only acts as a dead giveaway when he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Ah, unless you want to be a bit naughty? I can accommodate that as well if you wish.”

With a little surge of confidence (and perhaps a tiny dabble of audacity to match), you reach out and snatch Sunwoo, fingers pressing into his cheeks and digging against the sharp curve of his jawline.

“If you wish to do something here and now, then I suggest you hurry because my apartment isn’t more than fifteen minutes from the bar by bus.”

His eyes flick over your features before the realization settles in, and you end up having to be the one to close the gap between your mouths regardless because of that moment of hesitation. Finally feeling his lips atop yours provides almost paramount gratification for all these weeks of intense teasing — keeping each other at arm’s length just enough to make you go mad with desire despite the simplicity of your game — and your only saving grace is that he seems just as desperate to have more once he gets that first taste.

He presses up against your body with almost blind fervor, hands securing on your hips as his tongue breaches your lips and dives deeper for more. You allow him that much and push him back to find a better position for the both of you. He drags a hand around to your back then and coaxes your legs to part around his hips until you’re straddled across his lap. With the leverage comes a bit of power too as you can better push him into the seat and drive the kiss with your tongue fighting back against his now. He maintains his hold on your back but his other hand draws forward and lower, slipping down beneath the line of your skirt to seek something else. You expect that touch to come almost immediately but he stalls just enough to catch you off-guard. All it takes is two fingers and a touch so faint that it sends shivers down your spine to have you curling up against his body. It also elicits a quiet gasp from your lips that he swallows as the control falls back into his hands.

You have nowhere to ground yourself but his shoulders. Blunt nails dig into the fabric of his suit jacket, and when that fails to give you the satisfaction you’re after, you slip your hands under both jacket and shirt to settle against his heated skin as he dares to dig into your folds a bit more. He doesn’t breach your underwear yet, keeping himself restrained to just nudging at your cunt through the fabric. The pleasure you derive from the simple touch is borderline humiliating, only deterred by the sloppiness of your tongue against his.

More, you think but he keeps you from voicing that thought with the way his mouth keeps seeking yours when you try to pull back for breath. His persistence leaves you a little dazed, a little dizzy, and when he finally does let you gasp for air, it’s the same moment that he decides to push you down against the line of seats with his body draped heavily over yours. The angle is awkward at best with one of his arms still pressed between the two of you, and you have to let one leg fall over the edge of the seats just to accommodate the position, but it also lets you feel the rather prominent bulge at the front of his pants against the inside of your knee. In a move that’s more subconscious than an entirely purposeful one, you press into the bulge of his half-hard cock just to get a reaction out of the man. He rewards you kindly with a moan that’s barely bitten back at the last second, but then he’s dipping his fingers past the hem of your panties and finally dragging through your wet folds with more direct purpose. You curl your leg in with the first brush against your clit, and Sunwoo seizes it as an opportunity to push down hard atop your thigh, grinding his clothed erection into it. He draws a moan from his own mouth with the action, one that you swallow down with another kiss. The thought of where you are almost escapes you, along with the fact that you aren’t entirely alone, so as much as you wish to fully lose yourself in the feeling of his finger pushing into your pussy, you don’t let your sounds go beyond his lips.

“God, I wanna fuck you,” Sunwoo hisses against your mouth. He digs a second digit alongside the first and stretches your walls open a bit wider.

“N-Not without protection,” you reply, albeit through stuttered breaths and gritted teeth.

“Mm, what? Don’t want me to soil your pretty little cunt with my cock? Spoil you for anyone else who wants to fuck you?” Your head tips back at the next sensation to course through your body, and Sunwoo takes advantage of that moment of weakness to dip his mouth down to your neck. You truly do forget where you are in that split second, when he sucks your flesh between his lips and drags his teeth across your skin, and the next sound to leave your lips is anything but quiet. “See now when you make noises like that, how am I supposed to not want to ruin you for everyone else? Makes me wanna pump you full of my cum and plug you up nice and good. Could make you sloppy seconds for anyone else who wants to have you.”

You reach around the back of Sunwoo’s head, tangling your fingers through his hair just to ground yourself as he curls his fingers deep inside your cunt. He drags the tip of his thumb over your clit with the same monotonous rhythm that builds in pace as he grows almost insistent, and the jerks of his hips follow along almost as though he’s imagining the feeling of truly fucking you with the lewd movements. You sink your teeth into your lower lip as a whimper threatens to slip out. Just having one hand on him isn’t enough to quell your desires, not until you have your other arm braced around his shoulders and holding his body against yours.

“Let me have a taste,” he growls against your neck, and the low gravelly tone of his voice sends a little surge of vibrations through you. It sinks the anchor of desire further in your stomach. You guide him lower between your legs with a sort of urgency that’s nearly humiliating, yet given how he stares up at your face from where he’s now eye level with the skirt that’s ridden up your thighs, you imagine he’s in the same state himself.

Cold air brushes over your cunt for only but a moment before Sunwoo is panting hot breath over your folds. His fingers linger inside you as he takes his first sweet taste of you — a long and purposeful lick that moves from where his hand sits up to your clit then back down to your hole, and your thighs tremble with the gentle teasing.

“You look so pretty and needy for me, kitten. How could anyone not want to see you writhing in pleasure under them?” The little jab at his ‘friend’ doesn’t slip past your notice, but you don’t make any effort to swing for the ball he’s just thrown your way. Now that you have him, you want to have him in his entirety. Should the chance fall into your lap again, maybe then you’ll want to play around a bit more, but now isn’t the time for that. All you can do to make that known to him is push down with the hand you still have wrapped up in his hair. The slope of his nose meets your clit, and he dips his tongue between your walls, more than eager to listen to your silent demands. Your thighs draw up to close around his head as the stimulation reaches a mounting pleasure. Yet just as you feel yourself right at the edge of an orgasm, the feeling evaporates entirely, and your walls squeeze tight around his fingers. A quiet chuckle follows, and he draws his face up to meet your heated gaze, letting the orgasm fall away before you can delight in it.

“You sick bastard,” comes your choked-out jab that sounds almost like a sob given the way you’re gasping for breath.

“Wanna feel how tight your pussy gets when you’re cumming on my cock, princess. Don’t hold it against me.” Sunwoo pushes up on the seat until he’s on his knees, hands quickly moving down to mess with the button of his slacks.

You would move to help him if he hadn’t just ripped such a sweet orgasm out from under you, but it also gives you the chance to sit back and enjoy the view as he nudges his pants and underwear down just enough to pull his rather sizable length out. Just the first glance almost has you abandoning your ploy to crawl forward and take him into your mouth because he’s more than a little gifted with a pretty face and equally pretty dick. Long, not overly thick but enough to make you salivate, and fully erect to the point of showing off — you push yourself up onto your elbows and blink from his cock to his smug little expression that all but announces your interest in every bit of him.

“Wish I could fuck you now but,” Sunwoo hesitates and exhales slowly, hands moving around your legs to grip your thighs where they meet your hips, “I think I can rile you up just fine by mimicking the real thing.”

You tilt your chin, not quite understanding what exactly he means by that until he presses the length of his cock against your wet pussy. With one hand to push your folds together over his dick, Sunwoo thrusts forward directly over the sensitive bud of your clit, merely a testing little thrust to help him find the optimal position to pseudofuck you in, and he slips into an easy rhythm. Your cunt provides enough wetness to make the glide more pleasurable, but even with that to assist, there’s a little burn of roughness with each thrust that drags his length over you. It’s nothing overtly painful, nothing you aren’t deriving pleasure from, and you certainly aren’t complaining about the sensation even when Sunwoo smirks down at you as the whimpers start to fall more freely from your lips. You must look awfully pathetic in his eyes — either that or an absolute vision with the way you have the back of your hand pressed over your mouth to conceal the noises. The corners of your eyes are a tad wet as well, little pinpricks of tears that threaten to fall down your temples and into your hair.

Reality comes down with full force when knuckles rap hard against the partition wall and interrupt your moment of passion and fervor with Sunwoo. You flip your hand around swiftly, clapping your palm down hard over your mouth as your eyes go wide with shock. Your partner, on the other hand, hardly looks surprised at all, merely pulling back to push his dick back into his underwear like it’s nothing but a minor nuisance. You rush to pull yourself into a more decent position while pulling your clothes into their original places in an effort to hide any evidence of what you and Sunwoo were just doing. The damage is likely already done, and the driver more than likely knows to act ignorant out of respect, although you still feel a bit grateful when he doesn’t so much as look in your direction when Sunwoo guides you out of the car.

“My apartment is this way,” you say, fiddling with your purse in search of your keys. Sunwoo shoves his hands deep into his pockets and clears his throat. You would almost put his attitude off as nonchalant at best, if not for the clear bulge of his erection still poking at the front of his pants and the borderline obvious way he tries to adjust his dick into a more comfortable position through the pockets. You feel utterly debauched yourself, so that likely reflects itself on your appearance, although you have the saving grace of it being late. No one obstructs your path on the staircase up to your floor, and even the hallway outside your door is void of life aside from the moth that’s made a home of your wall lamp. Despite the stillness between you and Sunwoo while just outside the door, that facade is suddenly shattered as you fumble to get your keys in the lock.

Sunwoo hisses through his teeth, then hands are gripping hard at your hips and spinning you around until your back hits the door with a shocking amount of force. It knocks the breath nearly out of your lungs but you don’t get the opportunity to recover as Sunwoo’s lips are back on yours within the blink of an eye. His touch turns gentle as he wraps a hand around yours that still cling to the keys. You let him take them from your grasp without a fight.

“Smallest one, next to the keychain,” you murmur into his mouth before taking that same hand to wrap around the back of his neck and deepen the kiss. The taste of you lingers on his tongue, and that fills you with a filthy sort of debauched arrogance.

He finally manages to get the right key in place after what feels like an agonizing minute, twisting the key in place and letting the lock spring loose. It flips a switch in your urgency as well, as you rush to drag the man inside so quickly that you almost forget to retrieve your keys before the door snaps shut behind the two of you. Neither of you bothers with any light switches or whatever else would be proper upon welcoming someone into your home: it’s basically a race to see who can get their clothes off the fastest as you push him closer and closer to the bedroom. When you cross the threshold into the room, you pause to flip the lights on then, taking in the near intoxicating sight of a shirtless Sunwoo before you with lean muscles and a tapered waist stripped down to nothing but a pair of black socks. You’re not in a better state yourself, nothing but underwear clinging to your form, and with light finally bearing down on the two of you, you seem to be hit by reality at the same time.

You both are overtaken by a bout of laughter that pushes through the haze of desire, falling into each other in a way that feels starkly intimate compared to the intensity of your play in the car. Sunwoo drags his warm hands over your skin as he pulls you towards the foot of the bed. You’re still laughing when he twists you around, and the smile painting your lips persists after that when you tug him down to the mattress with you pressed under his body.

“Condom in the nightstand.” You laugh into the cheeky kiss he leaves you with, making quick work of your underwear while he’s retrieving the foiled packet. His eagerness makes itself known once more when you blink over at him with the packet locked between his teeth seconds before he tears it open.

“You sure it’s big enough for me?”

A scoff answers his question, but you do glance down as he’s rolling the condom over his cock just to be certain that it’s not his ego speaking.

“Do the socks stay on during sex?”

It’s his turn to answer with an indignant huff, and you laugh as he nudges you down to lie flat against the comforter.

“Doubt that’s gonna make you any less wet when my cock is involved, but—” Sunwoo shrugs “—you can turn over and let me fuck you into the mattress if it’s gonna bother you that much.”

He likely knows you weren’t being serious and it hardly bothers you one bit but you still shift to let him have you from behind just for the simple joy of catching him off-guard. The exhaled string of swears that follows is almost better than seeing his expression with your own eyes. You press your chest down to the mattress, folding your hands under the side of your face as you look back at Sunwoo over the curves of your body if only to catch his expression in the aftermath.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost call you a good girl, kitten.”

“I can do whatever you ask of me,” you hum through a sigh of pleasure as Sunwoo lets his cock rest against your entrance. “Provided the incentive is good enough.”

“Be a doll and take my big cock well, and maybe I’ll let you have me raw next time.”

You don’t get the chance to roll your eyes at his comment because he penetrates your hole as he’s still speaking, and your eyes flutter shut thanks to the stretch of your walls around his length. He says something else, something that you don’t really process because you’re too busy drinking in the sensation of his cock digging deep into your cunt.

“Don’t waste any more time,” you say over your shoulder, not bothering to ask for clarification over whatever he said to you moments earlier. Clearly, it’s nothing that is wildly important to him either considering how he takes you up on your words and gives a shallow thrust that knocks his hips against your ass. There isn’t any more waiting, which you’re grateful for, but it also means that his pace starts rough and remains a little mean to the point where you’re clinging to the pillow above your head just to keep from being knocked flat on your stomach. It’s exactly the kind of debased pleasure you were after — all these weeks of dancing around each other so coquettishly building up to such a glorified show of lust and desire in its purest form — and the feeling of his cock rolling in and out of your sopping cunt only amplifies the pleasure in your veins as Sunwoo fucks you. In hindsight, had you known he wasn’t simply talking a big game to get into your pants, you would have fucked him long ago. But perhaps playing into his game made it all the more enticing, and in turn, makes the payoff taste that much better.

You snake a hand down to rest over your mound, flicking your fingers against your clit in time with the rhythm of Sunwoo’s thrusts. That coil of pleasure that was wound so tight not once but twice in the car springs tight again now, but this time your partner does nothing to stop the orgasm from crashing over you. You surely could have dragged things out a bit longer, although something about Sunwoo’s unforgiving pace tells you that you have many more orgasms and rounds to come tonight alone. So, you take the loss for what it is — a blinding white pleasure that washes over you and makes your walls squeeze so tight around his cock that his thrusts stutter and fail in their steadiness.

“Fuck, fuck,” he hisses out as you cum around him, clenching his length and pulling him deeper into your cunt, and it’s then that you feel him tremble behind you. The condom gets in the way of that blissful feeling of being pumped full of cum; the fleeting thought of asking him to take it off later so you can revel in that sensation passes through your mind as you’re coming down from your high. Sunwoo braces his hands on either side of your head. One of his hands is just inside your line of vision, and you lazily trace your gaze over the harsh curves of his fingers as he digs them into the flesh of the mattress. He’s still muttering curses over and over, only breaking off when a prolonged moan interrupts him, then finally his hips come to rest flush against your ass. There’s no warning of any sort when he pulls you down onto the bed and curls his torso over your back, hand resting atop your hip. Both of you fight to catch breath that comes in staggered gasps as the intensity of your fucking rushes to catch up with you.

“Can you manage to get that thing back up for more, or are you just a one-hit wonder?” It’s a miracle you even have it in you to still be snippy with him, but all the more surprising is the way his dick twitches in its softening state inside you.

“I’m hardly done with you, princess. Gonna have to try a little harder than that to get rid of me.”

this work belongs to calypso / hongism (2022). do not copy, repost, or steal in any way.

#the boyz smut #tbz smut #sunwoo smut #tbz x reader #the boyz x reader #sunwoo x reader #tbz fic #the boyz fic #sunwoo fic #sunwoo x you #sunwoo oneshot #tbz oneshot #the boyz oneshot #caly.writes

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mariacallous · 2 months

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The inside cover of my grandmother’s cookbook is inscribed with her handwriting, “Think of me when you cook.” It is a copy of the same spiral-bound book that has been given to all of the women in my family. “The Sephardic Cooks: Comé Con Gana” has somehow made its way from one synagogue in Atlanta to Sephardic communities and families from New Jersey to California. It has all the classic recipes, including a section titled “Main Dish Pastries.” These dishes are the cornerstone of the Sephardic tradition, desayuno.

The word “desayuno” literally translates to “breakfast” in Ladino, the dying Judeo-Spanish language historically spoken by Sephardic Jews. Yet, the meaning extends beyond that one meal. In Sephardic culture, desayunois a category of foods associated with the large Saturday morning meal that would be served after Shabbat, including egg dishes and savory pastries.

These desayuno foods are some of my favorite things to eat and the ones I most associate with my own family traditions. The blocks of crustless quajado (spinach quiche) that always seemed to be in my childhood freezer, ready to thaw for lunch. The doughy, cheesy spinach boyos my grandmother would have ready for our breakfast every time we traveled to visit her. The pasteles (mini meat pies) my great-aunt taught to a room filled with four generations of cousins at our family reunion last summer. The rice-and-cheese-filled bureka pastries my mom comes over to make with my kids and me.

While delicious and crowd-pleasing, these are also some of the most time-consuming recipes to prepare. I picture my great-grandmother standing in a friend’s kitchen as all the ladies of the community work together to knead mounds of dough, mix a vat of filling, fold and crimp sheets and sheets of burekas. Whether this is accurate or just my imagination justifying why it feels intimidating to make these by myself, desayuno pastries do not align well with today’s fast-paced, individual lifestyle. Save for the times my mom comes to bake with us (importantly, bringing a container of prepped filling), making dough and pastry from scratch is not happening in my kitchen.

I hope to be a part of the thread that keeps Sephardic traditions alive, yet I do not want to let perfection be the enemy of my intentions. I think my grandmother would agree. While she baked burekas with all of her grandchildren and always had a freezer full of freshly baked rosca (coffee rolls), she was never one to turn down a good shortcut. She developed her own boyo recipe featuring Hungry-Jack biscuit dough as the base and once described to me a full lentil soup recipe, only to end it with, “or you could just buy a can of lentil soup.” She loved when I would call her to share that I had tried a Sephardic recipe, such as cinnamon biscocho cookies or lemon chicken soup. Whether my attempts had been successful or a flop (like my rock-hard biscochos), her smile would be audible through the phone saying, “I’m just so glad you tried.”

As Sephardic culture and traditions fade and assimilate, food provides an important outlet to preserve history and share it with family and friends. More important than getting it right or spending hours in the kitchen is remembering our traditions, trying recipes, talking about or simply eating Sephardic foods, regardless of who made them.

In that spirit, I would like to propose lowering our standards, for the greater good of keeping traditions alive. Consider a desayuno with fewer parts or with a little help from the freezer aisle. Rather than the large spread my ancestors would prepare for days in advance, consider making one thing from scratch (though I won’t tell if you cook zero things). You could make a batch of burekas or a quajado, arguably the easiest of the Sephardic breakfast dishes, or even just prepare a pot of hard-boiled eggs. Supplement with frozen spanakopita, Ta’amti Bourekas or a Trader Joe’s Greek cheese spiral for a full table.

Nothing will taste quite like homemade pastries fresh from the oven and I still aspire to make them (occasionally). Yet, even when I munch a makeshift Sephardic meal, I will be thinking of my grandmother, just as she inscribed in her cookbook. As long as we are sharing food together, talking about Sephardic traditions, remembering meals and people who matter to us, I will call it desayuno. I think my grandmother would be proud.

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cowboycatd · 1 year

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cowboycatd perchance would you write a totally impromptu idea that I just came up with on my own with absolutely no input from you about dads!bealil and kid libby learning to climb

Wow, how spontaneous! How original!

Marcel’s hands tremble as he tightens the chest straps of the harness. His ears burn under the penetrating gaze of the tall, severe woman standing behind him. She’d walked in just ten minutes ago with another woman, haughtily demanding service. She didn’t even bother to introduce herself or her party; Marcel had to gather that information himself from the waivers. The four-year-old thankfully standing relatively still is called Elizabeth followed by an unnecessary number of names he can’t recall, and her parents who are not still are apparently Lilith and Beatrice.

The instant he finishes with the harness, Lilith swoops in and nearly bats his hands away as she checks for herself the snugness of the fit.

“Are you comfortable, Libby? Is it too tight?” She tugs on each strap, moving from the chest to the waist to the legs.

Libby shakes her head and gives a thumbs up.

Marcel suppresses an annoyed eye roll. Sure, he picked up working at a climbing gym as a summer gig, but he knows how to set up a child’s harness better than this woman who’s clearly here for the first time.

She stands out like a swan among mere mundane ducks. Both she and her wife do. Lilith is dressed to the nines in a turtleneck, slim cropped slacks, and high heeled boots. She looks ready to sit down at a three-star Michelin restaurant or whatever rich people do. Marcel really wouldn’t know. Why she thought wearing an all-black ensemble to a climbing gym of all places is beyond comprehension. Marcel smiles to himself imagining her covered in chalk on her way out. Her wife is barely more casual, donning a soft sweater layered over a button-up.

Lilith finally steps back after fretting over the harness. She pulls at the collar of her turtleneck and directs her piercing glare back at Marcel. Beatrice hands him the small purple helmet he’d gotten out with a smile.

“Okay Libby,” he kneels down and puts on his best cheerful tone. He buckles the helmet under her chin and gives her a pat on the head. “What I’m gonna do next is tie you into this rope and then you can get started climbing!”

“Can I go all the way to the top?” Libby asks with awe while craning her neck up, eyes wide.

“Let’s try one-third first-“ Lilith is interrupted by her wife.

“Yes, Libby, if you want.”

Marcel tries to ignore the parents’ hushed debate about safety and heights as he ties Libby in. He loads his ATC and performs his safety checks.

“All right, whenever you’re ready!”

“Wait!” Lilith nearly shrieks, losing some of her poised demeanor.

Marcel avoids reveling in vindication at this and takes a deep breath. He turns around and plasters on his best customer service smile.

“That knot will hold her if she falls?” Marcel has an image of Lilith stabbing him through the chest with a sword flash in his mind. She looks like the type who fences.

Beatrice loops an arm around Lilith’s and gently pulls her back. “Marcel knows what he’s doing, darling.” She gives Marcel a stare of her own. He shifts his eyes. Lilith clenches her jaw and tilts her chin up at him. “Fine. Go ahead.”

“Dad! Look at me!” Libby shouts as she slowly begins climbing. Dad? She’s clumsy, her tiny hands grasping at the large holds. Even the crimps must be jugs to her.

Lilith gasps when Libby’s foot slips for the first time and she hangs only by her arms. Marcel makes sure to pull out all the slack to nearly the point that he could drag Libby up the wall if he so desired. He swears he can feel Lilith analyzing the tautness of the rope from behind him.

Meanwhile, Libby kicks at the wall once, twice, before her foot miraculously lands on a hold. She giggles as she continues her slow ascent. Her hands reach for a hold here, a hold there, stretching out until she can grab onto something, whether it’s an actual handhold or a foothold. She appears to prefer a three-finger drag and Marcel finds himself envious of her grip strength-to-weight ratio.

Marcel imperceptibly shakes his head and concentrates on giving her the best possible belay, maybe the safest belay anyone has ever given in history, under Lilith’s glare he can still feel boring into his back. He wouldn’t be surprised if Beatrice is doing the same.

“Dad! Dad! Look! Look how high I am!” Libby turns her head and looks down at them.

“Be careful, Libby!” Lilith shouts up, twisting her wedding band around her finger.

“Baba! Look!” Libby shouts again and accidentally knocks her helmet against the wall in her excitement.

“Keep going!” Beatrice says. Dad? Baba? Interesting names. Maybe it’s a British thing.

The quiet argument reignites once Libby is halfway up the wall.

“That’s quite high enough for her. It’s her first time!”

“She can stop when she wants.”

“Bea-“

“Baba! Dad!” Something spikes in Marcel’s chest at her tone. “I’m scared!”

Libby’s two-thirds up the wall now. She looks down and squeals, then whimpers. Her body tightens up and she freezes.

“It’s okay, Libby, let go if you want! I’ve got you!” Marcel walks closer to the wall and pulls in slack.

“No, I’m scared!” Her legs shake and she grips the holds for dear life. “Baba! Baba! Dad!”

“Do something!” Lilith comes up behind him and hovers like a swamp monster from the movies he watched when he was a kid. Her voice is shrill.

“I told you!” She then directs at Beatrice.

Beatrice pulls Lilith back once more. “Listen to Marcel,” she calls up. “He’ll help you!” Marcel just catches a quiet, “she’ll be all right, breathe, love.”

“Okay Libby, here’s what we’re going to do.” Marcel’s knuckles are white with how tightly he’s clutching the rope under both parents’ scrutiny. “I’ve got you tight, just let go one hand at a time, okay? I’ve got you.”

Libby’s bottom lip trembles. Uh oh. Marcel’s not ready for a toddler’s unmanageable meltdown, not today.

“Be brave, Libby! Listen to Marcel!” Lilith is calmer now, encouraging.

Libby slams her eyes shut and faces the wall once more. One hand releases. A high pitched whine.

“Come on, Libby!”

“Just hold the rope! I’ve got you!”

The other pops off. Libby wraps both hands at chest level around the rope, eyes still squeezed shut.

Marcel takes care to lower her slowly so she doesn’t swing side to side. Both parents rush to her the moment her feet touch the ground. Lilith kneels down and lays a hand on Libby’s shoulder while Beatrice sinks into a low squat and wraps one arm around her wife’s shoulders and another around Libby’s.

“You did so good, Libs.”

Marcel gives them space and takes a few deep breaths. He doesn’t bother to untie Libby’s knot, not until the parents are done. With luck, this will be the only route she climbs today.

“Did you see?” Libby says as a grin stretches. “I went so high!”

Lilith lays a hand over her heart. “We saw, Libby. Done?”

“No!” Marcel groans inwardly at hearing this. “Again! Again!”

The following week Marcel is thankfully off belay shift and is instead responsible for check-outs. No need to deal with children and their ridiculous parents today. Yet, his stomach drops at the sight of Libby’s family walking in the door again. It’s okay, I don’t have to belay her today.

Something tickles at the back of his head when he takes in their appearance, though. Lilith…is in a power suit with a tie and all…but Beatrice looks determined today. Unnervingly so. She’s dressed in athletic wear and carries a bulging bag on her shoulder.

“I’d like to complete a belay check-out, please,” she says.

On one hand, this means he doesn’t have to endure the sweat-inducing, shirt-drenching, body-shaking ordeal from last week. He remembers being completely wiped out after belaying Libby for a mere forty-five minutes. On the other hand…did they have problems with his belaying?

What he says is, “Sure!”

He walks the family out to the top rope wall and writes “Beatrice Williams” on the form pinned to his clipboard. Libby sits on Lilith’s lap as they observe the check-out process.

Marcel is stupefied as he watches Beatrice pull out a harness from her bag. It’s not even hers; it’s a child harness. The harness is neatly moved to the side along with a child’s helmet, tiny climbing shoes, two adult helmets, and two adult harnesses. One of the adult harnesses is loaded with an ATC, a GriGri, a PAS, and even extra locking carabiners. He has to keep his jaw from dropping, lest Lilith burn him with some sort of quip.

“Have you taken a class?” Marcel asks politely.

“I’ve watched some videos and practiced at home,” Beatrice replies casually as she pulls on her harness.

“Baba watched eight videos!” Libby announces proudly, holding up her hands with six fingers up.

Lilith mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like, “and bought a rope, and gear, and practiced with two belay devices without a climber for hours at home.”

Beatrice pointedly ignores this and uses one hand to deftly remove the ATC from a gear loop, loads it, and clips it to her belay loop.

“Ready,” she says.

#davey writes #fic: dads #love you to pieces em #warrior nun #kinda #climbing AU #also kinda #to be trusted with dads...no higher honor #marcel...is an idiot please know this...but a good belayer

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palestporn · 7 months

Text

Gamzee: RUN MOTHERFUCKER

Don't have to tell you twice, you're so motherfucking down with that--except when you hit the ground and start scrambling at the door, you only make it four staggering steps before red and blue sparks snap back around you like burning ropes and drag you back.

It lifts you full off your feet again, and for a second you're so pissed off and so fucking scared, you don't see anything. Don't feel anything except the way it burns everywhere, don't hear anything except howling, roaring, so loud and close it rings your horns and tears out of your throat, too-- They'll cull you, you'll rip them apart, they'll burn you alive, lowbloods and mutants, how motherfucking DARE--

Someone half-catches you, half-tackles you as the psionic full drops you, purple in the eyes now and yelling out, holding his head--you slap out at whoever's touching you and your useless motherfucking claws scrape pointless over the Second Coming's face. Would've ripped him open if you weren't--bound, HOBBLED, motherfucking DEBASED is this your revenge, mutant, is this why you watched them do it IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED--

"Hey, hey, hey," says Karkat, and grabs your shoulders and shakes you hard. Makes you breathe, startles a gasp into you. "Shhh, fuck, stay there. Stay--stay put, a second, shh."

He doesn't touch your neck with those knife-claws this time, he puts his palm to your cheek and pets and pats at you, like you're supposed to do, pulse in his wrist where even fangs as blunt as yours could tear it out.

It's clumsy as a fucking pupa. The head conciliatrix would shout him in shape for hours over just the sound of his shooshing. It still feels all hells of motherfucking good right now.

"I gotta--" you say, without any fucking idea what you're saying, clinging and clawing at him, both useless without any fucking claws. "Get the fuck off, motherfucker let go--!"

"You're the one holding on!" he says, and he's right, and you can't let go. "Shhh, sh. Sollux, you glass cannon piece of shit, you better be good over there."

"Fuck," says the psionic, kinda wheezy. "Fwh. Yeah. 'M fine. Lemme get him--"

"Nobody's getting anybody," Karkat says, before you can make another fucking bolt for the door or rip him apart. "Hey, look at me, don't freak out--We're good, we're fine. Everybody calm the fuck down. I'm handling this bullshit."

"Yeah you're handling something," says the psionic, still gasping, but he manages to snicker at you anyhow, while his sparks lift him up on his feet. "Ehehe. Damn, KK." You figured he just had stupid motherfucking glasses, but his eyes glow the same red and blue underneath, too, a real familiar set of colors.

The Ψiioniic's spawn pops his gazepanes back on his pointy li'l nose and grins at the both of you. You try to cringe back from him and try to spring up at his throat with your fangs, and don't manage at doing either. Just sit there like a bounding hornbeast that wandered up in front of a scuttlebuggy, and try to remember how you ever breathed without panic-growling the same time.

Karkat says over your head, "You said you couldn't go talk to him because it was too dangerous, well that barkbeast's fucked. So, it's time for you to pry some answers out of that crimped deformity you call a squawkblister. Your Ascendance." Either he gets some shape of a nod, or he doesn't care, because he looks back down at you and pats your face again, firm. "Okay. Focus up. What do you want to know?"

Gamzee: What the fuck DO you want to know?

==> Audience: Enter Question

[START OVER]

#CYOA: Imperial Favor #......................splickedy did you find-- A WAY TO DRAW THE GHB SOME MORE?? YES I DID THANK YOU.

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poems-art-darkness-n-more · 4 months

Text

Details I love from Trolls 3

The shakey cam after the failed Brozone performance, like a documentary being made about the band falling apart

Poppy’s shocked face when John Dory spanks Branch

John Dory’s impressed nod at Branch’s falsetto made of gold

How completely bored Floyd looks the second John Dory starts trying to recognize him

The little faces Gristle & Bridget make in the background

The glitter on Branch after Ronda appears

Venner’s one earring

The ‘I got a New Car’ song by Jay Bee

The way Veneer tries to mimic Velvet’s posture

The photo of kid John Dory being chased by Spruce & Clay during Floyd’s song

Poppy’s amused fondness on Branch’s complete disinterest when Tiny Diamond first appears

The complete LACK of a splash when Ronda hits the water

Also the orbeez water

Pool noodle/inflatable jungle

Branch’s confusion when John Dory says Branch wrote that song

Also incredibly hot of Dreamworks to take a character who was the ‘heart throb’ with a six pack, give him a six pack, and never mention it

Brandy’s Hair

Bruce’s reluctant acceptance when he learns Floyd’s in a Diamond prison

Brandy’s fond nod for Bruce to prove himself to his kids

Floyd’s hair starts turning white after he’s put in the shoulder pad for the first time (the movie never makes it obvious, but you can see it while he’s still in there)

Branch’s ‘wtf’ look when Bruce says it’ll be hard to separate the art from the artist

Somehow John Dory is the most put together of Brozone (only has slight fraying to his pants, Bruce’s is worse, Clay’s crazy hair, Floyd’s dying, and Branch’s pants are patch-worked)

Poppy & Viva have the same freckles

Clay’s delight for Viva when her & Poppy realize they’re sisters

Viva using a golf tee like a walking stick

The way Clay IMMEDIATELY drags John Dory away when he takes over from Branch

When Poppy & Viva are stargazing you can see the scrapbook and camera they used earlier in the song

The concerned look Bruce and John Dory share when Clay says they won’t be able to bring Poppy

Clay’s amazed/surprised look when Poppy says the Bergens have stopped eating them

Bruce’s smile gradually fading in the background when Branch talks to Viva about living in the bunker

Branch waiting in the background for Poppy while she tries to convince Viva to come

The repeated sibling relationship of ‘making up little dances’ and the difference in response between Poppy and Velvet

The fact Branch had to AGREE to putting on a diaper in front of his GIRLFRIEND

The immediate annoyance from Clay & Bruce when John Dory starts criticizing

Branch’s alarmed face at Clay’s “I’m A Licensed CPA!”

The gradual despair on Branch’s face as the fight goes on

John Dory holding up five fingers when he says ‘four little brothers’

John Dory visibly taking a breath to calm himself

Gristle checking himself when Bridget asks if he smells something

‘Gristle, I didn’t think we’d both be tied up on this honey moon’ WTF

Tiny Diamonds worried expression when Poppy says she doesn’t know what she’s doing in the vent

Floyd going limp when Velvet and Veneer enter to not give away Branch

Gristle’s pouty face in the corner as Bridget and Viva talk

Veneer hiding behind Velvet when Rhonda shows up

Gristle coming in clutch and managing to throw Rhonda onto the boat

The way Viva just kicks Veneers ass in half a second

The way Velvet really looks like a Cuphead character when she suggests and encore

Crimp’s ukulele doesn’t have actual strings/looks like a toy

Props to Bridget for throwing Gristle & Rhonda onto a MOVING boat. She caught them back up to that thing!!

All the brothers having different colors around them when they hit the harmony

Branch looking up when he asks what happened

John Dory reading Clay’s sad book in the background when Clay & Branch are talking

The matching Kismet outfits

Branch’s brothers dancing together in the front

#dreamworks trolls #trolls #trolls band together

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ncdweller · 3 months

Text

Slight delay on the HVAC stuff

I thought I’d be clever and build my own cables, that way only installing the four wires needed, instead of dealing with a fifth, unneeded wire the AliExpress vendors had.

Hah!

The little metal thingies that the wire gets crimped to, won’t fit in the JST connector. They almost do.

So, I gave up and ordered the pre-made cables.

In related news, the arduino sketch for the ESP8266 compiled without any errors. And the raspberry pi is running mosquitto, the MQTT broker, and it’s talking to Hubitat.

The cables will be here between March 7th and 24th.

If I can figure out which size metal thingies fit that connector, I’ll order that.

#slaughterhouse house #mitsubishi #HVAC #mosquitto #Hubitat

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ddejavvu · 2 years

Note

May I order a spinach quiche to share with Eddie munson, a Halloween au where he and reader surprise each other with cute candy baskets full of their faves with a pinch of salt.

you are formally invited to ddejavvu's 10K dinner party, now serving hors d'oeuvres

"Swedish fish," You gush, yanking the crinkly plastic bag out of the basket Eddie put together for you, "The original ones!"

"They had some 'and other ocean friends' bullshit," Eddie looks up from where he's sorting through Milk Duds and Almond Joys with a smile quirked over his lips, "I knew you wouldn't want 'em, though."

"You know me so well," You're not sure whether you're referring to the fact that Eddie has gotten you one, two, three, four of your favorite candy bars, or that the basket he's decorated for you has a pumpkin scented chapstick lying at the bottom, or that he's taken a cocktail napkin that says boo and written 'bs' on the end, but it's undeniably an Eddie Gift, displaying his wholehearted care for those he loves.

"I do," He raises a single eyebrow, snatching a milky way from the side of his basket, "Which is why I know that you bought this for yourself and forgot to take it out."

"Oops." You smile sheepishly at him, reaching for the candy bar and shrieking when he pulls it away, "Hey!"

"Nope," The 'p' is popped, his crimped hair bouncing as he shakes his head fervently, "Mine now, sweetheart. Finders Keepers."

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momolady · 2 years

Text

Vintage Misery: Part Two

Al wants nothing more than to leave, but everything within this southern mystery keeps her from moving. The world she thought she knew, one of ghosts and demons, has begun to grow, and no matter what she's learned, she isn't prepared for what is out there after her.

Part One

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

By the time I woke up, my neck hurt, which was giving me a headache. I sat up in the bed and looked around, eyes bleary and mind hazy. I was having trouble piecing together what had happened over the last day or so. I hissed from the cold as the wooden floor met my bare feet, and considered staying in bed until it got warm. But everything was so dark I couldn’t tell up from down, day from night, or even right from left.

“Neil?” I muttered as I rubbed my eyes. The one that struck the rock in Mercy’s lawn was still very sore. “Neil? Where are you?”

No answer. That was new. “Shit.” I rose from the bed, feeling lightheaded. Lightheaded with a headache. That was new. I shuffled around the room. “Neil, I could really use you! Come out now!”

The door opened and light flooded in. I covered my eyes, which burned as if they had been pressed against a grill. “Oh, look, Beth’s little friend is up.” The woman chuckled as she strutted into the room. “Beth’s not here at the moment. Why don’t you just get back in bed?”

“I really have to go,” I grumbled. “Have you seen my bag?”

She put her hand on my shoulder, leading me back towards the bed. “No.”

“Who are you?” I grumped.

“Yvie,” she stated simply as she had me sit back down on the bed. As my eyes adjusted I could see Yvie was one of the girls who had passed by the night the sorority girls were murdered. She had long, shiny, straight hair with razor-sharp bangs, and wore big, dangling earrings and a lot of bracelets.

“I’d like to just go, please,” I muttered. “I need to get the bus. What time is it?”

“Beth will be back shortly.” Yvie touched my face and smoothed away my hair, a strangely intimate gesture. “You feel a bit cold. You should warm up a bit.”

“I have a headache,” I huffed. “You’re getting a bit close.” I put my hand on her shoulder and pushed back a bit.

“Alice, was it?” Yvie smirked. “You’re just as cute as Beth said you were.”

My cheeks prickled as color rushed into them. “Listen…”

“… out.” Neil’s voice faded in and out like bad radio signal. “… bad thing! … out!”

I pushed against Yvie as she came closer to me. Her lips touched mine, and I was too weak to fend her off. She pushed me onto the bed and bit my lip. I was pinned by her weight, barely able to move, and then the bed toppled. One of the legs must have given out, or Neil came through for me. As soon as we fell off the bed, I stood up and put a chair in front of me while Yvie just laughed. It wasn’t until then I realized my lip was bleeding.

“You don’t want to have a little fun with me?” Yvie chuckled.

“Not particularly!” I wiped my lip. “You’re a little too rough for my taste!”

Yvie licked her lips. “I’ll make you feel so much better, though.”

I brandished the chair and moved around Yvie. “I’m good!” I saw my bag on the floor, and dropped the chair to grab it and run out the door. I didn’t care if I never found my shoes. I’d go barefoot if I had to. I rushed down the hallway with Yvie not too far behind me.

Another girl popped her head out of a room, a massive mop of crimped, curly dirty-blond hair. She smiled and emerged to block me, trapping me between her and Yvie. “What have you got, Yvie?” she giggled.

“I’ve found Beth’s new friend, Millie.” Yvie snickered. “I think I scared her.”

I looked back and forth and scoffed. “You’re both fucking weird!” I pushed my way around Millie, using my bag like a shield. I remembered there had been four of them, including Beth, so I needed to be ready for the next one to pop out and scare me. By then I was in the foyer, and I could see the front door and my freedom straight ahead.

“Run!” Neil’s voice was still in the distance, fading in and out of my conscious mind.

I grabbed hold of the doorknob, and then I was snatched around the waist and pulled back. My bag hit the ground as I was set at the foot of the stairs. “Be nice to her, Adele. We’d hate to return her to Beth bruised.”

Adele was tall, not exactly broad but not exactly petite either. She had a lovely face, although I didn’t think any of the girls were particularly attractive at that moment, and buzz-cut, platinum-bleached hair with a braided headband wrapped around her skull.

“Beth told us to keep her here,” Adele said. “I was just making sure she didn’t go.”

I wasn’t about to run up any stairs, not after last time. But Neil was trying to warn me, and I bet the headache was the reason I was having a hard time perceiving him. This was frustrating, and a little bit terrifying. I was getting sick of being scared.

There was a knock on the door, and all three sisters turned at once to look. Yvie approached it. “Who’s there?”

“I’m looking for Alice Young.” It was the voice of Officer Mercy. “I dropped her off here yesterday, and I found her wallet in my car. I was wondering if she was still here.”

Yesterday? Did I sleep a full twenty-four hours? I was about to shout, but Adele grabbed me and forced her hand over my mouth.

“No, she left yesterday,” Yvie sighed. “But you can leave her wallet here.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Officer Mercy said despondently.

I guessed Neil was still looking out for me, because Adele lost her footing on the stair and let go of me. “I’m here!” I shouted. “Officer Mercy! It's me! Al!” I managed to get to the door, but Yvie held me off, glaring at me like she intended to kill me.

“Oh, my mistake,” Yvie snarled.

I opened the door as Millie pulled Yvie back. It was pitch-black outside. I really did sleep for a whole day! I reached back, grabbing my bag off the floor before I went to join Officer Mercy on the porch. “What’s going on?” he asked.

I took my wallet from his hand and shoved it back into my bag. “Thanks,” I huffed.

A concerned look filled Mercy’s face. “You’re bleeding. Are you okay?”

I looked back at the door to the house and grimaced. “Just get me out of here. I made a mistake coming here. I made a huge mistake coming to this town.” I walked off the front porch and made a beeline to his car.

“You don’t have shoes!”

“I’m done answering questions.” I heaved myself into the car and sat there with the door closed. My ears were ringing, my head was a wet soup of pain.

Officer Mercy got back into his car and started the engine, and only then did I feel some relief. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

I held up a finger. “Ever since you knocked on my door, life has been nothing but a massive pain in my neck. I’ve obviously been pulled into something and I really don’t like how messy it’s gotten. I just want to get on a bus and get the hell out of here. So no, I am not okay.”

Mercy just looked straight ahead. “Well, if this helps with anything, after I talked with you, I did some digging.” He patted a folder next to him on the seat. “There’s a bit of dark history to the Alpha Sigma Alpha house.”

I opened the folder to find copies of old newspaper clippings and a couple of book passages. “Hervé House Horror,” I muttered. “Dozens of missing persons cases are attributed to local butcher Louis Hervé, who shared the house with his ailing wife and her sisters. Hervé is thought to have killed, butchered and served the corpses as meat in his shop…” I stopped and looked at Mercy. “What does this have to do with anything?”

“Those girls were butchered, like in a slaughterhouse,” Mercy said. “Even with the bites taken out of them.”

“So you think the ghost of this Hervé guy is killing them? There were no ghosts in that house! None at all. Trust me, I know the feel of a spectral presence better than a hot bath. That house was clean.”

Mercy frowned. “But don’t you think that it’s odd?”

I thought of that awful underground basement filled with corpses. How many more were under the water? Hell, the bones of Hervé’s victims were probably still down there too. “Does Hervé have any surviving relatives?” I asked.

Mercy shook his head. “I thought the same thing. He and his wife never had children, she was thought to be too sickly. Once Hervé was caught and tried, she and her sisters moved away to escape the scandal.”

I set the papers aside. “It’s not my concern, then.”

“You don’t care at all?”

I stared out the window. “I want to get out of here before your boss finds out anything else about me. You can’t tell me he’s not looking.”

Mercy pulled up at a stop sign. We sat there in the darkness, car running, lights beaming across the asphalt. “Is there something to find?”

“Something he can use,” I muttered.

Mercy took his foot off the brake and started to put his foot on the gas, when it sounded like something hit the side of the car.

“What was that?” I gasped.

Mercy stopped again and a scratching noise filled the car, like something crawling on top. Something struck the side of the car again, sending it into a perilous lean on two tires. Once it landed again, Mercy hit the gas and sped off. White hands came down over the window - long and spindly, like those of the creature Beth drew for me. I screamed and Mercy hit the brakes hard, sending the thing on top of the car toppling down. Then Mercy hit the gas again, driving over whatever was on top of us and not stopping.

“Holy shit!” I yelled.

“Not good! Not good!” I could hear Neil as clear as day in the back.

“What the fuck was that?” Mercy’s voice trembled from panic.

“Just drive! Just drive!” Neil screamed.

“Just drive! Drive!” I echoed.

Mercy sped on for a long while, never stopping, turning on his sirens to bypass the sparse traffic in town. We stopped in the diner parking lot, in the light and near people, and sat in the car stunned, silent, and uncertain. “I’ve seen some shit in my life,” Mercy muttered. “My mom had us study crime scenes, bad ones too. But I have never seen anything like…”

“Monster hands?”

Mercy nodded. “Was that what it was?”

I pressed my lips into a firm line. “I don’t know what’s happening here.” I looked in the rearview mirror to see the faint outline of Neil, and sighed with relief. I could perceive him again. I had been so scared when I couldn’t. “I’ve never experienced anything like this.”

“Never?” Mercy asked.

“I’ve seen every sort of ghost, whatever you can name. I always thought, or at least hoped, that monsters weren’t real. Not the ones in stories. No Bigfoot, no bogeyman, no goblins or werewolves. But…”

“Vampires,” I heard Neil say.

“What?” I furrowed my brow.

“Your lip,” Mercy said. “It’s bleeding again.”

I touched my chin and felt the warm blood trickling from my lip, down my chin, and onto my neck. “Here,” Mercy handed me his handkerchief. “Clean yourself up.”

I took it, wiping up as much as I could. “Thanks. And sorry.”

“I don’t think you’re to blame for this.” He leaned onto the steering wheel. “At least, I hope you aren’t. That’d be a lot to put on a lady.”

I chuckled, checking the handkerchief before pressing it back onto my lip. “I’d be used to it.” I leaned back in the seat, looking up at the sky that stretched far above us. There were so many stars here, away from the city lights. I wondered how that was possible.

Mercy opened his car door and stepped out. He looked it over, and even in the shadows I could see his shocked expression before he leaned back in through the window. “Let’s go get something to eat. I’m done being in this car.”

I stepped out, remembering I didn’t have any shoes. I decided it didn’t matter, then closed the door and saw claw marks in the metal. “Well…” I sucked in my breath and held it.

“We need to go,” Neil said to me as he came out of the car. “Those girls, those… things! They drank your blood, Al! They’re vampires.”

That was a lot to take in. For me, vampires were men like Bela Lugosi, Christoper Lee, etc. “Are you sure?”

“I saw them!” he hissed, bloodshot eyes panicked. “But because you were unconscious, I couldn’t do anything to stop them.”

I felt around my neck, which had been sore since morning. Sure enough, near the back, I found an extremely sore spot. “Who did it?”

Neil bounced in place. “The creepy ones, the three that tried to keep you there.”

“What about Beth?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

I looked down at the pavement, then turned to Mercy as he stepped near me. “I forgot you didn’t have any shoes on. We can get you something when the shops open.”

“Yeah, okay.” I followed him into the diner. The place and people were virtually unchanged since I was there with Beth - shit, two days ago. I sat down with Officer Mercy, trying to angle my legs so my feet didn’t touch the floor. This was bad. What if Beth was being held hostage by these women? What if she was their feed bag, and they were going to keep me as another one? I then bit down on the tip of my tongue. What if they had killed those girls?

“If you want, you can stay with me until you can get a bus out of here,” he says. “I don’t mind at all. No one has to know you’re still here.”

I nodded in silence.

“I came out here hoping it’d be more peaceful and quiet than what I was used to. Guess you get big scares everywhere you go. Even small towns like this one have their dirty, awful secrets,” Mercy chuckled as he looked over the menu.

I ordered waffles and coffee again, as well as biscuits and gravy, hash browns, and a side of grits. I was starving. I hadn’t eaten in twenty-fours, and who knew how much of my blood those bitches took. I felt much better after eating - my headache was vanishing, and my neck felt less stiff. Even my lip had stopped bleeding.

Once the fog in my brain had dispersed, I decided to tell Officer Mercy what I found at the Alpha Sigma Alpha house. “Look, don’t ask me how I know this… but if you check the fifth step on the main stairs at the sorority, you’ll see it comes loose. It leads down into a cavern that’s filled with water and a lot of dead people.”

“Fucking finally!” Neil heaved in relief. “See? Had you just told him before, we could have avoided this thing completely! It’s about time you told me I’m right!”

Mercy went stiff and his eyes narrowed at me. “Are you serious?”

“I wish I wasn’t. I wasn’t going to say anything about this at all, especially since your boss seems to hate me. But Beth asked me to go back into that house just to make sure. I did, only because she offered a lot of money. And, quite literally, the ground was pulled out from under me. I fell into that underground lake and found myself in a heap of death.”

Mercy sat back and his eyes fell to the table. “So, the night you wandered into my backyard…”

“The exit was under the overpass,” I murmured. “You can probably get to it easier that way.”

“Are you sure?”

I gave him a short nod. “Positive. I’ve seen a lot of horrible things in my life, but nothing like that.”

Mercy sighed and slouched his shoulders. “I’ll go and look for it. Once I confirm its existence, I can report it to the chief. I’ll just tell him I got a report of a bad smell or something.” He rubbed his arm, then raised his eyes again. “Is it really that bad?”

“Afraid so,” I murmured, then immediately felt regret. “I’ll go with you. But I’ll need shoes first.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“I want to. It’s the least I can do. Besides, I have to make sure you find this mess. Maybe it’ll help solve a few cases and get you in good with your boss.” I smiled, although I didn’t really feel like it.

We got some cheap shoes at a discount store down the street. Then we drove to the overpass, parking the car at the side of the road and walked down to the water. Once there, I could see the opened grate I had exited a couple of days ago.

“You really wanna go back in there?” Neil asked.

I nodded, then held my hand out as if asking him to stay put. “Let’s go, Mercy.” I led him into the water, towards the grate. He turned on his flashlight to examine the hole beneath before leading the way. I followed after him, chills prickling all over my body.

We came out into the big cavern, and Mercy’s flashlight landed on some of the corpses on the patch of earth across from us. His hand flinched, and he nearly dropped the flashlight. He continued to search the area, despite his own discomfort and horror. “This is…”

I pointed up. “You can see where the stairs lead up, and where the basement of the house ends.” I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here, Mercy.”

He was shaking under my palm. “That one over there,” he whispered. “I recognize the shirt… Her mother said she came home, but…”

I pulled on his arm. “Let’s go.” I managed to dislodge him from his spot, leading him back out of that horrible place. I took him towards the car, but when we got there, Officer Pitbull was waiting.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? Still in town, little lady?” he chuckled. Then he turned to Mercy and grimaced. “Officer Mercy, what the fuck happened to your patrol car?”

“Sir,” Mercy was still trying to process the horror of that underground space. He started to speak, but he doubled over and heaved up his entire breakfast onto Officer Pitbull’s shoes.

“Oh no,” Neil whined.

Mercy choked, throwing up a second round. Office Pitbull pushed him aside, and Mercy fell against his squad car as he came towards me, grabbing me by the arm. “You’re coming with me.”

“On what grounds?” I snapped at him. “Get your hands off me!”

“Dead bodies!” Mercy finally managed to spit out. “Over there. Lots of them!”

Officer Pitbull gave me an unpleasant smile. “Like grandfather, like granddaughter. Isn’t that right, Ms. Young?”

I tried to yank my arm free, but the bastard was a lot stronger than I gave his doughy body for. He threw me into the back of his police car, despite the protests of Mercy, then drove off with me, spewing dirt as he went. “I found out a few things about you, Ms. Young,” he chuckled. “Thought you could hide from it forever?”

“I have no connections to that man!” I snapped at him.

“But you’re his granddaughter, and sickness can run in bloodlines.”

“I’m not blood-related to him, either!” I screamed.

Officer Pitbull hit his brakes hard, making me slam into the cage. “Shut up back there.”

“Motherfucker.” I clutched my already beaten and bloodied face. My lip was starting to bleed again.

“Daughter of Ivan and Amy Young, famous ghost hunters and exorcists. Sick fuckers all the way around. Not to mention your grandfather, Walter. Or should I say the God’s Womb killer” Now I wanted to throw up on his shoes, too. “Killed over thirty women, trying to find the perfect mother for the return of his god,” he sneered at me, then clicked his tongue. “Apples don’t fall too far from the tree.”

“I keep telling you, I have no connection to that man,” I snarled hatefully at him. “He wasn’t my grandfather, and I never even met the man. He was long dead before I ever was a thought. And we don’t share blood at all! You can’t use any of this to hold me.”

“Officer Mercy certainly gave me enough. If there are bodies, that means we’ve found you right at the scene of the crime.” He pulled up to the police station, then turned around, removing his glasses and looking at me dead in the eye. “I know some sick motherfucker like you is responsible for this. All you Satanists are.”

I could hear Mercy’s car pulling up beside us then. “I’m not a Satanist! My dad is Catholic!”

Officer Pitbull stepped out of his car just as Mercy rushed up. He chased us inside the station, trying to explain, but Pitbull wasn’t listening, and Mercy might as well have been a ghost like Neil. Pitbull opened a cell door and threw me in. “Stay away from here, Mercy. In fact, stay away from me.” He shoved him against the bars of the cell. “Officer Martin! You and Perkins go to the overpass and search for anything down there.”

Mercy turned and looked back at me, guilt in his eyes. “Just leave,” I sighed as I sat down on the hard bunk and leaned my back against the wall.

“But you’re innocent!”

I shook my head. “It’s easier to get yourself out of this now than try to pull yourself up later.” I shrugged and tilted my head up. “He’s not going to listen to you, and I doubt anyone else will.”

“It’s not right,” Mercy huffed. “I’ll try and tell him. Someone! Anyone who will listen to me. I know it's not you.”

I closed my eyes. “Just make sure Beth is okay. Tell her I left town and that I’m sorry, but just go to her house and make sure she’s safe. I don’t trust those other girls there.”

“What do you mean?” Mercy asked.

I opened my eyes and turned back to him. “Just keep your gun with you, that’s all I ask. Are silver bullets a thing?”

His brow pinched. “No. That’s just stories.”

“Then regular bullets should be fine.” I huffed and touched my neck, feeling where it was sore. “Don’t keep your neck exposed either. Just in case.”

“Alice, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I never should have knocked on your door.”

“Can’t stop it now,” I sighed. “What’s done is done.”

His hand slipped away from the bars. “I’ll go check on Beth, like you asked. I’ll make sure someone hears the truth too.”

“Just go.”

Mercy left, and Neil came back through the bars. He sat down beside me, placing his hand over mine. “I can get the keys and open the cell door.”

“Not yet.”

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

Neil sat beside me in the cell, and that was the only thing I was registering. I had pretty much shut off everything else. There was no point in wasting energy. I was here, I’d stay here, and I’d probably rot here. “I’m sad to think that I may never have a burrito again,” Neil sighed. He slouched against the wall and slid down on the seat. “That last one was so good. They really had something special with that salsa.” He kicked his feet back and forth. “This would have really been something to tell your parents, too.”

I started to grimace.

“Vampires?” Neil scoffed. “That would have blown their minds. You think they would have believed that?”

I sat up straighter on the bench seat and continued to scowl.

“I still don’t even believe it, and I was put onto a cross with so much peyote in my system that I…” Someone walked into the room just then, stood in front of the bars and placed his hands on their hips. “Al,” Neil said urgently.

“What do you want?” I grumbled, thinking it was Officer Pitbull.

“You were under my house,” a man said. His voice was wheezy and hoarse.

I furrowed my brow and looked up as the man came through the bars. “Who are you?” I asked.

The ghost had thick arms, a barrel chest, and a noose around his neck. “Louis Hervé, ma’am.”

“Oh! You’re that butcher guy!” Neil announced loudly.

I shushed Neil and stood, approaching the domineering ghost of Louis Hervé. “I was under what used to be your house, that’s correct. How did you know?”

“I heard the commotion.” He turned and pointed down the hallway. “This place was built over the old holding cells and gallows where I died.”

I hadn’t been paying attention either time I came to the station. I wasn’t surprised I missed feeling any ghosts here. “What made you stay here?”

“I was innocent.” Louis’ voice grew strained. “I never killed anything except livestock. I was just as shocked by what happened under my house as you are.”

“If you didn’t murder those people, then who did?” Neil asked.

“My sisters-in-law,” Louis answered timidly. “They controlled everything about the house, my wife, my business. All I did was work and do as they asked. I never knew that what they had me selling was…” He stopped, his breath coming out more strained than before.

“It’s okay, Louis, calm down.” I reached out, taking the ghostly rope off his neck. The bruising there began to vanish as the rope dissolved in my hand. “Go ahead.”

Louis touched his neck, then nodded at me. “Thank you,” he said clearly. “My sisters-in-law moved in almost immediately after the wedding, claiming my wife’s illness required their care. But they were like a swarm of locusts, and they devoured everything I held dear. I barely saw my wife; they often made me stay down in the shop, working.”

“How did you find out what they were doing?” I asked.

“I went home one day, just to see her. I missed her so much, and we’d barely spent any time together since her sisters came. But when I got into the house, I saw…” He stopped and shook his head. “Next thing I knew, I was being called a murderer.”

“But what did you see, man?” Neil’s voice quivered.

“They were eating someone.” Louis croaked.

“Ew,” Neil whispered.

I sat back down on the bench and pressed my hands together. “So it was vampires.”

“You doubted that? After what I said?” Neil snapped at me.

“You died high, so your judgment is always going to be a touch impaired,” I grumbled. “I wasn’t sure, but…” I pressed my mouth into a firm line.

Neil lifted his chin and grinned. “Say I’m right!”

I glared at him, but just as I was about to say something, a commotion started. I heard screaming, radios buzzing all over. Outside, sirens were blasting as most of the station took off. I went to the bars of the cell, looking out as best I could. “What’s happening out there?” I asked.

Neil went through the cell wall, wading into the chaos as more officers began speeding away in their cars. Neil returned a moment later with a confused look on his face. “Something happened at that house again.”

“Shit. Well, I’m here. That’s at least good.” I plopped back down on the bench. “Although I wouldn’t put it past Officer Pitbull to blame it on me somehow. Say I’m a witch and summoned a demon or some shit.” I chewed on my bottom lip while I tried to think.

“Officer Pitbull?” Louis asked.

“Gradings,” I scoffed. “The guy who threw me in here.”

Louis nodded slowly. “I never had a good feeling about him. He took over after the last sheriff had an accident.”

“I’m not surprised,” I grunted. “Neil, is there anyone here at all? Or is everyone gone?”

“There’s someone still at the front answering phones,” he said. “Should I go and watch them?”

“Just try to find out what’s going on. See if you can get anything at all. I’d like to know what’s up.”

Neil shrugged. “Alright.” He went through the wall.

I looked back at Louis. “Tell me more about your sisters-in-law, if you can.”

Louis sighed. “Strange women. My wife’s family wasn't from here, mind you, but even my wife seemed normal compared to them. The three of them seemed like they only worked together. Like one mind in three bodies.”

“There were three of them,” I murmured.

“Miltrud, Adelgunde, and Yvonne,” he sighed. “Had I known about them before I married my wife, I still would have married her. She was an angel. I knew she was sick, enough that we could never have children, but I just wanted her. It didn’t matter what happened. I wanted to make her happy and give her a good life while I could.”

“That’s very admirable, Louis. I’m sorry they ruined it for you.” For some reason, I thought of Beth. I hoped she was alright, and that Mercy was safe too. Those ‘sisters’ of Beth could very well be the ‘sisters’ of Louis’ wife.

Neil came back with a strange expression. “Okay, so they found the cavern.”

I rolled my eyes. “And?”

“And of course it’s bad,” he said with a shrug. “But then that officer Martin guy got snatched.”

“Snatched?”

“Right up into the air,” Neil pointed to the ceiling. “And then only his legs came back down.”

“Not again,” Louis shuddered.

“Not much was left of Perkins when they arrived, either. They’re closing off roads and stuff right now.” Neil held up the keys to the cell. “You sure you don’t want me getting you out of here?”

“They’re closing off the roads, Neil. Where would I go? I’m staying right here. Pitbull won’t be able to blame this on me, since there are witnesses now. He’ll have to give it up.” I settled back and crossed my arms. “I just have to wait, that’s all.”

“Aren’t you worried about Mercy? He should have been back by now,” Neil argued.

“He’s probably responded to the same call as all the other officers.” I didn’t sound convinced.

“I don’t think you’d want to be alone with Gradings.” Louis’ voice was becoming a whisper, and he was starting to fade away. He probably couldn’t be too far from his resting place for too long. “I don’t think he cares for…” He vanished.

“Damn, I remember when I couldn’t last that long,” Neil sighed.

“Go put those keys back,” I told him.

“But you heard Louis,” Neil tried to argue.

I gave him a look. “I’m not getting caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Go put the keys back this instant.”

Neil frowned, but did as he was told. I looked at my hands. Once, when I was fifteen, I was locked inside a room by some ghostly nanny who had drowned the two children in her care in hopes of luring away their father. Instead, he shot her and left the house untouched. At least, at the time I thought it was the nanny who trapped me, but it turned out to be the two children. I had tried escaping the room, but they stabbed my hand with the key, leaving a nasty scar. My mother told me not to try and leave a locked room again, and that she would always find me. I didn’t think anyone would be coming to find me now. It was getting late, and barely anybody had returned to the station except a handful that passed through intermittently.

I was nearly asleep in the cell when someone came into the room. “Ms. Young, are you okay?”

I blinked through my sleepiness, sitting up to see a small figure in the dark. “Beth?” I murmured. “What are you doing here?”

“Officer Mercy came and told me what had happened. I couldn’t get away until now. I’m so sorry! I never intended such a thing to happen.” Beth sounded near tears.

“You didn’t need to come here,” I huffed as I sat up. “It’s fine. I just have to wait this out. Once the officers all get back, I’m sure I’ll be let out of this cell.”

“It’s not safe,” Beth whispered. “Not now that you know.”

I stood up and walked towards the bars to face her. “You should leave. Get out of this town, and away from your sisters. If they even are your sisters.”

“But this is all my fault,” Beth whimpered. “Had I just let you go when you wanted, none of this would have happened.”

“No, but all the disappearances and murders would have kept happening. And maybe it’s a good thing people know about it now.”

“If I leave, will you go with me?” Beth asked pitifully. “Please. I can’t do it alone.”

I felt bad for her. She was so beautiful and so helpless. “I’m no good, Beth. I just move around from place to place. I don’t know what I could provide for…”

“Please,” she burst. “I don’t care where we go or what we do. I just want to get out of here. I just want to be with someone I know I can depend on.”

I wanted to help her, I really did. “What happened to officer Mercy?” I asked. “After he talked with you, where did he go?”

“I think he went home,” she replied.

“Young lady, no visitors.” Officer Pitbull strutted into the room, placing his hand on Beth’s shoulder. “You need to leave.”

“No,” she quavered. “She’s my friend. She’s innocent. You can’t just…”

Pitbull shoved her aside, and she almost tripped over her crutches. “Hey!” I slammed my hands into the bars. “Don’t you touch her!”

Pitbull turned back to the bars and grinned at me. “I bet you’re real happy with how things have turned out.” He closed the door, and I could hear Beth struggle with the handle, then bang on the surface. I scowled and backed away from the bars.

“Bet you’re real pleased with yourself.” Pitbull took the keys off his belt, opened the cell door and stepped inside.

“Hey buddy, fuck off!” Neil placed himself between Pitbull and me. “Leave the girl alone. You want to get in trouble?”

Pitbull passed through him. “It’s time for you to go.” He reached for me, but I shrank back. He lunged, trying to grab me. I darted around him and almost made it to the door, but he tackled me, pinned me against the bars and slammed his forearm against my neck, making my head hit the bars. I felt dizzy, and it intensified when he started pressing on my windpipe. I croaked, clawing at his arm, kicking back against him. He just laughed.

Then something struck Pitbull from behind, dropping him like a sack of bricks. I struggled upright, gasping for breath as Neil dropped the bench he’d ripped away from the wall. I fell to my knees, holding my hand around my throat. “I got ya, Al.” Neil came closer. “I got ya.”

“You saved me,” I whimpered.

A soft smile appeared on Neil’s face, and he gave me a nonchalant shrug. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

The door opened, and Beth came rushing in as fast as she could. “Are you okay?” She cried. “No one would help me!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I choked. I reached for her proffered hand, letting her help me off the ground. “You’re right, let's get out of here.”

Beth smiled brightly at me, but her smile faded as she touched the side of my neck. “Your poor neck. It’s bruising already.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll wear a scarf. I just want to get out of this place.” I led the way through the station, and that’s when I noticed the whole place was empty and quiet. Phones were hanging off the hook, dangling over desks while their dial tones droned. There was no sound of life anywhere. I looked around, knowing there had been people here just moments before.

“Al?” Neil whispered.

“What’s the matter?” Beth turned to look back at me. “Let’s get out of here while we still can!”

“No, wait…” I held my breath, hoping I could hear something, but it was like the world had come to a stop. Even Officer Pitbull didn’t have the power to force an entire police station outside. “Don’t you notice something strange about this place?” I asked Beth. “Doesn’t it feel kind of… abandoned?”

She gave me a strange stare. “Alice, let’s go. Now.” She seemed to be commanding me, rather than urging me.

I furrowed my brow as I continued to try and piece this all together. “Was it this quiet when he closed the door?” It had felt strangely sudden when Officer Pitbull tried to attack me.

“I don’t remember, I was so scared!” Beth whined. She came back close to me and took my hand. “Alice, we need to leave.” The commanding edge was getting harder to ignore.

I pulled my hand away from her. “Something here isn’t normal. I can feel it.” That included Beth. Where she had been so sweet and charming before, now I was unnerved by her.

“Alice,” Beth insisted.

Something crawled up along my skin. It made me itch all over, causing my jaw to clench and ache along the back teeth. I’d felt this feeling many times when there was something ominous afoot, in many haunted houses and graveyards. I’d felt it in the teddy bear that once belonged to me, but now sat behind a glass case. I looked at Beth, and while her face showed nothing, her eyes radiated hatred. I stepped away from her.

“Where is Mercy?” I asked again. I kept my voice even, hoping to catch her off guard this time.

Beth’s soft lips pressed into a hard, firm line. “I told you, I don’t know.”

“You said he went home. But where is he really, Beth? You know where he is, right?”

Beth scoffed as her brows lowered menacingly. “Why the sudden change of heart? Don’t you want to leave with me? Forget about him, he was just part of the problem. Right?”

I swallowed and took a step around Beth. “You’re right,” I sighed. “I just got scared after what happened. I’m nervous.” I gave her a soft smile. “Stay right here, okay? It’s at least safe here.” I motioned to a chair. “I got Officer Pitbull’s keys. Let me find his car and see what’s happening outside, and then we can go. I don’t want to run the risk of running out there and you getting hurt.”

Beth's smile returned. “Oh, yes, of course. It’s okay, Alice. I understand.”

I took a policeman’s baton from a desk. “Just in case,” I forced a laugh.

Beth’s expression relaxed a bit more. “Oh, good.” She moved to sit down while I stepped outside. Then I slid the baton through the handles of the door, and instantly, Beth was on the other side, staring out at me with sad puppy dog eyes. “Alice, what are you doing?”

“Yeah, Al, what are you doing?” Neil huffed.

I glared at Beth. “I don’t know what you want with me, but I’m not going to follow along with you. You and your sisters have done enough damage here.”

Beth tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean, Alice?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “You’re a vampire too.”

Neil gasped. “What? Her? No!”

“You played this game before, didn’t you? With Louis Hervé. Allowing your sisters to overrun and terrorize everybody here! You helped to kill the people in the caverns below the house. You used your husband, the way you were probably going to use me! And let me guess, Officer Pitbull was under your spell, too?”

Beth slammed her shoulder against the glass. “Let me out of here!”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” I snapped.

Beth rammed herself hard enough against the glass doors to make them crack. “You ignorant little bitch!” Her eyes were malicious, almost red as she hissed at me, showing the fangs that hid beneath those perfect lips. “Let me out this instant!”

I started walking away.

“You come back here!”

“Fuck you!” I hurried down the street, breaking into a run and swiftly turning a corner. I kept on, hoping to put some distance between us before she could break through the doors.

“What was that? How did you figure it out?” Neil was flabbergasted.

“No time for that.” I took the car keys that I lifted off Officer Pitbull. I located his car, ducked inside and turned the ignition. “I have a feeling Mercy is still at that house.”

“You’re going back there?” Neil demanded.

“It’s my fault he’s there. And for some reason, Beth and the others want me. If they wanted to, they could have killed me that night, and she could have killed me just now.” I drive away, speeding down the dark, empty street. I crashed through a roadblock and kept going.

“You’re crazy!”

“Probably.” I reached a twenty-four hour gas station and pulled in. I got a tank of gas, lighters, an armful of newspapers, and a couple of cans of hairspray. “You an arsonist?” the cashier chortled from behind the desk. The way he looked, he could have been Neil’s cousin.

“Sure, why not?” I paid for my things and loaded them all back into the car. In the trunk I found a flare gun and a few other interesting supplies.

“What are you going to do?” Neil asked.

“When we get to the house, I want you to search for Officer Mercy inside. Once you can confirm his whereabouts, come back and get this can of gas.”

Neil looked at me with a strange expression. “You’re burning it down?”

“Probably.” I said with a shrug. “You know a better way to kill a vampire?”

Neil shook his head. “Didn’t think so.” I drove back out of the parking lot, heading to the Harvey sister’s house.

“How did you figure it out?” Neil asked. “That Beth was a vampire and everything? I didn’t even catch on.”

“I let my guard down around her, the same thing that happened with Louis. I thought she was a victim in all this. But that’s what predators do sometimes - they make you think they’re blameless. When Officer Pitbull attacked me, I knew something was strange. Beth either wanted me unconscious, or wanted me to go along with her willingly.”

“But why?” Neil asked. “Why you? I thought vampires just ate people and didn’t care.”

“I’m not sure,” I said with a shake of my head. “For whatever reason, she and her sisters want me. Like I said, they could have killed me at any point Which is why I think they have Mercy.”

“Like a hostage?” Neil asked.

“Exactly. He’s the only one here I have any connection with, and he’s innocent, so they probably know they can hang him over my head.” I parked at the side of the street, just a little down the way from the Harvey sisters’ home. The lights were out, and there was no sign of life around the place. “Okay, you know what to do.”

“What if he’s hurt, or dead?” Neil asked.

I sighed. “Then come back for the gas.”

Neil looked shocked for a second, but he left the car. I leaned back in the seat, taking a deep, long breath. I hadn’t said my prayers since I left home, but for some reason, I felt like saying them to myself now.

“This has been the strangest few days of my life, so it makes sense I would be doing this now,” I muttered. “Ever since I left home, ever since I gave up on my family, I’ve never felt the call to do this. I used to think of you like an all-powerful imaginary friend, or at least that’s how my dad made you sound. I’m scared,” I confessed into the ether. “I am so close to just ripping out my hair and running into the woods. I need to know what to do.” My chest felt heavy. My throat ached with tightness. “I need a sign. I need something…” I clutched my hands around my face, rubbing at it while I began to cry. “I’m lost, Lord. I’m terrified! I’m in the whale. I’m in the lion’s den. I don’t know what to do.” I sniffled and stayed hunkered there, wishing my father would suddenly show up by my side and tell me it was okay. My mom said she would always find me, but where was she? Why hadn’t she found me yet?

“I’m sorry, God,” I whimpered. “I just don’t know where else to turn!” I wept into my hands, feeling the hot sting fade away into a sort of mild relief. I took a deep breath, throwing my head back and crying out. I looked out the window, into the sky where the stars were shining so brightly. How did this place have so many stars, more, it seemed, than the rest of the world?

I wiped my face off and shuddered. “You got this,” I whispered.

I heard glass shattering at the Harvey house. Looking up, I saw someone running to the car. The figure threw open the passenger door and heaved himself in. “Drive! Drive! Drive!”

I punched the car into reverse, swooping the car around and speeding off into the night, all without the headlights. I turned them on as the house faded behind us, and I saw it was Mercy in the seat beside me.

“Are you okay?” I gasped. “What happened?”

“I found him unconscious!” Neil’s voice came out of Mercy. “So I just swooped in and took him.”

“How? You shouldn’t be able to possess anybody,” I gasped.

“Well, since Mercy could kind of hear me sometimes, I figured he might be sensitive. And ta-da! He is!” Neil smacked Mercy’s lips. “Man, I forgot what being sober felt like. Can we go and get some beer?”

“No, you fucking idiot!”

#exophilia #horror story #vampire #ghost #vampire girlfriend #ghost boyfriend #momolady monsters #my writing

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suyooo · 9 months

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Making BIG SIF2 (Part 3)

Hi! I'm back, and my BIG SIF setup is complete! That's not to say I'll never touch anything about it ever again, but it works great, and it also looks great now. Almost as if it's not just a pile of jank and bodges!

If you missed part 1 and part 2, the tl;dr is: I recreated an old SIF event where you stomp on big old floor buttons with eight other players to play songs together as a team. The other two posts talk about how the switches work, and various details about how it's all connected respectively, in case you are interested!

This post is another write-along of me working on stuff, and this time, it's about just finishing off the last few problems and to-dos - making a case for the electronics, and thinking about reliability and portability. Because of how many topics I want to cover, everything will only be covered relatively briefly. But if you want to know more about something specific, drop me an ask and I'll write more about that topic.

And just to have this important bit above the fold: I'm bringing the setup to Connichi on Saturday next weekend, in case you are there and want to play. More about that at the bottom of the post - but let's get started!

First off, an admission: I lied to you. Last time I said I made eight more floor switches. But that was not quite the truth:

It was eleven.

So multiply everything I said last time by 1.33 - 12 total switches, with 36 shelf liner layers, 24 of those copper taped and soldered, 144 holes cut into 12 rug pad layers, 192 snap caps pressed by hand, 48 cables crimped with bullet connectors by hand. Needless to say, I have been taking it easy to give my wrist a break... The first question is probably "why?" - it's not like there's a 12-spot mode or something. That's true, I'll never use more than nine of the switches at the same time. The reason these extra three buttons exist is reliabilty: there can be three backup floor switches on standby, to swap in if something breaks.

The switches are probably fairly easy to fix if something goes wrong - just need to re-solder a connection or repair some copper tape, at most. But that will still be a problem when actually playing with the controller system, because it will always take some time, during which the game will not be playable. Having more switches on standby means you can swap out the faulty button to diagnose and repair it, while the game can go on! But the main thing is that I will not be having the means to repair switches in most locations in the first place. I'm not going to bring my screwdrivers, soldering station, multimeter, extra copper tape, cable and everything else to wherever we're playing! And there's a good chance there's no power or space for a repair station, anyways.

That's why I went with three backup buttons, so the game can go on even longer even if I I'm unable to do repairs right away. We'll just keep playing, and I'll repair the broken switches when I'm back home. And technically, because all the buttons are modular and I can swap out the separate layers, the system doesn't become unusable until four of the same part break! That should be more than enough reliability for almost any situation, especially since it probably won't be used for more than a couple hours at a time.

Next up: let's hide all of the work I did. Having the wiring visible is a little ugly, so let's just put everything in a box. Building an enclosure also makes transporting and setting up everything a lot easier, since I can already connect everything inside the box ahead of time, and then just have to plug in and place the switches on the floor. And the easiest way to make a bespoke enclosure is 3D printing it!

What I'll need - besides the obvious "places to put all of the adapters and the phone" - is some way to access the sockets and board from outside so I can plug all the cables in. Also, even though SIF2 isn't that demanding, it's still a closed box, so I'll probably want to add a fan. But that sounds doable, most of these won't be any problem. I can draw a box with some holes. I decided to go for OpenSCAD for this project instead of FreeCAD - while it would have been nice to have FreeCAD to plan cable routing and be able to set constraints and everything, I just didn't need all of these complicated features. Again, it's just a box with holes, and I can do that real fast in OpenSCAD.

To make sure I get the box right the first try, I implemented every component as a seperate module in OpenSCAD, so I could print them seperately - for example, I could easily test print only the part of the wall that would house the Ethernet socket, to make sure that it fits perfectly before printing the whole box - and then adjust their position easily without messing up the rest of the components.

For the adapters without screw holes, I used threaded inserts that you melt in the plastic. I've never used them before, but since self-tapped holes wear out after a few times of putting screws in and out, I wanted to try out a more reliable method. These ones will last probably forever, and hold the screws in real tight. They were surprisingly easy to use, I assumed they would be harder to get straight... With this, I can use pillars with threaded inserts and some clips to screw in to keep the adapters in place, no matter how much the box gets thrown around. These threaded inserts can also be used to mount the arcade controller board and the fan. The fan even gets power right from the arcade board, which has 5V pins meant for LEDs - but they work just fine for anything else that needs power, too. I did add a resistor on the wire though, to turn down the fan speed and noise. Finally, to access the adapter sockets easily without having to open the box, I found panel mount extension cables for all the sockets that needed to be accessible outside - HDMI, Ethernet and USB-C (power delivery).

One difficulty was the sockets for the button cables. These are not some standardized kind of plug, after all, so I can't buy a panel mount cable like the others - I have to figure out how to mount these flush with the outside wall myself, and they have to stay in place, both when inserting and pulling out the cable. In this case, I was able to use the middle shelf I already had, that mainly exists to hold the phone, since it's placed right above the cable holes. I hot glued the sockets for the cables to some small clips, which can be screwed into the shelf with screws. Finally, the shelf can be aligned with the holes in the wall when placing it in the box, all the sockets being inserted at once. There's even a bit of a taper on the button cable holes, so the sockets self-align with them!

All that's left then is just jamming all the cables in there somehow. The only real awkward cable was the USB-B-to-A cable for the arcade board connection - the one that came with it was two metres long, far too much to fit in there. So I just cut it up and soldered it back together, reducing the length down to just 20 cm. That way, all the cables actually fit in there quite nicely, and there's plenty of space left for the board connector cables, so the middle shelf can lock everything in place!

And here's the finished box! That's a good box, right?

As one little last addition, I worked on some decorations. A plain white box would look a little boring, after all, so I added some accents and icons on the front and top. While it would have been super easy to do by printing the lid in one go and changing to a pink filament for just the decoration layers, I thought I'd be smart and not buy an entire spool of filament just for that. Instead, I printed everything seperately in white filament, and then painted it all with pink acrylic paint instead. That made the decoration only cost half - but it was such a pain. Between all the coats of paint needed to get a result that didn't look completely awful, having to glue on all of the little dots on the lid by hand, and then the clear coat, which kept getting tiny bits of dust getting stuck in it which are painfully noticable on a white background... I should have paid the extra price for the filament, it would have been less work and looked much better. Hindsight is 20/20. At least it looks okay from "standing on the floor switches" distance, I guess.

To close up the box securely, I also ended up adding some magnets I had around, glued into holes in the lid and the box walls. This way, to set up the game, I don't need any tools - all the cabling in the bottom department can be done far ahead of time, and then, at the location, I just open up the magnetic lid to place my phone into it, plug the floor switch cables into the sockets, connect the output cable on the back of the box, and it's good to go! This was an important step for the project - instead of a nest of wires openly sitting next to the TV, it looks nice and properly finished now. It probably could have been done way easier by just grabbing a shoe box, punching some holes into it and just having extensions cables hang out, but I wanted to try doing it "right", and I think the result is absolutely worth it.

One more note: I tried to reduce printed waste by just printing small parts to test and only doing the full box print once I was sure everything would work - but all those test prints shown above are still waste of course. This is sadly something that cannot be avoided, but I can at least make sure to reduce the impact it has. The test prints are not getting thrown into the trash, but will eventually make their way to the Recyclingfabrik. If you've never heard of them, they're a company based here in Germany that makes 100% recycled 3D printer filament! That way, my useless prints won't get burned or end up in a landfill, but can instead be reused in the future. (Also, they make some really cool filament colours, I highly recommend checking them out!)

Alright, now that we made a really good box, it's time to get back to something questionably janky.

With everything in the box running off of the phone battery, the system already is completely portable! Imagine being able to set up a quick BIG SIF game wherever you are, at cons or something… but in order to do that, there's still one massive component missing, and that's a screen to play on. Obviously, playing the game on a 15cm phone screen while standing on buttons up to two metres away is not a good time. You need something bigger! The coolest thing would be to buy a battery powered projector. That would give you a giant picture and be easy to set up anywhere - I'll probably get one sooner or later, but I'm not pulling the trigger on that purchase just yet. It'll be a lot pricier than the rest of this project, and choosing an outdoor projector seems hard, anyways… (I've been looking for comparisions of images from projectors with different Lumen amounts in different light conditions, but that doesn't seem to exist. Maybe some of you know something similar?)

There's also portable monitors. These are mainly meant as a simple second screen for laptops when working, but they would be a good fit for this situation as well, since they only need a USB connection for power. Something like that could work if I could find a screen that is large enough, and it would also be quite easy to carry around with the setup, as these are usually pretty thin. But again, good ones are usually in the "costs more than this entire project in total" range. But the thing is, technically all we need is a screen and a battery. I think if we bodge things a little, we can use another device that has a screen and a battery, and is made for being portable: your laptop.

Let me introduce you to scrcpy, which is pretty much the best thing since sliced bread. If you want your Android screen on your PC screen, it is hands down the best way to do it. All you need is an USB cable - no app needed, no massive latency due to WiFi, and no need to send all your video data through some provider's remote server. scrcpy has almost no delay, you can use your PC keyboard and mouse, and you can even play phone audio on your PC with the newer versions. It's incredible, and I use it almost every day. So, plug the USB cable into the phone, and you can have SIF2 on the laptop screen! A luxurious 40cm screen, and speakers included, no emulators needed! But wait... now that the phone is directly connected to the laptop, I can't connect the other adapters in the box. It doesn't make sense to have the video on the laptop if I can't use the floor switches. Those are the entire point of the project! So, I can't use an USB connection.

But remember that Ethernet adapter I added? The main use for it was to be able to wire up to get a good and stable internet connection when the wireless one is too weak. But by using a special Ethernet crossover cable, two devices can communicate without needing a router or switch, and can create their own network just between them! scrcpy doesn't work just over USB, a network connection works, too - and I can set up that connection with just that cable. The video stream to the laptop is back up, and the board can still be connected! And now, we have a solution for a portable screen - it shows the game, it has it's own battery, and it's easy to transport! This approach is obviously not perfect - it's pretty janky, and "almost no delay" is still a delay - but for a quick spontaneous game of BIG SIF, this is a fine way to play.

The final hurdle to take is the internet connection the game needs. This is still a massive weak point in the portability, because, as every con-goer knows, it's basically impossible to use mobile internet at cons, as it is immediately overloaded by the amount of people there (or at least German con-goers know, idk if other countries are as bad). Unless you are have a provider that uses the higher tier mobile networks, it's either extremely slow or just unavailable. If the connection is laggy, that should still be enough to play, as you'd only have to fetch song info at the start of a Live - but SIF2 makes it difficult, due to how the game handles assets, specifically, the music files.

Every time the game loads a new song, it needs to download a file from the servers. That's the reason why, if you scroll through the song list quickly or hit the Random button a lot, the preview music doesn't play for a while: The game has to load all the server files for all the songs you stopped on... The song files are on your phone, but they are not complete. There's parts missing, and that file that has to be downloaded contains those missing parts. Without being able to download these server parts, the game would not be able to reassemble any song files, and could not play any music. And this is why a stable internet connection is so important for this project. We'd have no music at all without one, because every file must download it's missing parts from the servers! If only there was a way to keep the missing parts files, and store them on the phone so we wouldn't have to download them every time...

Trying to avoid too much technical details, here's the idea in a nutshell: I made an app that runs in the background while SIF2 is open, and whenever the game contacts the asset server, we trick it into instead requesting the missing parts file from that app. The app will handle the download instead, but in addition to delivering the file to the game, it will also save it on the phone. And if the same file is requested again, we just take it from storage instead of downloading it from the server again! The code for it is surprisingly simple, but the difference it makes is massive - it's noticable even with a stable and fast WiFi connection, because the delay between selecting a song and the preview starting is completely gone! So I'll probably keep using this app even when playing normally, but most importantly, this is going to work wonders on mobile connections! Maybe, that's enough to play the game even with things slow down... I won't know for sure until we get there.

And hey, while I already made an app, I also added a bunch of buttons to make setting up easier without having to use the shell. Everything that's needed to do a BIG SIF, on a single screen!

Anyways, we've come to the end! That's all for this project for now! Thank you for reading all the way to here!

If you're planning to make a BIG SIF setup for yourself and have any questions, or are just interested in more details on anything I've talked about, feel free to drop me a ask/message and I'd be happy to answer! If you want to come play with me on this setup though, that'll probably be a little harder for most people reading this due to distance, sadly :) But you could try checking my Mastodon, where I might be talking about any cons I'll be bringing it to! Just to mention it again, I'll be bringing everything to Connichi in Wiesbaden next Saturday (September 2nd)! I won't have a proper setup location, but if you have a group who's up to play, keep an eye out for the GenYoha!Kanan cosplayer - assuming I finish the cosplay in time, otherwise, look for a nesoberi-laden Lanzhu. If we can find a place where we don't annoy others, and the mobile internet connection plays nicely, maybe we can play a few rounds - so, see you there, possibly?

And as the last last last topic, here's some final thoughts - on things I'd like to change, or that you can consider changing if you make something like this yourself!

One obvious part of the project you could change is how the buttons work. I like the copper tape approach - it seems robust, is easy to build and fix in case of problem, and works reliably. But as long as you can make something that can close an electrical circuit, anything could work! One obvious choice would be contact sensor, but personally, I feel that's just a big point of failure, but maybe there's some cool approaches out there I didn't think of... One thing that I want to try though is replacing the rug pad with some light foam, about 1cm thick or so. As it is right now, the switches are lacking some kind of physical response, you don't feel much of a press. Maybe the foam would allow the button to have a "travel", being able to feel the switch depress and bottom out could be nice.

And regarding the caching app for the sever files, maybe I should just go all the way with that idea? Because ideally, I'd extend this concept to not just the missing part files, but generally all server communication. The app would just replay responses from when I logged in earlier instead, and have infinite plays without a connection! But I'm not sure whether I want to go down the private server rabbit hole...

The big thing I'd love to do though is improve the menuing. SIF2 is just not meant to be played with buttons - it's made for a touchscreen! And the keyboard solution I have right now works, but it's not a great solution. The floor switches will still be functional on the menus and mess around there, and the keys will also be usable on the screens they're not meant for. It's definitely not something I can just pass to someone and say "here, have fun". But what would the better approach be? The base requirement for any better interface would be to be able to track which screen the game is on, which is already a major problem. One thing I was able to come up with was making a helper app record certain regions of the screen, and doing image comparison - as in, "if this button is visible, the app must be on that screen". But that would be a whole different project, probably worth a full post in itself...

Okay, I'm stopping for real now. Too many ideas, not enough time, as always. byeee

#lovelive #love live #ラブライブ #school idol festival #sif2 #スクフェス #i sure hope i can actually play this someday with someone #because con season is kind of about to be over #bad timing i guess haha #update january 2024: lol #lmao even

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t3kandson · 1 year

Text

Friendly Fuckery

Wordcount; 2,261

Fandom; The Boyz

Pairing; Reader X Choi Chanhee (other members in later Chapters)

Characters; Choi Chanhee, Ji Changmin and mentions of the Boyz without direct names.

Warnings; angst, fingering, Mentions of Police, Alcohol consumption and multiple partners.

Notes. Happy Anniversary Debois ❤️❤️❤️❤️ will be posting every day for the next 11 days. There will also be a bonus Chapter on 22nd for Eric’s birthday 💗🦄. Rest of Learning Love Chapters here.

Taglist; @ilovechanhee

You stood feeling uncomfortable with the strangers crowding the living room space. It was a sight that things had changed, his new group of friends all being boisterous in the corner while you and his old friends hugged together in the rowdy room. Your eyes roaming the boys, the only familiarity was your best friend Choi Chanhee.

His blue hair he had styled for his birthday, his youthful feminine features had you take a breath from his beauty. As you was admiring Chanhee, confused about the reasons to why you was viewing him slightly differently, you was startled when a pair of hands heavily landed on your shoulder.

The chuckle in their mischievousness had you grit your teeth in the direction of yours and Chanhee’s college friend, Ji Changmin.

His hair all crimped in curls and his wide grin washed over you. “What the fuck Changmin,” you scoffed as he sat on the side of the chair next to you. “You know your at a party right,” he said pulling you towards him. “Yes, yes I do,” you said rolling your eyes as Chanhee made his way towards you from his other friends. “Then why don’t you join the party rather then this library meeting,” he teased letting his hands roll alongside you and your four other friends. “Why you all hiding away?” Chanhee asked arms folded as he reached you. His nagging voice had you usually roll your eyes, but you suddenly became aware of the attraction to your best friend that had hit you from no where.

“Well it’s not really our kind of party,” Your friend Channa said rolling her glasses to her nose to scoff. “Well it needs to be, so come meet the guys,” Changmin scowled in her direction. “Boys, you know this is the no Boy zone right,” you teased chuckling. “On my birthday it isn’t,” Chanhee said grabbing your wrist and pulling you up as Changmin went to grab the others.

Chanhee brought you over to meet the guys. There eyes all washing over you made you nervous with anxiety hitting you, making sure that your eyes rarely left the view of Chanhee or Changmin. Some of them tried to encourage you to engage with them but your fears had you step away from the group, it was far too much being the opposite of social. You was almost relieved when someone called the cops and the party went on to the clubs. The excuse of your missing ID gave you the excuse to leave to the comfort of your bedroom.

You bailed on my birthday don’t let that happen again.

Was the message you woke up to from Chanhee. You rolled your eyes as you typed back

Ok mum.

Rolling out of bed you made your way to the kitchen when you saw the blue haired boy himself, his arms folded glaring your way.

“What are you doing here?” you gasped startled by his early appearance home.

“Mum!” he growled in your direction that you almost laughed at how high pitched he sounded. Continuing towards him chuckling, you shook your head and made your way to the cereal boxes. “Ok Mum, what you doing here,” you teased as you poured the cereal into the bowl. “I lived here last time I checked,” Chanhee said giving up his nagging for a mere minute to sip his green tea.

“So was it a good night then?” you asked as you placed a spoonful in your mouth. “It was really good, quite a lot of fun actually,” he said with a devilish smirk, that almost made you choke as you twisted your face in disgust. “I knew those Boyz was bad for you,” you scoffed. Chanhee raised his eyebrow, “No those boys that you refuse to get to know had nothing to do with that, it’s called being a grown up,” he said taking another sip. “Your an adult for a day and you decided to be a fuck boy,” you said sounding disgusted. “Your just jealous that I’m getting it and your not,” he snorted placing his cup on the table and made his way to his room. His words leaving some what of a stir in your stomach.

You stepped into the living room from your shift at the local shop. The room looking like a bomb had hit it, Chanhee wincing on the sofa clearly hungover. “Really Chanhee?” you moaned grabbing up the instant ramen bowl from the coffee table with his several orange juice containers. “Don’t shout my head really hurts,” Chanhee whined into the air. Grabbing the paracetamol from the kitchen cupboard, you poured a glass of water and made your way to him. “Here take this,” you said sitting down next to him as he opened one eye to grimace at you. His eye locking with yours felt as if it stunned you as you lost your words. A subtle cough emerged as Chanhee’s hand hovered over the glass you still hadn’t released to him.

“Y/N stop staring me out with fuck me eyes and let me have the water,” Chanhee whispered. You blushed passing him the glass making your way to your room. What was with you, you had known Chanhee since you was five, he was your best friend. Why suddenly was your thoughts being flooded by him?

Chanhee tapped your bedroom door hours later, as he walked in suddenly looking fresh. “You haven’t eaten,” he asked worried as he sat on your bed by your side as you listened to the music. “I’m ok,” you replied loud due to music flowing into your ear.

He shook his head popping out your ear pods, “you need to eat Y/N,” he moaned as your hands fought with his for your pods back. “Seriously Chanhee I’m fine,” you scoffed.

He put his head into the crook of your neck avoiding your attempt of his tight grip around your belongings. Lips resting along the skin, his warm breath fanning leaving a tingling sensation. Goosebumps flowing down your neck as you yeeted yourself back from him, eyes widening watching his grin at your reaction.

“What’s up Y/N?” He chuckled, “nothing, what are you cooking me?” you replied changing the conversation. “Well I thought now my headache passed,”, “hangover,” you cut him off to his glare. “Whatever, I thought maybe a takeaway and movie night,” he finished. “Oh you dumping your friends tonight then?” you scoffed. “Just because your jealous of them don’t go hating on them,” he said standing up. “I don’t hate them I’m just bored hearing about how amazing they are,” you said rolling your eyes as you sat at the end of your bed. “There only boring to you because you won’t take the time to get to know them,” Chanhee said folding his arms.

“I know Changmin and he’s boring,” you lied. “Oh I tell him that shall I,” Chanhee threatened with a eye raised. You stood up to him, “no don’t he would,”, “bite you in places you’d never imagined,” Chanhee cut in with a hint of mischievous in him. “Eww no, he’s my friend and Changmin’s not like that,” you scoffed scrunching up your face.

“Y/N baby we’re not kids anymore, we’re both like that,” Chanhee said with a wink as he made his way out your room. You sat at the end of the bed trying to stop your thoughts of Chanhee and Changmin suddenly biting your neck, your arousal hitting fire on your body.

The credits rolled on the screen as Chanhee rolled to the side of the sofa turning the lamp on for some sudden light. “Well that film was,”, “interesting,” you added for him. “No I was going to say hot,” Chanhee gasped hugging tighter around his pillow. You gasped in his eyeshot. “What? Y/N you really need to stop being such a prune, enjoy life, be Minhae, enjoy a spicy sex life,” Chanhee said swigging his beer. “What and become a Ho, no thanks I wait for a decent guy to snap me up,” you scoffed stealing his beer to take a swig. His eyes watching you with a look you never witnessed before.

“Its the 21st century love, relationship’s are so yesterday, tomorrow it’s all about fun,” he said snatching his beer back. “How many you slept with? you sound like a Ho yourself,” you scoffed pulling your legs up to tuck under you. “Ten I think,” he said taking another swig, “what the fuck Chanhee, Why so many?” You choked. “What about you?” he asked ignoring your question. “None I’m happily a virgin,” you replied proudly. “Really?,” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “Is that why you keep giving me those fuck me eyes,” Chanhee said taking another mouthful of beer.

Your body freezing to his words, “Chanhee what the fuck no I don’t,” you scoffed. He pulled his face closer, his thumb brushing along your bottom lip. Closing your eyes momentarily, you let a gentle hum leave your lips before he showed his thumb to you with a chocolate smear. “Missed your mouth,” he said placing the thumb into his sucking it. Your eyes widened as your body flushed a dark shade of pink ashamed with thoughts that he was about to kiss you.

He smirked at you as if he knew what you was thinking. “If you want a kiss you should have asked,” he chuckled. “Why would you want to kiss me?” you said, his eyes widened to your comment for a few seconds before pressing his lips into you. His lips was soft and his kiss was gentle as his tongue slipped in. Time evaporated as you sat there kissing, enjoying exploring your best friends mouth.

“We should stop this before we get carried away,” Chanhee said pulling away from you. “Huh?” you panted confused at his sudden change of direction. “We’ll only fuck and fall in love and I’m too young for that,” Chanhee said. “However much I want to have that pussy,” he said brushing his hand down your clothed crutch. “Then fuck me, I don’t want a relationship neither,” you said without thinking.

“Your my best friend I don’t want to lose you, plus your a virgin I can’t just fuck you today, your first time like this,” he said looking around the room. “Then train me, what are best friends for,” you said removing the pillow from him which was covering a large bulge. Your hands fell to stroke the outline alongside his pants. “Fuck Y/N,” he growled closing his eyes as you stroked him. “Fine,” he said, his eyes snapping as he got off the sofa taking your hand to take you to your room.

“Right hand over your heart no romance, no feeling, I’m just your teacher right?” He said watching your hand press over your chest, “promise,” you whispered.

His hands cupped your face, his dark eyes swallowing yours. Pushing you to the bed catching your head as you fell in a lump, had your heart thundering. Body curving between your legs his clothed bulge hit your throbbing nub. His lips found there way back to yours, as his hands brushed your naked thighs right up the bottom of your dress to your clothed crutch. Fingers playing with the lace of your knickers while his other hand cupped your clothed breast. Brushing your sensitive nub he made your body jolt at the touch.

“Oh your so sensitive, this is nothing yet,” he said with a wink as his fingers pushed your pants to the other side. His bare flesh touching you rolled 8 into your nub, your body buckling as moans hit. “Oh Y/N, training you is going to be so much fun,” he said as he slipped a finger into your core slowly as you gritted your teeth to this new unusual feeling. Pumping himself in and out slowly at first your walls was so tight that they was squeezing around him.

“Y/N relax,” he said soothingly as he picked a speed,” relax and let my fingers take you to heaven,” he whispered. Relaxing to his words letting the speed increase, the feeling of his digit sliding up against your walls became Pleasurable. When he was sure you was ready a second digit joined, the feeling of being stretched caused your walls to tighten again as your nails gripped into his shoulder.

“Baby relax,” he repeated, his thumb finding your clit as the new feeling helped heighten your pleasure as he curved them hitting your sweet spot. “Oh fuck that feels so good,” you moaned out as he picked his speed up. You felt your stomach warm as you felt a burning sensation flow up your core making your body begin to feel tingling.

“I feel weird,” you cried, “baby that’s because your about to orgasm,” he chuckled. “Let your self go, lose your self to the feeling of my fingers fucking you,” he cooed. Your hands pulled on the bed sheets as your body shook from the excitement. Walls clamped around his fingers, moans flowing into the air as you went crashing into your first ever orgasm. Your body convulsing to the fingers Chanhee still was fucking into you as you came down from your high, as your body went limp.

Chanhee removed his fingers sucking the juices off seductively looking at you with pride in his eyes. “You did so well baby,” he coo’d as the door flew open to Changmin’s shocked face. “What the fuck are you two doing?” He scoffed into the air.

Next Chapter

Masterlist

#kpopidol #fiction #kpop smut #choi chanhee smut #ji changmin #the boyz smut

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