#he has been through so much shit it's not even funny anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

livingemkayde · 10 months

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waterfront

neighbor!joel miller/dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: Rated 18+. CONSIDER THIS YOUR FUCKING COMMUNITY LABEL LOL. Minors please dni. Smut. unprotected p in v. age gap. Pet names. Dirty talk. Dom!joel. Oblivious ass reader's dad. Not proof read one bit (per usual).

a/n: thank you so much for the recent love. you guys are honestly so funny - COMMENT ASK REQUEST PLEASE INTERACT WITH ME IM SO LONELY ON HERE. this lil mini series has really pushed me to write despite some…things (and by things—i actually have been getting a shit ton of hate on my din fic for some weird reason?? so im really happy this dbf corner of tumblr is very accepting cuz that was really making me feel…SAD LMFAO). also do you guys picture joel in this fic as game joel or hbo joel - i wanna know. please enjoy this token of my gratitude as always.

wc: 4.5k

this is apart of my small dbf!joel mini series, read the previous parts here:

part i part ii

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“Fuck, Joel,” you mutter when you finally relax around him, your tight walls flutter at the feeling of his cock moving halfway out of you. When he pushes back in you see stars. “That’s right honey —fuck— so good for me,” he pants, bottoming out again and setting a slow pace that punches each breath out of you. “Teasin’ me all day—couldn’t fuckin’ wait any longer.”

“Sweetie? Have you seen the sunblock?”

“Yeah dad, in the back bathroom!” you yell back from your room.

It’s honestly unbelievable.

Packing.

You’re packing.

For a weekend getaway at some beach house property one of Joel’s client’s offered him for the weekend.

Joel’s client.

Joel Miller.

Who got down on his knees for you at your graduation barbecue. Who fingered you in the front seat of his pick-up truck when your dad was looking for you.

Who refused to talk to you after that. Not like you were trying anyways. This had to stop. Especially since you and Liam have been talking more and he’s…nice. Boring—sure. But he’s what’s good for you.

He even got you a job at some hardware store on the other side of town.

Liam was keeping you company—no—keeping you busy. But not enough to stop the incessant thoughts of your middle aged neighbor who is—even worse—probably your dad’s only close friend.

You tried to keep your distance. For your sake and Joel’s. You don’t want to know what’s going on in his mind anymore. All you know is he continually runs laps around yours.

You can’t shake how he looked at the barbecue. How the sea of people parted for him like he was Moses, greeting him with strong handshakes and acrylic nails wrapping around his bicep. But even worse, you can’t stop thinking about how through all those people—he found your eyes first.

You tried to convince yourself that maybe Joel was thinking the same thing you were. That this—whatever it is—was actually fucking ridiculous and had to stop.

Because it did have to stop. But it never felt ridiculous to you, as much as you will yourself to believe.

You tried to convince yourself that much when your hand was down your pants in the middle of the night. Something sounding a lot like Joel’s name on the tip of your tongue as you made yourself come.

You aren’t sure if your dad has seen much of him either—saying something about how he was booked through the fourth of July weekend with a huge project he was working on with his brother.

That’s why you were shocked when your dad came up to your room with a grin explaining he counted you in on the weekend getaway with Joel, Sarah, and the two of you.

You were excited to see more of Sarah — she had really grown up in the time you were away. But with Sarah comes Joel, and you aren’t sure if the butterflies in your stomach were from anxiety or anticipation at that thought.

A half a day after your dad told you to get packing, you’re in the backseat of Joel’s truck, Sarah at your side, while she talks everyone's ear off about something. You aren’t really paying attention because Joel can’t stop stealing glances at you in the rear view mirror—and let's be honest. You can’t stop either.

“—so then she said to me that it was my fault. I mean can you believe that?” Sarah slaps your arm gently while finishing her story.

She looks around the car for approval and the dads just shrug their shoulders. You give her a sympathetic look.

“Sorry Sarah, sounds crazy,” you say, grabbing her hand. You—honest to god—tried to pay attention but there were so many names thrown out you couldn’t keep up. It didn’t help that the man in the driver's seat kept you up at night—almost every night—since the barbecue.

“I know! But then Jackson was like okay with it so whatever,” she gives you a knowing look, finishing her story—don’t say anything else because my dad’s here.

“Boys,” your dad murmurs to Joel under his breath, but you catch it.

You also catch Joel shaking his head in response, letting out a huff and a—

“Tell me ‘bout it.”

You meet his eye through the rear view mirror and drop his gaze quickly. His knuckles go white on the steering wheel.

You think you’re almost off the hook and maybe can get some rest but Sarah lets out the first of many—

“Are we almost there yet?”

Four more of those and you arrive at a secluded beach house on the coast. Joel pulls up to the back of the house, you can see the deck which leads down to the beach. Sarah and your dad hop out of the truck hastily—excited to see the house, and enter through the back door. It leaves you and Joel in the car together. Alone, for a few uncomfortable seconds until he finally speaks.

“You alright?”

It throws you for a loop. Joel Miller asking if you’re okay? You must be dying. You look at him through the mirror, an eyebrow raising.

“‘M fine,” you reply back, monotone.

“Do you wanna talk?”

Another surprise.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You made that clear,” you huff, putting an emphasis on you so maybe he can start to feel an ounce of what you do.

He gets out of the car but you don’t move from your position. Your dad and Sarah have disappeared into the house, undoubtedly claiming the best bedrooms and rifling through the owner’s things.

He opens your door, his hand hanging off the top of it while his other braces himself on the car near your head. He dips his head closer to you, taking up the entirety of the door frame.

“You gonna be a brat this whole trip?” His drawl, rich and velvety, almost tricks you into leaning up to kiss him, but you snap out of it from his words. The name shouldn’t make you clench your thighs together like it does. You opt for anger over letting him see what he does to you.

“I’m the brat?” You bite back. He’s not going to do this again. If it’s your last dying wish, Joel Miller will learn a lesson this trip. For leaving you high and dry. For being a fucking asshole, just like you told him at the barbecue a couple days ago.

“You think parading that lil boy ‘round here s’okay?”

“Again with Liam? It’s not any of your business.”

You look at him. Really look at him—and there’s a certain emotion behind his eyes you can’t place. Like he’s biting his tongue, and you know he is.

“What, Joel? God,” you say, exasperated.

“Nothin’—I—” he pauses like he’s trying to collect his thoughts before speaking. Then he says something that surprises you—like maybe he really does care about you and what happened in his truck.

“He make you laugh?”

You stare at him, shocked, and you can’t help but soften your gaze. You feel like bursting into a puddle of tears—but what’s even worse—you feel like running into his arms.

“He doesn’t make me cry.”

He looks down at that. Like he’s defeated.

“I told you I care,” he throws his words back in your face. From when he had his tongue buried inside you.

You roll your eyes.

“What? You think I want it like this?” He continues when you don’t respond.

“I have no fucking idea what you want.”

“I want to not be sneaking around behind my friend’s back. Your dad’s back.”

“Didn’t stop you before.”

He pushes off the car at that, putting his hands on his hips while scoffing to himself. You think you catch him mumbling something and before you can bite your tongue you urge him to speak up.

“Insane,” he grunts.

“Sorry?”

“I said you drive me fuckin’ insane.”

You pause at that. Partially because his tone suggests it’s not the typical insane but like he can’t stay away from you. Like you drive him up the walls. Like he can’t stop thinking about you. Maybe even the kind of insane he makes you feel. Maybe it's the same thing he does to you. And you didn’t know you did…anything to Joel.

“That’s my job,” you reply sarcastically instead of saying something stupid—or something you regret.

You break his gaze—looking down to unlatch your seatbelt. When your hand goes to click the button, you stay fiddling with it; the latch fails to come out of the buckle.

“‘S jammed. Need to get a repair,” he reaches over you to unlatch it himself.

But you don’t get your hand out of the way quick enough and your fingers meet over the button.

He pauses, you both do. The contact makes your head spin.

You think he’s going to pull away. An apology is already braced on your tongue but instead of moving or retracting, he tentatively rubs your hand with his thumb instead, lacing his fingers through yours like it’s second nature.

He’s in your space, and he smells like Joel, and you don’t think the two of you have ever shared a more intimate moment. Not even when his mouth was between your legs.

You look up at him, hesitant, because you aren’t sure what’s going to be looking back. But he stares at you, his eyes soft. Joel looks down to your lips and back up to your eyes. His brow twitches a bit. You let out soft pants—the peaks of your breasts threaten to ghost against his chest.

He looks at your lips again and inches closer, starting to duck his head.

“‘M sorry,” he grumbles in a low, dangerous drawl that shoots right up your spine.

You don’t think it’s a phrase he says often. You’ve never heard it. It sounds foreign on his lips, especially when they’re inching closer to yours.

“For what?” You squeak out, a breath cutting through your words.

“Everythin’.”

Your eyes urge him to continue.

“Thought I could stay away f’m you.”

He gets closer.

“Thought it was the right thing.”

You shake your head.

“But I don’t think I can stay away.”

“Don’t stay away. Don’t go,” you plead with him and shake your head. All of your plans to make him pay have honestly gone out the window. But when he says things like that and he really—honest to god—means them? You know you’re fucked.

“'M here.”

You close your eyes at his words and will your tears back when they close. All you can smell is Joel and all you can feel is his hand coming up to loosely wrap around your throat, the curve of his palm hugging your collar bone.

“Look at me.” In a blink, you do.

He’s closer, if possible.

And he kisses you. It’s the first time he’s ever kissed you. It’s not tentative, or aggressive.

This kiss feels like the real apology. Not him on his knees for you and then ignoring you after. He kisses like he’s willing you to forgive him. You know he’s not good with words—that’s why this kiss feels like the heartbreak that had settled in your chest is scattering. It feels like your old fantasies and butterflies breaching the surface are making you moan into his mouth.

He kisses you like a man starved, but also like he’s scared of messing up again.

It feels fucking good—he feels fucking good.

His hand on your throat lengthens your neck to deepen the kiss. Your hands find his bicep and squeeze the life out of him.

His other hand pulls at the hem of your shirt and almost ghosts the skin of your stomach but the sound of a door slamming snaps you both out of it. Joel turns to see Sarah pushing out of the patio door with her back turned towards you, carrying towels and a cooler. He quickly unbuckles your seatbelt with dexterous fingers, helping you out of the car.

You act like you were helping him unload the flatbed when Sarah turns around—a big smile cast on her face.

“Get your bikini on! Let’s go!” She looks at you and nods towards the ocean over her stack of beach supplies.

“Alright, alright, I’m going.”

You hustle into the house with a duffle slung over your shoulder. You can see your dad in the kitchen rifling through the pantry—the cooler for drinks and food abandoned on the floor near the fridge.

You find a bathroom and change into your swimsuit quickly. You don’t miss the wet spot on your panties. From a kiss nonetheless. You’re beginning to think you’re way more fucked than either you or Joel like to believe.

You rush out onto the patio. Sarah is probably shoulder deep in the water and it’s way too fucking hot to be sitting under the sun without taking a dip. You haven’t been to a nice beach like this in a really long time. You don’t remember the last time you went on vacation.

This is nice.

Joel is being way too…nice.

You pass him on the way to the beach where you see Sarah jumping through the water. He looks at you, subtly. Out of the corner of his eye. You try to avoid his gaze and hide your blush but you can feel his burning eyes shift to the back of your head as you give him a small smile in passing.

“Dad! C’mon let's go!” Sarah yells from the water. You look to see Joel staring back at you—you drop his eye when your dad busts through the door.

“‘N a minute!” Joel grumbles as he throws his duffle over his shoulder, carting in a crate of barbecue things for the weekend.

Your flip flops splat on the deck as you break into a small jog down to where Sarah is. She smiles at you as you run into the water. The two of you playing in the salty spring like teenagers—well she is—you aren’t.

You can see your dad and Joel settle on beach chairs some yards away from the shoreline. They sport a couple beers and talk amongst themselves while watching you and Sarah play in the water.

You catch Joel’s eye a couple times. He even comes down and throws around a football with your dad. He splashes and teases you all day.

When the sun finally extends down to the horizon and the water turns orange from its light, Sarah tells you she’s beat and basically hobbles back over to the dads on the beach chairs. She slumps down onto the one next to Joel, you move towards them as well, trying not to blush because you know Joel is looking at you before you meet his eyes.

“Tired?” Joel asks, not to you or Sarah in particular, but it falls on you—Sarah already asleep on the beach chair.

“Exhausted.” You plop down on the chair beside your dad, taking a towel and drying your hair off before moving to the rest of your body.

“Want dinner? I’ll make my burgers,” your dad inquires, beginning to stand and take the beers with him.

“Sounds good dad.” You stand and wrap the towel around your body. “Need a shower.”

You try to wake Sarah up gently, she grumbles and stalks off to the house, you, trailing behind her. She kicks her flip flops off at the entrance and moves to the couch in the living room. She’s back asleep before you get the chance to enter the door.

Your dad moves to the kitchen, you don’t know where Joel went. Maybe you left him back on the beach. You move to take a cold shower, the small tug in your stomach grew to be quite big when you caught him staring at your exposed skin on the beach.

When you get upstairs, you enter your designated bedroom. You smile when you realize it has a bathroom attached to it. You strip off your bathing suit, putting it in the sink of your bathroom.

You wrap a towel around your body and go to twist the knob of your shower. When you tug it towards hot it comes off the shower wall with a chink and you curse to yourself, the water coming out in a leak rather than a stream.

You huff. This is not what you need right now.

“Dad!” You call from the doorway of your bedroom—not wanting to venture further in just a towel.

You turn away from the door—moving into the bathroom, trying to chance figuring out how to fix it instead, when a pair of footsteps fall by your bedroom door.

“You okay?” A voice calls from your bedroom, but it’s not your dads.

You jump at the sound of a honey rich southern drawl echoing your name as Joel pushes through the bathroom door to find you in your towel, holding the shower handle.

“Jesus—” he looks away with a cough, you can tell he’s shocked to see you in just a towel. But when he sees you holding the handle he does a double take.

“What the hell did y’do?” He flips between giving you privacy and moving toward you with an outstretched hand, taking the shower handle into his own.

“I just tried to turn it on and it snapped off,” you try to reason with him, a flush coming to your cheeks when he comes into the bathroom.

“Move,” he grumbles, sneaking by you. In the brief moment you come chest to chest, you look up at him and he lets out a groan. His hand snakes by your waist. He looks down at you—a dangerous look in his eyes.

Joel breaks first, moving towards the shower.

“I’m gonna—yeah—just…uh thanks,” you gesture to your towel and shut the door to the bathroom behind you. Leaving Joel in there alone.

You throw on an oversized t-shirt and underwear before he comes out, sans shower handle.

“Thanks,” you mumble, suddenly self conscious you didn’t have time to put on pants. You aren’t sure why. Joel’s seen…a lot already.

“‘Course,” he says, but doesn’t leave like you anticipated.

“You havin’ fun?” He asks. There’s something in his tone that suggests he doesn’t actually care.

“Yeah,” you reply, breathless, “Thanks for inviting us.”

“sorry—I—” he points to the bathroom, “thought you were in trouble or somethin’.”

“‘S’okay.”

He looks at you, and down to your bare legs, your underwear just peeking out from beneath your shirt’s hem.

The way Joel looks at you—like you’re the only one who matters—stokes the fire growing in your stomach. The look in his eyes tells you he’s still wrestling with his moral compass. Like he needs to stay away for his own good, but like he said in the car—he just can’t.

Joel nods, and steps back like he’s turning to leave. You don’t want him to. You need him. When you take a tentative step toward him, he suddenly breaks into stride in your direction. The dam of fleeting touches and wandering eyes for half a day breaks. He grabs your face in his hands, kissing you hard. His tongue slips to run over your bottom lip and you whine into his mouth.

Your hands come up to rest on his chest. His, wrapping around your waist while he dips his head to start kissing your neck.

“Joel–” you start, but the feeling of his lips on the sensitive parts of your collarbone punches your breath.

He only hums at that sentiment.

“Where are we going?” you manage to get out, when he’s tugging you into the bathroom by your wrist, shutting the door behind him.

“Need to fuck you,” he groans into your ear as he spins you around, so your hips press into the bathroom counter. You can look into the mirror and see your reflection. You look entirely too fucked out from a couple kisses and he looks stone cold.

“J-Joel—ah—jesus,” you moan when his hand dips to your front and catches your clit through cotton.

“Say please,” he groans into the skin of your neck. You turn your head to catch his lips in a chaste kiss. It's all tongue and teeth, but you don’t mind either way. He’s close, he’s here and he’s kissing you.

You break away from the kiss just enough to whine out a small, “Please–fuck–”

You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but you know if that’s what he wants—you’d give him anything in this particular moment.

“Nicer.”

You whine, the pad of his finger catches your clit just right.

“Please, Joel,” you cut out through bated breath.

He huffs, you can hear the sound of clinking and shuffling behind you—the tell tale sign of his belt coming undone.

“Alright, baby, c’mon,” he pushes you down, folds you in half, your breasts pressed against marble. It's cold, and his hot hands on your waist, snaking down to slot his fingers in your underwear makes you dizzy.

“You’re a tease,” he groans when he eases your underwear to the side, the head of his cock catches your clit.

“Joel—p—fuck—” His cock catches at your entrance. You both pause for a second, reveling in the feeling. One of his hands grips your waist so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises by dinnertime. The other pushes your face down—fingers tangling in your hair.

“Look in the mirror,” he growls, lifting your head up by your hair, just enough so you can watch his face as his tip slips past your entrance.

He stretches you out just from that, you muffle down a scream in your throat.

Joel’s mouth goes slack but he doesn’t react much with his face. He just looks down at your bodies connecting and pants while he slowly slides home.

“‘S big Joel. Feel so good—oh my god—” he breaks you open and splits you in two. His breath cuts somewhere behind your head—your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling.

He buries himself to the hilt, you curse and mutter inconsistencies into the bathroom. His iron grip on your body goes tighter if possible.

“Eyes open,” he growls behind you. “You can take it baby, c’mon.”

You will open your eyes, focusing on him in the mirror. He has a sheen of sweat already casing his forehead, his shirt is half unbuttoned with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Relax, angel,” he pants. “You’re squeezing me — could barely get it in,”

He settles there, you try to relax but the stretch makes you squirm underneath him. He lets you adjust to his length, cursing every time you clench around him. It’s filthy. Obscene. He’s pushing your head up — lifting you by your hair, so you can see him spear into you with no remorse. He’s filthy, and so are you.

“Fuck, Joel,” you mutter when you finally relax around him, your tight walls flutter at the feeling of his cock moving halfway out of you. When he pushes back in you see stars.

“That’s right honey —fuck— so good for me,” he pants, bottoming out again and setting a slow pace that punches each breath out of you. “Teasin’ me all day—couldn’t fuckin’ wait any longer.”

“More please,” you whine, meeting his eye in the mirror. The air is thick in the bathroom now, the potpourri on the sill of the window doesn’t really mask much of anything.

He complies—surprisingly. Moving faster and harder, each push of his hips knocks you into the counter. The grip on your waist gets impossibly tight. The hand pulling at your hair finally lets you rest back down on the counter, pushing hair out of your face when you look back at him. It rests on the back of your neck.

“Feel so good baby,” he groans.

“Joel—I’m—I can’t, I’m gonna—”

“C’mon angel, come for me,” he says, you take another peak at him through the mirror. He looks wrecked. But you look even worse.

You get impossibly tight around him while he mutters things you can’t hear over the ringing in your ears. You think you hear him toss out a small that’s right when you finally spill over the edge.

He fucks you through it, his pace doesn’t let up, the coldness of the counter brings you back to reality. Where his breaths are becoming groans and pants and he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“‘Nother,” is all he says when your tight walls finally relax, molding to him and only him.

“I–I can’t—” you say, slumped against the counter. You sound cock drunk. It’s halfway true though. No one else has ever made you come twice in one night. You were starting to think it might be a myth.

“Know you can, pretty girl,” he goes slow at that, angling down so the tip of his cock catches something inside you that lights the fire again. “There we go. ‘S okay, can feel it already.”

He pushes you towards another orgasm, it washes over your entire body and you slump against the counter. Maybe it’s some sort of weird trance he has you in. Or maybe you were right and this — whatever it is — is getting bad. Fast. You’re threatening to fall. But he’s there, and he picks you up and holds you down.

“Jesus. Fuck, baby,” he curses into your skin when your release coats his cock and lets him sink deeper, thrust faster, push harder.

“Joel—fuck. Fuck.” Maybe the overstimulation should be getting to you, but you stay there like that, as he speeds up and his thrusts become more frantic. He chases after his own orgasm.

“Turn over,” he says, hastily. His hands move at your body before you can process his words. He flips you around and slots himself in between your legs—sliding back in deep, grinding into you while folding over so his head is in the crook of your neck.

“Please,” you whimper. You both know what you’re asking for. But he pulls out, ripping your shirt up and spilling all over your stomach and breasts. It coats you, the liquid hot and he dips his head to watch it coat your body. He lets out a strangled string of curses, bracing himself on the counter as he comes.

He kisses you. Really kisses you. You grab his face and moan into it. Like you’re willing him to stay there, in between your legs forever.

But he breaks first, moving to grab a towel out of the cabinet above the toilet. He cleans you up gently, wetting the towel with warm water before it touches your skin. The sentiment could make you cry.

When he’s done cleaning you up, he kisses your forehead. Joel wraps his arms around you as you sling yours over his shoulders. He holds you there, his hand coming to cup the back of your head, stroking your hair and breathing hot kisses into your crown. You smile, lazily.

He pulls back just enough to look at you. You know you still look wrecked and are in desperate need of a shower—he looks perfect by contrast, completely untouched and definitely unbothered.

“Dangerous,” he mutters when you look at him through your lashes.

You kiss him instead of responding.

You know Joel's right—this is dangerous.

But it feels way too good to stop.

part iv

taglist! (comment or message me if you would like to be added) kisses to you all:

@nostalxgic @iluvurfather

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miffysrambles · 6 months

Note

Hi! Just wondering, could you possibly do a Sun Wukong x FemReader where both Wukong and the reader play Stardew Valley together but then the reader goes ahead and marries/ starts dating one of the characters in the game?

(WAHHHH I ADORE STARDEW)

Wukong with an S/O who marries someone else in Stardew Valley

OH he gets so jealous, the monkey king is FUMING

Poor Wukong, he was already making his way to crafting the wedding ring for you after he bought the recipe from the traveling cart lady.

“I got something for ya peaches!”

His pixel self was on its way to give it to you when he saw you with one of the characters that you can date in Pelican Town. His excited tone was replaced with silence.

His avatar looked at you, then at them, then back at you, then at them again.

This went on for a few minutes.

“Peaches… What is this?” His voice was heard clearly through your headset, making you stifle a giggle.

“What?” You asked him, not being able to contain your laughter anymore as your voice cracked.

“(Name), I have a wedding ring RIGHT HERE for you, and yet you betray me…” Although his words sound heartbroken, you know this is all in good fun.

To poor salt on his wound, you kissed the game character which made him scream.

“YOU’RE ALREADY ENGAGED?! NOOO!”

He hates to admit it but he is genuinely jealous, of a video game character at that.

The fact his avatar is forced to attend the wedding makes it ten times worse.

OOOOO he mumbles throughout the wedding, “It should’ve been me up there with you… Not like we’re dating or anything…”

Oh and when they move onto the farm, all hell breaks loose.

He’s distraught when you kick him out of the main farmhouse and force him to live in one of the cabins on the farm.

He “tries” to kill them with his galaxy hammer whenever the npc walks through town or through the farmhouse, much to your dismay and somewhat pleasure (you think it’s funny).

He also hits them with explosive ammo and rocks with his slingshot, saying things like “This is what happens when you go after someone else’s partner pal!”

He tries to kick them out of your bed by hitting them more, even though they are an npc and they can’t get hurt.

“GET. OUT. HOMEWRECKER.” He growls as he smashes the buttons on his controller.

Overall throughout your whole playthrough, Wukong is a jealous bitter boyfriend over pixels.

On your next playthrough, he makes you promise to marry him, “Look peaches, all I’m saying is if you want me to not make our farm look like garbage, all ya gotta do is put the ring on!”

He has a shit-eating grin on his face whenever your avatars walk by the npc in your new save.

#ask #lego monkie kid #lmk #lego monkie kid x reader #lmk x reader #lego monkie kid sun wukong x reader #lmk sun wukong x reader #sun wukong x reader #lego monkie kid wukong x reader #lmk wukong x reader #wukong x reader #lego monkie kid monkey king x reader #lmk monkey king x reader #monkey king x reader #monkey king #sun wukong

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lasciviouspoison · 1 year

Text

my first full length smut fic! this shit took weeks to edit ngl, but it was worth it. with that being said, there are probably still some mistakes so excuse those, lol. tw: breeding, eren calls himself “daddy”, word “mommy” is used, reader and eren are extremely (heavy emphasis on extremely) frustrated. not a tw, but like i always say, this is for my chubby black women, but all are free to read <3

eren has loved you for an extremely long time. he’s spoiled u, fed u, he’s even dressed you head to toe while you were sick.

yet, all of this spoiling and caring for u, does not warrant your brattiness right now.

he’s been studying tirelessly for his midterm for about 2 weeks now, finally on his last day of review before his test in a couple of days. yet, he can’t seem to focus because you keep coming in and out of your shared study every three seconds.

“‘ren, where are the extra washcloths?”

he looks up from his textbook, glasses falling off his nose a bit. you’re even dressed like a brat, skimpy little white tank top and baby pink panties. it makes his head hurt worse than the passage he’s read over 4 times now.

“there’s no way you’re asking me where fucking washcloths are right now. there’s no way.” he says with some bite to his voice. he just needs to finish these last two pages and the longer it takes him, the more it kills him.

your arms cross over your chest, pushing your bra-less chest up and exposing a bit of your chubby stomach. “does it look like i’m joking with you? where are they?”

he clenches his jaw and in a very clipped tone, he responds that they’re under the sink. you scoff slightly and walk out, making an effort to slam the door a bit harder than necessary.

he sits back in his chair and throws off his glasses, big tattooed hands wiping his face. eren knows he’s been neglecting you, and it’s killing him just as much as you. he’s tired of coming home from class too tired to touch you. he’s tired of you having to tell him to go lay down after his head rocked one too many times over his dinner plate.

he’s tired, but he’s not gonna let you act like a bitch just to get what you want. simply because it’s fucking working.

he pushes up from his desk and walks out of the study. he hears the bathroom cabinets opening, so he does everything but sprint to get there.

you peer over your shoulder at him and roll your eyes, “they weren’t under the sink. in fact, they’re all dirty cause, you know, you act like you can’t help with laundry anymore-“

erens grabbed you by the nape of your neck and brought your body close to his. you can hear his semi-heavy breathing despite still being bent over, which caused your heart to race a little. although you knew eren would never hurt you, it doesn’t mean that his pent up energy won’t go to waste.

“a couple things: one, don’t talk to me like i’m a fucking child. two, i do still help with laundry, there’s a whole basket full of folded shirts sitting on the bedroom floor that i didn’t get the chance to put away. and finally, you that cock hungry, or are you genuinely mad at me?” he finishes with a finger running up your spine, back arching at the feeling. he knows this rills you up, which is perfect for him. you don’t get to frustrate him and remain unscathed.

your eyes widened a bit, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop eren’s hand from moving. you could feel just how hard he was and it made you think that he almost had it worse than you. however, that doesn’t mean your just gonna lay here and take it.

“get the fuck off me eren” you said through tight lips. his hands now steadily making their way under your top, with you making no advances to stop him.

he bent down towards your ear as his body almost covers yours entirely, with his fingers now gently pulling at your nipples.. “you know what’s funny? you can act mad at me all you want, but this pretty pussy is never ever mad at me. maybe i should gag you and let her do the talking, at least she’s not a fucking liar” at this point, eren’s hands feel like hot coals against your body. while they slowly make their descent back down your body, you can feel your resolve slowly melting away under his touch.

before you could reply, his fingers begin to softly move along your covered slit, causing your breath to hitch. you push your hips back a little and eren gives you a breathless laugh in return.

“i know i’ve neglected you pretty baby. daddy’s really sorry, just let me make it up to you. i promise, you can have me all night if you just tell me what you really want”. sometimes, you swore that you could hear the smirk on eren’s lips.

you shook your head no and felt a soft slap to your pussy. you wanted to scream at him and tell him just how badly you missed him, but your mouth refused to open. you bit your lip once he began touching you again, attempting to coax a confession from your pretty lips.

you felt him bend over once again, this time to place small kisses behind your ear, kisses that started to travel down your neck and onto your back. the entirety of his ministrations were torture, but it was when he stopped kissing you and replaced his lips with his tongue to lick a stripe up your back that you really wanted to cave.

eren’s middle finger finally found your bare clit, the initial contact causing you to jump hard against his body. small whimpers leaving your lips as you tried to maneuver on his fingers before he stilled your movements.

“m’not doin anything more till you tell me the truth. what do you want from me baby? tell me and i’ll give it you ya”.

you try to grind against his fingers once again before a hard smack to your ass forces you to stop. his grip on your hips tightening, letting u know that he’s really gonna deprive you until you speak.

“want you to touch me ren! wan’ you to fuck me so fucking bad!” you finally scream out.

every gives you a small chuckle before his middle and index finger burry themselves into your cunt. his body almost shakes at warmth you provide. blood rushing straight to his dick, making him indescribably hard.

“that’s it baby, that’s all i wanted to hear.” he sounds breathless, almost like he’s the one that’s been getting teased.

he’s pumping his fingers in and out of you, a small squelching sound coming from your sopping pussy. your grip on the cold marble counter top has your knuckles turning white. at this point, you’re so desperate for more that your meeting his fingers half way.

with tears threatening to run down your chubby cheeks, you make pleas for more. “ren please, please gimme more. i’ll be good i promise!”

he feels so bad. you’ve never acted like this, even when the two of you were still forced to live separately on campus. the desperation in your voice is surprising him just as much as it’s surprising you.

because he knows you like it when he fucks you with his hair down, he pulls his hair from his already loosening bun and all but rips his sweats off. dick hitting his bare stomach with a heavy thud.

he takes his fingers out of you and rips those pretty pink panties off, he makes a mental note to buy you another pair.

he rubs himself between your sticky folds till his cock is shiny, hitting your clit a couple of times in the process, drawing more whines from you. all he can do is look down in awe. it’s amazing to him just how wet you get from just a couple of fingers, but who can blame u? his dick’s been throbbing for four days straight.

he finally anchors himself and spits, emitting a soft puh before he smiles. you’re such a mess underneath him and he can’t wait to make it even worse. he finally starts to push in, but your tight little cunny won’t let him in no matter how gentle he tries to be.

“lemme in baby… please lemme in” his voice is so strained it’s making u gush even more.

“i’m tryin!” you say with a pout, tears running down your face.

eren knows you’ve always been big on eye contact when the two of you fuck, it’s almost necessary… so, he hooks his fingers into the side of your mouth and forces your head to lift. finally you were able to see that tattooed chest and pretty face, and he was able to see those pretty eyes and beautiful tear stained face.

almost immediately do you loosen up and he accidentally on purpose pushes all the way in, causing the both of you to moan loudly.

“there you go baby, take it for me ya spoiled fuckin brat”. his hands have found purchase on the fatness of your hips, his grip so tight that you think he’ll bruise you. not that you’ve ever cared.

“fuckfuckfuck” is all you can say as you watch his facial expressions through the mirror. his hair is down and there’s tiny beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. he’s gone slack jawed while stroking you, a relaxed expression gracing his pretty face. no matter how many times he’s buried himself in your warm walls, he’s never gotten used to how good u feel. once his green eyes make contact with yours and that smirk graces his face, it makes u realize just how in control he is no matter how gentle he may look.

“squeezin’ me so tight baby.. u miss me that much?” he says with a breathless laugh, voice dripping with sarcasm. the both of you know that going this long without touch was both odd and frustrating. it caused the both of you to miss each other equally, hence why this could be categorized as some of the best sex you’ve ever had.

at this point, he knows you’re gonna cum soon, he can feel your walls pulsing and eren feels like his dick is gonna pop.

“g’nna cum rennie, g’nna make a mess on yo- ugh fuck!” your little hands balling into fists as he hits that spongey spot in you. you can hear just how hard he’s thrusting into you, each stroke sounding more sticky than the last. it’s making your eyes cross and toes curl.

your convinced he’s gonna kill you with that horse dick of his one day.

“let it out baby, i’ll clean it up the mess, wanna feel you cum on me.” even he’s getting whiny now, so it’s only a matter of time before you-

“-ohmygod eren!” you cum so hard that your body’s shaking and your knees are buckling. thankfully, eren’s always there to catch you.

despite chasing his own nut, he desperately wants to see you ride out your orgasm. he’s so desperate that he’s picking you up by your hips, forcing you to do small circles against his waist cause he knows it drives you crazy.

however, it doesn’t take long before he’s digging deep into you again, the force of his thrusts causing your head to bounce a little harder than intended.

“god i’m gonna cum so hard in this pretty pussy. i’m so fucking sorry i neglected you baby.. never again, god i’ll never do it again baby i promise. gonna fill you up okay? awe, you like the sound of that yeah? make you the prettiest mommy for me. promise i’ll take care of you forever. god i love you”. he’s rambling and his voice is getting rough. it’s only a matter of time before he cums.

after finding some strength, you finally look back and smile at him and that’s all it takes for eren to cum. his face screws up and his warm hands slide up your back to make you arch a little deeper. you wish you could run your fingers through his hair so badly, but you couldn’t ask for a better view of your beautiful boyfriend.

after a few moments of silence, eren finally comes down from his high with a big huff of air. gently, he spins you around so you face him. he moves your curls from out of your eyes and gives you a slow kiss on the lips, hands resting gently on your chubby, tear stained cheeks.

after a few moments of silence, he starts to speak, “i meant what i said. i’m sorry i left you alone for so long baby. i just gotta pass this test.” his eyes full of remorse.

“i know eren, i just wanted some attention… it’s really easy to miss you, even if we live together”. small smiles find both of your faces and eren finally pulls out to run the two of you a warm bath.

he strips you out of your tank top and carries you over to the tub, where he holds you tightly.

after some comfortable silence, you can’t help but look over your shoulder and ask the question that’s been plaguing your mind, “you really wanna get me pregnant?”

he looks towards the ceiling and let’s out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “i mean, eventually yes. right now? fuck no”

the two of you fell into laughter while the smell of lavender filled your noses and achy bones were finally allowed to rest.

#eren #eren x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager #eren smut #eren x chubby reader #eren x black reader smut #eren x y/n #damn….. i love writing for this man

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saatorubby · 5 months

Text

BABY PULL ME CLOSER - G. SATORU

SYNOPSIS : your boyfriend is in dire need for your attention. unfortunately for him, it’s the finals week.

a/n : im loving writing for jjk and this man makes me so ill about him.

GENRE : fluff

PARINGS : student!gojo satoru x student!reader

WARNINGS : mention of childhood pet dying once. reader is referred to as girlfriend.

The finals week was here.

Usually, there is nothing wrong with that, except for being overworked, stressed, and dehydrated, but for gojo satoru, that wasn't the worst.

No, far from worst. For him, the worst thing was being unable to be with his cute and pretty girlfriend.

"Without whom I'll die." he once declared.

There was he now, dreamily staring at you as all of your attention was stolen by those goddamn books. Satoru swears he's gonna burn them all one day.

He wonders whether those dried trees are more important to you than your loving boyfriend, him, who has been begging for your attention for days.

He huffs as his begging stare seems to have no effect in melting your cold, cold heart. Though he has to admit, the concentrated pout and the furrow of your brows do look cute on you as you slave away on the revision and assignments and last-minute projects.

He's tried everything that he could do without your presence. Played games with suguru, and caught up with his friends (which is just suguru and a very pretty and chill lady, ieiri, despite him being popular). Now, he can't go out and get food without his lovely girlfriend, could he? no, that'd be blasphemy through and through.

"Babyyy." he whined for the umpteenth time, laying on your bed as he mindlessly scrolled through social media to find topics to talk shit about with you later.

You sighed and turned to him, exasperated with his antics.

"Can we go and get food?" he asked as his bottom lip jutted in a pout you couldn't say no to. He knows you can't say no to that face, it's too cute.

"Satoru," you stared, frowning. "We've talked about this," you told him, conflicted. You wanted to take up on his offer, you do. You want to take a break too. But you just have so much work. You aren't sure you'd be able to complete it if you stopped even for a minute.

“My love, my darling, my sugarplum honey bun, can we please go and get McDonald’s?” He pleaded.

Gojo Satoru was simply irresistible.

From the first time you’ve met him, you’ve found out that he’s scarily good at getting people to do what he wants.

He looks so cute like that. His pretty eyes watery, his soft, pink lips formed into a pout, his face flushed.

He’s always gotten his way with a face like that.

So you’ve taken it upon yourself to be more resilient and tell him no. He needs to learn.

Also it’s funny how he always looks aghast after you’ve denied him something, like you’ve told him his childhood pet died or something.

“No, toru, we can’t.” You shook your head, looking up at him. You don’t dare try suggest that your boyfriend help with your work, not after…last time where both of you got distracted and ended up making out instead of getting it done.

“I have to get this paper in by tomorrow.” You said firmly, turning back to your work, holding back a snicker as he gasped dramatically.

Here it comes.

“So you don’t love me anymore, huh? Is that it?” He said, narrowing his eyes at your form, hunched over your desk. He takes it back, you’re not cute anymore.

“Is your love for me really that weak, baby?” He lamented. “That’d you’d break under the pressure this easily?” He cried.

“Do you want me to kick you out?” You take it back, he’s not cute.

“Then you won’t be able to see me for real.” You muttered, but it was enough for him to hear.

That made him shut up real quick.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #suguru geto #shoko ieiri #hidden inventory arc #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru fluff

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scoonsalicious · 15 days

Text

1.2 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntire, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of alcohol consumption, some mild derogatory language against women, by women.

Word Count: 960

Previously On...: Natasha Romanoff invited you out to meet her single Avenger teammates. There's only one she warned you to stay away from...

A/N: For Bucky and Lily's POV sections, Major is referred to by name, and without use of you/your. It just made my life easier, lol.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

He clocked her the minute she walked through the door of the bar. How could he not? She was stunning, what with the way she carried herself as she moved through the room, the way her hips swayed as she walked. Bucky liked to think of himself as a gentleman, but just the sight of the unknown woman in front of him was inspiring decidedly ungentlemanly thoughts.

He couldn’t believe his luck when she walked right up to Natasha, giving her a hug and joining her and Wanda at their table. His mind had been running, trying to come up with an excuse to approach her; he couldn’t believe he’d ended up with such an easy in.

“Remember how we talked about staring, Tin Man?” Sam said, coming up alongside Bucky and noticing his distraction. “How some girls might find it downright creepy?”

Bucky ignored his friend’s jab at his expense. “Who’s that?” he asked, jutting his chin toward where the woman sat with his teammates.

Sam cocked his head, considering the girl who had captured his friend’s attention. “I think that’s Nat’s friend… (Y/N)--something. Nat said she might be joining us. Heard the girl was pretty, but damn!”

Bucky turned to look at his friend. “What do you mean, you ‘heard she was pretty’?”

Sam shrugged. “Nothing. Just that Nat said she was inviting her pretty, single friend out with us tonight and maybe those of us without girlfriends might want to consider putting a little extra care into our appearance.”

Bucky glanced around at his friends– they did seem a bit more put together than usual, even Parker. But then he frowned. “How come Nat didn’t say anything about her to me?” He couldn’t help but feel slightly offended at being left out. Did Natasha not think he was good enough for her friend?

“Come on, man,” Sam said good naturedly, slapping Bucky on the back. “You may not have a girlfriend, but you sure as shit ain’t single!”

Sam started laughing, but Bucky wasn’t sure he understood the joke. That happened a lot, unfortunately. There was so much about this time he just didn’t get, and he often found himself too embarrassed to ask for clarification.

“What’s so funny, boys?” Bucky felt a small arm slink itself around his waist, and Lily was pressing herself into his side. He smiled down at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and squeezing her gently. He was never too embarrassed to ask Lily to explain the crazy ways of this modern world to him; she always approached his time-dysphoria, as they’d come to call it, with compassion and understanding. He was infinitely grateful to have her as a friend. One of his best.

“Exhibit A,” Sam said pointedly to Bucky. He turned to Lily. “Buck’s just curious about Nat’s new friend,” Sam said, a sly grin taking over his features. “What do you think, Lil? She’s hot, right?”

Bucky felt Lily stiffen beside him. “She’s alright, I guess,” Lily said after a minute of looking the woman over. “If you’re into that basic, skanky look.”

Bucky watched as Nat’s friend took off her leather jacket and draped it behind her chair. God, the skin of her back and shoulders looked so soft, he caught himself wondering what it would be like to run his fingers across it. “I think she’s gorgeous,” he found himself saying.

Lily looked up at him in surprise. “Really, Jamie? I have to admit, I’m surprised. I thought you had more refined taste than that.” She gave him a disgusted look before disengaging herself from his hold and walked back toward the pool table to line up her next shot.

“Yeah, Jamie,” Sam mocked once Lily had moved beyond earshot. “How dare you find the attractive girl attractive, you asshole!”

“Knock it off, Sam,” Bucky said, trying to ascertain why Lily would seem to have a problem with the way the woman looked. He thought she looked amazing. Easily one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, in this, or any of his decades.

Sam chortled. “Man, you hate being called ‘Jamie.’ Why haven’t you asked her to knock it the fuck off by now?”

Bucky shrugged, putting thoughts of Lily’s words aside as he glanced at the woman sitting with Nat and Wanda again. “I dunno; she likes it, and it’s been four years already. Feels kinda weird correcting her on it, now.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, cause God forbid your friends actually call you what you want to be called.”

When he didn’t respond right away, Sam looked over and caught Bucky staring at you. “Hello,” he said, waving a hand in front of Bucky’s face. “Earth to Barnes? You okay over there?”

“Yeah,” said Bucky, blushing at being called out. “It’s just… she’s really pretty, you know?”

Sam sighed. “Alright. Now, I was gonna make my own play, but seeing as it’s been a dog’s age since you got any action, I’m gonna be a good friend and be your wingman on this one.”

Bucky smiled and turned back to the high top, delighted to see the woman looking back at him, this time, the sweetest smile playing across her lips. “Thanks, Sam,” he said.

Sam gently nudged him with his elbow. “Don’t mention it, pal. You know I can never say ‘no’ to a charity case.”

“Guys,” Lily called over to the two of them. “We’re starting a new game, come on.”

Bucky looked back, giving the pretty girl one more glance. Were her lips as kissable as they looked? He wondered. Get it together, Barnes, he chastised himself. You’re 106-years old, not a fucking teenager.

But damn if she wasn’t making him feel like one tonight.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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caffeinewitchcraft · 1 year

Text

Dandelion (A Villain Story)

You stub your toe and the mind control breaks.

Your power snaps from the shock and the hundred or so clones you’d been controlling disappear with a pop! You hold your breath as the steel they’d been carrying clangs loudly in the cavernous room. You’re the only one in this sector but that was loud. If by some miracle nobody heard that, surely your abductor will notice you’re free any moment now—

Devil Eyes doesn’t notice.

You cover your mouth with both hands, pressing so hard that your teeth creak. There’s a hysterical giggle struggling to claw its way up your throat. You’ve been shot, stabbed, and beaten, but this is what it takes to break Devil Eyes’ control? Your pinky toe throbbing after kicking a stray steel beam?

Fuck, that’s funny.

You breathe in through your nose slowly. Only when your lungs hurt worse than your toe from how much air you’re holding in them do you release your mouth. You breathe out in six quick bursts. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

You’re free.

Holy shit, you’re free! How long has it been? Six months? Eight? You know it’s not summer anymore, but Devil Eyes has had you working in the depths of his lair for weeks now and you’ve lost track of time. That’s fine though, you’re pretty sure you’re still in Arizona and there’s sunshine even in winter. Your breath hitches in your chest. The sun! Oh, the sun, you want to see the sun so bad and now you can because you’re free--

Don’t cry. Don’t make a sound. Assess. Act.

Escape.

You’re in the delivery sector. There are piles of steel everywhere you look, tossed this way and that so that it looks like a giant failed game of Jenga. Your clones were carrying the beams from the truck in the docking bay to the appropriate facilities deeper into the mountain when they disappeared. Ha! Fat chance Devil Eyes finishes construction without you around. You’re the only reason this mountain lair is even possible. It would serve him right to spend so long stealing materials only to have nobody around to do the hard work for him.

That’s why I need to escape.

Spite is what keeps you moving. The truck driver is gone. He’s a real minion of Devil Eyes, not a brainwashed one like you. That means he’s probably in the living sector enjoying the benefits of willing servitude. Benefits like soda. And beds. And those little pillow mints they give you at hotels.

Your mouth waters.

Don’t you dare go back for a pillow mint, you scold yourself. It doesn’t matter how bad you’ve been craving one, forced to set them out and never allowed to eat one. You have the chance to escape and you’re going to take it.

You climb into the cab of the truck. The driver took his keys with him, but you’re a villain. You have the engine turning over in less than five minutes, the bed of the truck detached within three, the seat and mirrors adjusted in less than one.

Ten minutes after stubbing your toe, you’re driving out of the mountain and into the deepest of Arizona nights. Nobody sounds any alarms. Nobody starts shooting at you. How could they? You were the one manning the graveyard shift in the security room. You were the one at the turrets. You were the one doing it all while Devils Eyes and his crew slept.

The stars stretch above you. You crack the windows of the truck and suck in the fresh air greedily. Your eyes burn.

Not yet, you think. Your eyes smart and you bite your lip until the lump in your throat goes away. Not yet. As a villain, you’ve always made it a point not to let your guard down until the job is done.

This job isn’t anywhere near done.

----------,

Getting into one of Hero Force’s headquarters is either the best thing to happen to a villain or the worst.

Breaking into one is a badge of honor, especially if you’re able to get away with a trophy. Information, a hostage, even a paperclip. Anything that proves you were there and they couldn’t stop you from doing whatever you wanted.

Getting taken into Headquarters is a nightmare. It means you’ve been caught and caught good. Getting taken into Headquarters means the end of a masked villain’s career. Hero Force knows who you are from that point on and, even if you escape, they’re not going to lose track of you any time soon.

You’re not sure what walking into one is. A disgrace? An act of stupidity?

You park your truck illegally and push both doors open at the same time just a little after sunrise.

“Hello,” you say to the receptionist. He’s wearing the characteristic black mask of Hero Force personnel and you wait until his brown eyes shift from his computer to you before continuing. "I’ve been held captive by the villain Devil Eyes for the last six or eight months and I’d like to talk to somebody about it.”

“Pardon?” the receptionist asks. His fingers are frozen over his keyboard. “You—pardon?”

“I don’t know what month it is,” you say. Abruptly you realize you’re not wearing a mask. A chill shudders down your spine. Devil Eyes knows what you look like and now Hero Force does too. You are so fucked, you’re going to need to flee the country-- Think about it later. “So I don’t know how long I was brainwashed for.”

“Brainwashed?”

“By Devil Eyes,” you say. When the receptionist continues to stare at you, you shift your weight from side to side. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but is there someone higher up I could speak to?”

It turns out there is. The receptionist is only too happy to call them for you and things move very quickly after that.

They take you to the fifth floor of headquarters and into a very nice conference room. The receptionist brings you coffee, water, and a fresh change of clothes. He doesn’t bring you pillow mints when you ask but makes up for it by fishing out a crushed granola bar from the inner pocket of his blazer.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” you say. Crumbs tumble from your lips and onto the oak table. “Fuck.” You lick your fingers and pick them up as best you can, scooping them into your mouth as you go.

“We’ll have something delivered,” he says, eyes skittering away from you. “It’ll probably arrive before Arctic—”

“No, it won’t.”

You twist in your seat, granola bar stuffed in your cheeks. Arctic is standing in the doorway in full costume, sans cape. Her slate grey eyes study you a moment before she steps into the room. Rag Doll, her second in command, follows silently behind. Unlike his boss, he’s half in his civvies– jeans and long-sleeved Henley that shows off the extra joints in his arms and legs. His patchwork mask does little to hide the bags under his eyes.

“Ma’am,” the receptionist says. He’s flustered in the presence of the A-rank heroes, you can see it. He sketches out a bow and then seems to think better of it, jerking ramrod straight and shuffling towards the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Arctic watches him go with one pale brow raised.

As soon as the door shuts, Rag Doll sighs. “It’s his first day.”

“He didn’t get their name, did not relay a proper history, and called me ma’am,” Arctic says in her heavy drawl. She frowns and smooths her white hair away from her face. “That’s three strikes.”

“Wait until he watches all the HR videos before you start handing out strikes.”

“He should have finished those before he was stationed at the front door.” Arctic strides around the table and takes the seat at the head without looking at you. She pulls out a notebook from her utility belt, flipping to a blank page, and then finally looks at you. “Do you need another granola bar?”

Oh. She was stalling until you could finish eating. A smile comes to your face unbidden. “I missed your southern charm, Arctic.”

Arctic drops her pen.

Rag Doll, halfway into his seat, freezes. He stares at you with wide eyes. “Virus?”

Oh yeah. You used to compliment Arctic’s Southern manners a lot before Devil Eyes got you. “Long time no see.”

“Long time—it’s been a year,” Rag Doll says incredulously.

“You look awful,” Arctic says without a bit of manners to be found.

“A year?” The room swims. Since the wallpaper kind of reminds you of bile anyway it’s no surprise what happens next. “Fuck.”

You throw up.

------------------.

“I was going on the straight and narrow,” you’re saying an hour later. You’re in a different conference room, this one on the third floor. The walls are a nice, soothing blue and there’s a vanilla air freshener plugged into the wall. “I really was.”

“You’ve been with Devil Eyes this whole time?” Rag Doll asks. He’s seated across from you, leaning forward onto his elbows. He’d stopped Arctic from putting the power suppressors on you. She agreed when he pointed out they might kill you in your fragile state. “There’s never been any indication he can hold someone that long.”

“Well, he can,” you say. You wordlessly accept the tea Arctic slides across the table. The heat of it shocks you in the best way. You drink greedily, relishing in the warmth as it slides down your throat. “And not just one person. He could hold me and five of my clones at first. Then ten. Then twenty.”

“But your clones are you,” Arctic says. She refuses to sit, standing behind Rag Doll. She crosses her arms. “It’s impressive he was able to hold you that long, but it was just you.”

“Impressive?” You laugh without humor. “I’m not exactly impressed.”

“She didn’t mean anything by it,” Rag Doll says. He looks over his shoulder at Arctic and, when she nods, he continues. “It’s just that, from what we know about your powers, holding you and your clones would be the same as holding one person.”

“It’s not,” you say. You’re giving away too much information about your powers, but you don’t care. Devil Eyes needs to be stopped. “Every one of my clones is an exact replica of me. An exact autonomous replica of me. Otherwise, I’d have to be some sort of supercomputer to control them all.”

“You’re not?” Rag Doll asks. His voice is light, like it used to be during your fights. Teasing banter.

You’re not in the mood for banter.

“No,” you say shortly. “If I was, I wouldn’t have been caught.”

Rag Doll sobers. “How did that happen?”

“I was getting out of the game,” you say. You wipe the back of your mouth. The tea is sitting better than the granola bar, but you’re still feeling unsteady. You clear your throat. “I should have just disappeared, but I didn’t. I let a few of the locals know I was going to be leaving. Stupid of me. Stupider when I agreed to come to the goodbye party they were throwing.”

“Locals?” Arctic asks. Her voice is smooth and cold. “Which locals?”

You shrug. “Dreadwatt. The Ice Twins were in town back then, they said they’d stop by.” Your lip curls. “Devil Eyes.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very fun party,” Rag Doll says.

“No.” You didn’t think so either. But how do you explain that they were the only people who thought your low-level villainy meant something? Heroes and civilians just found your antics annoying. Villains found your schemes clever. “It was a way to mark the end of an era.”

“What were you going to do after?” Rag Doll asks.

Were. You can’t get mad at the past tense. You’re sitting in Hero Headquarters without a mask. Arctic has probably memorized every single one of your freckles. Even if she hasn’t, Devil Eyes knows your face. There’s no way you get to retire to an honest life now. “I was going to be a librarian.”

Rag Doll perks up. “You like to read? What genre?”

“Mostly science fiction.”

“Me too! Have you read—”

“Devil Eyes got you at the party?” Arctic interrupts. She shoots Rag Doll a chiding look and claims the seat next to him. She fixes you with her chilling gaze. “That right?”

“Yeah.” You don’t remember the moment it happened. That’s the scariest part. It took you weeks to be able to feel Devil Eyes’ control. Until then, everything still felt like your choice. “He had me start construction on his lair about a month after that. He was sure his control would hold by then.”

That makes Arctic lean forward. “His new lair? You’ve been there?”

You grin bitterly. “I’m the one who dug it out.”

“Dug it out? It’s underground?”

“Some of it.”

“Where?” Arctic flips open her notepad. “We know it’s east of the city and, judging by the truck you arrived in, it’s in the deep desert. Can you give us coordinates?”

“I’m pretty good with stars,” you say. Even now you can remember the exact position of them the moment you left the mountain. “I know exactly where it is.”

Arctic can’t hide the impatience in her voice. “Where?”

“Not so fast,” you say. You lean back, crossing your arms. Your heart pounds against your ribs. “I want a deal.”

Arctic snarls. “You don’t understand what’s at stake—”

Rag Doll puts a hand on her arm, quieting her. He smiles at you. “Now, Virus, you know—”

“Don’t call me that.”

Rag Doll blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t call me Virus,” you say. Your skin itches and you dig your nails into your arms to keep from scratching. Devil Eyes called you Virus. “I retired. I’m not Virus.”

“Then what would you like us to call you?”

Your mind scatters. “I don’t know. Not that.”

“Alright,” Rag Doll says gently. He waits a moment and, when you don’t offer up anything else, says, "You know we can't offer immunity agreements. Foresight would have to be here for that and we don’t have time for him to fly down from New York. What I can do—”

“I don’t want immunity,” you interrupt.

“You don’t?”

“You don’t?” Arctic echoes. She frowns, seemingly shaking off her impatience. “You’ll still be charged with your previous crimes, Viru—sorry. You’ll still be charged with your previous crimes.”

“That’s fine.” It’s not. You rub your arms, fingertips worrying at the half moon indents your nails bit into your skin. It’s the price you’re willing to pay to take down Devil Eyes. “That’s fine. I’ll pay for those. But I want to be there when you raid his lair. I want to be there when you catch him.”

“That’s too dangerous,” Rag Doll says immediately. He shakes his head. “Arctic and I both have mental defenses, but you don’t. We know your power and now, knowing the extent of it, we can’t risk having him turn you again. It’d be like facing an army—”

“You’ll need an army against him,” you interrupt again. You press a hand against your chest. “I know how many minions he has. I know the layout. I know the location. You need me.”

“But if he gains control of you again—”

“He can only control twenty of me,” you say. You’re feverish and jittery so you stand. You pound your hand against your chest. “Only twenty, so I’ll be a hundred of me. I’ll be so many that those he manages to ensnare won’t stand a chance against the rest. I can do it. I can be more than he can handle. He got the jump on me but he won’t again.”

Arctic furrows her brow. “A hundred? You can make that many clones?”

You laugh darkly. You weren’t a good villain. Your goals were always too small. Robbing a grocery store, taking over the local theater, stealing the water from the water tower. They don’t know what you can do. “I can do more than you know. I can do more than Devil Eyes knows.”

Silence fills the room as the heroes think. The air freshener sprays a new puff of vanilla.

Rag Doll clears his throat. “If we let you come—”

“Rag Doll!”

“—if ,” Rag Doll emphasizes to Arctic. To you he says, “You won’t kill anyone?”

Of course I’m going to— “No,” you say. You cross your fingers under the table. “It’s just….” You look down at the wood grain. You say in a small voice, “I had to escape alone.”

Whatever protest Arctic was about to voice dies on her lips. “There were others there?” Her gaze sharpens, a bloodhound on a scent. “Who? Where?”

Aha. You guessed right. Arctic is patient. Arctic is polite. She’s been neither of those things during this conversation. What she has been is impatient and demanding. Devil Eyes has someone Arctic cares about. Devil Eyes might even have a hero from Arctic’s team.

“I didn’t see them,” you whisper. You glance up from under your lashes to find the heroes hanging onto your every word. “But I know where he keeps them.” You bite your lip. “I—I shouldn’t have left them there. I know what it’s like being under his control. I know what he does.” You sit upright, meeting their eyes unflinchingly. “I want to save them. I’ll pay for my crimes after, I swear. I won’t run. But Devil Eyes needs to be stopped.” You let your voice crack. “Please. I need to help stop him.”

Arctic softens. “Virus—sorry. Please, is there anything else I can call you?”

Your lip trembles. “My mother called me Dandelion.”

“Dandelion,” Arctic says. “That’s lovely. Dandelion, I understand how you feel. I don’t think—”

Rag Doll stops her with a hand on her arm. “Arctic? Can we talk in the hall?”

“Of course.”

You watch the heroes leave the room. As soon as the door closes, your lip stops trembling. Your shoulders straighten. Your eyes stop glistening.

Rag Doll and Arctic will argue for ten minutes. You’re a former villain and, despite your lack of real villainy in your history, you can’t be trusted. You know Devil Eyes’ hideout, but you’re also fresh out from his control. You’re powerful, but that power can be turned against them.

But those arguments will only last ten minutes. The reality is that they don’t have a choice. You're not going to give them the location without being allowed to tag along. They don’t have time to wait for Foresight or even the Mind Squad who specialize in dealing with mental powers like Devil Eyes’. They’re heroes and the villain has one of their own. They have to act.

You settle back in your chair. They’ll agree to your terms. Your stomach twists. It’s nauseating to think about going back there. A year. Devil Eyes stole a year from you.

You hide your grin as the door opens.

“Alright. Let’s get you kitted out. You’re coming with us, Dandelion.”

You’ll be stealing a lot more from him.

Then instead of crying, maybe you’ll be laughing.

Only one way to find out.

--------

Thanks for reading! I love mind powers in the Superhero universe but they sure are a pain to write!

If you’d like to read stories like this or like others on my blog a week before I post them here, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)

Next week’s story is already up! Summary:

Sometimes, when things go very wrong, the Chosen One gets a wish. That’s where Danielle comes in. TW blood, death, violence, child death

Thanks again for reading!

#my writing #mind control #violence #librarians are crafty af #and somewhat criminal #for good reason!#my superpowers #superheroes #original short story #second person

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genericpuff · 2 months

Note

bit out of nowhere but LO Hades reminds me so much to Bojack Horseman idk how to explain it

Oh we've talked about this extensively in the ULO chat circles n such, especially when it comes to the most climactic scene in the show, the second interview:

youtube

The entire tone of the show showcases a very bitter reality with a lot of celebrities and people in power. There are some messed up things that happen throughout the course of the show, but they always feel like they're being used for comedy or brushed under the rug with comedy, because the show is, after all, a comedy. But I feel like that was the point, because it's not until the final season that everything that happened throughout finally catches up to Bojack, and suddenly... it's not funny anymore. There's no punchline. It really reflects just how much people in power don't see their abuse or wrongdoings as "big deals", sometimes they even see it as "just some funny thing that happened", all while the onlookers and victims of their behavior and abuse either become so acquainted with it they don't even see it as abuse anymore until they finally break away from it (Diana, Todd, Princess Caroline, etc.) OR they fight to be heard while the media tries to snuff them out. So then when the consequences finally catch up to them, there are no laughs to be heard, as much as the perpetrator in question may try their best to pass it off as "not a big deal" or believe they shouldn't be held accountable because "it happened a long time ago".

Anyone who sees Biscuits Braxby as the villain here is missing the overall point - Bojack has been responsible for literally ruining people's lives on several occasions, and has never been held accountable.

And yeah, I see a lot of that in LO as well, but the issue is the framing of the story isn't making it clear if it's actually going to have its "Come to Jesus" moment with Hades and Persephone, or if it's just gonna keep celebrating them as the heroes.

There were no consequences for Hades pulling out Alex's eye. They played the resolution out for comedy.

There were no consequences for Persephone turning Minthe into a mint plant. They played the scenario out for comedy literally by the end of the very same episode and then well into the next one.

There were no consequences for Persephone cornering Tori at his job. The entire thing was played up for comedy.

There were no consequences for Persephone raiding Leuce's home. She was rewarded with sex from Hades and it was, you guessed it, played up for comedy.

Just like with Bojack Horseman, we don't see Hades or Persephone treat these situations as seriously as they ought to. They ultimately don't care how other people feel or how they may be affected by their own actions, they only care about themselves. Just like with Bojack, we see Hades enter sexual relationships with women who are in a much weaker position than him, women who stand to lose far more than he would if the relationship went south.

(I need you all to realize that Hades is literally blackmailing her. He is trying to pay her off with a management position or some kind of severance and framing it in such a way to manipulate her into thinking it's 'better' for her that she take the deal, all for the sake of getting her out of the picture because he's with Persephone now. This is blackmail. And the narrative wants us to root for Hades here.)

Shit, I would argue Bojack is still a better character than Hades and Persephone because we 1.) see how the consequences of his actions do affect him on a deeper level (through his anxiety and self-hatred which he spends a long time wallowing in, making his situation worse, rather than seeking help for) and 2.) he actually does eventually start to seek help, but unfortunately there's only so much one person can do to fix themselves when their actions still haven't been brought to justice and their mindset hasn't truly changed; which is what we see in the final part of the show when, despite Bojack's attempts to be a better person, the Sarah-Lynn case catches up to him, and in his final moments up on that stage with Biscuits Braxby, we see his true nature come out - he thinks being an addict should absolve him from what he's done to others.

Sounds familiar, doesn't it? Except replace "addict" with "traumatized" as many of Persephone and Hades' actions are swept under the rug with "they went through trauma so it's fine". Despite the fact that other characters who have also been through trauma aren't given that same grace (Thanatos, Demeter, Minthe, etc.)

You could also go a step further and call out how the fans themselves will defend their actions as "but they're gods!!! gods were terrible all the time in the myths!" but isn't it funny how myth accuracy only ever comes up when it comes to defending Hades and Persephone? Meanwhile you'll never see anyone bring it up when it comes to Apollo SA'ing Persephone, or Hades having an emotional affair with Persephone, or any of the other number of things that Rachel rewrote for her 'retelling'. It's not funny haha, it's funny yikes.

I can only imagine how the fans feel seeing Hades and Persephone called out must be similar to how first-time viewers like myself felt seeing Bojack be put on the cross by Biscuits Braxby - "you're being an asshole, he's working on himself!" "leave him alone!!!" "the media is making a monster out of him!" "he's really not THAT bad!"

But he is. They are. And unlike Bojack Horseman, I unfortunately can no longer have the good faith in believing Hades and Persephone will have their comeuppance, or the people they've hurt will get their retribution. I have no hope that Persephone will see that she's the Sarah-Lynn of the relationship, a girl who was groomed into an abuser at the hands of an abuser, who had no chance of doing better because the person she fell for pulled her down to his level. I don't have any faith in Rachel whatsoever that she'll manage to end this story with any message besides "it's fine for Persephone and Hades to be who they are, because they're rich and powerful and really horny for each other!"

And Hades doesn't think he has any power over women.

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything

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pedroshotwifey · 1 month

Text

Without Words

This can be seen as a stand-alone but I count it as a part to two this fic

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Tags/Warnings: Oral (m), cock worship, piv sex, rough sex, choking, semi-public sex, sprinkles of feelings, age gap, face fucking, degrading names (affectionate), cum eating, stuff I'm forgetting

Summary: You want to show Joel how much he means to you...but maybe in a less classy way.

A/N: Hey, babes! I hope you enjoy this part! I know a lot of people wanted to see an update, so here we are <3

*****

It’s been another long ass day. You and Joel were able to pick up the same shift, but there was enough work for four people—which is not the norm for the job you’d picked today. It took you three hours too long, but you’d gotten it done. Now that you and Joel aren’t glaring daggers at each other anymore, you’re actually able to be productive.

You walk hand-in-hand with him now toward your shared apartment. It’s been about a year since the two of you had caved into each other, and things honestly couldn’t be better. You’d had your fair share of fights—which is only to be expected with the attitude you both possess—but things have been good.

You moved into his apartment a couple of months ago, since he kept having to sneak out of yours too close to curfew. He practically lived at your apartment, even though his was bigger, because he didn’t want to risk you walking home late at night. It was an effortless change for you.

There was the issue at first about your age difference, and about how people might react when they realize what the two of you had become, but neither of you wanted to let that affect you. It’s the end of the fucking world, as Joel had put it, you both deserve to spend it with whoever you want.

You look up at him, admiring the way he walks so confidently with you on his arm. Like it’s no big deal at all. It took a little while for people to stop giving the two of you strange looks, but even from the start, he had embraced your relationship with no shame.

You haven’t even told him you love him yet.

It’s more of an unspoken thing, you think. Something you show with gifts and actions and physical affection, because deep down, you’re both still broken people in the apocalypse, and you don’t want to admit that you have a weakness. That’s what love is, after all. Just another thing for you to lose.

“Joel?”

It’s only now that you finally lose your composure. All damn day, you’ve been distracted, and you can tell he knew that much, but maybe not exactly what the problem was. Maybe it’s that thought—that you haven’t told him how you feel. But you know that you won’t even now. So you’ve been caught up in other ways to show him, to tell him.

You’ve been thinking about it all night. Ever since the two of you got home from your shift and he shucked his pants off to change. It’s not your fault, really. Not your fault the man has a massive fucking cock that makes a sizable, mouthwatering—and extremely daydream-able—bulge in his boxers.

You’re not usually a weak woman, but. Shit. Nobody would be blaming you for what you’re about to do if they were in the position to do it.

“Let me suck your dick,” you whisper up at him, watching his eyes go wide as he snaps his head left and right to make sure nobody heard that.

The two of you had gone to the last dinner offered at the hall, so it’s pretty dark out, and it’s also been raining for the last hour or so. There are only a few people out other than you since it’s so close to curfew, but Joel’s face still goes a little red at your request. You can’t help but bite your lip to contain your smile.

It really is funny how flustered he gets about you saying something like that when he’s the one who loves to talk about railing you in public. There’s not a single person under the canopy that you stopped under, but he still lowers his voice as he speaks.

“Yes fuckin’ please,” he says through a scoff. “But you couldn’t wait to run that filthy little mouth until we got home?”

You shake your head, smirking at him. You swear you can feel your heart beating against your ribs as you wait for him to understand your request. Your body is going hot from the pure want coursing through your veins.

“I want it now,” you practically whine as you pull on his arm like a petulant child. His eyes go wide again.

“Now?” he asks, obviously a bit shocked at your sudden desperation.

You nod at him, licking your lips.

This time, you catch a small twitch from between his legs before you give him your best doe eyes. You glance at the dark, empty alley a few feet away from you, and his eyes harden. He glances around one more time, clutches your upper arm, and drags you into the concealed space.

“Shit, baby, just be fuckin’ quick about it,” he mutters as he shoves you down to your knees. You smile devilishly up at him as your hands immediately fly to his zipper.

You frantically pull them down, the zip getting stuck halfway due to the massive bulge pushing against the denim. Joel hisses and you whimper as you snag it down quickly, not caring if it breaks or not.

The first time you saw him, you’d had a hard time admitting to yourself that it was the most gorgeous cock you’ve ever laid eyes on. It took a minute for you to understand that he wasn’t a threat, and only then did you allow yourself to appreciate the appendage to the degree that you do now. Since then, you’ve been sure to let Joel know just how much you love it.

It makes your mouth water as you pull it out from his pants. Girthy and long enough to still almost scare you even at half-mast. You know how it fits inside you though, how good it makes you feel when he’s pummeling it into your sore, stretched cunt at full force.

You want it to feel as good as you do, to feel the way your wet, hot mouth can wrap around it and slobber on it until Joel’s thick thighs are shaking with need to spill his seed down your welcoming throat.

The feeling of one of Joel’s hands threading your hair between his fingers and pushing you toward his crotch pulls you out of your daze.

“You gonna suck it or fuckin’ stare at it?”

You shoot Joel an annoyed glance and squeeze him lightly in warning. You give in anyway, however. It really doesn’t take much.

He makes a grunting sound as you take the fat tip of him between your lips, suckling the head and tonguing at his slit as your hand pumps the rest of him. You love the taste of his salty pre-cum on your tongue as you eagerly lap him, trying to get more.

Joel pushes harder on the back of your head and bucks his hips forward—though you’re not sure if that part is voluntary. Your hand moves back to the root of him, holding tightly and pushing him so that he can’t shove himself into your mouth.

You pop your mouth off of him, ignoring the string of spit that keeps you connected to his soaked tip. With heavy lids, you glance up at him to find that he’s staring back at you with a look in his eyes that can only be described as fiery.

“Be patient, old man, I��m trying to enjoy myself.”

Joel scowls at you. “The fuck you mean enjoy yourself? You’re suckin’ my cock,” he snaps.

“Okay, well I happen to really fucking like sucking your cock, Joel, so be. patient.”

He rolls his eyes at you and leans his head back against the brick wall behind him. Satisfied that he’s stopped arguing, you go back to his dick, grabbing it so that the underside of it is facing you.

You lean forward to lick up the entirety of it, coming down to suck and kiss at his balls every couple of strokes. Your head is going a bit fuzzy and your core is throbbing almost painfully with need.

You can’t stop though, you love the feel of his silky skin on your tongue, the way it moves slightly with each pass of your mouth. You moan loudly against him, enough so that it reaches Joel’s ears through the sound of the heavy raindrops pelting the ground and buildings around you.

He pulls sharply on your hair, but is unable to pull you away with how tightly you latch on to his thighs. You squeeze your eyes shut and just about double your efforts to ensure he won’t make you stop.

“Gotta hush, baby. Sound like a fuckin’ whore, moanin’ on my cock like that,” Joel squeezes out at you through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, but you love it,” you pull away just enough to retort.

“Damn fuckin’ right,” Joel smirks back at you as you get back to work. “Little s-slut just for me.”

When you lean forward this time, you take him fully between your lips, swallowing as much as you can to get him as deep as possible. You know you’re drooling, but you can’t find it in you to care, you’re far too drunk on his taste, his scent, the feel of his cock inside your greedy mouth.

Joel groans as you suck harshly, resisting the urge to gag as you hold him in your hot mouth and fondle his balls. God, you can’t fucking get enough. You pull back again once you literally can’t breathe, but not before taking his balls into your mouth once a piece.

“Fucking love your cock, Joel,” you tell him as you stroke him lazily.

“I know you fuckin’ do, darlin’. Why don’t you show him how much? Make him feel good, hm?”

You nod eagerly at him and put your mouth back on him, bobbing your head and using your hand to tightly pump what you’re not able to reach. Joel makes a choked sound and grips your hair so tight that tears spring to your eyes.

The sounds reverberating through the alley are nasty, but it only turns you on more. Between Joel’s bitten-down moans and the sound coming from his dick being slammed down your throat, it’s a fucking symphony in your ears.

“Shit,” Joel breathes from above you. “Want to be inside you, baby.”

You shake your head as much as you’re able. You want his cum down your throat, that’s the whole point of this. Twin tears trail down your messed cheeks with the movement, but you keep going at a quick but steady pace.

He grunts and pulls on you again, and this time, you’re forced to let go.

“Joooel,” you whine, hands going out to grab at him, only for him to squeeze again and hold you firmly in place.

“You fuckin’ quit that, now,” he commands, and you do. Albeit reluctantly and with a furious pout. His cock bobs tauntingly in front of you, throbbing and glistening with your saliva.

“C’mon, princess. Up.”

You continue pouting but do as he says, letting him haul you up so he can pull your pants and underwear down. You yelp, not expecting that part so quickly. The cool, moist air hits your heated core and you clench your thighs, making it more difficult for Joel to spin you around and shove you against the wall.

He’s behind you again in a heartbeat, the tip of his cock breaching your tight hole as he presses his entire front to your back. You keen as he slides into you, the stretch making your toes curl in your boots.

“See?” Joel mutters into your ear. “Shut you up quick, didn’t it?”

You can only nod as he starts to move inside of you, your slick making it easy for him to build up a quick pace. Your fingers spread out on the brick wall as he grips your hips and thrusts harshly up into you, a sheen of sweat starting to cover your body at the force in which he’s using you with.

He hits your g-spot each time, making you huff out weak little moans to mingle with his grunts. His heavy balls slap against you with each thrust, making a lewd sound against your soaked seam and sending shocks atop your swollen clit.

You mewl as your orgasm starts to build, a warmth starting to spread throughout your entire body. And when Joel brings one hand to wrap around your throat, you just about lose it. He squeezes the sides, cutting off your airflow and making your head spin.

You close your eyes and your senses hone in only on the feeling of his cock spearing into you, the way his grip is so hard on your hip that there are sure to be bruises in the morning. Your head rolls back onto his shoulder and he uses the opportunity to nuzzle your jaw.

“So s-soft ‘n’ wet for me, ain't ya? Like soaked fuckin’ silk.”

You whimper as much as you’re able, your body starting to shake as you get closer to the edge. Joel lets his fingers ease up from the grip he has on your throat, allowing air to sweep back into your lungs, and you explode.

You moan obscenely as you cream on his cock, his hand moving to your clit to thumb tight circles and prolong your pleasure. Your hands move from the wall to grip hard onto his forearms.

“That’s a good girl,” he growls into your ear.

“M–Please, Joel,” you whine. “Let me swallow–I–”

Joel’s dark laugh startles you, but he moves to give you what you want. He pulls his cock out of you, and you suddenly feel empty. You whine despite yourself, but are quickly distracted again by the way he spins you around and shoves you back to your knees, your pants still pulled down around your ankles.

You watch him dazedly as he fists his drenched cock and then guides it back to your swollen lips. You taste yourself on him as he pumps his hips and glides onto your tongue. He places a hand on the back of your head again, helping you take him.

“There you go, you fuckin’ cum-hungry little slut.”

You moan, and you can tell that’s his undoing as the vibrations travel through his length. He shudders and groans into the empty alley as his balls tug up and he spills into your mouth. You greedily drink him down, gripping his thighs and closing your eyes as you focus on not spilling a single drop.

He pushes your head down until he hits the back of your throat, waiting for you to gag before he slowly pulls all the way back out. You’re both sweaty and panting but you still open your mouth and tilt your head up for approval that you swallowed every bit of his cum. Joel watches you with parted lips and nods.

“Good job, princess,” he tells you, and you smile.

“Alright, baby, I gotta get you home before curfew,” he says after a moment. “Let’s get you cleaned up so it doesn’t look like we just fucked in a damn alley.”

You grin at him and lift your arms for him to help you up again. You don’t tell him that it’s pointless to clean you up since you’ll just end up in the same state once you get home. If there’s one thing that will never dwindle in your relationship, it’s the insatiable hunger that the two of you harbor for one another—and all the messes and mischief that comes with it.

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webslingingslasher · 3 months

Note

I want trouble to go up to Peter and tell him to leave her alone PERMANENTLY bc that "no one is gonna try to date me bc we were seen together" shit is so annoying. I want her to tell him thats toxic and she would never do that to him pls

‘i unblocked you to yell at you.’

‘Please do.’

‘you’re toxic. you’re mean and toxic and holding me back. i would NEVER go around telling girls to watch out and be weary because you’re mine. it’s weird and gross.’

‘funny how you never wanna respond when you’re caught in your shit. you act like a tough guy but you can’t ever back it up.’

‘I’m not holding you back. I told Tarrent to stop his bullshit. It’s not on me if people still don’t want to mess around with you, I did what you asked.’

‘there’s an underlying threat and you know it.’

‘There isn’t.’

‘you know what? i didn’t wanna do this to you, parker but you made me.’

‘i’m gonna go out with zach kelph and you can’t do shit about it.’

‘That’s a low blow, trouble.’

‘Real low.’

‘you think it’s fun messing with me. it’s not my fault the only guy who isn’t scared is the guy you hate.’

‘if you were smarter you would’ve thought this through.’

‘I’m sorry that guys are blowing you off and making you feel shitty. That was all Tarrent, I had nothing to do with it. The worst I’ve done is follow you around, I never threatened anyone with violence. Even I know that’s too far.’

‘you didn’t stop it. you knew what was going on and you let it. you’re just as guilty.’

‘it’s a good thing zach doesn’t care.’

‘He’s not doing it because he likes you.’

‘He’s doing it because he hates me and knows you’re my only soft spot.’

‘you’re so selfish.’

‘you really have to make this about you?’

‘If you want to date other guys, go for it. I’m just letting you know Zach has zero good intentions. You’d be something to show off. That’s it.’

‘I CAN’T DATE OTHER GUYS!!!!’

‘WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN FOR THIS CONVERSATION???!!!!’

‘YOU FUCKING RUINED EVERYTHING!’

‘I COULDN’T PUT UP WITH YOU ANYMORE AND I FUCKING END IT AND YOU’RE STILL FUCKING WITH ME.’

‘date other guys he said!!! DATE OTHER GUYS???? I’VE BEEN TRYING!!!!’

‘asshole.’

‘i fucking hate you.’

‘i hate you so fucking much.’

‘i hate everything about you and i regret every fucking kiss and every time you fucked me and every time I THOUGHT YOU CARED ABOUT ME.’

‘you don’t like me. you never did.’

‘your aunt would be so so SO disappointed in you. i hope you know that. may would HATE who you are. this isn’t who she raised.’

‘surprise surprise. he has no response.’

‘I don’t know what you want from me. Do you want me to make an instagram post saying you’re free game? Do you want me to toss you to a friend? What do you want my answer to be?’

‘this is your fault.’

‘You dated a chapter member at the number one frat on campus, of course people aren’t going to move in on you two weeks after it ended.’

‘i didn’t date anyone.’

‘You’re right, everything we did was a waste of time and it never meant anything to me.’

‘oh?? he admits it??? wow. never thought i would’ve seen the day.’

‘Date who you want. Kiss who you want. Fuck who you want. But don’t do it to get back at me.’

‘And for the love of god don’t fucking pick Zach. This isn’t about my ego, trouble. Zach is a terrible person and he only wants to use you.’

‘you spelled parker wrong.’

‘You used to be nice to me.’

‘and i used to think you loved me.’

‘funny how wrong we both were about each other.’

‘I think you should block me again.’

‘you just love playing a martyr don’t you? you know you’ve never said sorry? not once? you never actually told me that you acknowledge you weren’t good to me and that you’re sorry it ended this way. that’s why i can’t stand you. you act like it still doesn’t matter. i just want real emotion from you and i still can’t get that. i mean come on peter. what else do you have to lose?’

‘It does matter to me. It matters a lot, trouble. I’m sorry I’m not crying to your voicemail but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking suck for me. It does. I miss you. A lot. I miss you waking me up every night, I miss you reading next to me, I miss you taking naps with me, I miss you every fucking minute of everyday.’

‘It fucking hurts to think about. Even worse to talk about it with you. It’s my fault. All of this is my fucking fault. How do I have any right telling you it hurts me too? I only hurt because of me.’

‘There’s nothing more I want to do than hug you and tell you how sorry I am but I can’t do that without breaking down. I can’t.’

‘i don’t believe you’re crying over me.’

‘Ask my disappointed aunt.’

‘You weren’t wrong about that.’

‘that was a little mean.’

‘It was honest.’

‘doesn’t mean it was nice.’

‘I really don’t deserve you being nice to me anymore. I’ll tell Tarrent to make it right, okay? I promise you can have any guy you want. Even… Zach Kelph.’

‘i don’t want zach. i just wanted to be heard.’

‘I listened. I’m trying, trouble. I promise I am.’

‘yeah. i’ve heard that before.’

#frat!peter drabbles

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niconebula · 1 year

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I’m currently writing a college essay on the representation of Witches (and all Magical Girls) in Madoka Magica; I don’t know if I will be able to include this within the limits of the project so I wanted to share to Tumblr instead. It does not seem to be widely understood how much yonic imagery there is in the series and how important that is to the intended message.

For starters Kyubey is a walking uterus. The name of his species is literally Incubator (an enclosed apparatus providing a controlled environment for the care and protection of premature or unusually small babies; an apparatus used to hatch eggs or grow microorganisms under controlled conditions). He creates egg-shaped Soul Gems, and deposits the Grief Seeds back into his little receptacle. Why does he have such a weird design with two sets of ears? The lower ‘ears’ with the separated ends are actually modelled off of what Fallopian Tubes look like.

(Funny diagram but. It’s true! I’ll come back to this point at the end).

So then take this scene (thank god someone reuploaded it to YouTube):

youtube

“And you think a shit-for-brains hoe is going to be making that much in ten years? That body ain’t gonna last forever, you know.” “And then you dump ‘em, and they get all whiny!”

These two men are talking about the short term relationships they have with women, using them for their bodies and treating them like shit, and then dumping them immediately after - not understanding or caring as to how this upsets them.

It consistently baffles me how many people will completely throw out feminist readings of Madoka Magica. ‘Readings’ shouldn’t even be used - this is the main text of the goddamn show! You are free to argue that it failed at its message, or that the application was problematic, but for this scene in particular to fly over your head makes me discount opinions immediately.

Anyway, where have we heard this rhetoric before? “That body ain’t gonna last forever” - a young Magical Girl is always destined to turn into the Wicked Witch. “When you dump em’, they get all whiny!” - it is a Magical Girl at the peak of her despair who turns into a Witch, and Kyubey cannot and does not care for their human emotion.

The men cycle through their ‘hoes’ like Kyubey cycles through Magical Girls to get whatever his species supposedly needs to continue the universe.

I’m going to cut a break here for TW discussions of metaphorical rape and pregnancy involving minors, but this portion of the post is important.

Kyubey completely violates the concept of informed consent when he creates his magical girls - though he always argues that he did ask, and it’s in fact their fault (as fourteen year old girls) to not ask further questions.

Taking his form as a uterus alongside the yonic imagery of the show, it is implied that Kyubey has in some way ‘raped’ the girls. This is most evident in Sayaka’s arc; her insistence that becoming a Magical Girl has made her spoiled and that Kyousuke wouldn’t want to even kiss a girl like her.

Their transformations into witches further the idea that they have been ‘spoiled’, but also symbolize their transformation into adult women. Women who are ‘too adult’, and whose bodies are no longer attractive or useful to create babies anymore.

Goddess Madoka is even depicted as pregnant in the full Magia ending.

I feel like you could reason within all this symbolism that there’s a metaphor for specifically the coerced pregnancy and mothership of women. Something often considered the ‘ideal state’ for women and as you will see many conservatives argue, the necessary thing to continue society. In their minds, the subjugation of anyone they assign as women to these roles is necessary for society as they know it to continue for the imaginary people of the future who do not even exist yet.

Kyubey refers to the Magical Girls as cattle. He is there to help incubate and hatch the witch, and then throw the magical girl to the dust afterwards as she dies no longer useful. These girls are sacrifices to a far-off future that Kyubey promises them, he tells them that if no Magical Girls existed to hatch into Witches, humanity would not last long enough to see itself to the stars.

The incubator and his design, the soul gems and grief seeds, the pregnant madoka, the discussions about men liking their eggs a particular way by their homeroom teacher, it’s all very consistent. I’m not sure if my prospective readers have ever considered this within Madoka Magica - but try seeing it from this angle.

I didn’t find a way to work this into the post, but in addition: take the ancient myth of the wandering womb. This was the belief that so called over-emotional women were suffering from a condition where their uterus was moving in ways all across their bodies. It morphed into the more modern usage of female hysteria; hysteria coming from hystera- the Greek word for uterus. Kyubey thinks of the girls as constantly overreacting and overemotional. Hysterical.

#pmmm #madoka magica #posts made without proofreading #I trust in peoples reading comprehension ability to not take this as a trans exclusionary post #and if you think I’m reading too much into it idk what to tell ya just move on

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morallyinept · 3 months

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Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 4

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 6.4k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie and Jude both wash up on the island.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 3

Jude lets go of the piece of wreckage involuntarily when she falls into a weary unconsciousness.

Exhaustion renders her to fade into the fuzzy pull of blank inertia, but as soon as her face hits the water, the shock wakes her back up again. She clings onto the debris once more, shivering and trying with all her might to stay afloat.

The sky is pitch black now; the blackest she’s ever seen it in her entire life, a great expanse of a void unknown, and she ponders the bleak outcome of her situation with a creeping sense of dread as each second passes and she’s not waking up out of this torrid nightmare.

I mean, think about it; she’s floating on her own in the middle of the ocean, God knows where exactly. Freezing, clinging onto life and the piece of debris to stay buoyant as much as she can, and not knowing what the next few seconds will bring, let alone the next few hours, in this shit storm of a ghastly predicament.

It doesn’t take a genius to work out she’s royally screwed in the ass.

Perhaps it would have been better if whatever it was that bonked her on the head in the plane had killed her instantly. Jude looks up at the sky and whispers to God that this isn’t a funny joke anymore.

Seriously, dude.

She cries out when she feels something brush against her leg in the water and freezes instantly.

The searing pain at the back of her calf makes itself known to her again, and she hopes to Hell that it isn’t a hungry shark sizing her up for its next meal.

The water seems calmer somehow.

Frankie isn’t being tossed about in the current so much anymore and can finally release his death-like grip on the sides of the broken wing piece.

He curls himself up on it as best as he can, hugging his body for warmth. He blows into his aching, cold hands, shivering and shaking relentlessly. He’s thankful he’s wearing his jacket at least, even if it’s completely soaked through.

Any chance of fully drying off is moot; water still splashes over the edges as he drifts on the ocean’s tide carrying him further and further into the deep swallowing mouth of the sea.

He licks his lips, still tasting salt, and listens to the sounds of the water, the only thing to accompany him as he floats off into the sheer depths of Hell.

And despite it all, he can’t help but think that this is probably what he deserves.

The orange phosphenes dance behind her eyelids, and as Jude opens her eyes, her head is resting on the debris at a weird angle; she has a severe crick in the neck from it.

It’s daylight and she hasn't a clue how early it is in the morning, or if it is even morning at all. She looks up squinting, and the sky is a bright blue with the hot sun making its ascent across it as she zones out, just watching it for what seems like hours until it’s burned holes into the back of her skull.

She rubs a wet, pruny hand over her face to wake herself up and keep afloat on the debris as she looks about her surroundings. The vast expanse of the ocean before Jude is an incredibly daunting sight. It goes on for miles; a bluey-grey poignant line on the horizon that seems perfectly straight. No wonder early man thought the world was flat…

She touches the side of her head and her hair, although drying, is still matted with blood and she winces as she prods there tentatively.

Jude leans back, holding onto the debris, and dips her head into the water, closing her eyes and swishing her hair around inside the sea water. Which is probably a bad idea because the ocean’s water is not sterile in any sense of the word - she’s basically swimming around in a giant toilet - but the cool water on her throbbing head feels good, offering a respite from the intense, stinging heat of the pain.

She opens her eyes and then gasps out, sinking under the water as she clumsily lets go.

Twisting around she chokes; she can see that there’s a land shadow behind her. Either that or she’s fully crossed over into delirium.

“Oh shit!” Jude cries out and begins frantically swimming towards the knobbly mass in the distance.

She can make it. She’s a good swimmer if she paces herself, but right in this moment sheer adrenaline and euphoria has taken over and she’s dashing through the water as fast as she can go, leaving the debris to carry on a lonely existence from their one-night stand.

As she swims, the shoreline grows in size, and when she eventually reaches it, her lungs are burning through chronic exhaustion and wheezing.

Jude crawls up the bank and flops down face first into it, swallowing a mouthful of sand in the process.

Jude awakes, what feels like hours later, with coarse sand clumps sticking to the side of her face exfoliating it as she stirs.

She coughs after automatically licking her lips and groaning when she realises she’s still living in this warped reality and it wasn’t a bad dream like she hoped it was.

She pushes herself upright into a sitting position and feels immensely dizzy. The sun is high in the sky now and she feels too hot, like her skin is pulled really tight over her skeleton. She coughs again and can taste sand around her taught gums and tries spitting it out as it crunches over her teeth.

Jude glances around at her surroundings. She’s definitely on land, which is good thing; a real fucking blessing. Where there’s land, there are people and she can finally get some help.

She calls out from her stupefied position in the sand.

“Hello?”

She waits to see if anyone will trundle out from the underbrush where the sand leads into grasses, reeds and then bigger trees that seem to be overgrown. Imagine their surprise to see Jude washed up on the beach casually like plastic pollution.

“HELLO?” She shouts louder, groggily, and then coughs more; hacking up gooey mucus which she spits on the sand and wrinkles her nose at the sight of it.

She looks back out to the ocean and the debris that had been her flotation saviour through the night has washed up on the shore. Standing slowly, she walks over towards it and picks it up. It appears to be some sheet metal from the plane which is white on one side; the metal is ribbed on the other from being melted in the fire.

She runs her fingers over it as her mind flashes the images of the ocean coming up fast when she was looking out the window as the plane hurtled towards it at breakneck speeds.

All those people... God, what the hell happened?

It’s heavy to carry, but nothing she can’t manage. Picking it up, she raises it over her head, trying to block out the sun’s intense heat frying her, wishing she had her sweater right now to wrap over her burning shoulders, and begins walking slowly towards the grass.

It’s rockier past the sand; the shrubs and bushes entwine around each other through a forced copulation as they overgrow into one another’s territories, and it’s evident that no-one has cut them back in a long time, which is a slightly distressing thought.

But Jude pushes on and carries on walking through where they merge with some trees that look like they belong in a forest, not a presumed tropical island, until she breaks through them and starts climbing at a slight ascent.

The landscape becomes hilly and more on a vertical incline. The hill is covered in tree species she’s not familiar with. She hadn’t seen this steep gradient from the beach front either.

Jude puts down the sheet metal to use her hands to help hoist herself to the top, pulling on shrubs and branches for support. She breaks through the tree line and is puffing and out of breath, sweating profusely, when she finally reaches the top, which becomes a ridge overlooking the island.

She stands upright, shielding her eyes from the glare of the intense sun on the ocean’s water blinding her momentarily.

From this vantage point on the ridge, Jude does a full three-sixty turn, and can see the whole of the island practically. Mostly bare, rocky terrain is presented to her with hilly dips and peaks. Clusters of trees are dotted about with the largest gathering of them to the north-east, and the sandy coastline that extends further north of the island curls round the shoreline like a snake on the rim before it disappears into the trees.

It’s much smaller than she anticipated it would be from up here.

“Fuck…”

Jude crouches down, her elbows on her knees, when she realises with a sinking feeling in her gut that there’s absolutely no evidence of human life on this island whatsoever from what she’s observed.

She groans out, clutching her stomach and resting her palm on the ground, trying not to vomit despite the swilling nausea bubbling around her gut.

She licks her lips, feeling her cheeks tingle, and promptly throws up a few moments later. Gasping through the heaving, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and stands again, slowly feeling lightheaded.

Think. Think... You need water. You need help. What the fuck do they do on those survivor programmes?!

Her mind is racing with all the things she should do.

Build a fire, maybe someone will see the smoke. How do you even build a fire?

With parched lips and a growing sense of desperation, she knows that finding water is no longer a choice but a matter of survival. Jude slowly begins her descent down the hilly ridge and picks up the sheet metal again as she passes it.

It’s starting to get dark and she’d figured she'd be able to do a full loop of the island in that time, but it seems to keep going somehow.

Like perhaps Jude had gotten lost and kept taking wrong turns in the trees that seemed to be whispering about her. Although she’s thankful for the shade, walking through the wooded area gives her some reprieve from the harsh sun; she discards the sheet metal when her arms begin to ache.

She sits and rests on a fallen tree branch that’s in the early stages of decay and glances down at her calf that’s stinging. Walking about on her wounded leg has made the pain start to throb uncontrollably.

Her jeans are stained a dark ruby red around the tear in the denim, and she probes gently, revealing a long gash in her skin that’s still oozing and wet.

It doesn’t look to be infected, but that doesn’t mean that it won’t be, eventually.

Jude views her surroundings and listens out to see if any sounds of snapping branches indicate any signs of life, like animals perhaps. If there are animals on the island then that means there’s a source of food at least.

The more worrying thought is how she’s going to get water. Licking her salty, dry lips again, she’s unbelievably thirsty and has exuded a lot of energy traipsing and hobbling around the island in the swampy heat so far, and coming up desperately blank with every eventuality.

The fear of dying from dehydration claws at her throat, each laboured breath intensifying the panic that grips her as she tries to recall when exactly it was she last took a drink. The sun, an unrelenting adversary, seems to mock her with its unyielding blaze, despite the thick clouds starting to condense.

The human body can survive up to three days maximum, usually, without water intake. Other factors fall into that of course, such as your age, weight and all that jazz. But for the most part, the longer you go without it, the further you venture into dehydration town, and that isn’t a pleasant walk in the park at all, bub. The effects of dehydration come on quickly, especially in extremely hot conditions when a person sweats, and Jude’s sweating alright.

The body uses water to produce sweat you see, which evaporates and lowers a person’s body temperature. Without water, the body simply cannot produce any sweat. This can lead to a dangerous increase in body temperature and put pressure on the existing fluids in the body, including the blood. If this then leads to a drop in blood volume, less blood circulates in the body, causing a severe drop in blood pressure, capiche?

And then you’re pretty much a goner at that point. Dehydration equals imminent death.

Trying not to think about it, Jude stands up and ventures forward, carrying on her journey into desolate island exploration; searching for any signs of life. The dense foliage ahead offers a glimmer of hope, and she pushes through the tangled underbrush, fueled by the instinct for self-preservation. After a while, she notices a dilapidated, wooden shack that she’d almost passed by entirely at first, it’s so embedded into the dank underbrush.

It’s half buried in the shrubs with skeletal vines wrapped around its outer body and seemingly squeezing the life out of it. It looks like something constructed in a horror film, predominantly an eighties slasher; a creepy cabin in the woods type deal.

She approaches it carefully, and reaches slowly for a large branch in the bushes beside her. Picking it up for protection, she ventures closer and calls out.

“Hello?”

There’s no response, just the eerily quiet. Jude peers in at a hole in the wood where she can only assume a window used to be, however there isn’t any sign of glass, not even broken, on the ground.

She can’t see much as it’s dark in there.

She rounds it and pulls vines and branches off until she finds a door-sized hole and pokes her head inside.

There isn’t much of anything of use in here; more overgrown evidence of Mother Nature devouring whatever this place used to be. It’s clearly manmade; no nails hammered in, but it’s tied together with the vines and it looks to be cemented with mud and leaves as her eyes scan up to the enclosing ceiling.

She enters further inside and her foot kicks against something; she flinches backwards as a loud tinny noise startles her. She looks down to see a dirty plastic bag of rubbish that has toppled over, and crouches down, swiping her fingers curiously through it all.

There are old tin cans, some that have rusted over completely, and then her fingers touch what appears to be an old, two litre plastic bottle. She snatches it up, and standing up too fast, collides with the side of the wall feeling dizzy again.

The shack creaks and wobbles with the force, and as she scarpers outside, she falls backwards on her ass as the shack collapses fully upon itself.

Fuck!

Jude lays back against the ground catching her breath and stares at the crumpled water bottle in her arms, cradled to her chest. It’s stained a repellent yellowish colour in the bottom, probably desiccated urine, she thinks, but it would do at catching water for sure.

And pissy tasting water might be better than none whatsoever, as much as the thought disgusts her and causes that nauseated feeling to swill around the back of her throat again.

The light through the trees seems to dim further. Jude stands up and carries on through the woodland until she exits out the other side of the copse to some larger rocks clusters dotted about on the south-west shoreline of the island. The hills are steeper here and almost seem mountainous on this side.

She rounds across the sand towards the shoreline, scanning the horizon to be met with the bleak, empty blue.

She bends down at the water’s edge, her Converse drenched with the ocean water again as it laps over her feet, and trails the bottle around, swishing it in and out of the water to rinse it and make it take some of its original shape again.

She then places it in the sand a bit further up, standing it upright and looking up at the sky. The gritty reality of her world casts a harsh contrast against the darkening sky as she stands there, shoulders slumped, staring up at the stars that slowly reveal themselves.

Jude’s no stranger to life's rough edges, the recent bitter have left more scars on her heart. Right now however, the weight of it all bears down on her in a way that feels insurmountable.

The bitter taste of cynicism lingers on her lips as she mutters words she never thought she'd say - a plea for help. It isn't a prayer to a higher power; it’s a raw, guttural cry to the damn universe, a challenge thrown into the abyss.

She’s grasping at something beyond her control, something she isn't even sure exists and telling God, or whomever is up there listening, in no uncertain terms to make it rain.

You hear me you bastard, you owe me!

It isn't about finding faith; it’s about survival. A recognition that, even in the face of crushing hopelessness, there’s a primal need to keep fighting. She has to keep fighting. The grit that defines her is still there, but now it mingles with a reluctant admission that some battles might be too vast for a lone warrior to endure.

The terrifying reality remains, but she’ll face it head-on, with or without the cosmic intervention she seeks in that fleeting moment under the unforgiving gaze of the indifferent stars coming out to mock her plight.

Jude takes shelter in a cave mouth close by, sitting on the rocks and resting her back against them. Inside it’s warm, like a muggy, damp feeling where the cave has been a heat trap all day. She hopes it’s enough heat to keep her warm all evening; she’s just in her damp t-shirt and her arms are prickling already.

She looks to her left and the cave mouth seems to get darker and more engulfing like a vortex, and she hopes nothing will come crawling out of it during the night to eat her or crawl in her orifices to lay eggs. Her body involuntarily shudders thinking of being back in the freezing water.

Jude processes the whole event over and over inside her mind, reliving it; living back through the terror, the uncertainty - the events that led up to her taking this stupid damn trip in the first place.

She wonders if anyone has noticed the plane is missing yet.

Isn’t there radar or something that tracks them? What about the black box? Are there any other survivors at all? I mean, if I made it, then there’s a chance right?

How did I even make it?

Somebody has to know what’s happened when the flight isn’t radioing in when it should. It’s a commercial airliner; these things just don’t go unnoticed, right?

Yeah. Someone will be looking for the plane and then they’ll happen upon the island and then find me, they just have to. The plane couldn’t have gone down too far from here.

Perhaps it would be on the news back home soon enough. Someone would report Jude missing when she didn’t call.

Oh God! My family'll be so worried!

She sighs out and can feel the prickling around her eyes as they fill with water, thinking about her plight.

What if no-one finds me? What if I actually die here?

The tears come heavier now and blind her through her anguish of repeated doom filled scenarios of how she might die alone, and no-one ever knowing what has become of her deserted body.

From her position in the cave she can see more rocks that filter into the sand and a small incline down to the beach front. The sand seems less plentiful on this side of the island and the terrain much more rugged.

Jude can only hope that through the oncoming dark, she’ll spot lights on the horizon from a boat passing by.

She really fucking hopes so.

Rain pelts his face and he’s blinded momentarily as he opens his eyes, sitting up unsteadily on the wobbly debris as he continues to drift on the water.

Frankie’s clothes feel dry in patches and damp in others; his desert boots and the bottom of his jeans are still soaking wet. He can’t feel his toes and hasn't for some time now.

Wiping his face, he winces when turning; his neck makes the pain rip across it once more. He’s unsure of the extent of the burns on his skin from the aviation fuel coating him and setting him ablaze.

His mind casts back to the sheer panic when he was all too aware suddenly that the plane was falling out of the sky. He clocked a gentleman in the seat adjacent to him in a business suit, whose face smacked right into the seat in front of him with such force, it knocked him clean out and broke his nose.

Frankie can still hear the screams from the passengers inside the cabin ringing through his jangled senses.

It had then gone black for a while. He could hear water in his ears and screamed out when he realised he was being cooked alive as he thrashed about in the ocean fighting for his life.

When his vision comes back into focus from that oneiric, thousand-yard haze, he stares out in dumb wonderment at the ghostly shoreline through the rain, considering if he’s seeing things.

Fuck!

He starts using his hands to wade and steer himself on the wing towards the shoreline in a frantic desperation, but he soon gives up when he realises it’s a tiring feat, and plops rather ungracefully back into the water and begins swimming, even though his body is utterly spent of any energy.

He kicks his legs through the current with determined grit; his long arms reaching forward and pulling him through the water with each stroke closer and closer. The shoreline is getting nearer and he grapples through the water and rocks desperately as he crawls and clambers up the bank and falls to his knees on the pebbly sand.

Frankie collapses backwards, panting and out of breath; his oesophagus burning like his skin and heaves in deep hits of oxygen not quite believing he’s made it ashore.

He lays on the sand for quite some time summoning the strength to move again until he eventually blacks out from acute exhaustion.

His cap washes up on the shore beside his feet.

The sound of the heavy rain wakes Jude.

Her head has slumped forward in her sleep and her dreams are MIA. She swallows through a sore, dry throat and looks out to see the rain coming down heavily and scrambles upright, dashing out into the downpour and grabbing the bottle.

Fat raindrops fall like a benediction, splattering against the sand and rocks. She stands there, dumbfounded for a moment, arms outstretched and face upturned to the heavens, as the rain soaks her to the bone.

The cool droplets mingle with the salty residue on her skin, offering a reprieve from the scorching sun of the day. The primal instinct to survive, to drink deeply from the wellspring of the sky, overwhelms her.

As the rain intensifies, she abandons any remnants of restraint, revelling in the raw, unfiltered joy of the moment. The once-barren island transforms into a watery oasis within minutes, and she dances amidst the deluge, squealing with her mouth open.

The bottle is half full - or empty, depending on your outlook - and she gulps it back greedily, laughing in crazed relief as the droplets coat her well sucked-on tongue that’s swollen. With a newfound respect for the primal fear that has gripped her, she pledges to navigate this island with a tenacity fueled by the memory of that life-threatening thirst - a thirst that had almost condemned her to the merciless embrace of the island.

She lingers in the aftermath as the downpour lightens. Her clothes cling to her body, drenched, but she’s alive.

Jude puts the bottle back in the sand and retreats to the cave when she hears the rumbles of thunder echo across the sky in the distance.

She glances up at the swell of the sky and mutters a belligerent thank you to whomever may be listening.

Everything. Hurts. Like. Hell.

Even the simple thought of standing hurts. His legs feel as though an iron vice holds them shackled together, feeling as though they’ll never part again freely.

His abdomen and pelvis sears with burning and intense stinging when the slightest intake of breath disturbs them. His toes are numb and after wiggling them for a few minutes, eventually find their life again. But they hurt as does everything else.

His neck is stiff and tight, his head heavy and banging, and his back… Oh God, the intensity of that ache will be with him for days.

He reminds himself though, that he’s endured through worse.

When Frankie eventually comes to, he pushes himself up on his unsteady feet, marvelling at how he even has any energy left to stand at all. A knot of unease tightens in his stomach as he scans the immediate surroundings, desperately searching for the familiar brim of the cap that has shielded him from both sun and rain.

His fingers instinctively reach for the bare crown of his head, realising the absence of the well-worn garment that has become an integral part of him.

Then, as if offering a bittersweet reunion, the tide laps at the shoreline, revealing the familiar shape of his baseball cap nestled in the wet sand. It’s worn and weathered much like him, but there it is, as if the sea has decided to return a piece of his identity to ease him into this waking nightmare.

Frankie's eyes widen with a mixture of relief and nostalgia. He reaches down and picks up the cap; its damp fabric cool against his shaky fingertips. As he holds it in his hands, memories flood back - a flashback to a different time, a different life.

In the recesses of his mind, Frankie sees the face of a distant friend from his days in the forces, a companion who had shared laughter and hardship. The cap, a token of their unspoken bond, had been a gift from that very friend. His name was etched in the seams of Frankie's memory - a friend who had stood by his side through thick and thin.

A friend that was on the other side of the world basking in a new life and had seemingly forgotten about him.

As Frankie traces the frayed edges of the cap, he remembers the day it had been handed to him by Pope. A smile plays on his lips as he recalls Pope’s mischievous grin, the kind that could convince Frankie to do just about anything crazy, and often had.

They had been deployed together, alongside Will and Benny and held together at the disjointed seams by Tom; navigating the complexities of combat, and the cap was more than just headgear; it was a symbol of brotherhood.

A pang of sorrow grips Frankie's tattered heart as he remembers a brighter time before life in Delta Force got dark. A time when the eager, yet somewhat naive young soldier, was excited to serve his country when he enlisted. A country that had now abandoned him, in every sense of the word, as he looked out at the never ending expanse of the ocean, never feeling so far from home as he did now.

It was nothing special; a navy blue cap with the logo of some heating company Frankie had never heard of before, yet, over time, the grip of his addiction had tightened its hold, alienating him from his fellow comrades and friends. And this cap had travelled with Frankie through life's battles, a vestibule of protection, shielding himself from the disapproving and disappointed looks etched into the faces of the people he knew he had let down, and now, it’s found its way to the desolate shores of this unknown island with him.

He puts it back on his head, the beads of water streaking down the back of his neck and trudges towards the rocks aimlessly.

The rain has petered off somewhat and although he’s soaked again from being passed out on the sand and drowned by the heavy downpour, it feels considerably warmer than the sea water at least.

He trips once or twice over his own feet like he’s drunk, and looks about the rocky hilts and caves that are spread across the shoreline. Frankie stumbles, his senses heightened by the eerie silence that envelops the desolate island. The relentless waves pound the shore like a distant war drum, amplifying the prominent isolation that clings to him.

“Hello? Anybody?” He calls out through a hoarse voice.

Inside the cave, Jude’s dozing again and can hear the muffled sounds of what she thinks is a voice calling out to her.

It’s a bit like that moment you’re slipping into a deep sleep and you suddenly jolt out of nowhere thinking you heard something, but didn’t - it’s just your subconscious playing tricks on you.

She passes it off as exhausted calenture, but then she hears it again.

Hello?

She sits bolt upright as the sound grows closer.

That’s definitely a voice!

Jude scrambles out of the cave mouth to see a broad, wet man freeze in his stride and stare right back at her. Mirroring the same relieved, yet deer-in-headlights look about him she’s certain her face is portraying back at him.

“Oh my God!” Jude exclaims in sheer wonderment. Her brain tries to convince her it might be a mirage, that she's seeing things, but when he speaks, he convinces her he is real.

“Thank fuck!” Frankie exclaims back, his shoulders sagging in a sweet relief at the sight of the woman before him, dishevelled and visibly shaken. “Dios mío, no lo puedo creer.” (Oh my God, I can’t believe it.)

Relief grips him, a gut-wrenching mix of surprise and fear. The woman, battered and disoriented, mirrors his own emotions; her eyes reflecting the disbelief of finding another living, breathing survivor in this Godforsaken place.

Their paths converge on the rocky beach; a slow, hesitant approach marked by the crunch of pebbles and sand beneath their weary feet.

“Were you on the plane too?” Jude asks, eyes wide and heart racing. Another survivor!

He nods slowly as though he’s a little out of it. “Yeah...” He bends over, hands on his knees catching his breath as he sways a little.

Jude paces forward and reaches for the bottle, pulling it out of the sand.

“Here, drink it all.” She offers.

He takes the bottle from her with a big, shaky hand and she watches him swallow the water in two big gulps.

“Thanks,” he gasps.

Broad shoulders, squared off under his jacket, cut an imposing figure with his commanding presence as he stands upright. He then wobbles on his feet and Jude clutches onto him, supporting his weight before he fully falls over. He’s ghastly pale despite his tanned skin, and looks absolutely exhausted.

“Come on, you can make it. Lean on me, it's alright.” She encourages, and helps him to walk towards the mouth of the cave as another rumble of thunder rolls overhead.

Once inside the mouth, Jude helps him sit against the cave wall and slumps down opposite him.

He looks across at her utterly spent, and equally disorientated, as they share a confused silence.

A scruff of a patchy beard and moustache adorns his face, framing his mouth with an air of casual dishevelment. Slightly greying on the sides of his jaw, it adds a touch of maturity; a streak of silver threading through the dark strands of his hair and the asymmetry causes Jude to ponder his age.

A large, hooked nose that lends character to his rugged appearance has a pronounced curve above the pale pink of his chapped lips. He looks young despite it all.

His face bears the traces of unspoken experiences etched in the lines around his deep brown eyes, the windows to a soul that has perhaps weathered more storms than the tumultuous sea before them both.

He shuffles out of his wet, heavy jacket and tosses it aside a few moments later.

“You’re hurt, burned.” Jude says to him, looking at the state of his blistered neck skin.

He winces as he touches it with his shaky fingertips gently. “Yeah. The fuel tank must’ve exploded.”

His voice is waning, yet it’s still deep and gravelly and she can’t place his accent, although acutely American.

“Do you know what happened to the plane? Why we came down, I mean?” Jude probes him gently.

He shakes his head slowly and then runs his hand through his damp hair, removing the cap and rubbing sand away in clumps through his thick fingers. Frayed chocolate curls explode riotously from underneath as he separates the knots of them whilst thinking.

“No. I was having a… beer and watching a-a movie, and the next thing I know I’m drowning and on fire.” He swallows through a hiccup. His mouth feels dry again already. “You?”

Jude shrugs. “I got knocked out. Maybe something fell out of the overhead, I don’t know. When I woke up I was still strapped inside my seat. But half the cabin was missing and the water was coming in so fast, and people everywhere around me were just…" she takes in a deep breath. "They were already…”

Frankie nods, pressing his lips together to form a thin line under his fuzzy moustache. It’s a harrowing thought that the plane is now a swilling graveyard at the bottom of the ocean and both of them could have just as easily been down there, lost forever and drowned at sea.

“Is there anybody else with you?” Frankie questions after a few minutes of tentative quiet thought.

Jude shakes her head. “You’re the first person I’ve seen. It’s been about two days, I think.”

“What about this place, is there anyone here? Where are we?” Frankie asks, looking out of the cave mouth bleakly.

“I’ve no idea where we are. I don't know how far off course we ended up. And I don’t think there’s anyone here at all.”

Frankie looks at Jude. She notices his eyes. Dark, but trusting in their sadness.

The words come out, but they’re not going in. He sees her mouth move, but is lost inside of the fuzz that’s now ringing in his ears from growing panic.

“I mean, not now anyway. It looks like there was once; a long time ago maybe... I found an old hut or something in the woods, but it’s empty; nothing there. It’s where I found the bottle.”

“How big is the island?” Frankie enquires.

“Not that big; you can probably walk around it in a few hours or less. I saw it from the ridge. Apart from the trees and rocks, there’s not much else.”

“Food?” He asks as Jude notices him shivering a little; the beds of his nails are purple.

She shakes her head despondently. “I haven’t found any yet. There’s nothing growing on the trees that’s obvious.”

Frankie bites down on his lip. A large hooked nose commands the attention on his face, a testament to his heritage and a feature that adds character to his rugged appearance. Cocoa eyes, deep and contemplative, hold a mix of determination and fatigue, mirroring the weight of the situation they find themselves in.

“You’re flagging, you should rest.” Jude mentions to him as he looks as though he'll pass out at any second again.

He’s been watching her speak through drooping eyelids, trying to come to terms with her omissions that are battering him back and forth across the skull whilst at the same time trying to ward off the impending intrusion of shattered sleep. His eyelids feel heavy, but he blinks out of it and desperately tries to stay awake to decipher it all.

Frankie shakes his head, but knows it’s a fruitless battle that he’ll emerge the loser in. “They’ve gotta be looking for us. Someone will know the plane is missing by now.”

Jude nods. “Yeah, a few days tops and there’ll be someone out here looking for us. There has to be.”

Frankie nods in agreement. “So, I guess until then we stay hydrated as best as we can and find something to eat, right?”

“I guess that’s the plan.”

Frankie draws his knees up to his chest, shivering and resting his elbows on them, contemplating for a bit. Trying to come up with answers, solutions, scenarios and then dispelling them all when he realises they are ominously bleak.

He tries to remember his training, his combat survivalist skills and everything that was drilled into him for years.

“Have you got a phone on you?” He asks Jude suddenly, and is dismayed further when she shakes her head.

“It’s probably at the bottom of the ocean now.” She offers a small crooked smile to him.

“Yeah. What’s your name?” He asks her, eyeing her carefully and taking in her features that seem a little softer somehow. He falls into the colour of her eyes momentarily, drowns in the fierceness of them despite being as tired as his own.

“Judith. Jude.” She corrects.

“Francisco. Frankie."

“Exotic.”

“Not really. Most call me Fish.” He smirks, feeling his bottom lip crack.

“Fish?”

“Well, Catfish. I was… I-I used to be in the forces. Call sign.”

She nods. “Ah. So, you're used to this kind of thing then right, surviving in harsh conditions? At least we have a fighting chance.”

His smile is small and wearisome as he shrugs. “I’ll try my best.”

He tries not to think how useless he might prove to be against that statement. He balls his hands into fists when he notices the tremor again in his fingers.

“Well alright, soldier.” Jude smiles at him with a small salute, two fingers raised to her forehead. “It’s damn good to meet you though, Frankie. Just wish it was under better circumstances.” She surmises with a faint, tired smile. “But you made it.”

“You did too,” Frankie nods, and then gives into the dark fully.

To be continued...

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

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lace-coffin · 5 months

Note

Can I has soft Moonie and Monty gator fic, where reader is perpetually exhausted and the animatronics drag em off when they’re meant to be working to help them get some sleep in the pizzaplex? (Totally not projecting here)

How would Moondrop and Montgomery gator react to an exhausted reader on their shift?

Thank u for the moon and Monty rq I want to eat it up so bad😌

Requests are open!

Reader is gn! No trigger warnings required

Working for the pizzaplex was definitely an experience. A good one? Thats up for debate. No you loved your job, the actual security aspect of it was pretty univentful, flicking through the camera’s of the empty pizza plex. It’s not like any intruders would get far anyway with the security bots at every turn and moon slinking around in security mode. You did however get to see the dumb stuff the animatronics got up to after hours though so that was a plus. If she doesn’t tell that you’re watching YouTube on your shift then you won’t tell how you regularly see chica rummaging the kitchens like a racoon over the cams.

It was a pretty cushy job overall but the hours were vile, working from 12-6 am isn’t great for anyone and essentially becoming nocturnal because of it meant you were either sleeping or exhausted in your free time.

Today was one of the days that you’d turned up essentially half alive, isotonic drink held in a death grip and a pack of pain meds at your disposal. You clock in and slump on the chair In front of the security camera’s, groaning as the pain is taken off your joints.

Moondrop

Naturally moon has been following you to your work station since you clocked in, floating through the shadows of the pizzaplex in a totally normal and not creepy way. No matter how many times you tell him he can just greet you normally and walk you over he still refuses and watches you from afar, you know he cares but emotional vulnerability is difficult for him.

A few hours into your shift you can’t take it anymore, energy drink only doing so much for you. Your head starts to loll in your chair, finally getting a blissful second of rest-

“Morning glowbug!” Moon swings down from the ceiling in the upside down Spider-Man pose, intending and succeeding in scaring the shit out of you just as you were drifting off.

You jump in your seat and land in a pile on the floor on your ass. Once moon stops laughing at your misfortune and you realised it was just him and you weren’t about to get bite of 87’nd you huff at him from your spot on the floor.

“Very funny moon man, hilarious in fact, you do know the door is an option right? Now help me up you nerd” you say in fake irritation, tugging his trouser leg and giving him your hand.

“Everyone’s a critic, bug. I found it fairly amusing”he lends you his spindly hands and pulls you up with a bit more force than necessary, making you stumble. He snickers into the long end of his hat and you shoot him a glare. “Not the day dude”

Moons faceplate rotates at this, non verbally questioning what’s causing your sour mood, you usually love playing with him and whatever is ruining your mood needs to stop immediately because it’s ruining his fun (and maybe because he cares about you but he’ll never admit that)

“I’m fine moon, I’m just sleeping bad again, I’ll survive” you say nonchalantly, dangling your energy drink in your hand and chugging the last of it.

Moons grimaces as he watches you do this, you know he hates those stupid drinks, you feel better for an hour or two and then immediately crash worse than before, usually leaving moon to scrape you off the desk and take over the cameras.

You realise what you’ve done before moon can even get a word out, squeaking and throwing the can back on the desk. “It’s uh, not actually that bad! I’ll be fine, you know me haha, just a little behind on sleep” you stutter over your words trying to back track. You know it’s pointless and moon being the way he is you’re not going to get out of this.

“Oh no, go ahead starlight, drink your sludge. I can’t wait to peel you off the desk later” he drawls out, if his eyes could roll any further back into his head then they would have.

You rise from your chair, hiding behind it like a shield as if it’s going to save you from the inevitable. “You know the drill bug, either you get over here or I’m dragging your sorry ass over here” Moons voicebox fizzles out over the inappropriate word, stupid filters.

“Moon, you know I can’t, I have to finish my shift, I promise as soon as I get home I’ll go straight to bed, no messing” despite trying to placate him moon remains unimpressed, arms folded over his chest. You should probably run.

“Starlight they pay you peanuts, you can take one nap, they’ll survive”

The jester moves down slowly and sits on his haunches like a cat. Moon launches himself at you full speed. You scream and run to the other side of the security office, not much room to run to considering how confined it is in the first place. You yell and giggle as this continues, moon drinking in the way your eyes crinkle when you smile. Over a few minuets you start to get worn out, having no energy in the first place. This gives moon the perfect opening to land a pounce on you and snatch you into his arms, throwing you over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. You playfully kick and complain but you don’t have it in you to actually be upset.

Unsurprisingly you make it to the daycare attendants room in record time, moons huge strides cutting down on time. “You know the drill” moon says as he throws a pair of daycare themed pyjamas from the gift shop at you, hitting you square in the face. You laugh and crawl into the other room through the tunnel to change.

By the time you’ve changed and come back moon has his bed all made and fluffed up and is looking at you expectantly. “Your chariot, my lord” he says dumbly, pulling back the covers and gesturing to the bed. You snort and climb in, snuggling down into the plush bedding. You make a happy noise and look back at moon, taking his big metallic hand in your smaller warm one.

“Thankyou, for this I mean, I really appreciate you caring about me like this, it means a lot”

Moon makes a fake gagging noise but his faceplate tinges a darker blue, telling his real feelings. “Always so mushy starlight” he laughs, but you know he loves the attention.

“Can you stay until I fall asleep?”

“Bold of you to assume I was leaving in the first place”

Moon scooches into the bed and rearranges his limbs into a comfy position, pulling your head against his chest and starting up his music box. He traces little shapes into your palm until you fall asleep for the night.

Montgomery gator

A horrid crash feeds through the security cam speakers. Excellent. You sigh and flip over to gator golf, already knowing who’s most likely to be causing the noise. Sure enough faint mechanical grunting and roaring can be heard. You can’t seem to find Monty on screen though, so it looks like you’ll be taking a trip down to the golf course.

You groan and pull yourself up from your chair, you really don’t have the energy for this tonight.

Not having to look very far you catch Monty red handed a few steps into the golf course. Golf club jammed into the mouth of one of the mechanical gators below the bridge. You pause and just look at him, unamused, waiting for him to explain.

“Uh, howdy twerp, I’m having some…difficulties?” He try’s, almost framing it as a question. You rub your hand over your face in exhaustion and ask him to expand on his problem.

“I uh worked up a rage after screwing up a note in tonight’s show, wouldn’t have happened if stupid fazzass hadn’t bumped into me” he grumbles, getting side tracked complaining about Freddy. “Anyway, I may have taken a swing at one of those gators…it’s turns out once the club is in it’s hard to get it back out” he laughs and rubs at the back of his head awkwardly, hoping your not going to explode on him.

“I love you but you’re a nightmare, green guy”

Monty snorts at the nickname but realises you look a little worn down, your usual bite not as prominent in your banter.

“Are you ok cher? Like you looking after yourself ok? Not to be an ass but you don’t look as with it as usual” he says in a softer tone, a look of genuine concern washing over his face.

“You want the polite answer or the real one?” Monty laughs and asks for the real one. “I’m tired as all hell and I’m essentially a zombie right now, these night shifts are killing me”

Monty frowns at this, he knows the company can be hardasses when it comes to shift patterns, not caring if their employees work themselves to death as long as the schedule is covered.

“So what you’re saying is we’re going to wrestle this stupid club out of that gator and then you’re going to the nest without causing a fuss?” Monty says, phrasing it as an order and not a question.

“I don’t even have the energy to be stubborn, ask moon man to cover for me please”

Monty gives a toothy grin at this and nods his head. You both work on releasing the golf club from its grizzly demise. Combining both your effort and Monty’s unnatural strength you pull the club free! And send it through the window of gator golf…it can wait for the day crew, technically you only came down to remove it from the gator and you’re beyond caring.

Monty throws his arms in the air in celebration. “Nice shot, cher!” You both cackle at the absurdity of the situation until you let out a yawn.

“Ok squirt, let’s get you to bed” he says softly, rosey eyes roaming over your sleepy face. Monty collects you in his arms and makes his way back to his green room, lending you an oversized gator golf shirt to change into. Monty lets out a little huff out of his nose when he sees you in the baggy shirt, adorable.

“Time to hit the hay kid” he pats on the nest he’s made on the floor out of blankets and various plushies/pillows waiting for you to climb in. Once you settle down Monty curls up around you like a big puppy, placing his snoot on your chest. (He’s totally not hoping for some pets before you sleep..)

“I don’t want to hear a peep out of you unless it’s snoring kiddo” Monty grumbles. “Love you to big guy” you hum and pat his nose

You fall asleep wrapped up in the gators tail, your chest rising and falling in time to the gentle bellows rumbling from the now calm and cuddly animatronic.

#fnaf security breach #five nights at freddy's security breach #five nights at freddy's #montgomery gator #montgomery gator x reader #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendent #daycare attendant moon #daycare attendant x reader #moon x reader #moondrop x reader #writing #my writing

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seungkwansphd · 2 years

Text

to boil a frog

pairing: seungcheol x reader wordcount: 15.6k summary: you & cheol go back, like way back. growing up together, you never felt anything more for him than a proximity based fondness, but things are a little different since you moved back to town. genre/themes: tattoo artist!coups, childhood acquaintances to lovers. brother’s best friend (but it’s not so much a theme as it is just a statement of fact). S L O W B U R N. idk that this is even fluff but more like just romance? mention of alcohol, tattoos, needles...cat?

a/n: truly idk what this is and why. it’s so long & self indulgent, but i’m in my soft era i guess, hah!

“Hi, I’m here for my tattoo with Seungcheol?” you checked in with the unfairly stylish receptionist at the front desk of the tattoo and piercing studio. “I booked for 3pm.”

“Okay, yes, here you are!” they smiled up at you, “If you want to just take a seat, I’ll see how he’s doing with prepping the room.”

“Perfect!” you smiled before moving towards the waiting area.

Your foot bounced excitedly as you waited. In addition to being excited to get your first tattoo, you were doubly excited because you had history with Seungcheol. He’d been one of your brother’s closest friends growing up and despite not keeping in touch since they’d left for college, you’d really enjoyed following his artistic evolution on social media. You weren’t sure if he’d recognize you anymore, to be honest. It would be funnier if he didn’t.

“YN?” the receptionist returned, greeting you with a smile, “He’s ready if you’d like to follow me!”

“Sure!” you stood, “I love your dermals, by the way! The placement is so good,” you gushed as you followed them through a short hallway.

“Ah, thank you so much! They’re probably the piercing I worry about ripping out the most, but I do love them,” they chuckled before gesturing to an open door. “He’ll be right through here.”

“Awesome, thank you so much!” you grinned before stepping through.

“Hey,” Seungcheol greeted you after hearing your footsteps. His back was still turned to you as he finished wiping down his countertop. “YN, right? You know what’s funny, one of my friends has a sister who shares your exact name. Like last name and everything,” he chuckled before turning to greet you.

“Huh that’s weird,” you mirrored his laugh, trying to hide your curiosity as his eyes finally met yours. His eyes scanned your face for a few moments before he rolled his eyes and let out a loud laugh.

“Oh I’m a fuckin’ idiot,” he laughed, “What the hell are you doing here?” he leaned back in his chair, looking at you with slight disbelief.

“Mm, here to get a tattoo,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah no shit, but why are you home? I thought you were living that big city life now,” Seungcheol rolled his eyes at you again. You had always been a sarcastic scamp as a kid and it didn’t surprise him that this was still true.

“Oh did he not tell you?” you asked, referring to your brother. “I’m moving back. Well closer at least. I got a different job offer out here.”

“Oh no, I hadn’t heard,” Seungcheol shook his head, “To be honest, Jihun and I don’t talk all that much anymore. Not since he moved, at least.”

“Ah,” you nodded, “That makes sense. Time zones and whatnot.”

“But that’s cool! New job and I bet your parents will be glad you’ll be closer.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “They are verily psyched.”

“Well that’s dope! It’ll be good to have you around again,” Seungcheol laughed before shifting topics, “So this tattoo. Did you have something in mind? You’re my last appointment, so we can take some time drafting and working on things.”

“I was actually planning on just picking something from your available flash,” you confessed, “I’m a big fan of the latest set. But…,” you flashed him a cheesy grin, “If you’re offering, I’m not gonna turn down a custom design from you. And I expect a friends and family discount, of course.”

“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Seungcheol laughed heartily. You were making the same face you used to make at him in high school when you were in a bind and needed help.

“Not much,” you laughed, eyeing some of the designs up on the walls. “Honestly, I’m down for whatever,” you shrugged.

“How about this? Pick out a few of the flash designs that you like and we can weave something together. I think that’d be fun.”

“Deal,” you grinned, accepting the binder of flash sheets from him. Pursing your lips, you flipped through it in its entirety before going back to the beginning to point out the ones that had caught your eye.

Seungcheol couldn’t help but approve of the way you reviewed the designs in full before pointing out your favorites. You seemed to gravitate towards botanical, insect, and occultish designs which made sense, given how many times you’d attempted to cast spells on him and Jihun as children. More than a few times at sleepovers, they had woken up to find that rocks, leaves, and twigs had been strategically placed around them while they’d been sleeping. He couldn’t help but chuckle fondly as he recalled a specific incident where you’d snuck up on him to pluck out one of his hairs. When pressed on the issue, you’d calmly explained that you needed it for a spell to make him go bald.

“Okay, those are all the ones I like best,” you nodded at him, waiting for feedback.

“Alright, let me work something up. You can chill in here,” Seungcheol took the binder back from you, flipping between the designs you’d marked with sticky tabs and moving to draft up something new.

“How long’s it gonna take?” you made a face at him, “Can I go look at the piercing portfolios instead?” you asked, not really appealed by the idea of just sitting and waiting.

“I mean sure,” he shrugged, “Ask Wren for them,” he pointed back towards the reception area, “I’ll come get you when I’m ready.”

“Yay!” you popped up excitedly, clapping your hands together as you walked back towards reception.

“Hey Wren, can I take a peek at the piercers’ portfolios? And also can I ask you where you get your hair done? I’m moving back here soon, but I haven’t lived here in a while and could use a stylist rec.”

“Oh of course!” Wren smiled brightly at you, “So do you know Cheol from when you lived here before?” they asked as they pulled out the piercing portfolios to hand to you.

“Yea, we grew up together,” you nodded, flipping the binders open, “I wouldn’t say we were friends? But he was close friends with my brother so he was at our house a lot.”

“That makes a lot more sense,” Wren nodded with understanding, “I was wondering why he was so chatty with you! Usually his room is way more quiet.”

“Oh yeah, we go way back. A lot of shenanigans,” you grinned as a few septums caught your eye.

“So where do you live now?” Wren inquired after giving you the Instagram handle of their current stylist.

“I’m actually in the process of moving back! I got a job in the next town over, but I was thinking I’d move back around here since there’s more to do? This is actually mostly an apartment hunting trip.”

“Oh my goodness, well let’s be friends when you move back! I’ve been trying to get Cheol to come out and do things more with me and my partner, but he’s kind of introverted so he doesn’t bite all that often.”

“I don’t know that I’ll be able to convince him either,” you laughed, “We’re not exactly close. But I would love to be friends! I don’t know too many people who live here anymore.”

“Okay, deal! Let’s exchange phone numbers then. It’ll be good to hang out with someone less grumpy than Seungcheol,” Wren teased, eyes dancing at the man in question as he entered the reception area.

“So grumpy!” you giggled playfully at his expression, “I’m going to leave you a bad review for poor bedside manner,” you couldn’t help but tease him.

“You’d be grumpy too if you had two imps bothering you!” Seungcheol protested with a pout, before beckoning you with his hand, “Now come on, I’m done with my draft.”

“Okay,” you shrugged, following him back to his room.

“What do you think? It might be a little bigger than you had planned, but we can scale down if needed.”

“No, I love it!” you sighed, eyes sparkling as you looked at the design. The final draft was a staghorn beetle with a third eye on its thorax surrounded by a wreath of botanical work that included some of your favorite plants and flowers.

“I had a hard time deciding between a moth or the beetle,” Seungcheol mused, “But you were always a little…unique, so I went with the beetle.”

“Thanks, I think,” you narrowed your eyes at him, unsure if he was sassing you. “I’m a huge fan of this. I think you chose great. Now as far as placement, I am thinking thigh? Left thigh?”

“Do you wanna go this big?” Seungcheol asked. The tattoo artist in him thrilled the idea of the placement, but he wanted to make sure you weren’t overcommitting.

“I mean, I’ll be honest, that wasn’t what I had planned. But don’t you feel like…it deserves it?” you pulled up the leg of your shorts in the mirror to try and envision the placement and it just felt right. “I think at least let’s pop the stencil on so we can see it. But my gut says yeah.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol nodded. That was a good idea.

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah,” you nodded furiously at him after he had placed the stencil on. “She’s just gonna be a big bitch, I don’t know what to tell you, Seungcheol. It just feels right, right?”

“Yeah, I agree,” Seungcheol grinned at you, “We can do this in multiple sittings too, so don’t feel like it needs to all be done in one day.”

“I’ll let you know,” you smiled up at him, “Eee! I’m excited!”

“Alright skippy, let’s get you up on this table and we’ll get started,” Seungcheol patted the tattoo table. He made a few adjustments so that your thigh was positioned at a comfortable working height before getting started. “How’s that?” he asked above the buzzing of the tattoo gun.

“Not too bad, actually,” you were surprised to find out, “It’s just…buzzy?”

“Hah! I mean that’s good, okay I’ll keep going then,” he laughed, ducking his head back down to continue working.

The time passed surprisingly quickly. You and Seungcheol caught up on a variety of topics until you ran out of things to talk about. After that, he let you choose some music and you simply watched him work quietly. By your math, it had been around two years since you had last seen him and seven since you’d had an actual conversation with him. Somehow he looked both the same and different. He had always been sturdy, especially in the legs, but he seemed to have filled out more in the arms and shoulders in recent years. His face looked exactly the same, but his hair was now longer than you remembered it ever being in the past. It suited him.

“Doing okay?” he checked in as he worked on a section of shading. He had been going over the same area of skin for a while and was wondering how you were holding up.

“Yup,” you nodded. It was starting to get a bit sensitive, but you weren’t ready to tap out just yet. You focused on inhaling deeply through your nostrils and exhaling slowly through your mouth, which helped.

“Good girl,” he murmured approvingly as his left hand moved to grasp you at the knee, turning your inner thigh out to face him a bit more.

Your eyes flashed to him and your breathing pattern halted as you processed his words. With the soft praise, the somewhat breathy tone of his voice, and the pressure of his fingertips at your inner thigh, you found yourself shivering. Whether Seungcheol was aware of it or not, you found yourself deeply flustered by his praise and wildly confused at your reaction. Swallowing, you tried to gauge whether he even registered what he had just said, but he seemed to still be deeply absorbed in shading.

“Should we take a break?” he looked up suddenly, “You’re getting squirmy, it seems like.”

“I-, uh, yeah,” you did your best to act normal, “Yeah a break would be good, I think,” you managed to answer him.

“Okay,” Seungcheol stood up, “I could stand to stretch my legs anyways.”

“Sounds good,” you gave him a thumbs up as you raised your arms above your head to do some stretching yourself.

Seungcheol peeled off his gloves and turned to take a sip of water. His expression creased once his back was turned to you. Why the hell had he said that to you? It certainly hadn’t been on purpose, but as soon as it left his mouth, he’d wanted to wince. He could only hope that you hadn’t heard it or registered its weirdness.

“Do you need any water or a snack? We’ve been at it for a while,” he offered, pulling open a cabinet to reveal a handful of water bottles and a variety of snacks.

“I have water in my bag, if you don’t mind grabbing it for me? I would eat something though.”

“Should we order something? It’s getting to be around dinner time, I wouldn’t mind eating something proper,” he suggested as he handed you a granola bar.

“Oh yeah! Build in another break in a couple of hours, that sounds good. What’s good to eat around here nowadays?” you asked through a mouthful of granola.

“Tomato Pie is actually still open, if you feel like pizza,” Seungcheol chuckled as he scrolled through restaurants on his phone. “Otherwise it just depends on what you want?”

“I’m not feeling pizza. Let’s save TP for another time,” you shook your head, “What about sushi? Something light or fresh.”

“Oh sure! Um, how about this place?” he offered you his phone. You scanned the PDF menu before nodding.

“Yeah that looks good! I’ll do roll 37 in a combo.”

“Cool, I’ll have Wren order for us. They might want to eat too,” he nodded, stepping out of the room momentarily. Before too long, the sound of the tattoo gun was droning and you fell into an easy quiet with Seungcheol again.

“Please tell me more about Cheol as a kid,” Wren asked desperately as they swirled udon around their chopsticks.

“No,” Seungcheol grumbled.

“Of course!” you answered over him.

“Do y’all have a favorite memory together? Or a most distinct one?”

“Favorite?” your brows furrowed in concentration as you tried to think. “Like I said, he and I weren’t really friends? But, oh!” you clapped your hands together suddenly, “But this one stands out! It was the end of summer before Jihun and Seungcheol were leaving for college.”

“Please don’t tell this story,” Seungcheol buried his face into his hands, ears turning pink.

“Oh it’s cute though!” you argued, but you wouldn’t tell it without his consent. You waited a moment for him to lift his head again, eyebrows raising in a way that you knew to mean ‘go ahead’.

Eyes sparkling, you recalled the night before your brother and Seungcheol moved away for college. You had been nearly inconsolable as you and Jihun really had been close growing up and you simply couldn’t imagine finishing high school without them. He and Seungcheol had tried all manner of things to cheer you up, but nothing worked until they whipped out an emergency dance routine to your then-favorite boy band. They hadn’t really put all that much effort into learning it and mostly tripped over themselves, but it had done the trick and you’d laughed so hard that you cried. That was still an incredibly fond night for you.

“Oh and he was blonde then too! That was an era,” you wrinkled your nose as you finished telling the story.

“He can dance?” Wren looked at you incredulously.

“No, he can’t! But he tried, and that was what was important,” you chuckled heartily. “Honestly, Cheol was kind of just a good person. He was usually nice to me, but generally I just saw glimpses of him around.”

“You’re failing to mention all of the times that I bailed you out when Jihun was busy,” Seungcheol gave you a pointed glance.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you shook your head playfully at him. “He’s always been an old man like this.”

“He is responsible like that, isn’t he?” Wren nodded at you. “Our Studio Daddy.”

“Eugh yuck!” your skin crawled as you heard Wren refer to Seungcheol as Daddy. “No no no, don’t like that one bit!”

“You and me both,” Seungcheol rolled his eyes at both of you as he finished up his food. “You done? Let’s finish this bitch up. We’re getting close.”

“You good to lock up, boss?” Wren asked as they cleared their dishes.

“Yeah, you’re good! Just turn off the reception lights and lock the door when you leave. Don’t want any randos wandering in.”

“Sure!”

“So are you in charge?” you asked after Seungcheol had settled back into to finish up the last sections of shading on the beetle legs. Wren kept referring to him as ‘boss’, but you couldn’t tell if it was just good natured ribbing.

“Kind of. I hate being called boss, but I do own the studio now. The last owners were ready to retire and move, so they made me a good deal. I don’t feel like the owner yet, but I guess technically I am.”

“Wow, that’s…that’s really impressive, Seungcheol. I’m proud of you,” you smiled genuinely at him.

“This is weird, you’re never this serious,” he raised an eyebrow at you, a little uncomfortable to receive your genuine praise.

“I know, but I am serious!” you laughed, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve been following you for a while. I’m proud of how you’ve developed your art form and now you even own the studio! I think that’s super dope.”

“Thanks,” he grinned, ducking his head down to hide his blush under the guise of inspecting his work. It wasn’t too much longer before he was finished and applying tattoo dressing. “So for aftercare. Everyone has their own opinion, but I like Saniderm. Keep this one on for 24 hours and remove and wash. If you want, you can apply another sheet. Try to wear loose clothing as much as you can, but life is life. You can always call if you feel like it looks weird, but basically treat it like a wound cause it is.”

“Cool, sounds good!” you gave him a thumbs up. “What’s the damage, boss?”

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes at you before working up a number that was on the low end of reasonable.

“That’s too low,” you decided, counting out bills until you reached a number that seemed more fair. “Dinner money’s in there too.”

“I-,” Seungcheol was slightly surprised. Not that he thought you’d be stingy, but because he was still accustomed to the you that begged rides off of him and never had gas money.

“I’ve had a big kid job for years now, don’t look so shocked,” you smiled at him, tucking your things back into your bag. “It was really good to see you, Coups. Maybe Wren and I can talk you into a night out sometime.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he half smiled at the old nickname as he waved you out the door. His lips curled into a full smile after the door swung shut. It had been good to see you.

…

“Hey boss?” Wren popped into Seungcheol’s office, trying to seem casual.

“I told you don’t call me that,” he looked up from his sketching. “What is it?”

“Do you have any strong friends that could help move some furniture this weekend? They will be paid.”

“You’ve never paid me to move furniture for you,” he narrowed his eyes at Wren, “Also didn’t you just move like a couple months ago? Why are you moving again?”

“Not me, YN. They just texted me. I guess the moving company cancelled at the last minute, so she’s scrambling for options.”

“Oh, shit. That sucks,” Seungcheol crossed his arms, brow furrowing at the situation. “I mean I could probably scrounge up a few friends.”

“Huh, okay!” Wren fixed their boss with an odd glance before plopping into the empty chair across from him. “Did you and YN ever date? Or like…have a thing?”

“What? No,” Seungcheol made a face of slight distaste at his receptionist. “That has never even crossed my mind until now. And I find it unpleasant.”

“Ugh, boo! Friends to lovers is the best trope,” Wren frowned, “I should’ve known you’d be a party pooper about this too. Oh well, I’ll let YN know that she can count on at least one of you meatheads to show up. I’ll get the address and stuff from her too!”

“Sounds good,” Seungcheol nodded, making a quick note on a scrap piece of paper to see whether Mingyu would be free and to exchange phone numbers with you so you could contact him directly.

…

“Hey Cheol?”

“Huh?” Seungcheol looked up from his desk. He had been very much in the zone, so the interruption had him slightly befuddled. “Oh, YN? What are you doing here?”

“Do you mind if I chill in the lobby and charge my phone? I didn’t see Wren, they must be doing something else, but I didn’t want to just be like a loiterer without someone knowing,” you huffed.

“Yeah, I mean, but you didn’t answer my question. Are you okay?” he asked. You didn’t look completely upended, but you were a little frazzled.

“Oh, yeah I’m fine! I just got lost and my phone battery died so I couldn’t pull up a map,” you grumbled, shuffling back to the waiting area and setting your bag down. You rifled through briefly to pull out a charging cable. “I decided to bus and walk home after work, since I’m still trying to get the layout of the city, but I got super lost. I slightly recognized this neighborhood from when I drove in for the tattoo. So here I am!” you gestured as if to say ‘ta-da’.

“Ah, I see,” Cheol couldn’t help but laugh as he took a seat next to you in the lobby. “How is work going?”

“Pretty good! I’m picking up the quirks of the software that they use, but for the most part, the job is very similar to my old one and I’ll be good at it. I like my coworkers too, which is always good.”

“Good,” he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“How was your day? Busy?”

“It was okay,” he shrugged, “No tattoos today, I have Wednesdays set aside for bookkeeping, paperwork, and other businessy activities. Not my favorite, but gotta do it.”

“And how’s that?” you grinned at him, “If I remember right, you weren’t the most mathematically inclined.”

“You remember correctly,” Seungcheol grimaced.

“If you ever want help with the bookkeeping stuff, let me know. I can build a mean spreadsheet,” you offered. Despite not having been close with him in years, you felt invested in his success.

“Really?” he cocked his head at you, surprised.

“Of course! We were friendly before, right? We can be friends for real this time,” you scrunched your nose playfully at him. “Plus I definitely owe you for sending me Mingyu and Chan. Lifesavers, those two.”

“Yeah, they’re alright,” Seungcheol chuckled. “I might take you up on that spreadsheet thing, cause doing the math by hand is strange and unusual punishment.”

“Sounds good, just text me,” you nodded, eyes lighting up when your phone had charged enough to power itself back on.

“YN!” Wren called your name excitedly as they returned to the reception desk. “Sorry, I was taking inventory. What are you doing here?”

Seungcheol returned to his office as you gave Wren the rundown of your unfortunate turn of events. You wanted to be friends this time around, huh? That could be alright.

…

“I’m starting to regret this whole ‘friends’ thing,” Seungcheol groaned as you dragged him towards the bar. The rest of the studio staff was already there, but he had taken his time closing up, hoping that Wren would’ve run out of patience and just left without him. In the past, this strategy had been successful, but that was before you were part of the equation. You had a longer attention span and just when Seungcheol thought he’d gotten away with it, you’d popped up at his side, asking him if he was ready to go.

“No take backs,” you teased, only releasing the grip on his sleeve after you’d pulled him full inside the establishment. “Wren! We’re here!”

“Finally! Did he do his usual thing of taking way too long?”

“Yes, you were right,” you laughed, hopping onto an empty barstool.

Cheol narrowed his eyes at you. While he had grown to be able to handle Wren’s brand of shenanigans, he wasn’t sure how to feel about your powers combined. He watched you chat excitedly with Vernon about lizards or something before deciding that he needed a beer.

“Anyone else need drinks?” he asked, glancing across the table.

“If you’re buying, then yes!” Hoshi jumped up excitedly and appeared at Seungcheol’s side.

“YN, what do you want?” Wren tapped on your shoulder gently as they moved to order with Cheol.

“Oh, whiskey soda with a cherry?”

“What?!” Wren’s eyebrows pinched together, “Miss girl, this is a dive bar. Can you please

order something normal?”

“Hah! Well then just get me a beer or something,” you shrugged, eager to get back to discussing the Galapagos marine iguana’s algae based diet with Vernon.

“What the hell are they even talking about?” Wren did a double take before their boss tugged them towards the bar.

“It’s better that you probably don’t ask,” he chuckled as he hailed the bartender.

“Hey what can I get you?”

Wren rattled off the group’s order before looking back at you. “Shit, and some sort of beer,” their brow furrowed as they scanned through the options.

“You got cherries back there?” Seungcheol cut through Wren’s thinking.

“Yeah,” the bartender fixed him with a surprised look.

“Okay, then a whiskey soda with a splash of sour and a cherry. Nix that beer.”

“Weird, but sure,” the bartender laughed, moving to fill the order.

“I don’t think she asked for sour?” Wren asked Seungcheol.

“She always forgets to say it. She won’t like it without it,” he shrugged with a wry smile.

Wren watched their boss out of the corner of their eye. In the few weeks of knowing you, Wren had done a little bit of poking and was surprised that you and Seungcheol both independently maintained that nothing had ever happened or even threatened to happen between you two. In fact, you both had such a surprised reaction that made it seem like neither of you had even entertained the possibility. Yet, small things like this happened every so often and would surprise Wren anew that things were just platonic between you two.

“You got it all?” the bartender asked again, watching Cheol and Wren haphazardly gather up the six drinks between them.

“I think we’re good,” Wren finally nodded, leading the way back to the table. “Okay, so…,” they trailed off as they doled out the drinks around the table.

“Oh! I thought I was getting beer?” you were surprised when you received your drink.

“They had cherries,” was all Seungcheol offered up in explanation.

“Oh, well thanks!” you beamed at him before taking a sip.

“So what was the name of that documentary again?” Vernon asked, drawing your attention back, “I might just leave now to watch it,” he mumbled to himself as he pulled out his phone to make a note.

“Oh come on,” you chided him, “We just got here! I’ll give you the name of the documentary at the end of the night, as incentive,” you suggested.

“That’ll work,” he grumbled slightly, slipping his phone into his pocket and turning his attention back to the group’s conversation. Hoshi was regaling the group theatrically about something or the other.

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. He was surprised that you’d managed to convince Vernon to stay out. That was something that even he couldn’t pull off sometimes.

“So YN, are you liking your new job?” Hoshi asked after sharing his many personal thoughts and feelings about Tiger King.

“Yes!” you nodded, “I really like everyone at the practice! My trainer is super funny and nice and she said I’m basically ready to fly solo next week,” you grinned, a little nervous now that all eyes were on you.

“Remind me what you do again?” Joshua asked kindly. He was one of the piercers at the studio that you had probably spent the least amount of time with.

“I’m a vet tech! So, you know, helping with exams, running analyses, and giving vaccinations. That kind of thing.”

“Ah, so we have some things in common then,” Joshua quipped about the vaccinations.

“Hey if you’ve got a passion for stabbin’, might as well get paid for it,” you joked, prompting a chorus of laughs.

Eventually, the group broke off, some heading to the dance floor and others moving to play darts. You watched the game of darts until you were ready for a refill. As you waited for the bartender, you fished the cherry out from your melting ice cubes. It was the best part, after all.

“What’re you drinking there?” a voice to your right drew your attention.

“Hm,” you regarded the man with a suspicious glance, “I don’t think I'll tell you. You look like you’d tease me for it.”

“Oh? Well it’ll be tricky to buy you a drink, then,” he chuckled, a little taken aback by your response.

“I-,what?” you blurted out after processing his words.

“I’m Yejun,” he smiled at you, “Can I buy your next drink?”

“Hm, I suppose you can!” you chuckled. You observed his side profile as he flagged down the bartender. “So do you live here, Yejun?”

“I do,” he nodded, “Do you?”

“I do now,” you grinned, “I actually grew up around here and recently moved back for a job. Things are kind of the same, kind of different.”

“Oh really? How long has it been since you lived here? And what’s different?” he asked, smiling charmingly as he leaned against the bar, turning to face you fully.

Seungcheol watched intently as you chatted with this man. His brow furrowed slightly trying to gauge whether he needed to intervene. For a while, your expression was wary, but eventually you broke out into a teasing smile and he could tell that the attention was welcome. You were more than capable of holding your own, Cheol knew that, and so he returned to watching darts.

Wren was stumped as they watched Seungcheol watch you. For a moment he’d almost looked jealous, but that tension eventually dissipated and he returned to darts as if nothing had happened. When Wren looked at you again, you were happily chatting with a man at the bar, which was somehow even more confusing.

…

“Ah, I’m so glad you were free this weekend! You’ve been so wrapped up in Yejun that I feel like I barely see you anymore!” Wren tittered animatedly as they wrapped you up in a hug.

“Wren we hung out on Tuesday,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“Yes, and it’s been far too long between then and now. Speaking of, how are things going with Yejun? If he’s not treating you well, I will bring the boys to beat him up!” Wren threatened.

“There’s no need for that at all,” you shook your head vigorously, “Things are going good! I don’t know that I feel super…serious about him, but it’s been fun so far!”

“Hm. Well if you’d rather just date someone at the studio, I’d prefer that so I could see you all the time! I think Vernon is single, and you both love those damned lizards.”

“Hah! Iguanas,” you corrected them as you scanned down the list of cocktails. An aperol spritzer sounded good in the day’s warm weather. “No, I won’t date anyone at the studio. I don’t date friends, that’s a recipe for disaster.”

“You’re smarter than most,” Wren laughed. Couldn’t fault your logic.

“How are things with the boys? I feel like it’s been a bit since I’ve seen everyone. Anything interesting happen lately?”

“Oh, we might have a stray cat hanging around?” Wren clapped their hands together, “There’s a calico that showed up both yesterday and today.”

“Really? No collar or anything, I assume? Does it have a clipped ear? Is it friendly?”

“No, no, and yes,” Wren answered, “Should we do anything special for it?”

“Honestly, we should try and grab it so that we can take it to a vet to get it checked out. See if it’s microchipped. I can bring some stuff from the office and maybe let’s pick up some wet food after lunch? You can bring that to the studio.”

“Sounds good!” Wren nodded gamely. “Aside from that, nothing new at the studio. We’re a boring bunch these days.”

“You know honestly, that’s not a bad thing,” you smiled.

“We should go out for a happy hour sometime this week,” Wren suggested as your entrees arrived. “Maybe Thursday? You can bring Yejun!”

“Oh sure! Are we going to try and bring Seungcheol? Or not worth the fight?” you scrunched your nose up playfully.

“I mean, I always want the whole gang to be there. But might need your help again.”

“I can be on Coups duty,” you laughed, “It’s light work.”

“Alright, well if you’re in then I’m in,” Wren laughed. You did seem to have a way with Seungcheol that nobody else did.

The rest of lunch was filled with odds and ends of conversation before you and Wren walked to the supermarket to pick up a few cans of wet cat food. Wren headed back to the studio and you drove to the veterinary office to pick up some supplies. A humane trap, a cat carrier, and a kitty straightjacket accompanied you back to the tattoo studio.

“I’m here!” you announced as you brought the trap into the reception area.

“Um, what’s happening now?” Minghao, one of the other tattoo artists, looked on curiously as you fiddled with the gate of the humane trap.

“I told YN about our new friend! She’s going to help us trap it so we can take it to the vet.”

“Oh, I see,” Hao chuckled before returning to his room. Since you’d moved back home, you’d clearly established yourself as Wren’s new partner in crime. It was usually entertaining.

“Okay, I think I got it,” you nodded before grabbing a can of food and walking back outside to place the trap against the side of the building. You popped the can open and placed it at the back of the trap. “Now hopefully we catch the stray cat and not some other beastie,” you muttered to yourself as you walked back inside. Last time you’d set up a humane trap, you’d woken up to a livid raccoon instead of the stray you’d set out to capture.

“Hey Wren, can you order more of these supplies please?” Cheol dropped off a list at the receptionist desk, barely registering your presence. Between your help setting up his profit and loss statements and just general shenanigans with Wren, you’d become somewhat of a regular at the studio.

“Sir, yes sir!” Wren saluted playfully before waving you out the door. You had errands to run yet, but you let Wren know to call you if and when the stray showed back up.

…

“Oh my gosh, she is so so cute! I have named her Sausage Patty, we shall call her Patty and I love her very much,” you gushed over drinks. The studio had organized a staff outing again and Yejun had opted to join, so all of your people were in one place.

“You said this was a cat?” Yejun asked, “I thought your place didn’t allow pets?”

“It doesn’t,” you sighed, “But Cheol can keep her in until I can find a new place, right? It isn’t too terribly long before my lease is up,” you pleaded with him hopefully.

“Ah,” Yejun shifted uncomfortably, “I, um. We should talk later,” he ducked his head to whisper in your ear.

“Oh, okay?” you nodded at this ominous feeling request.

“So Yejun, tell us about yourself,” Wren prompted, eager to get to know the person you’d been dating. “YN has mentioned some things, but I’m nosy.”

Yejun chuckled good naturedly and shared his age, where he had lived before here, and that he worked as a financial advisor at the local bank.

“Oh interesting, do you enjoy that?” Joshua asked, eyes dancing.

Seungcheol fixed Joshua and Hoshi with a warning glance as Yejun answered Joshua’s query. He could tell that the boys did not find Yejun particularly interesting, but they didn’t have to in order to be nice. You were the one dating him, after all.

“It’s alright,” Yejun shrugged, not picking up on Shua’s teasing. “There are things that I like and things that I don’t, but that’s any job, isn’t it?”

“Sure is!” Hoshi chimed in mischievously, “For example, Seungcheol is the thing that I don’t like most about my job.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cheol laughed, “If this is where the conversation is going, then I’m going to grab a beer,” he announced. Joshua took the opportunity to join him at the bar.

“My god, our YN is dating a banker? Where did we go wrong, Cheol?” Joshua bemoaned jokingly as he leaned against the bar.

“Joshua,” Cheol warned him, the slightest edge audible in his voice. “Be nice.”

“He’s so dull,” Joshua pressed on, “She can do better.”

“That’s not our business,” Seungcheol shrugged as he accepted a fresh beer from the bartender. “If you can’t be nice, then I suggest you stay away. YN will take it personally if you tell her you don’t like him. Just leave it.”

“Fine,” Joshua ran his tongue over his teeth with displeasure, “A banker of all things. Please.”

“You remember when you dated that flight attendant, right? We all kept it to ourselves until things ended. YN is our friend now, so you can do her the same courtesy.”

“I wish you’d given me your honest feedback then. That was a major waste of my time,” Joshua bristled as he recalled that toxic relationship.

When they returned to the table they found that Hoshi had wandered off with Vernon to play darts and Wren was doing their best to hold the conversation with Yejun. There really wasn’t anything specifically wrong with Yejun, he just didn’t have much in common with any of them. Seungcheol briefly wondered what you two talked about, but it left his mind just as quickly.

“So what did you want to talk about earlier?” you asked Yejun hesitantly as he walked you to your door. There was a nip in the air and your cheeks were flushed pink as you looked up at him.

“Oh, yeah,” his expression filled with unease, “I guess I should let you know that I’m allergic to cats. It hadn’t really come up before, but it’s relevant now.”

“Oh,” your expression fell at this news. Somehow it was both a big deal and not a big deal. On the one hand, you were still in a very casual stage with Yejun and wouldn’t be able to live with Patty for a while even if you and Seungcheol did manage to work something out. But on the other hand, if this was a deal breaker, you wondered if you were just wasting your time. You loved animals and couldn’t envision a future without them. “Are you allergic to other animals too? Or just cats?”

“Mildly allergic to dogs, but my cat allergy is quite severe,” he answered apologetically.

“I see,” you nodded, “Well…I would say that since I’m still not sure I’ll be able to convince Seungcheol to keep Patty for me in the meantime and I’m at least five months out from being at the end of my lease, I’m not sure this needs to change anything between us? What do you think, though?”

“I agree,” Yejun smiled with a sense of relief.

“Great,” you grinned up at him. “Well, I’m home. Maybe we can do something next week?”

“That sounds great!” Yejun pulled you in for a quick peck before moving to drive himself home.

…

“Hello?” Seungcheol’s brows furrowed as he read the name on the incoming call. “YN? Are you okay?”

“Hey,” you sniffed, second guessing yourself. You briefly considered hanging up, but decided it would be helpful to have a sounding board. “Are you busy?”

“No, what’s up?” he shook his head, noting that you hadn’t answered his question.

“Can I swing by? I need some advice. Or maybe just to talk, I’m not sure,” you muttered, pressing your palm against your cheek.

“Yeah, of course,” Cheol nodded, “I’m home right now so come by whenever. Patty would like to see you too, I’m sure.”

“Okay, I’ll be over soon then,” you nodded forlornly before ending the call.

You second guessed yourself the entire way over. Maybe this wasn’t a big enough deal to bother Seungcheol about. Maybe you should’ve called Wren instead. But you knew that Wren would not be impartial and you knew, in your gut, that if it wasn’t a big enough deal to bother Cheol about, then you wouldn’t have called him. Before you knew it, you were parked in front of Seungcheol’s place and you weren’t about to drive right back home.

You walked up the steps and tried the doorknob. With all of the shared cat custody, he had gotten into the habit of leaving the front door unlocked when he knew you were on the way. Today was no different.

“I’m here,” you announced generally as you slipped off your shoes. Cheol appeared with a beer before you had gotten the second one off.

“You sounded like you needed a drink,” he smiled sympathetically at you.

“You know all about me nowadays, huh?” you laughed, taking the cold beverage from him.

“Little bit,” he grinned, “So what’s up?” he asked after you took a seat at his kitchen table. You gestured for him to sit down next to you before you answered.

“Yejun and I broke up…I guess? Is it even breaking up if you were just kind of dating?” you thought aloud. “Whatever you want to call it, we will no longer be a thing.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that,” Seungcheol’s expression creased with worry. “Do you want to talk about what happened? Or what’s helpful?”

“I’m not too torn up about what happened,” you thought for a moment, trying to identify your feelings, “But I am sad. But I don’t feel like I should be sad because it wasn’t that serious? Also he was allergic to cats so was it gonna work out anyways?” you were surprised when you felt the tears pricking at your eyes. You had done such a good job of keeping it together all week, but now talking about it in such clarity really broke something free inside of you and suddenly you were crying.

Seungcheol froze. He had never seen you cry before and he was at a loss about what to do. He wanted to be supportive, but didn’t really know what that should look like for you. Did you want a hug? Did you hate hugs? It frustrated him deeply that he didn’t already know the answer.

“What would be helpful right now?” he found himself asking.

“It’s silly, but I could use a hug,” you sighed, almost rolling your eyes at yourself. You’d never really been one for physical affection, but the thought of being wrapped up in Cheol’s arms seemed comforting in a way that you needed desperately right now.

He moved immediately, standing over you with his arms outstretched. You stood up to fit yourself into him and his arms folded around you without thought. You were surprised at how natural it felt. You allowed yourself a few more sobs into his chest before letting yourself just feel warm and secure in his hold.

Seungcheol experienced the whole gamut of human emotion as he held you. Anger at Yejun for causing you to feel this way. Empathetic sadness. Relief when your crying stopped. And…pride at the feeling of being able to provide you comfort. It was very different and new to Seungcheol to see you in this emotionally vulnerable state, but not unpleasant by any measure.

“Okay, I feel better,” you chuckled sheepishly, pulling away from Cheol and wiping at your cheeks. “I should go home and get some sleep.”

“Okay,” he nodded at you, surprised at the instinct he felt to pull you back in.

“Thanks Cheol. Seriously.”

…

“I think I’m getting cold feet,” Seungcheol grimaced after seeing you mix up the bleach in a somewhat alarming way.

“No, no take backs!” you frowned, turning your foil-covered head towards him.

Several days ago, you had bought the largest containers of bleach powder and developer that they sold at the beauty supply store. You kept saying that you weren’t torn up over Yejun, but you figured why not allow yourself to partake in some of the traditional post-break up rituals? An entirely new haircut didn’t appeal to you, but adding some vivid color did seem fun. You weren’t totally sure how Seungcheol had caught wind of this undertaking, but when he’d thought out loud about going blonde again, Wren had been insistent. Whether it turned out looking good or his hair fell off, it didn’t matter too much to Wren. Both outcomes were equally pleasing.

“I-,” he grimaced, “If I end up having to buzz my head, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Cheol, relax,” you tried to reassure him, “I have done this before. Now just sit still.”

Seungcheol sucked on his teeth before acquiescing and sitting down on the stool in front of you, allowing you to get started. You grinned happily as you ran your fingers through his hair, sectioning them off and applying the bleach to the foils. The way he enjoyed feeling your hands running through his hair was a little surprising to him, but soon he found himself just watching you and smiling at the way you smiled.

“Are you excited to be blonde again?” you asked around three quarters of the way through. “Was the last time in high school?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Cheol thought for a moment, “Didn’t you help me and Jihun that time too?”

“Probably? Like your guys’ senior year?”

“Yes,” he smiled, “That was a good look, if I do say so myself.”

“I agree,” you nodded as you grabbed a spare grocery bag to pop over his completely foiled head. “Okay, now we can let that process for 30 minutes. It should start to feel warm, mine kind of does already,” you touched your own foils gingerly.

“Okay, you wanna watch something while we wait?” he shrugged, flipping on the television.

“Sure,” you nodded, sitting down on the couch. You giggled happily when Patty hopped onto your lap and you scratched her under the chin.

“She loves you,” he chuckled, watching you interact with the cat.

“She loves you too!” you insisted, “Go see your dad,” you whispered at her playfully, which she ignored.

“No, she’s your cat and your cat alone. I’m just her landlord,” Seungcheol chuckled, unable to keep himself from thinking about the implication of ‘dad’.

“Okay, time to check!” you jumped up when the timer sounded. “Let me check mine first and then I’ll check yours,” you announced as you moved to the bathroom mirror.

“How’s it lookin’?” Cheol asked, leaning against the door jamb.

“I think a little longer, I’ll check again in fifteen. Now come here,” you beckoned him over. He moved to face you and spread his feet apart until you could see the top of his head. You peeled back a few foils and were surprised to see that it had lightened sufficiently. Lucky bastard. “I think you’re good to go, Seungcheol! You can rinse that bleach out and then I’ll tone you.”

“Word,” he nodded, helping you remove the rest of the foils and tuck them into garbage. You massaged your fingers through his hair, evaluating the rest of the strands before confirming he was ready to rinse. Without a word, he tugged his shirt up over his head before moving to grab the shower head.

“What are you doing?!” you almost shouted, alarmed by the shedding of clothes.

“I don’t want to get my shirt wet,” he shrugged, somehow pleased at the way you jumped.

“Let me get out of the bathroom first,” you grumbled, flushed in the cheeks as you made your way back into the living room.

“Okay, I’m done. You wanna check your foils again?” he emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel.

“Yes,” you nodded, trying to look anywhere but at him as he had not put the shirt back on.

After you had also rinsed the bleach out from your ends, you started mixing up toner and color. For a second time, you were applying and massaging solution into his hair.

“This feels nice,” Cheol remarked with his eyes closed, enjoying your touch.

“Does it?” your eyebrows raised, trying to stay composed. You didn’t need to look at his bare chest. You didn’t. “I guess that makes sense, like a scalp massage, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, eyes slowly opening again to meet your gaze through the mirror. His lips had curled into a half smile and the way he looked at you made your heart stop for a moment.

“Okay, go pop another bag on your head and let that process for 20-ish minutes?” you glanced away, clearing your throat needlessly. As Seungcheol flopped onto the couch, you applied the tanzanite hair dye to your bleached ends, doing your best to avoid staining his bathroom permanently.

“Okay, my timer’s up!” Cheol announced as he burst into the bathroom again unceremoniously. Apparently you’d zoned out after applying the purple dye and you jumped at his intrusion. “Scoot,” he grabbed you at the waist and relocated you easily. He grabbed the showerhead and leaned over the tub, rinsing the silver toner out of his hair. You intended to leave, you wanted to leave, but when it came down to it you couldn’t do anything but stare at his broad back, mind frazzled at the way he had lifted you up so easily.

“Damn,” Seungcheol whistled appreciatively, regarding himself in the mirror, “This looks good!”

“You’re welcome,” you nodded surely at him, “And you doubted me.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry, you killed it,” Cheol grinned at you. Without thinking it through, he pulled you into his chest and gave you a squeeze.

“Cheol, dye!” you panicked, pushing him away. “See, now you’re purple,” you frowned, looking at the splotch of purple on his chest that had transferred from your hair. Without thought, you swiped at it with your fingers, hoping to wipe it off before it stained too badly. It took a few passes, but eventually you gathered it all and rinsed it down the sink drain.

“Thanks,” Seungcheol coughed, nerves alight at the friction of your fingertips woefully close to his nipple. A quick shudder ran through him before he could gather his thoughts and compose himself.

“Okay, now get out, I’m going to rinse out my color. Mine’s gonna be messy, so I’m just gonna take an actual shower,” you shooed him out insistently.

After you closed and locked the door for good measure, you let out a sigh. What had you been thinking, touching his bare chest like that? You must be out of your mind. Jumping into the shower, you let the water wash the dye from your hair and the thoughts from your mind.

Seungcheol ruminated while you showered. He had already acknowledged that something in him had shifted after you’d visited him last week. You had always just been Jihun’s sister and that hadn’t really changed much since you’d moved back. However, seeing you in that emotionally vulnerable state last week had started to chip away at the way he thought of you.

“Whew, okay, the ordeal is done!” you laughed as you emerged from the bathroom pointing at the towel wrapped around your head. “I picked a darker one, but I can’t promise that the purple is gonna wash out,” you chuckled sheepishly, skin pink and glowing from the shower.

“I’m not worried about that,” Cheol shrugged, “Now take a rest, stylist,” he teased, patting the couch cushion next to him. Patty chirped in protest at the noisy impact, but settled back into his lap eventually as you finished the show you had started earlier.

…

“Cheol, Cheol!” Wren beckoned Seungcheol as he was walking through the hallway towards the stockroom.

“What?”

“What do you think about starting a Tiktok account for the studio? People seem to really like them, it could help us drum up some business!”

“I don’t know…,” he rubbed his chin contemplatively, “Are you going to run it? I want no part of it, to be honest.”

“Yes, I will!” Wren nodded furiously, “This looks way more fun and I could definitely do it between my normal job responsibilities.”

“I-, okay. But people have to agree to be in your videos, okay? None of this sneaky filming business,” Seungcheol furrowed his brows at them before returning to his office.

To Seungcheol’s surprise, Wren really took initiative of the social media management and within a month or so, had amassed a significant number of followers. Wren was always on their phone anyways, and so kept on top of the latest trends and viral sounds. Seungcheol was also surprised at the ways in which the internet seemed to love their ragtag group. Folks found Joshua to be painfully handsome, Vernon and Hoshi to be side bustingly funny, and Wren to be endearing. You had even featured in a handful of videos when you’d happened to be at the studio and commenters the entire week afterwards playfully demanded ‘more YN content’.

“Cheol, have you reconsidered showing your face on Tiktok?” you asked after watching a ‘the art versus the artist’ tiktok.

“No,” he shook his head firmly.

“Aw man, this would’ve been a good video too!” you pouted, turning your phone to show Wren.

“Oh damn it, yeah it would be!” they shouted woefully.

“What is it?” Coups asked, feigning indifference.

“Okay, so the concept is showing art and then the artist that made it. Cheol you’re so talented, I feel like this is such a nice way to showcase your work!” you pleaded with him, though you were not particularly hopeful. When he didn’t reject you outright, you offered him your phone to show an example.

“Hm,” the corner of his lip pulled back as he contemplated. Your heart rose hopefully in your chest, was he genuinely considering this?

“YN can be in the video too! She’s a good example of healed work!” Wren clapped excitedly at the prospect. “We can start the video zoomed in on her thigh tattoo and then zoom out to show you!”

Seungcheol raised his eyebrows at you in an unspoken question. It seemed that he was in if you were too. Holding back an ecstatic squeal, you nodded, over the moon at finally getting Cheol to agree to be in a Tiktok.

The first section went smoothly. Wren positioned you in front of the studio window for flattering lighting and then zoomed in on your thigh. The second part where they would zoom out to a video of Seungcheol was not as seamless. First they wanted to try a solo shot, which didn’t pass muster. Then you tried posing next to Cheol, which Wren deemed ‘too stiff’. Finally, they took over full creative control and positioned Seungcheol behind you with his face above your shoulder. After a few more failed takes, he didn’t even register it when he leaned forward to mumble idle threats into your ear. Something about ‘never should have agreed to this’ and ‘I don’t know that we need a receptionist anyways’, which made you chuckle.

Wren stilled in the midst of filming. Their gaze moved from the screen and lifted over the phone to observe you directly. The sight of Seungcheol with his face tucked into your neck and making you laugh was so tender it made Wren want to scream at the both of you.

“You got it?” Seungcheol looked up suddenly.

“I mean…I got something,” Wren replied, bemused.

…

You were excited. Jihun was coming home for Thanksgiving! By your math, it had been well over a year since you’d last seen him, so your parents were going all out. They’d invited all of your friends, but Seungcheol had been the only one to take them up on the offer. It was going to be nostalgic, the five of you together, but holidays were all about nostalgia, right? You’d spent the day with your parents, helping them prepare the house and meals. Seungcheol had been assigned to pick up Jihun from the airport when his flight arrived that afternoon, so you were surprised when you heard a knock on the door a little after noon.

“Oh, who-?” your mom wondered as she opened the door, “Seungcheol, darling, you’re early!”

“I know, but I thought I’d come see if I could help with anything until then,” he shrugged, stepping into the threshold.

From the kitchen, you did a double take. Seungcheol was wearing an unbuttoned button down with a matching t-shirt underneath and accessorized with a medium weight chain necklace. He looked nice, which made you momentarily self conscious that you were still wearing chores clothes. You threw him a quick smile before returning to finish washing the sheet pans that were no longer needed.

“Can I help?” he offered.

“You wanna dry?” you suggested, pointing out a dry towel. He nodded and settled in next to you, drying off anything you handed to him. “What time does Jihun’s flight get in again?”

“Three, so I’ll probably leave around two. There’s probably airport traffic today.”

You nodded as you finished up the dishes and set the gloves aside to dry.

“Mom, what else can I help with?” Seungcheol had already wandered off in search of your mother.

You rolled your eyes. He had called your mom ‘Mom’ since you were kids. The first time had been an accident and you had replied ‘No, she’s my mom!’ quite indignantly. Your mom had chuckled and patted young Seungcheol on the head, reassuring him. At first he continued to call her ‘Mom’ mostly to irritate you, but over time, it sort of just became reality. Seungcheol was over at your house so much that he really did feel like family at times.

“You’re so thoughtful, Cheol,” your mom beamed up at him, “You can come help Dad and I wrap dumplings if you like.”

“Sure,” he nodded, hip checking you away from the kitchen sink so he could wash his hands. You huffed indignantly as you took your seat at the dumpling table as well.

“So Seungcheol,” your dad cleared his throat, “How are things at the shop?”

“Good! Not much has changed since you were last there,” he cocked his head thoughtfully.

“You’ve been to the studio?” you queried, confused at the idea of it.

“Yes, of course! We had to congratulate him once we heard he was taking it over. I’m not sure we’re tattoo people, still, but our Cheol is a business owner now!” your dad laughed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“It’s still a small town, YN,” Seungcheol chuckled, “Not much happens without everyone knowing about it.”

“That’s true,” your mom nodded. For example, she had heard through the grapevine that you often hung out with Seungcheol and his staff at Anne Kim’s bar. Apparently quite an edgy group of youngsters. The Kim’s had long ago given up running the establishment themselves, but it was a good source of passive income and town information.

“That’s so funny, I can’t imagine you there!” you giggled.

“They brought me a cake and everything,” Cheol chuckled, recalling that day fondly. It had taken some explaining to get everyone to understand that they were not, in fact, Seungcheol’s own parents and the cake had done a good job of quieting them all down.

“That’s so cute,” you gushed.

When you’d been younger, it had sometimes bothered you how easy it was for your mom to love your friends in what felt like the same way that she loved you. Now that you were older, you could appreciate her capacity to love in a different way.

“I should go get Jihun,” Seungcheol announced, placing one more lopsided dumpling onto the tray before standing up.

“Drive safe!”

“Will do,” Seungcheol smiled at your mother, disarmingly charming.

“What a good boy,” she preened happily as you finished wrapping up the dumpling filling. “Have you hung out with Seungcheol much since you’ve moved back?” she asked, even though she knew the answer already.

“Occasionally,” you shrugged, but as you did the math you realized that you’d probably seen him more than anyone else in recent days. “I’ve probably hung out with his receptionist, Wren, more though. They’re nice!”

“Oh, Wren! Yes, I remember from the studio. They’re just cute as a button, aren’t they?” your mom chirped. So you weren’t willing to admit that you were closer with Seungcheol than you’d ever been before. That was okay.

“Yes, they really wanted to come for Thanksgiving too, but they decided to go to their partner’s family’s instead.”

“Well, you know you don’t need an excuse to bring them around. Our house is always open. You too,” she gave you a pointed look. You grinned sheepishly. You knew they always wanted you to visit more.

“I’ll bring them around!” you nodded affirmatively.

“In fact, the rest of the shop can come too! They’ll keep us young,” your dad added suddenly. Your dad had always been quieter than your mom, but every so often he said something that left you absolutely slack jawed. This was one of those times.

“I’ll let them know,” you shook your head with a chuckle. “I’m going to go shower and change now.”

Your parents waved you off goodnaturedly and you retreated to your childhood bedroom. Everything you needed was in your duffel bag, but you couldn’t help from getting distracted by all of the stuff that your mom had kept exactly the same. Filled with nostalgia, your fingertips skimmed across the figurines, books, and other memorabilia. Your diary caught your eye and you pulled it out by the spine, curious to read some of your old thoughts. It was all cringey as hell, but it made you laugh as you thumbed through. As you reached the end, something fell out from the pages which surprised you. A polaroid of Seungcheol from the night you had told Wren about many months ago at this point. It was from the night before he and Jihun had left for college and the last time you remembered him being blonde prior to this most recent bleach job. You smiled softly as you peered at it in disbelief. Seungcheol looked the same, but different. His roots were a touch more grown out than they were right now and he was wearing that dog tag necklace that he had felt was so cool back then. What a handsome doofus.

“Woof, nostalgia is one hell of a bitch,” you muttered under your breath, surprised at your own reaction.

Shoving your thoughts aside, you jumped into the shower and focused on getting ready. The warm water soothed you infinitely and you hummed contentedly to yourself as you finished getting ready. You changed into a cute yet comfortable outfit and headed down the stairs to join your parents. You were in the middle of contemplating a cookie when the front door opened dramatically.

“I’m home!” Jihun announced excitedly as he entered the house. To your surprise, not one but two figures followed him inside.

“Jihun-a!” your mom cooed excitedly as she moved towards the door. “Oh who’s this?”

“Mom, Dad, this is my girlfriend Hyejin!”

“Oh my goodness, what a surprise!” your mom tittered excitedly. “Why didn’t you tell me so I could have prepared?”

“Mom, you’re always prepared anyways! I wanted to surprise you,” Jihun shook his head.

Your parents tsked appropriately at Jihun while ushering Hyejin inside. As they tittered over her, you threw a look at Seungcheol.

“Surprise!” he wiggled his hands weakly, which made you burst out laughing. You rolled your eyes before joining the family in the living room.

“Hyejin, this is my sister, YN,” Jihun gestured towards you as you entered.

“Hi,” you grinned excitedly at Hyejin. “I’m very excited to share with you all of Jihun’s most embarrassing stories!” you shook her hand with a little too much vigor for your brother’s tastes.

“I’m so excited to meet you all!” Hyejin smiled. She was so pretty!

“Genuinely, you’re so pretty, what the hell are you doing with Jihun?” you couldn’t help but ask mischievously.

“YN,” Seungcheol furrowed his brow, “Easy.”

“You’re right, I’ll let you settle in. I’ll ask later,” you whispered surreptitiously to her, drawing a small chuckle. Instead you joined Seungcheol as your parents lightly grilled Hyejin and Jihun about their relationship. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell any of us,” you mumbled at Cheol. “Did he share much on the drive with you?”

“No, not much,” he shook his head. “I was surprised too, I haven’t seen her on his socials or anything. Must be recent?”

“Hm,” you shrugged.

Seungcheol watched you as you looked on with interest. You looked really cute in your holiday cardigan. You could feel Seungcheol’s gaze on you. You kept your eyes facing forward, but you couldn’t help a light shiver before you decided it was time to rejoin the fray. Seungcheol looked on from the kitchen, allowing you this familial moment. Dinner passed quickly, everyone enjoying the opportunity to catch up with or get to know each other. You found that you were a big fan of Hyejin. She was funny, clever, and so easy to talk to. Seungcheol and Jihun caught up easily, like old times. Your parents looked on happily at their lovely little family.

“Okay, time for a movie!” your mom announced once everyone had finished eating.

“Movie?” Hyejin wondered and the rest of you stood.

“Family tradition, movie theater after an early dinner,” Cheol answered with a smile. “Are we playing for right to choose? Or perhaps because we have a guest…?” he gestured to Hyejin.

“Oh I think guest chooses,” you nodded supportively.

“Really?” Hyejin was surprised. “Okay, let me see what’s showing,” she laughed, pulling out her phone.

“Ooh I'm excited, good choice again Hyejin!” you bounced on the balls of your feet as you waited in line for concessions.

“Behave,” Seungcheol grabbed you by the shoulders, pinning you in place.

A jolt of heat darted through your chest at his grip. You suddenly flashed back to the day of your tattoo. This was a very similar feeling to when Seungcheol had grasped your upper thigh and murmured ‘good girl’ to you, effectively knocking the wind from your lungs. You stilled, unable to face him.

“Good girl,” he went on to commend you thoughtlessly as he perused snack options.

You blinked. A sharp exhale left your lungs as you struggled with the effect this was having on you. You wanted to punch Seungcheol, how could he be so careless with his words!

“Popcorn,” you answered the teenager when you got to the front of the line.

“What size?”

“Large,” you answered. You had saved room.

“Should we just share a bucket?” Cheol suggested.

“No! Get your own popcorn,” you scrunched your face at him. The possibility of accidentally brushing hands with him was too much to consider right now.

“Okay, damn,” he chuckled bemusedly as he went to order his own popcorn.

You knew you were acting odd, but you couldn’t help yourself. In an effort to distance yourself from Seungcheol, you wandered towards Jihun and Hyejin, eavesdropping on their conversation. They were discussing something boring so you wandered towards your parents instead.

“YN-ah,” they beckoned you towards them. “How are things since moving back? I know it was always a little small for you here,” your mom asked genuinely.

“You know,” you thought for a moment, wanting to answer honestly, “I was worried I wouldn’t be happy moving back…but I’ve made some good friends and I’m actually pretty happy!”

“That’s great,” your dad smiled at you.

Your mom studied your expression closely, but you didn’t give much away. She was curious whether your contentment was tied to Seungcheol as much as she hoped it would be. Your parents had always been big fans of Cheol throughout childhood. Part of it was proximity, of course, as Seungcheol had been at the house almost constantly throughout middle and high school. But the other part of it was that they saw the ways in which Seungcheol complimented both you and Jihun. Seungcheol had always had a calm energy and presence that didn’t hinder you from being yourself, but also tempered your personality when occasionally necessary.

“Movie time!” your parents announced, ushering everyone towards theater six. As everyone paired off, you found yourself sitting next to Seungcheol.

“We should’ve just shared a popcorn, we paid basically double to have the same amount in separate bags,” he pouted at you.

“I want to have my own bag, leave me alone!” you whisper shouted at him, scrunching your face at him in the dark.

Hyejin giggled as she watched you and Seungcheol with fascination. Jihun had mentioned that you all had been childhood friends, but not that you two were dating. She wondered how long it’d been since you and Seungcheol had gotten together and whether Jihun even knew. She’d have to ask after the movie was over.

“That was good,” you nodded surely as everyone piled into the car. “I was especially a fan of the scenes where the fruit and vegetable carts were upturned. Love me a good ‘my cabbages’ moment!”

“Me too!” Hyejin giggled

The ride back was filled with excited discussion, laughter, and some good natured teasing. Your parents helped themselves to a slice of apple pie and let you all know you were welcome to the leftovers if you got peckish before they retired to bed. Eventually Jihun and Seungcheol wandered off to look at something in the basement, which allowed you to visit with Hyejin more.

“So how long have you and Seungcheol been dating?” she asked.

“W-what?” you sputtered. “Me and Cheol? No, we’re not!”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Are you really not?” she flushed, “You two seem so close!”

“No, no, don’t be sorry!” you leaned towards her, not wanting her to feel embarrassed, “We are close! But we’ve known each other for years,” you tried to explain.

“That really surprises me. You two seem very much in step with each other,” she mused. She had literally watched him eat the chestnuts that you’d pulled out of your stuffing and set on a side plate.

“I-, I mean I guess we are closer than before these days. I moved back to town a few months ago and Seungcheol is probably one of my closest friends right now,” you thought out loud. You weren’t sure whether it was just the longevity of the relationship, but there was a deep comfort that you had with Seungcheol that just couldn’t be beat.

“Ah, I see,” Hyejin nodded, tipping the rest of her wine back.

“Do you want another drink? Or maybe we can go bother the boys?”

“Why not both?” she laughed, so you led the way.

“Oy, degenerates! What are you doing down here? Smoking weed?” you teased as you bounced down the stairs.

“I mean we could be,” Jihun’s voice called back.

“Holding out on us,” you rolled your eyes playfully at Hyejin as you rounded the corner.

“Hey,” Hyejin grinned, looping an arm around Jihun’s waist and squeezing affectionately.

“Yo,” you punched Seungcheol awkwardly in the shoulder before flopping onto the futon next to him. “It’s been a damn minute since we were all down here, huh!”

“Yes it has,” Cheol’s eyebrows raised dramatically as he considered the length of time. “Probably haven’t been back since before college started.”

Jihun nodded in agreement and they both took turns sharing fun stories with Hyejin until your eyes started drifting shut. These beers really took a toll on you these days.

“Hey, YN,” Seungcheol’s voice and shoulder nudged you awake.

“Hm?” you murmured.

“You should go to bed,” he suggested.

“No, I’m fine! I’m just resting my eyes,” you protested, struggling to keep the aforementioned eyes open.

“Oh not this again,” Seungcheol shook his head. He had fallen for the ‘resting my eyes’ line a grand total of twice before he’d learned his lesson. That just meant you had already dozed off and were going to fall asleep again shortly. “YN, if you don’t go to bed now, I’m going to carry you up.”

“Do it, you won’t,” you goaded him sleepily. You managed half a yawn before he had hucked you over his shoulder and carried you up the stairs.

Jihun had been scrolling through his phone, and so looked up with slight confusion to see Hyejin grinning knowingly.

Seungcheol dumped you onto your bed as gently as he could manage, but you still landed with a loud ‘oof’. He scoffed as you curled into your pillows and comforter like a caterpillar into a cocoon. Why couldn’t you just admit you were tired like a normal person?

…

A few weeks after Thanksgiving, you were at Seungcheol’s again spending quality time with Patty when Jihun Facetimed him unexpectedly. Patty was sitting on your chest on the couch when Seungcheol picked up.

“Hey man, what’s up?”

“Not much, I was just calling to check in. Thanksgiving made me realize that I’ve done a shit job of keeping up with you so I want to change that!”

“Oh, for sure,” Cheol laughed, a little surprised. “Oh, YN is here too!” he directed the phone to you and Patty. You waved from underneath her.

“Oh, YN is there?” you heard Hyejin’s voice in the background. “That reminds me, I’m gonna to text her!”

[hyejin]: ‘hey, I saw an ad for this yesterday and it made me think of you!’

You squealed in excitement at the attached screenshot she sent of a frog stun gun. It even had a little butt on the back! Patty jumped off of your chest in protest of your loud noise, but your excitement was difficult to contain.

[yn]: ‘OMFG. THNEED’

[hyejin]: ‘right?!? when they do their next shop update, i’m ordering for both of us!’

“Coups, look!” you hopped off of the couch excitedly to show Seungcheol, completely derailing his conversation with Jihun. “It’s a frog. And a self defense stun gun. And it has a butt!” you flipped through the pictures excitedly. Seungcheol nodded good naturedly at you before returning to his discussion with Jihun.

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” your brother's voice floated across the room. Seungcheol explained the situation, to which Hyejin sent you a slew of texts rapidly.

[hyejin]: ‘are you sure you’re not dating seungcheol?!?’

[hyejin]: ‘you can tell me if you are. i wont tell jihun!’

[hyejin]: ‘im cool!’

[yn]: ‘im not!’

You furrowed your brows slightly. You and Hyejin had kept in touch since Thanksgiving and she had taken to fussing over you like an older sister. For the most part you loved it, but this probing about Cheol made you feel…confused. It wasn’t the first time that people had mistaken you as a couple and you almost understood why. No, the thing that was difficult to contend with was the fact that you…didn’t hate it?

[hyejin]: ‘okay 👀 im just sayin not many people would let a cat live at their house just for a friend’

[hyejin]: ‘but maybe im wrong!’

You sat up and watched Seungcheol over the back of the sofa as he chatted with Jihun. You didn’t bother to process what they were saying, but you watched the way the corner of his lips lifted into a half side, revealing one of his dimples. You’d seen his dimples a million and one times before, but this time it felt like your heart shot up into your throat, clogging it. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you tried to clear it either, that bitch was stuck. Seungcheol threw you a ‘you good?’ glance before returning his attention to your brother. There was nothing remarkable about it. There was no reason it should make you nervous. And yet, the slight pinch between his brows and the clear concern in his eyes made you squirm.

“I gotta go!” you announced to Seungcheol and Jihun, waving casually at them before pulling on your shoes. Patty gave you a departing headbutt and you were out the door.

“I thought she didn’t have plans today,” Seungcheol’s expression was clearly confused after you left.

While you drove home with all of the windows rolled down in an effort to regain composure, Seungcheol tied up his conversation with Jihun. The house felt quite empty now that he wasn’t on a call and you were also gone. It was a surprising thought for him to have, since he’d long ago gotten accustomed to being alone and in fact quite liked it. But he’d be an idiot to ignore the fact that his life had changed dimensionally since you’d come back into it.

You’d coaxed him into a closer friendship with his staff members, gifted him the furry little gremlin that he now looked forward to coming home to, and you yourself had become someone that he thought of often and cared for deeply. He’d been unsure whether it was the same kind of proximity based fondness that you had shared before, but upon further consideration, he concluded that this was not the case. These days he didn’t just tolerate you. He sought you out. He wanted to fill his time with you. He wondered if you felt the same.

…

[wren]: ‘come on, please?!’

[yn]: ‘i’m tired 😩’

You frowned at your phone. You weren’t actually so tired that you didn’t want to go out, but you felt a sort of reluctance to go because you’d been avoiding seeing Seungcheol. It had taken some time to sort through your feelings, but you’d finally accepted that you were struggling with an attraction to him that you needed to get over. You were sure you could, you just needed time.

Seungcheol ran his hands through his hair as he finished up his profit and loss statements for the month. It had been a good month. In fact, an extraordinarily good month, which also meant that there were many more transactions to account for. In the past, he probably would’ve rather walked off of a bridge than do his P&Ls, but the spreadsheets that you’d help build for him were a genuine lifesaver. You’d even helped with figuring out how to automate data downloads from the PoS system which saved him and Wren a huge amount of headache. He really needed to treat you to dinner or something as a thank you.

[seungcheol]: ‘when are you free?’

You stared at your phone. What the hell was in the water today? Your heart had jumped when you’d seen Seungcheol’s text. You were of two minds: one wanted to read and respond to it immediately while the other wanted to throw the phone into a garbage chute. As usual, you let both sides percolate before reaching a happy compromise. You read the text but didn’t respond until later.

[yn]: ‘kind of depends. what for?’

[seungcheol]: ‘i want to take you out.’

[seungcheol]: ‘as a thank you for the p&l spreadsheets’

Your hopes rose and fell just as quickly as you read the texts in sequence. It was a professional matter.

[yn]: ‘that’s not necessary! friends help each other’

His brow scrunched upon reading the word ‘friend’. It sent such a pang through his chest that he wasn’t expecting, but he felt persistent today.

[seungcheol]: ‘i dont see why that should stop me from showing you that i appreciate you. let me know when you’re free for dinner’

Your heart flip flopped in your chest. How could you get through a dinner with him when just a text affected you like this? And yet you had no valid reason to say no.

…

You tapped your toe nervously as you waited for Seungcheol. You had decided on Friday after work and he had insisted on driving you, because he had wanted to keep the restaurant a surprise. So here you were, 6:12 pm on Friday and incredibly, unreasonably nervous about dinner. You wondered if you could still cancel.

[seungcheol]: ‘here’

“So much for that,” you muttered to yourself before stepping out of your apartment. The only indication of dress code that Cheol had given you was ‘don’t look like a hobo’, so you’d chosen a simple black dress with a colorful and fun cardigan. There was a slight chill in the air, so you pulled the cardigan a little tighter around yourself as you climbed into his car.

“Hey,” he broke into a smile as soon as he saw you. “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” you replied as you buckled your seatbelt. You gave him a quick once over as he backed out of the parking space. He was dressed in all black and the visual focal point was a half-pearl, half-chain choker necklace that really stood out. “Oh I like that!”

“I thought you might,” he grinned at you as he leaned back, settling into his seat after getting onto the highway. “It seems your kind of style,” he explained when your brows furrowed.

“Ah,” you nodded, not quite sure what to say. “So where are we eating, will you tell me now?”

“Yes. We’re going to Kyōten, in the city.”

“What?!” you glanced at him, slightly alarmed, “That’s kind of a haul!”

“It’s not too bad. Plus our reservation is at 7:30. I budgeted enough time.”

“Still, you don’t have to drive that far! We could’ve eaten somewhere in town,” you grumbled.

“I’ve been wanting to try this place too. Not everything’s about you, baby,” he teased. This was true in part. Seungcheol was interested in the omakase menu at this restaurant, but he likely wouldn’t have gone by himself. “How’s work been, by the way? I feel like I haven’t seen you around much lately.”

You flushed at the moniker ‘baby’ before pushing through it to answer him. It was true, you’d been working a handful of extra shifts at work here and there in preparation for the holiday season. But you’d also been making yourself scarce because you still couldn’t control the physical reaction that you sometimes had to Seungcheol. You omitted that part in your answer, but did share a handful of funny stories that had happened at work lately. Seungcheol, in turn, updated you on some of the interesting happenings at the studio as of late. Hoshi had finally been able to do the largest tiger flash that he had available, which had been incredibly exciting to him. Joshua had attended the annual APP conference and made a lot of good contacts. The studio was working out details on a guest piercer spot in the near future. Before you knew it, you had pulled into the parking ramp near the restaurant.

“Oh it’s windy!” you remarked as you stepped out of the car.

“Here,” Seungcheol pulled a spare puffer jacket out of his backseat and handed it to you. You’d wrapped it around yourself gratefully as you completed the short walk to Kyōten.

“We have a reservation for 7:30. Seungcheol,” he informed the hostess. She nodded kindly and led you through the dark space towards the sushi bar. You remarked at the beautiful architecture and decor as you hopped onto the bar stool. “I’ll just stand, if that’s okay?” he asked the hostess, tucking his stool slightly to his left under the bar.

“Have you all done this before?” you asked the people sitting next to you as you waited.

“No, we haven’t!” they shook their heads, “Have you?”

“Oh thank god! No, I definitely haven’t. You haven’t either, right?” you asked Seungcheol, realizing you didn’t know.

“No,” he shook his head.

“Don’t be nervous! Just eat what they give you,” the couple on the other side of the bar from you smiled kindly. “The chefs here are great, they’re very interactive and fun. Just have a good time.”

Reassured now that the ice was broken, the six of you chatted before the chef came. The pair next to you shared that they were celebrating their second anniversary. They had also driven in and were staying for a long weekend in the city.

“That’s so fun, I love that! We’re just here for the night,” you smiled at them, the sake warming you from the inside out.

“What about you two? Is this a special occasion?”

“Sort of,” Seungcheol answered, draping his arm across the back of your stool as he did so. “It’s a thank you dinner for YN. She’s been a huge help with my business this year, so I thought I ought to show her my appreciation properly.”

“What do you do?” Miseon asked curiously.

“I run a tattoo and piercing studio,” he answered.

As he explained in more detail, you felt like your back was itching, the way you were hyper aware of his arm draped behind you. Seungcheol had gotten closer and closer to you as he’d engaged in the conversation with Miseon and Nuri. It wasn’t like you weren’t used to physical closeness with him, but the interior of this restaurant was so intimately lit that it tricked you into overthinking the whole situation. Even after the chef arrived and dinner commenced, he didn’t distance himself from you at all.

“Would you like to join us for a few drinks? We’re having such fun with you!” Nuri asked once you were all back on the sidewalk.

Seungcheol looked to you, indicating that he was game. The way you smiled back at him, flushed in the apples of your cheeks, made his breath hitch.

“Sure!” you nodded excitedly. You’d also really enjoyed Nuri and Miseon and were happy to keep the night going.

The four of you did some quick googling before settling on a bar a few blocks away. At the second crosswalk, you’d been a little too engaged in the conversation and nearly stepped into oncoming traffic. Without thought, Seungcheol had hooked his arm around your waist to pull you back and simply left it there. Your eyes flew to him at this touch. He was looking straight ahead and you were surprised when the idea of planting a kiss along his jaw popped into your mind. You flushed and shook your head when his head turned to look at you again.

The bar was cute and the next hours passed quickly as you chatted with Nuri and Miseon and enjoyed the ambiance and music. A few times you had looked up to see Seungcheol’s dark eyes trained on you from across the bar and you’d flushed each time. Before too long you were saying your goodbyes and driving back home. The car was quiet as you and Seugcheol both reflected on the night.

Even though he had framed it up as a ‘thank you’ dinner, you felt like that label didn’t quite fit. You might have been overthinking it, but Kyōten had been so intimate and the way that Seungcheol’s touches seemed to linger felt different than your usual closeness. You’d also been mistaken as a couple a few times and neither of you had bothered to correct them, which you usually did. Perhaps it was the context of being in a city you didn’t live in, but it just didn’t seem important this time.

Seungcheol tapped his fingers against the gearshift as he drove. He’d known Kyōten might be a little more romantic than your typical dinner with a friend, but he’d chosen it because he’d overheard you share with Wren that you were really interested in trying omakase style dining. It hadn’t been totally conscious on his part, but he’d found himself finding ways to be closer to you throughout the evening and he’d been surprised at how you’d responded. You hadn’t shied away from his touch and he’d seen you blush a few times throughout the night in ways that made him wonder if his attraction towards you wasn't completely one sided.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, glancing towards you as he drove down the dark roads.

“Yes,” you beamed at him, “Although you spent entirely too much money, Cheol.”

“Hey!” he cut you off with a stern look, “I told you, this is a show of my appreciation. Let me just appreciate you.”

“Hm,” you pursed your lips at him, trying and failing to not imagine those words in a different context.

Seungcheol pressed his tongue against his cheek. He’d always enjoyed the way you reacted when he teased you.

“Thanks for driving,” you threw him a smile before reaching for the door handle. You were eager to get out of this car, which felt entirely too hot right now.

“I’ll walk you,” he announced, leaving the car as well and stepping to your side.

“Oh?” you were surprised. This was not typical.

“I really enjoyed tonight,” he commented as you stepped onto the front stoop of your apartment building.

“Me too!” you beamed, eyes creasing softly at him.

“I want to tell you something,” he cleared his throat and your heart stopped.

“O-kay,” you nodded a moment later when you were actually able to retrieve your voice.

“I-, uh,” he cleared his throat again when he tried to speak. “You are very important to me, so I want you to know that nothing has to change between us after I say what I say.”

You blinked at him, heart racing so fast that you were worried you wouldn’t be able to hear him over its beating.

“My life has changed a lot since you moved back. I am closer to my friends, the shop is doing really well, and I have a cat that I guess I love now. And that’s mostly because of you, so thank you for that. But also, I, uh, my feelings about you have changed. I think about you often and my house honestly just feels empty when you’re not there. So I like you,” he felt like he was shouting now, so he tried to reign it in, “I like you and you don’t have to say anything, I just want you to know.”

Your brain had screeched to a halt and you were frozen throughout most of his confession. The cogs started turning again as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead and let you know he’d text you tomorrow. He was back in his car when you’d gathered yourself enough to run after him.

“Hey!” you practically jumped out in front of his car as he tried to leave the parking spot.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” he shouted, jumping out of the car after slamming on the brakes and putting it back in park.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You couldn’t explain why, but you were fuming. “You need to be less careless with your words!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Seungcheol threw his hands up, completely caught off guard by the fact that you were…yelling at him?

“You can’t just call me ‘good girl’ while you’re tattooing my inner thigh or tell me you like me and then leave? What about me and my sanity?”

“What?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows raised into his hairline as he processed what you had said. Surely you didn’t mean…?

He was taking too long to understand so you walked towards him, grabbed him by that damned pearl chain necklace, and pulled him into a kiss. He was surprised for just a moment before he was kissing you back intently.

“Were you doing it on purpose?” you asked between kisses.

“What?” he asked, not totally grasping what you were asking.

“Was it on purpose?” you reiterated, fingers teasing at the hairs on the back of his neck. “Your little touches, grabbing my waist? You were driving me crazy,” you exhaled sharply.

Seungcheol paused at this confession, drawing back to look at you fully. His eyes raked over you and you grew hot under his gaze.

“It wasn’t, but I guess I couldn’t help myself,” he chuckled, lips curling into a half smile.

“Turn your car off,” you demanded and Seungcheol was more than happy to comply.

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