#I'm going through and answering all my asks one by one

[rina786549]

★ ATEEZ REACTION: When you hugging them while they prepare breakfast

★ PAIRINGS: Ateez x fem!reader | ★ GENRE: Romance, Domestic, Suggestive, Smutty Tension, Fluff, Slight Humor | ★ WORDS COUNT: 1,850 words

★ NOTE: This is a fan-made, non-profit work created out of appreciation for the original content. All rights remain with the rightful owners. I'm just sharing my version for fun—hope you enjoy!

★ HONGJOONG / 홍중

You wrap your arms around his waist from behind, cheek resting against his bare back — still warm from bed, muscles shifting under your skin.

“Morning,” you whisper.

He chuckles under his breath, still stirring something in the pan.

“Thought you were sleeping.”

“Was,” you murmur, nuzzling lower. “Then I smelled you.”

He smirks. “The food or me?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you press a kiss to his spine.

He stops stirring. Just for a second. You feel the tension shift, slow and deliberate.

“If you keep kissing me like that,” he says, voice dipping, “we’re gonna be eating cold eggs.”

You slide your hand down his abs, let your fingers rest just at the waistband of his joggers.

“So let them go cold.”

He turns slowly, grabs your waist with one hand, the spatula discarded.

“Breakfast can wait,” he says, eyes dark. “But I won’t.”

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★ SEONGHWA / 성화

He’s cutting strawberries in a perfect line, shirt tucked up on one side, the morning light turning him golden. You slide your arms around him and sigh.

“You’re too pretty to be up this early.”

He gives a quiet laugh and sets the knife down carefully.

“You always say that when you’re trying to start something.”

You kiss between his shoulder blades. Once. Then again.

“You’re warm,” you whisper.

He leans back into you, hand trailing over yours. Then he turns, pulling you by the hips into him.

“You really want me to forget breakfast?” he murmurs, nose brushing yours. “Because if I kiss you now, I won’t stop.”

You don’t reply — just tilt your chin up.

His lips find yours, slow and deliberate. His hands are firm on your waist. One slides lower, under the hem of your shirt.

“Bedroom. Now. Or the counter,” he mutters against your mouth. “Pick fast.”

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★ YUNHO / 윤호

You sneak up behind him while he flips pancakes, arms slipping around his waist as you hug him tight.

“Hey,” he says softly. “You okay?”

You nod against his back. “You smell good. And I’m cold.”

He grins, flipping one more pancake and turning off the stove without a word. Then, he turns in your arms and lifts you onto the counter like it’s nothing.

“Let me warm you up.”

You giggle, but he leans in, kissing you slow — hands braced on either side of your thighs.

The kiss deepens. His thumb brushes under your shirt. His hips press between your knees.

“You hungry?” he asks, voice rough.

“Not for pancakes.”

He groans softly and drops his head to your neck.

“You can’t say things like that unless you mean them.”

“Oh, I do.”

And you both forget the breakfast part entirely.

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★ YEOSANG / 여상

He’s quiet in the kitchen, focused on chopping, sleeves rolled, hair still damp. You wrap your arms around his middle and he flinches slightly.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

He exhales through his nose, places the knife down gently, then rests his hand over yours.

“You know how dangerous that is?”

“You?” you tease. “Terrifying.”

He turns slightly in your hold, your lips brushing his shoulder. You’re still in his t-shirt — and nothing else.

“You’re not wearing anything under that, are you.”

It’s not a question.

“What if I’m not?”

He looks over his shoulder, mouth twitching. Then slowly turns, presses you into the fridge behind you, both hands braced on either side of your head.

“Say it again,” he whispers.

“I’m not wearing anything under—”

He kisses you hard, hips flush against yours, voice low and dangerous.

“Breakfast can wait.”

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★ SAN / 산

He’s dancing a little in front of the stove, loose sweats hanging low, arms flexing as he stirs something in a pan. You walk up and hug him from behind, chest against his back.

“Whoa—good morning to you too,” he says, laughing.

Your fingers slide under his hoodie, brushing against his stomach. He stills immediately.

“Baby…” he warns, voice suddenly lower. “That’s not fair.”

You kiss the back of his neck. “You smell like cinnamon.”

“That’s the oatmeal. Or maybe it’s just me.”

He turns around, slow, like he’s trying to keep control. When he sees you in nothing but his t-shirt, his gaze darkens instantly.

“You doing this on purpose?”

You just look up at him, innocent. He bites his bottom lip, hands finding your hips.

“God, you’re dangerous.”

He presses his forehead to yours.

“Let me turn the stove off.”

“Why?”

“So I can focus on you.”

And he does — clicks it off, then walks you backward until you’re against the counter, kissing you like you’re breakfast.

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★ MINGI / 민기

You sneak up behind him mid-beatbox, his hips swaying in front of the stove as he flips bacon. He jumps slightly when your arms wrap around him.

“Jesus—baby,” he says, startled, then laughs. “You tryna kill me?”

You press against his back, swaying with him. “You’re cute when you cook.”

“I’m cute always.”

“You’re cocky always.”

He grins, flipping the bacon, then pulls your hands tighter around his waist.

“Is this your way of saying you want something else for breakfast?”

You kiss between his shoulder blades. His breath hitches.

“You better stop,” he mutters. “Because if you keep touching me like that, I’m gonna burn this entire pan.”

You run a hand down his chest and under his shirt. He groans, low and thick.

“Okay. Stove off. Hands on me.”

He turns, lifts you onto the counter like nothing, and stands between your legs, lips brushing your neck.

“You knew exactly what you were doing when you hugged me like that.”

And you do.

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★ WOOYOUNG / 우영

He’s humming to himself, boxers low on his hips, coffee brewing. You wrap your arms around him from behind and press a kiss to the curve of his spine.

“Damn,” he murmurs. “That’s how you wanna start the day?”

You nod, wordless, just breathing him in. He sets his mug down and smirks.

“Didn’t even give me a chance to drink my coffee first.”

Your hands slide under his shirt. He groans softly, then spins around, pinning you between his body and the counter.

“You think I’m letting you go after that?” he whispers.

His hand cups your jaw, mouth brushing yours but not kissing. Yet.

“Say please.”

You meet his eyes, pulse jumping.

“Please.”

That’s all he needs. He kisses you deep, with tongue and teeth and no space left between you. The coffee machine beeps, but neither of you notice.

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★ JONGHO / 종호

He’s shirtless, muscles working as he cracks eggs into a bowl. You hug him from behind, cheek resting against his shoulder blade.

“Smells good,” you whisper.

“The eggs?”

“You.”

He flushes a little, but doesn’t stop whisking.

“You’re distracting.”

You press a kiss to his back. “You’re strong. It’s hard not to touch you.”

He exhales, sets the bowl down, and turns slowly. His eyes are dark now — heavy, focused.

“If I kiss you right now, it’s not stopping there.”

You nod.

He steps into you, hands cupping your face like you’re fragile, but his kiss is anything but gentle. His hips press against yours, voice low in your ear.

“Back to bed. Now. Before I lose all patience.”

And you both forget the kitchen ever existed.

[deepspace-scenarios]

[Scenario/Drabble] Here With You

Summary: LIs react when you're overwhelemed and tearful from dreams and memories- they make sure you feel safe with them. <3 Genre: fluff + hurt/comfort (cw: kisses, cuddles) Notes: I wanted to include all the other LIs, even though this came from a request for Forseer Zayne 🥺💗 References to some LI's Myths but no direct spoilers.

ZAYNE 【Foreseer timeline】

You stumble across the tiled floors of the dimly lit hallway, feeling your mind spin. The Tower of Thorns had shown you too much- centuries of love, loss, and lives. Memories belonging to you, to others. Memories where Zayne’s hands reached for you only to forget. Ones you shouldn't have seen.

You push past the doors of the library, gasping for air, your vision blurred with tears. The warmth of the lanterns does little to soothe the chill in your bones, and the deep ache in your chest. You barely make it to a reading chaise before you collapse onto the plush fabric, gritting your teeth to steady yourself.

Moments later, a shadow moves between the doors.  

"You shouldn’t be here." Zayne’s voice is quiet, but not unkind. “Explain yourself.”

You curl tighter into yourself, only able to breathe out a shaky apology.  

“I asked for an explanation, not an apology,” he murmurs. As he approaches you, he hesitates. With another step, he kneels beside you, gloved fingers brushing your cheek. "…These memories are not yours to bear alone."

You shake your head. “I- I have to. My fault. M'sorry, Zayne.”

He shushes you, placing his hand over yours and squeezing gently.

He remembers just enough to know he’s loved you in every lifetime. And it hurts more than the thorns ever could.  

He gathers you into his arms, his cloak swallowing your trembling form. "Rest. I will keep the nightmares at bay."  

_____

SYLUS 【Current timeline; references to his myth】

The nightmare clings to you- a blazing heat surrounding you, your shaking hands around the hilt of a sword, a burning field and the crushing feeling of emptiness.

You wake to an empty house, the vacant space a looming darkness that is almost disorienting.

"Sylus?" No answer. 

Your texts go unanswered for ten agonizing minutes before he finally replies: "Kitten. Breathe. Wait for me."  

When he steps through the bedroom door just before dawn, the rise and fall of his chest tell you that wherever he came from, he ran.

He doesn't ask about the dream.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs, pulling you into his embrace and stroking your back slowly. "Let it out on me,”

You shake your head as you hug him, tighter than you ever have. Hearing his heart beat strongly is all it takes for tears of relief spring to your eyes. He's real, and he's here with you. All is well.

“M’not in the mood for violence, Sy-” 

He chuckles when you squeeze him tighter, “You still have a lot of strength left in you, kitten,”

A shaky breath escapes you, along with the ghost of a laugh. “I don't know how you deal with it-”

“I've had a lifetime to learn,” he muses, voice softer.

His lips press to your forehead. "Dragons live within legends now. And in our world, I'm not going anywhere."  

_____

XAVIER 【Sindersfell Timeline】

The flashes of Linkon haunt you- Xavier’s laughter under the stars, his hands warm around yours as you track Wanderers together. In that world, he lives without the burdens of a kingdom, and loves without fear of loss. Fresh tears stream down your face, refusing to stop even when you try to blink them away.

This Xavier- the Tyrant King- watches you cry with quiet bewilderment.  

"Tell me," he demands, his voice rough.  

You shake your head. "It’s just… the weight of this kingdom."  

He knows it's not the truth. But he doesn’t press. Instead, he pulls you against his chest, his fingers threading through your hair. "Let me carry all of its weight, my love.”

“You're already doing that,” you mumble, tilting your head to look up at him.

“...I'm the only one who should bear the punishment." His thumb swipes your tears, gentle beyond measure. "If I could give you a different world, I would."  

You swallow, the finality of his promise piercing your heart. “As long as I'm with you... it doesn't matter. I'll stay, no matter what becomes of us.”

When his lips meet yours, it is with tender desperation- in this world, and many others, he will continue to love you with everything he has. 

---

 RAFAYEL 【current timeline; reference to his myth】

The dream lingers- Rafayel’s anger, your voiceless pleas as he vanishes into the depths, leaving you in the boundless ocean.

You wake to his steady breathing beside you, but the tears won’t stop.  

"…Cutie?" His voice is sleep-rough. "Are you crying?"  

You bury your face in his chest. "Just a dream."  

He hums, pulling you closer into a warm, solid embrace. "Wanna talk about it?”

“You were angry. And my voice didn't work underwater- and you just. Swam away,” you mumble.

He's silent, but his arms tighten around you. When he speaks, it is with conviction and certainty. “First, I'd never leave mid-argument. Second, I'd rather cuddle a cat than leave you- a hundred cats, actually.”

You huff a watery laugh, and he kisses the crown of your head in return. His fingers card through your sleep-mussed hair, soothing you. For someone who always tries to start silly arguments, Rafayel wouldn't easily admit this- but hates seeing you cry. And if he ever made you feel abandoned- even in a dream, he’d drown the world in apology.  

He kisses your damp lashes. "Next time, pinch me. I’ll chase the nightmares away. Or I'll go yell at the stupid Rafayel in your dreams."  

_____

CALEB  【current timeline; references to story events】

The argument still burns between you- his cold words, your sharp retorts. It is the worst time for this to happen, right before he has a week-long mission to patrol the Deepspace Tunnel. You find him at his desk, shoulders tense under the dim light. 

You take a deep breath and approach him. "Caleb… I’m sorry."

He exhales, turning to face you. "I know."  

You feel the fight drain out of you when you see the glimmer of hurt, remnant in his eyes. You know he's always had to grapple with the Fleet and far more issues than he can tell you. Learning to trust him fully hasn't been easy, but you try regardless, for he carries so much of you in his heart.

The lump in your throat feels even tighter now, and you hug your arms to yourself. “I don't want you to bring all of this to the mission.”

The distance collapses when he pulls you into his chest, then lifts you to head towards the bedroom. "Don't apologize, pips. You have every right to be mad," he murmurs. "We’ll figure it out, yeah?"  

His lips brush your temple. "Let's end the night this way- just stay with me."  

Note: THANK YOU FOR READING 💗 I hope I did Forseer zayne justice bc i dont have his myth so i had to read up on the whole lore to ensure i knew the dynamics. Smol oversharing but hurt/comfort is tricky bc when the LIs are sad, I get sad too 😞 they really all deserve a happy ending aaaaah ANYHOW! Comments + reblogs truly forever appreciated, love yall!! <33

✨️

[castielscaplan]

I've Got You, Babe

Summary: You've had the worst day possible. It wasn't until you got home to Bucky that everything made you feel so much better.

Warnings: fluff, reader's having a terrible day,Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

WC: 885

Read on ao3!

Pairing: female!reader x Bucky

A/N: this was written specifically for my bean @phoenix-rising-starbird-one. I'm gonna be posting one more for you today, honey <3

You didn’t even want to breathe.

Not after the way your boss had yelled at you in front of everyone like you were a lazy intern who’d just wandered in off the street. Not after the last-minute client cancellations that tanked your whole morning. Not after you realized, halfway to work, that you were running on fumes and forgot to fill your tank again. And definitely not after you stepped right into a massive puddle of street mud with the one pair of shoes you’d actually liked this week.

Your key sticks in the door a second longer than usual—just long enough to make you feel like it’s laughing at you, too—and when it finally swings open, the warmth of your apartment hits you like a wave. Not warm as in temperature.

Warm as in Bucky.

He’s there in an instant, socked feet padding quietly across the hardwood. His eyes are already searching your face, his mouth tugging down into that gentle frown he only wears when he’s worried. He doesn’t ask what happened. He doesn’t need to.

His arms open.

And you fall right into them.

Bucky wraps you up so fast, so tightly, that it knocks the breath out of you in the best way. One hand cups the back of your head, his thumb stroking through your hair, the other arm curled around your waist like he’s shielding you from the rest of the damn world. You cling to him like gravity’s finally let go.

“Bad day?” he murmurs, brushing a kiss to your temple.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your throat is too thick with unshed tears, and if you open your mouth, you’re pretty sure all that’ll come out is a broken sob.

He pulls you tighter, like he heard that anyway.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk yet,” he whispers, resting his chin on top of your head. “You just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You don’t know how long you stand there, swaying with him in the soft quiet of home. It’s the only time today you’ve felt like you weren’t failing at something.

Eventually, your voice scrapes out. “I forgot gas this morning. Again. Had to stop in heels and wait twenty minutes at a station that only took cash. Boss humiliated me in front of the whole team, said I was a disappointment. Three clients bailed. And then—" Your throat clicks. "Then I stepped in mud.”

You feel more than hear Bucky’s low, incredulous huff.

“Mud?” he repeats, like that was the final straw.

You nod against his chest, sniffling. “Like ankle-deep puddle of it. Ruined my shoes. Ruined my socks.”

He shifts a little, tugging your coat off with slow, careful hands, then unshoulders your bag and drops it on the couch. His vibranium hand finds yours—cold and stiff—and rubs gentle circles into your palm.

“I took care of your car,” he says after a moment. “Filled up the tank around noon. Thought maybe you’d forget again after that late night.”

You blink. “You—?”

“Yeah,” he says simply, nudging your nose with his. “And I already saw the shoes by the door. Put ‘em in the wash. I don’t think they’re ruined. You’d be surprised how much gunk that fancy washer can get out.”

You stare at him.

“Why?”

“Because I knew,” he says, still rubbing your hand. “You had that tight look on your face this morning. Like you were already bracing for the world to hit you.”

“Jesus,” you mutter. “Am I that obvious?”

“To me?” he says, brushing a soft kiss to your cheek. “Always.”

He walks you to the couch and eases you down into the cushions, then sits beside you, letting you lean into him until you’re practically draped over his lap. There’s a blanket already there—warm, worn, soft—and he tucks it around your legs without saying anything.

You bury your face in his shoulder, just breathing him in. Clean cotton, cedar soap, a little sweat. Bucky.

“I don’t want to go back tomorrow,” you mumble, half-hearted.

He kisses the side of your head. “Then don’t.”

“I have to—”

“No, you don’t.” He leans back, just enough to look into your eyes. “You have to breathe. You have to let yourself rest. Everything else can wait a damn minute.”

You exhale shakily, and he presses his forehead to yours.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he whispers. “Not with me. I’ll be strong for both of us tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, voice thick.

“I made your favorite,” he adds, a small grin tugging at his mouth. “Hope that’s not too predictable of me.”

You look toward the kitchen. Something smells good—savory, buttery, warm.

He winks. “That movie you like is queued up, too. The one with the talking dog and the alien grandpa?”

“You hate that movie.”

“Yeah,” he says, deadpan. “And I’d hate seeing you cry alone on a bad day even more.”

You press your face to his neck, and this time the tears come. Not the bitter, choking kind. The safe kind. The held kind. Bucky doesn’t say a word. He just rubs your back and waits until you’re done.

You’ve had a terrible day.

But you have Bucky.

And somehow, that makes everything else survivable.

//DONT FORGET TO HIT THE REBLOG BUTTON!!\\

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

that looks like dad bucky getting mad at the babysitter (us)

First Response

Referring to this

No major warnings. Not intending but open to more!

Please leave some feedback if you like and hit reblog! Take care and do something nice for yourself! ❤️

"Becca, you okay back there?" You ask through as yawn, streetlights passing over in yellow slats.

She coughs. You take that as an answer. The coarse rattle is enough to make your heart rent. You've been hearing it all night. It had you so on edge, that you finally broke.

Only six hours since you left the house. The wait at emerge was too much. You're exhausted. She must be too.

"You remember what the doctor said right? Drink lots of water." You gird as you slow.

You idle outside the Barnes' house. You hesitate to pull in as you see her father's car. He won't be happy. He rarely is.

You roll up behind him and shut off the engine. You undo your seat belt and make yourself open your eyes as wide as you can. You check the time on your phone. 3am. Shoot.

You get out and open the back door. Before you can get Becca out of her car seat, the front door swings open. Mr. Barnes storms out, yelling.

"Becca!" He booming timbre is thunder in the early hours. "Becca." He appears on the other side of the car door. "Where the hell did you take her?"

He grips the metal and you sweat you hear it bend. You stand with Becca hugging you. She coughs again and whimpers.

"We went to see a doctor. She has a fever." You explain. "They got her antibiotics and some rehydration."

"A doctor? Why didn't you call me? I'm her father." He snarls.

You're happy you can't see his face. You can just feel the anger roiling from him. He reaches for Becca and you gently hand her over.

"I did. Several times, sir. I know you're busy--"

He grumbles and pets his daughter's head as she rests against his shoulder. She sniffles.

"Daddy, she helped," she croaks in her small voice. "Please."

He sighs. "My phone died."

You nod. You know it must be terrifying coming home to an empty house when you don't expect it.

"I left a note on the door." You mumble and look away. "Here, let me get the meds and I'll just leave you alone."

You cautiously shut the back door and open the front one. You reach into the center console and pull out the pill bottle. You turn back to Mr. Barnes and Becca.

"This is enough until tomorrow night. There's the script too. You can get it filled at the pharmacy." You hold it out. "They recommended Pedialyte. They gave me a few bottles. I'll bring those in." You offer.

He stares at you. "Fine."

He turns and marches up the walk. You exhale and retrieve the bottles of grape electrolytes from the passenger seat. You drag your soles up the pavement.

You step just inside the front door. You put the bottles on the table against the wall with the round mirror hung from it. You quickly retreat. You peel the note off the door as you shut it.

You go back to the car and unstrap the booster seat. You can't forget that. You carry it up to the house and set it on the wooden bench. The door opens.

"I didn't know she was that bad." Barnes' voice makes you recoil.

"She got worse through the day. Usually how it goes, right?"

"Hm, suppose," he stands on the threshold. "She's laying down. She told me to tell you thank you."

"Oh, it was nothing." You assure him. You swallow a yawn. "I should go."

He's silent. You spin and cross the porch. He clears his throat.

"It's not nothing. She is sick. Very sick." He rasps. "So the next time it happened if it does, you call the number on the fridge. Like I told you."

"I..." You forgot about that. "Sorry, Mr. Barnes."

"If there is a next time, it's the last," he warns.

You turn your head and nod over your shoulder. "Then I hope there isn't."

You go down the steps and shuffle up to your car. You sit in the front seat and rub your eyes. You are so tired.

It isn't just the late hours, it's all that waiting, all that anxiety. You were scared. You didn't even think about losing this job. About how bad you need it. You just wanted Becca to be okay.

You twist the ignition and the headlights flash on. They illuminate Mr. Barnes as he stands on the porch, arms crossed. The lights catch the metallic sheen of his left arm. Even from there, he looks pissed.

You back out and roll the wheel straight. Maybe it's time to start looking for another gig. Maybe not babysitting. Maybe something legit.

At home, sleep doesn't come easy. You're drained and yet you can't seem to settle. Each time you drift off, you hear Becca coughing or feel Mr. Barnes glaring.

You wake to the buzzing of your phone. It's not even seven. It's been barely two hours since you got home.

You answer, eyes so bleary you can't read the ID.

"She's asking for you," Mr. Barnes says evenly.

"Wha--uh? Pardon?" You garble.

"Becca." He says and you hear her on background, moaning your name. He's quiet. All you hear is his long exhale. "Come back. She's sick."

"Mr. Barnes--" you begin but he hangs up before you can finish.

You pull your phone away and look at it. It isn't about him, it's Becca. You just want her to feel better. He must want the same if he called you.

[salemrph]

I had this crazy dream that I was being chased down by Sylus in his base. I was hauling ass and made it to an elevator somehow. Just as the doors finished closing I saw his shadow coming around the corner. I'm trying to calm my heart rate down while the elevator descends. It made it past like 10 floors until it stopped between floors all of a sudden. The red emergency light came on and I felt this creeping dread like I just walked myself into a trap. I managed to pry open a panel in the ceiling and started climbing out. I made it halfway through the opening when I heard him teleport in the elevator with what sounded like a very exasperated chuckle. All of a sudden a very large warm hand grabs my thigh and I'm being yanked back into the elevator. I landed in his embrace kneeling on the floor. His evol has me secured and feels erratic yet silky against my skin. It's like he's struggling to rein in the fiend inside of him. The energy in this cramped elevator is eerily similar to Catch 22, but I know that this isn't that timeline. I get shocked out of my spiraling thoughts when I get hit with the sensations of my neck being claimed by his mouth and the absolute monster being ground into my backside. And knowing how much strength and stamina this dragon has, I might as well make this elevator my new home because this is definitely not going to end after a couple rounds. I looked down and silently apologized to my punani. Just as he tried to speak through his growling, I woke up.

I've never been more blue balled and pissed off in my life.

Please put me out of my misery 😭

If anybody can pull off this level of feral, downright animalistic smut while still staying true to his character, it's you fam. I don't care how you spin it, or how long it takes. 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

Descent

A/N Sorry for the waiting, has been a bit rough to take the time for this but here were are. Thanks for your patience

Summary: You teased Sylus one too many times, thinking it would be harmless fun. Turns out, even dragons have a breaking point.

Sylus x f!reader // Word: 3.3 k Reading // Time: 13min // AO3

TAGS. NSFW CONTENT. MDNI! explicit content, semi public sex, mirror sex, over-stimulation, power dynamics, cum play, filthy smut, light bondage, evol restraint, oral sex, praise kink, degradation (mild), rough sex, possessive behaviour, smut without plot

Note: BDSM is based on mutual consent and trust. Every Dom/Sub dynamic is personal and unique. This story portrays Sylus in a rougher way than usual—please don’t take it as a full representation of the kink or his character.

Descent

You've been pushing him, teasing him, and now you're going to get exactly what you've been asking for. Sylus was never the yelling type. Never the one to corner or growl or raise his voice when it comes to you. He has a loot of patience, but even that has limits. And you've been testing them day after day, denying him sleep, peace, and your touch.

It started innocently enough. You'd flirt, then dodge his advances. You crashed his prized bike and were sloppy on a mission you should have skipped. And who could forget the cheeky “not now, Sy-Sy,” when he reached for you under the covers.

But today, you went too far. You pulled away just as he was about to have you. He had his hand on the buttons of your pants, ready to open them, and you smiled, teasing him with that soft voice of yours. He was so desperate for you, his cock rock hard and pulsing with a longing that has been building for too long. He's done waiting.

“Maybe later, honey.”

You didn’t expect him to go quiet. Or for that glint in his eyes to sharpen. And now you’re running. Sprinting through the corridors of his base with only the thrum of your heart and the echo of his footsteps behind you.  You can hear him just behind you, close enough to send a shiver down your spine, but far enough away to make you question if he’s letting you get ahead. The answer is probably yes, and that’s a hundred times worse. 

You dive into the elevator, mashing the panel with shaking fingers. Just as the doors begin to close, a shadow falls over the opening. You lean against the wall, your chest heaving, listening to the soft hum of the elevator. Why does it feel like you’re being hunted by something worse than a wanderer?

Floor 27… 26… 25…

A mechanical groan echoes through the elevator shaft, and the car shudders to a halt. The red emergency light flickers on, bathing you in a bloody glow. You slam your fist against the doors, but they won't open.

You tear at the panel above, scrambling, pulling yourself up and out of the elevator's metal box. You’ve barely made it halfway through when the air shifts, humming with static as his evol energy crackles to life. 

A deep, growling exhale. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You yelp as the red mist wraps around your legs, dragging you back down. You land softly on your feets. His chest is at your back, a wall of heat, his evol slithering over you, curling around your limbs. You don’t dare look at him.

“Kitten, you’ve had your fun,” he breathes into your ear. “But you don’t get to run from me. Not after the week I’ve had.” There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes.

His other hand fisted in your shirt, yanking it just enough to expose your shoulder. Then his mouth was on you, biting and licking, claiming you like he was starving and you were the only thing that could ever feed him. You felt the sharp press of his teeth, the wet slide of his tongue against your skin.

“You crashed my bike. Gave me a heart attack on that mission,” he snarls, his voice a low, furious rumble. “Dodged my calls. Skipped cuddles with me, kitten.” Each offense was punctuated with a heated press of his body against yours, a subtle grind that left no doubt of his rising arousal. "And now you tease and make me chase you down?"”

You felt him, growing and grinding against you, his restraint a thin, snapping thread. The hunger in his eyes was fierce, a storm of need and anger.

"I was planning a romantic night with you," he growled, the words laced with raw intent. "Now... I'm not going to be easy on you."

You gulped, trying to bite back the smirk threatening your lips, a spark of your old cockiness refusing to be extinguished. "I thought you liked a little chase..."

“Oh, I do,” he murmurs, dark and hungry, lips dragging down your neck. “But you forgot, my love. The chase always ends the same way.”

But something in you, some terrible, reckless part, isn’t done playing yet. You shift in his hold, your hips rolling back in a deliberate, knowing press against the thick, unyielding heat pulsing against your ass. A soft sound escapes your throat, a mix of a gasp and a challenge. His evol energy surges, wrapping tighter around your body.

The laugh he lets out isn't amused. You open your mouth, maybe to apologize, maybe to say something smug, but all that comes out is a soft moan as his hand drags down your body with agonizing slowness, tracing the curve of your hip, the line of your thigh.

“What is our safe word?” he breathes, his voice a dark rasp against your skin.

“Crow,” you manage to say, biting your lips.

“And?”

"I’ll give you three pats if it’s too much." He hums pleased.

“Good girl.” His eyes drag down your body. “Say goodbye to the next few hours,” he rasps, his voice fraying with unbridled hunger, with the need to devour you in every conceivable way. “Because until I’ve memorized every sound you’ve been holding back. Until your legs don’t work. Until you forget why you ever thought it was cute to run from me.”

His kiss was ravenous, a consuming force that stole your breath, your protests, and every last thought of escape. His mouth devoured yours, a frantic dance of tongues, wet and insistent, tasting of pure hunger. He broke away, leaving a trail of fire down your jaw, over your chin, and to the frantic pulse hammering at the base of your throat.

A rough sound ripped from his throat, as he tore at the buttons of your shirt. The fabric pulled, then ripped, baring your chest to the dim, red emergency light. His eyes, burning ruby coals, fixed on your breasts, already peaking in the cool air.

“Sy—” His hand, hot and calloused, cupped one breast, his thumb circling your nipple, flicking it mercilessly. A moan tore from your throat.

“You teased a fiend, well, weren’t you bold?” 

His head dipped, and his mouth was on you, taking your nipple in a hot, wet suck that sent a shockwave straight to your core. He lathed it with his tongue, then drew it deeper, pulling, tugging, while his other hand found its way to the snap of your pants. With a single, deliberate flick of his evol they evaporate in nothing more than red particles. You gasped, hips instinctively thrusting against him, feeling the thick, unyielding press of his cock against your inner thigh. His mouth left your breast with a lewd pop, and before you could speak, his hand slid down, gripping your thigh and spreading you wider. 

His hand slipped lower, tracing the hot, aching curve of your inner thigh. His fingers brushed against the damp fabric of your panties, then hooked, pulling them aside to expose the slick, swollen entrance to your pussy. His gaze never leaving yours, a smirk playing on his lips as his finger dipped into your wetness, circling your clit, drawing out a frantic whimper.

“Tell me,” he murmured, breath grazing your ear, “what exactly were you hoping for when you pulled away from me this morning? When you kissed me, made me think I was finally gonna get you?”

“I-I wanted…” He plays with your entrance but never pushes in.

“No, sweetheart,” he interrupted. His fingers left you, and you nearly sobbed from the loss. “Go down first,” he ordered, and it wasn’t a suggestion. You dropped to your knees before him, he exposed his cock in front of you, thick and engorged, glistening in the dim light. 

You opened your mouth and he brought two fingers to your lips, wet from your own slick, and pushed them in without hesitation. You whimpered, taking him in, your mouth wrapping around his fingers. He watched every movement, the way your lips stretched, the way your jaw trembled. His fingers moved inside your mouth, pressing, stroking until your vision swam. You let out a muffled cry. 

Spit slid down your chin, glistening in the red light, the movement was just as erotic as having his cock in your mouth. You wanted to touch yourself, to ease the unbearable ache, but Sylus's evol had your hands bound, behind your back, leaving you utterly at his mercy.

“Beg, kitten,” he murmured, his breath brushing your cheek. “Beg me to fuck you.” The words tangled on your tongue, lost in the overwhelming need. 

You felt exposed, your uniform shirt torn, your panties still provocatively askew. What did you expect? Maybe you'd gone a little too far, or maybe you should have just told him what you wanted. You could’ve asked him. Whispered it against his neck in bed one night, soft and honest: “I want you to dominate me, Sylus.”

But somehow, being a brat, teasing him to this point, had seemed far more entertaining than simply asking for it because you liked it when he lost control. You loved seeing that burn in his eyes, that hunger barely kept in check. You liked the way his restraint cracked, the desperation slipping in when he realized you were pulling the strings. It made you feel powerful but now you were prey. His prey. This little stand will be paid in punishment. 

“Syh— Pluhs—” you try to speak, your voice caught between a sob and a whimper.

“Please what?” he murmurs, his voice a honeyed threat, drawing out the words. “Can’t hear you, kitten.” 

You shudder, legs already shaking, your core clenching around nothing. The complete lack of touch, the agonizing proximity, pushes you closer to the edge. He removes his finger from your mouth. “Stay open.” You barely had time to blink before his cock was in front of you, thick, flushed, leaking. He pressed the head to your lips, letting it smear your spit across your mouth as your breath stuttered against him. “If you still have energy to talk, then suck.”

Your lips parted into a trembling ‘O’, your tongue slipping out instinctively to taste him. You tried to stay still, to keep control but you were already too far gone. His cock pressed against your tongue, leaking just enough to coat your taste buds in that addictive, musky salt. You moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut as the flavor hit you.  Sylus let out a low, dark chuckle, full of heat and triumph.

“If you’re going to act like a spoiled brat, you better learn how to beg. Now look at me while you earn your forgiveness.” He gripped a fistful of your hair, forcing your teary eyes up to meet his.

Then he pushed deeper into your mouth letting you feel the stretch. Your lips parted wider, gagging softly around him as your throat tightened. His dominance wasn’t just in the strength of his body, it was in the patience he wielded like a knife, slicing you open with every command.

His hips rolled forward just enough to nudge deeper past your lips, making you moan around him. Your thighs clenched together, trying to soothe the ache between them, but the evol around your wrists pulsed, reminding you who was in control.

“Take me deeper, kitten,” he growled.

And you tried—eyes glassy, breath catching, your whole body trembling. You’d poked the dragon and now he was going to ruin you. And gods… You’d never wanted anything more. You gagged slightly as he pushed deeper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Sylus didn’t let up. His hand moved to cradle the back of your head, gentle in contrast to the rough way he fucked your mouth. Your throat ached. Your lungs begged. Your body begged harder.

When he finally pulled out, you were gasping, spit smeared across your mouth, your chest heaving, and your thighs shaking from the strain of staying upright on your knees.

His evol coiled tighter around your wrists and ankles, lifting you effortlessly. You gasped as your toes left the floor, suspended and restrained. Sylus leaned back against the wall, eyes dragging slowly over your body as he guided you toward him midair.

“We’re trying something new today,” he murmured.

Your back arched instinctively as he pulled you down just enough to spread your legs, lifting one of your thighs onto his shoulder. The position had you wide open. Your dripping pussy hovered inches from his face, heat pulsing between your legs, body begging for friction.

“You okay up there?” he asked softly, almost mockingly. You nodded quickly, your breath caught somewhere between anticipation and need. The evol pulsed once, almost affectionate. “Good,” Sylus murmured. “Don’t tap out yet.”

Then his mouth crashed into your pussy. He licked you like you were the last drop of delicious ice cream left, tongue dragging up your slit, groaning against you like you were the only thing that ever satisfied him. The first swipe of his tongue made your head fall back with a cry, your body trembling violently as he moaned against you.

“Fuck,” he growled into you, voice muffled by your folds. “I missed you.” He sucked your clit into his mouth and your vision whited out. You didn’t know what you were moaning anymore, his name, yes, but also curses, desperate nonsense, please.

Your eyes rolled back. “Sylus, oh my god, Sy—”

He didn’t stop. If anything, the sound of his name only made him hungrier. His grip on your thighs tightened, pushing your hips up, his tongue lashing and curling, a relentless assault until every thought was wiped clean, until the only thing you could feel was his mouth. Your pussy pulsed around his tongue, gushing with a fluid heat that soaked his jaw, trailing down his chin. You could feel yourself coming apart, every inch of you melting for him. You tried to close your legs, overstimulated but the evol wouldn’t let you. It held you open, and when you started to cum, he moaned against you.

“Don’t even think about running from me again,” he said, voice wrecked with arousal, licking his lips as he looked up at you, your juices still glistening on his mouth. 

Then his hand gripped your ass, dragging you lower. You felt the head of his cock press against your entrance and he paused. 

“Can you continue?” you are breathing heavily, getting still down from your organs. You nod. That was all the permission he needed.

He slammed into you one brutal, perfect thrust that knocked the air from your lungs. Your scream echoed in the elevator, broken and breathless, unadulterated pleasure. He kept going, dragging you straight into the edge of overstimulation, a delicious agony that threatened to shatter you.

“S-Sy…” you gasped, barely more than a broken moan.

He grunted against your skin, as he thrust up into you, again and again, merciless and deep, grinding into the spot that made your vision blur. You were stretched wide, body still reeling from the orgasm he’d just ripped out of you with his mouth, and now he was fucking you through the aftershocks. Your whole body jerked with every slam of his hips. Your walls clenched hard around him, your body pulsing like fire, pleasure edging into pain and back again until you were spiraling.

“Don’t come yet, sweetie,” he warned. “Hold it.”

Before you could protest, his evol tightened around your waist and flipped you midair. He pulled out, leaving you empty, gasping only to reposition you effortlessly, floating and weightless, your body turned to face the mirror on the elevator wall. Your reflection was wrecked: eyes half-lidded, lips swollen, hair a tangled mess of sweat and lust. The emergency light painted your skin in deep red, highlighting every trembling line of your body, every twitch of your overstimulated thighs. Your eyes locked on him.

Sylus had removed his black shirt at some point, and now his bare chest pressed flush against your back, glistening with sweat, muscles taut and heaving with every breath. Stray strands of silver hair clung to his damp neck, and the look on his face hungry and wild, sent a new wave of arousal coursing through you.

You barely had time to breathe before his hand grabbed your hips again. He positioned himself behind you, dragging you close to him. His chest against your back. “Eyes on the mirror,” he growled. Your legs were held wide by his evol, no chance to close them, no chance to hide from the view. He slid in again, letting you watch every goddamn inch disappear inside you. He bottled up with a brutal thrust that knocked your moan loose into the still, red-lit air. 

Bouncing you on his cock, your body jerking with every thrust as your sanity unraveled. His hand slid up to your chest, grabbing both breasts, fingers pinching and twisting your nipples hard enough to make you cry out again. Then his mouth was on your neck, biting, claiming, sending more sparks to your already-flooded core.

“Sylus… please… I’m gonna…”

“You can do better,” he snarled in your ear. “What happened to all that bratty confidence?”

“Sy—!”

“Come on, kitten. Try harder,” he said, “Did you forget how you teased me?” Your moans were incoherent now. Wet sounds filled the air, his cock slamming into you, the slap of skin against skin, your own desperate cries. You were so close.

“I… ah-ah, sorry, I didn’t… I should—” You were trying, but the words fell apart in your throat, torn to pieces by the intensity. Sylus growled, he pulled you off his cock. “No… nooo!” 

He turned your face toward the mirror, one hand gripping your jaw, the other dragging his cock slowly along your slit but not entering.

“Try. Again.” His tip slid over your clit.

“I…” you panted. “I teased you. I-I fuck… I wanted to see you snap. I wanted this… Please, Sylus, I’m sorry…”

His cock shoved into you mid-sentence, cutting off your words with a scream.

“That’s more like it,” he growled.

His arm wrapped around your belly, keeping you bouncing on him, your moans going breathless as your orgasm slammed through you. 

“Good girl,” he rasped into your ear, breath hot and heavy. “So fucking tight when you come… fuck.”

You whimpered as he kept moving, his cock grinding deep, dragging across your most sensitive spot, and the aftershocks of your orgasm turned into a third wave building too fast.

“Sylus… ahhh, wait!”

“No,” he growled. “You can take it. You’re gonna keep taking it until I fill you up.”

His thrusts were relentless now. Your pussy was a mess and he was still pounding into it like he’d die if he stopped. He thrust so deep you choked on your own moan, your head falling back against his shoulder.

“You want me to fill you up? 

“Yes, yes, do it!” 

A ragged moan tore from his throat as his hips snapped forward, once, twice and then he buried himself to the hilt, cock pulsing deep inside you. His entire body locked around you.

“Fuck! Take it, kitten.” Your whole body trembled, helpless in his hold as he emptied himself into you, filling you up so deep and full you could feel the warmth spreading inside you.

He stayed buried in you, panting against your skin, his chest heaving as he slowly came down, his cum leaking from your stretched cunt, your legs barely holding you upright even with his evol keeping you suspended. Finally, his hand came up, brushing your sweaty hair back from your face. His lips found your cheek warm and soft after all that chaos.

“Still think teasing me was worth it?” he murmured, lips brushing your ear.

And fuck, despite everything… you might still say yes.

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

Hope you enjoyed it. Send in your ideas, if you want.

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[bettyvick]

do you think i’m pretty?

Sam Monroe x Cheerleader!Reader

Summary: You’ve been annoying your desk partner Sam since the classes started, so when you get detention because of you, he tells you everything he thinks.

Warnings: Blowjob (m receiving), dirty talk, curse words, praising, kissing, fighting, sexual explicit content.

A/N: I haven't seen Life as a House so this is me especulating.

Sam Monroe was tired of you. You knew it and you loved it.

You squeezed every drop of his anger out and drank it down, then asked him for more with a smile. For Sam you were like the devil, but with a pink skirt and pompoms. So when he got paired with you to sit together in chemistry class he wanted to kill himself.

What had he done that was bad enough to deserve that punishment?

But you were delighted, teasing him constantly, but without any bad intentions. It was innocent stuff, like hiding his notebooks in other students' desks, stealing his pens, or bending down to pick something up on the floor in front of him while wearing a short skirt you'd specially chosen for him. But it all drove him crazy.

When he would bump into you in the hallways would give you extremely threatening looks, but you would raise your hand and shake your fingers in the air greeting him.

Your friends from the football team wanted to tease him too, but with cruel things like putting a rat in his locker, but you always stopped them. You didn't want to go that far.

Now you were in class, the last class of the day. You were writing down some notes on a notebook with your pink pen with a kitten on top while Sam tried to keep his eyes open and not fall asleep. His gaze was on the floor, so you took the opportunity to pick up the black, spiked leather bracelet that was resting on the table and stuffed it into your backpack. You planned to give it to him later, but a little teasing wasn't a bad idea every now and then.

When the bell rang, everyone started gathering their things and leaving. When Sam was about to do the same, he realized his bracelet was missing.

—Where did you leave it?— he spoke with that angry tone. You smiled innocently.

—I don't know what you're talking about— you answered, fixing your skirt on your feet.

—You know exactly what I'm talking about, where's my bracelet?— he said now more aggressively. For a moment you got a little scared when he grabbed you hard by the wrist when you tried to turn around. —Where the fuck did you leave it?

—Auch! That hurts!— you exclaimed.

—Give it back!

—You two— the teacher spoke from her desk. Sam stopped the tussle but without letting go of your wrist. —you're getting detention, now.

—B-but Mrs. Henderson!— you tried to reply. —I have cheer training! And my friends are waiting for me!

—I don't care, you both are getting detention— she said with a serious tone and a severe expression. You moaned of dislike. Sam rolled his eyes.

—Thank you very much, cheerleader— he split sarcastic.

While you walked through the hallway you noticed that there was no one there. The school was empty. Mrs. Henderson took you to a different classroom and gave you a broom, yellow latex gloves, alcohol spray, and a cloth.

—When you are finished, come to the science lab, I'll be there. If you leave, I'll know and the punishment will be worse.

You were typing to your friends on your phone when she snatched it from your hands.

—Hey!— you complained.

—And no phones— then Mrs. Henderson left the room, closing the door after her.

You remained silent until Sam began grabbing the utensils the teacher had handed you. He tossed you the gloves and spray can while he grabbed the broom.

—Let's get to work, little princess— he said dryly, starting to sweep the floor.

—You’re crazy if you think I'm gonna wear this— you answered, taking the gloves with your fingertips.

—Well, you wouldn't have to wear them if you didn't act like a spoiled brat— Sam spoke looking at your eyes, a shiver ran down your spine.

—I’m not a brat— you reply frowning.

—Yes you are. You're a spoiled brat, mean, and a posh girl who thinks her father's money will get her everything she wants. Guess what? It won't. This is the real world, princess. Your pretty face and smooth legs aren't going to help you here. You should learn that your actions have fucking consequences, and if you act like a rude brat, you'll get detention and have to clean a fucking classroom in your free time instead of being able to go home and watch Sex in the City.

You let him finish his speech and looked at him with puppy eyes. When he stopped, he looked at you with a tense jaw and white knuckles.

—Do you think I'm pretty?

His body went limp and he shook his head in disbelief as blood rushed to his ears.

—Of all I've said, is this the only thing you've retained?— he asked, approaching you a little more.

—I retain the important things.

Sam analyzed your face, you were smiling showing your perfect teeth. He couldn't believe it.

—I think you're pretty too— you admitted interrupting the silence.

—Stop playing with me— he said with a lower tone, turning around and approaching the teacher’s desk.

—I’m not playing with you, it’s what I think, Sam.

It was the first time you called him by his name. He stopped walking and your eyes met.

—Why are you telling me this?

You walked until you were in front of him.

—Because I wanted you to know— you answered softly. All of his rage had disappeared, he didn’t know how but it did. You remained in silence for some seconds, your faces were separated only for a few centimetres. —Sam— you whispered but his lips were now on yours. The little piercing on his lips felt cold against yours.

His hands found your hips and yours found his chest. He pressed you against him, making you moan. That sounded delicious to him. The kiss took on an intense rhythm, with Sam biting your lower lip and his tongue sneaking into your mouth. Suddenly, he pulled away from you and you complained about the lack of warmth from his lips on you.

—I think it's time to punish you for teasing me for a long time— he spoke, running his thumbs over your lips. At this point, you were at his mercy, ready for anything. —On your knees— he ordered.

Your knees magically buckled and you fell to the ground in front of him. He gave a quick look at the door to check no one was there and took off his thick black belt that had a silver skull buckle. Then he unbuttoned his pants pulling them down to his knees along with his underwear. He was hard and your mouth watered.

—Open your mouth, princess.

Sam pushed it into your mouth slowly, trying to get you used to it. Although at first you felt a little nauseous, you started putting it in and out of your mouth.

—Shh, slowly, princess, we don't want you to choke.

He started doing some noises of satisfaction that filled the room. An obscene noise also came out of your mouth, it was similar to a splash. Your eyes were watering.

—That’s it— he whined while talking to you by the hair and penetrating deep on your throat, —now you're being a good girl. I love when you’re well behaved.

His comment made you moan, you could feel how the wetness between your thighs infiltrated on your panties and soaked the ground. You felt your clit swell.

—I bet you're making a mess down there, my little nasty girl. What would your friends say, huh? If they knew how you're sucking the guy they call loser’s dick.

You babbled nonsense, your mouth was full preventing you from speaking. Your knees hurt. Sam kept pushing inside faster, now growling and swearing.

—Just a little bit more, princess, you're doing it fucking good.

The grip on your hair felt deliciously good, sending a stream of pleasure directly to your sore pussy.

A minute later his warm cum was spread out all over your mouth accompanied by a gasp that came from the back of his throat.

Sam continued pushing for a few seconds more, slowly, while he moaned of pleasure. When he separated his cock, a white sticky thread joined his member of your mouth.

—Let me see it— he said, taking your chin between his fingers. You opened your lips showing the salty liquid sliding down your throat. —You've done very well, princess, it's about time you were taught some manners.

Your white stockings that slipped down to your knees were now dark and dirty. You stood up with Sam's help feeling your legs weak, both of your gazes found a wet transparent circle on the ground. Your cheeks turned red with embarrassment.

—Wow, so that's what I provoke you?— Sam smiled cockily as he handed you the cloth —Time to clean your mess, princess.

And then he gave you a gentle spank on the ass.

He never got his bracelet back, because now it was yours.

[dragon-kazansky]

Symphony of dreams

Morpheus x Female Reader

Times are changing, and nothing is as it once was. The Dreaming is being rebuilt, but much is happening. The siblings reunite once more, Hell becomes vacant, and Delirium seeks out their missing brother. Dream faces his past, and his wife questions her place beside him.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Sixteen - Feel too deeply

How is she?”

Dream had just returned from speaking with Lucifer about his decision with Hell. Now, he needed to settle another matter. Nada. And, of course, you.

“She's been given a suite in the East Wing.” Lucienne knew he was asking about Nada. “I've asked the Fashion Thing to attend to her.”

“Is it too soon to ask if we can talk?”

“I shall ask.”

Lucienne walks away first. Then Dream.

You sit in the garden with Nuala. You had given her a tour of the palace and the surrounding areas. She had been given a room to which you told her she could do with as she pleased. She was very grateful.

“My brother said you're Lord Shaper's wife.” She plucks a flower from the garden and holds it delicately in her hand.

“That's right…”

Upon hearing the distant tone in your voice, Nuala turns and looks at you curiously. You're staring at the paved footpath beneath you both, a faraway look in your eyes. She could sense a deep sadness within you.

“Are you alright?”

You lift your gaze to her with a soft inhale through your nose. You're composing yourself in front of your company. The smile on your lips doesn't reach your eyes and she knows the words that will leave your lips will be a lie.

“I am well.”

She doesn't believe you. Nuala comes over to the bench you're occupying and takes a seat, still cradling the precious flower in her hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shift your gaze over to the flowerbed she had been admiring a moment ago. A thousand thoughts seem to pass through your mind between the few seconds of her asking and you answering.

“It's complicated.”

“I'm a good listener.”

You smile at her words. She was a very kind soul. “You don't want to hear about my issue, surely?”

“You just look so… sad.”

“I suppose, in a way, I am.” You sigh softly. “I have been questioning my place here recently. Someone very dear to Dream has entered his life once more, and I know deep in his heart he wants to fix what he did many moons ago�� But I am afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of losing my place in his life…”

Nuala looks at you with pity. She does not know the details, but it is clearly weighing heavily on your shoulders.

“If she stays… then I shall have to go.”

“Go?” She asks, surprised.

“I will not be able to stay and watch him with her. My heart could not take it.”

Nuala placed her hand on yours. It was the only thing she could think to do at that moment. Your heart was yearning for the man you loved… and you feared losing him to his past.

Dream sat at the table, waiting. A lovely spread had been set out, but eating was the last thing he could think about right now.

The silence of the room was disturbed by the sound of footsteps. She was here.

Queen Nada walked to the other side of the table and faced him. Dream stood to greet her.

“Kai'ckul.”

“Nada.”

They stare at each other for a moment and then he invites her to sit. They both sit down.

“Are you… I mean… I suppose you must be hungry,” he says, unsure how to start.

“I was very hungry the first thousand years, but… after that, it ceased to concern me,” she responds. “I have no true body anymore, after all. I'm one of the dead.”

“I warned you-” He starts to say.

“If you ever…” She speaks at the same time.

“You were saying?” He asks, letting her speak.

“No. You first, Kai’ckul. I think you have something to say to me.”

He pauses. Silence hangs in the air. He then stands up slowly. “Ten thousand years ago, I condemned you to Hell. I now think… I think that I may have acted… dishonorably. I think, perhaps, that I should apologise.”

“You think perhaps you should apologise?” She asks him, staring at him in disbelief.

“I-”

“I spent ten thousand years in Hell. I burned by day and frozen by night. Glass shards cut my flesh. I starved and hurt.” Tears began to fall from her eyes. “And wept and waited. All that because of you. And you think perhaps you should apologise?”

He says nothing.

Nada stands. “Look at me.”

He doesn't.

Nada moves closer. “Look at me!” She slaps him.

“You struck me,” Dream says, seething. He turns to look at her. “No one may strike me. I should-”

“What? What will you do to me this time, Dream Lord?” She asks, unafraid of him. “Or will you just send me back to Hell?”

“No,” he says softly. “I… I am sorry. I will live with eternal regret for what I did to you.”

Nada turns away from him, unable to stop her tears from falling further. She takes a moment to keep her emotions in check. “To dwell on the past is a Hell on its own. One I wouldn't wish on anyone.” She looks at him again.

“Then perhaps it is time that we discuss your future,” he says softly, looking at her.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

Nada stands at the palace doors, looking at them. She knows what she wants. “A chance to see the mortal world. To live again.”

“The mortal world is not as you remember it. Humanity itself-”

“Have I not just spent the last ten thousand years with humanity?”

“Let me come with you.”

“Kai'ckul.”

“It is treacherous there,” he tells her.

Nada turns around to face him. “More so than Hell?” She turns back toward the door.

“Perhaps… when you have seen the world… you might come back.”

“No, my lord.”

“But I-”

“No.” Nada turns back around to face him. She looks at him sadly. “You have forgotten someone very important.”

Dream fell silent.

“Lucienne has been very kind to me. She told me… that your wife had tended to me while I recovered.”

Had you? You hadn't said anything.

“You have someone very close to your heart right here with you now and you dare ask me to stay?”

He remains silent.

Nada sighs softly. She looks him in the eye. “I wonder… if your kind are even capable of love. Do you even love her?”

“How can you say that?” Dream's expression hardens.

“How could anyone who truly loved me do what you have done to me? And then claim to love another while asking me to stay? Where does the heart of an Endless lie in the matter of love?”

Dream closes the distance between them. “I have changed.”

“I think you merely want what you can not have. That is not love,” she tells him. “That is desire.”

“Desire?” He asks, disgruntled by the mere word.

“There is no shame in it,” she says.

“No. You cannot tell me what is in my heart.”

Nada stares at him. She wishes she had a moment to speak with you. She would have liked to have heard of him from your view, but she needed to go.

“If you love her, prove it to her. Otherwise… you shall end up alone.”

Those words affected him more than he would have liked to admit.

“Fare you well, Kai'ckul.”

Nada leaves.

Dream stands alone as the door closes. Thunder begins to rumble.

It was Lucienne who had come to tell you Nada left. She explained everything to you. Nada had left for the mortal world, and it had been her choice. You would have liked to have seen her just once before she left, but it was too late now.

Then there was the storm.

“Where is he?”

“On the balcony, I believe.”

“Can you make the rain stop? It's getting a little hectic out there!” Matthew caws, shaking out his feathers.

“He's hurting,” you remind him.

“Yeah… but we're gonna have problems if he doesn't stop. There's only so much Merv can do.”

You sigh softly and leave them, making your way up the tower. The Dreaming was affected by your husband's mood most of the time, and when he was hurt or upset, everyone would know. It wasn't just light rain. It was a whole downpour.

You stand in the doorway. His back is to you. He's soaked through, hunched over the wall.

Nada was gone and he was hurting.

“Dream?”

He lifts his head up, back straightening. However, he doesn't turn around. Not yet. He doesn't say anything either. He's frozen, like a statue.

“Dream…”

“You're still here…?” He asks softly. He sounded surprised. Did he think you had left too? Even if you were going to leave, it wouldn't be without a goodbye

“Of course I am.”

Dream turns slowly. The sight of him makes your heart ache. He's dripping wet, wearing nothing but a robe, and he looks to be in pain.

You can't cope. You step out onto the balcony and approach him. He looks at you with those sad blue eyes and you can see the emotion building up inside. You open your arm for him. Dream instantly collapses into your embrace and buries his face in your shoulder. You hold on tight to him, pulling him as physically close to your body as you can. His long arms wrap around you in a tight hug, fingers clawing at your clothes for some grip. You are the anchor in his storm.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers. “I'm sorry.”

“Hush now. Why are you apologising?” You ask him, cradling his head with one hand. You sink your fingers into his wet hair.

“I am… a terrible lover.”

Your heart breaks. “No. No, you're not.”

“Do you think I'm capable of love?” He asks, almost pleading.

“Is this something Nada said?”

He goes silent for a while and then nods his head. You hold him that little bit tighter.

“I… I think… I believe the Endless do love. Just differently.”

He doesn't say anything, but you know he's listening.

“You love far more deeply than mortals do. Yes, you are capable of love. I know for I have been loved by you. Yes, in the past you have made less than ideal choices. Not everything you have done, I agree with. However, I have seen your heart.”

He seems to settle in your arms.

“I can't speak for the others you have loved in the past, but I can speak for myself. You let me show you what love could be. You opened your arms, your home, your heart to me. When I fell into eternal sleep, you went all over to get your tools back so you could wake me.”

You move him so you can take his face in your hands. He looks at you through his wet eyelashes. You smile.

“I know you can love because you loved me.”

He lets out a shake breath and moves closer until his forehead rests against yours. Silence settles between you for a good few moments. You let him take his time.

“I still love you,” he whispers. “Even though I am not worthy to still hold your heart.”

“Dream…”

“No. Let me say it.” He reaches up and places one of his hands on your face. “I am unworthy of you. No husband should ever ignore his wife and her feelings. I was so focused on correcting my mistakes, I lost sight of what I had in front of me, too hung up on what I had once.”

You sigh softly. “Dream… You have fixed it.”

He doesn't look convinced.

“Nada is longer trapped in Hell. You freed her. It may not have been the outcome you were hoping for, but you are already fixing your mistakes. You are not the same as you once were.”

He sniffles softly as rain drips from his nose. You chuckle softly and hold him again. “You're soaked.”

“So are you…”

“Who's fault is that?” You tease.

He smiles softly. “I do love you.”

“I know you do.” You tell him.

“You won't leave?”

“Not unless you want me to.”

He shakes his head. Dream stands up straight and holds your hand in his, squeezing tightly. He needs to correct another mistake. You watch him silently as he pulls something out of his pocket.

“Please….” He whispers softly and holds up your ring. You stare at the ruby. He had been keeping hold of it all this time.

“Dream…”

“Please,” he says again. “Let me make this right.”

You sigh softly and place your left hand in his. He takes it gently and places the ring back on your finger. Right where it belongs.

“There.” He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it softly.

“Dream?”

“Yes?” He lifts his head to look at you again.

“Will you stop the rain now?”

He smiles and chuckles softly. At that moment, the heavy downpour stops. You smile at him.

“Come, let's get you dressed.”

Just as you're about to head inside with him, Matthew lands on the balcony wall. “Uh, boss?”

“What is it, Matthew?”

“We have an intruder.”

You look at Dream, who looks at Matthew with confusion. Who could it possibly be?

@missdreamofendless @kpopgirlbtssvt @thoughtsfromlayla @errantsomnium @terrancelovesyouu @rousrm @bes2005 @qardasngan @adrestlyd @jeshomie @deadwizzardlover @missbeesentertainment @cardiganswillow @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @lunesmai @insanedreamer296 @twowrongsarearight @sam--sara @lilchickensworld @edynmeyer1 @pityfulldeer @littlemisstrashcan @villain-in-the-dark @m-paschuu

[sieunslover]

🐇 "𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙢𝙚." ⊹ ࣪ ˖

warnings: physical abuse/abusive relationship, alcohol, swearing, mdni.

If any of this becomes too much for you at any time, please do not hesitate to take a break and stop reading. stay safe mls <33

a/n: hey guys! this is my first time writing, so I hope you enjoy! also, feedback is very highly appreciated. If this is a bit ooc, i'm really sorry. as i said, i'm still a beginner.

Everyone knew who Yeon Si-eun was.

Silent, smart, unshakable. A ghost in the hallways until someone pushed too far—and then, he became something else entirely. You weren’t scared of him, though. You didn’t have time to be. Your life was a carefully constructed PR campaign, and you were the golden girl in the center of it.

Daughter of a chaebol. Brand ambassador by sixteen. Dating Jae-hyun, the school’s golden boy with a temper no one talked about.

Except Si-eun. He didn’t need to say it—he saw right through it.

The first time he spoke to you, it wasn’t out of kindness. It was after a fight Jae-hyun picked with him. After the bruises. After the silence.

“You should leave him,” he said without looking at you.

You laughed bitterly. “You think I don’t know that?”

He didn’t answer. Just turned back to his desk like he hadn’t said anything at all.

Later that evening, the karaoke room was chaos.

Beom-seok sang terribly into the mic, Su-ho shouted over him, and Si-eun sat in the corner nursing a soda, half-listening. He didn’t even want to come—but Su-ho insisted. “You need to do something that isn’t breaking bones or acing exams.”

Across the hall, in a separate room, laughter rang out louder. Jae-hyun’s voice led the pack—drunk on attention, on power, on cheap soju. You sat beside him, frozen behind a smile, silently counting the minutes until you could leave.

Eventually, you slipped out under the excuse of needing air. The hallway outside was dim and smelled faintly of alcohol and smoke.

That’s where you ran into him.

Yeon Si-eun, exiting the bathroom with his usual unreadable expression, stopped short when he saw you. You were leaning against the wall, heels off, eyes closed.

When you noticed him, you straightened up, mask returning. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

“I could say the same,” he said, voice even.

He noticed your wrist—red where Jae-hyun had grabbed you earlier, hard enough to leave a mark. He didn’t comment, but his gaze lingered.

“You okay?” he asked, finally.

You shrugged, the motion small. “Define ‘okay.’”

He didn’t press. Just stood there, watching you like he was trying to solve a puzzle no one else could see. The silence between you stretched—too long, too charged.

Then, softly: “You don’t have to keep pretending.”

You blinked. “You think I have a choice?”

Si-eun tilted his head slightly. “You always have a choice. Even if it’s a hard one.”

For the first time, you didn’t know what to say. Your mind went blank.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling in your chest. “Maybe I’m just too scared to choose.”

Si-eun kind of just.. stood there, staring; then spoke quietly. “Fear makes us prisoners. But sometimes, the bravest thing is to break free.”

Your breath hitched. Part of you wanted to run back inside, back to the chaos. But another part—the part that was tired, bruised, invisible—wanted to listen.

“Maybe… maybe I need help,” you whispered.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

"Help comes in many forms." Si-eun said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Sometimes it's not what you expect."

The door to the other room burst open, Jae-hyun's loud laughter echoing down the hallway. Your body tensed instinctively.

"I should go back," you murmured, taking a step toward the noise.

Si-eun's hand moved slightly, as if he wanted to stop you but held himself back.

"Remember what I said."

"About choosing?" You asked, hesitating.

"About being brave," he corrected softly. "And about knowing when to leave."

Jae-hyun's voice grew closer, calling your name with drunken impatience. Si-eun stepped back into the shadows, blending into the darkness of the hallway.

You turned away from him, slipping back into your role. But something had shifted inside you. A tiny crack in the facade.

Without turning around, you spoke quietly.

"Thank you, Si-eun."

You whispered, almost imperceptible.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then, his voice—low, steady—cut through it. “You don’t owe me anything.”

But you did. Not for the words he’d said, but for the way he’d seen you. Not the glossy smile, not the headlines. You.

You walked back into the room, Jae-hyun throwing an arm around you like nothing was wrong. Like your wrist wasn’t aching. But your mind wasn’t with him anymore.

It was still in the hallway, where a boy with quiet eyes gave you permission to want more.

-

Jae-hyun leaned in, slurring something into your ear. You nodded automatically, but you weren’t really listening. Your fingers grazed the rim of your glass, untouched. The laughter around you felt distant, like it belonged to someone else's life.

You glanced toward the hallway, but he was gone. Of course he was. He didn’t linger. He didn’t chase.

And still, his words lingered louder than any noise in that room.

You shouldn’t have felt safer with a boy who barely spoke.

But you did.

Jae-hyun’s hand slid down your back. Too familiar. Too practiced. The room spun a little from the sudden clarity cutting through the haze.

You stood up.

He blinked up at you. “Where y'goin'?”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Outside, the city buzzed low and electric. And a few steps down the street, leaning against a wall like he knew you’d come.

He looked up.

You didn’t say anything.

Neither did he.

But when he fell into step beside you, it felt like the start of something real.

The silence between you wasn't uncomfortable. It was understanding. Accepting.

He matched your pace perfectly, neither rushing nor lagging behind. The streetlights cast long shadows, illuminating his profile in intervals of warm orange.

You walked until the karaoke place was just a distant memory, and your heels clicked steadily against the pavement.

He didn't ask where you were going. Just stayed by your side.

"I don't know where I'm going," you finally admitted.

"That's okay," he replied simply. "Sometimes we need to find our way."

The night air was cool against your skin, a welcome contrast to the stifling heat of the karaoke room. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, more for comfort than warmth.

A convenience store came into view, its neon sign flickering like a beacon.

Si-eun paused briefly, then continued walking toward it.

You followed without question, the automatic doors sliding open with a soft hiss.

Inside, the fluorescent lights were harsh and bright compared to the darkness outside. The cashier barely glanced up from their phone.

"Do you want something to drink?" Si-eun asked, his voice quieter in the artificial light.

You nodded, suddenly aware of how dry your throat felt.

"Water," you said simply.

He nodded and disappeared down an aisle.

You wandered toward the snack section, fingers trailing over packaged chips and candy. For a moment, you felt like a normal teenager again - not the perfect daughter or the pretty face everyone expected.

Just... y/n, hungry and lost.

Si-eun returned with two bottles of water and a pack of gummy bears. He placed them on the counter without ceremony, then pulled out his wallet.

The cashier finally looked up, recognition flickering across their face as they scanned Si-eun's items. They quickly looked away when they noticed your presence.

"Thanks," you murmured as he handed you your water.

He nodded once, popping open his own bottle. The silence between you felt comfortable now, less loaded with unspoken words.

The two of you stood by the door, neither making a move to leave. The night stretched ahead, uncertain but somehow less threatening with him beside you.

"You don't have to walk me home," you said quietly, though part of you desperately wanted him to.

"I know," he replied simply, taking a sip of his water. "But I will."

The city seemed quieter now, the late hour making even the busy streets feel intimate. Si-eun walked slightly ahead, his posture relaxed but alert.

You noticed he was careful to keep a respectful distance, neither too close nor too far.

He glanced back occasionally, checking if you were still there, his expression unreadable.

The gummy bears sat in your purse, untouched but comforting. A small gesture of kindness that somehow meant everything right now.

"How did you end up here?" you asked suddenly, breaking the silence. "With me, I mean."

He didn't answer immediately, his steps measured and deliberate. When he finally spoke, his voice was thoughtful.

"Sometimes we find ourselves in unexpected places, because that's where we're meant to be."

His words hung in the air between you, carrying more weight than they seemed to.

You walked on, your footsteps syncing with his, the night wrapping around you both like a shared secret.

As you approached the gated community where you lived, Si-eun slowed his pace. The security guard at the entrance nodded respectfully, familiar with your face.

You stopped just outside the gate, the ornate ironwork casting shadows across your path.

Si-eun turned to face you, his expression still calm but with a hint of something else - maybe concern, maybe understanding.

"This is.. where I live," you said unnecessarily, gesturing toward the grand houses behind the gate.

He looked at the guard, then back at you. "Will you be okay?"

The question was simple, but it carried layers of meaning. Will you be okay physically? Emotionally? Both?

You wanted to say yes, to maintain your facade of perfection. But something about his steady gaze made you want to tell the truth.

"I don't know," you admitted quietly. "But I'm less scared now than I was before."

He nodded once, accepting your honesty without judgment.

"Goodnight, y/n."

And with that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the night like a ghost.

You watched him go until he was just a silhouette in the distance, then entered your gilded cage with thoughts of quiet boys and broken rules swirling in your mind.

[ayeforscotland]

Hey Aye,

feel free to ignore this ask if it's too heavy for your blog but:

How do you keep going despite everything? How do you keep hope despite every day having worse news than the last?

I'm really trying to not fall into a doomer-esque mindset but it's hard and it feels like I'm trying to keep a boat afloat that doesn't just have leaks as much as it is a single leak interrupted by an occasional plank

Good question, and one that’s pretty deep but here’s my attempt at an answer. Apologies for writing War and Peace, but it’s hopefully useful for some people.

I’m not good at slowing down, I have a tendency to measure almost everything through the lens of ‘productivity’. It’s not particularly healthy, but it has the advantage of keeping me extremely busy all the time.

If I’m not working one of my several jobs, I’m thinking about streams or YouTube videos, or what I’m teaching at Krav that particular night, or whatever else is occupying my mind at that time.

And while I’m often aware of a lot of events that are happening in the world, one thing I don’t do is spend forever reading everyone’s opinion about said event.

I don’t care what some edgy Redditor has to say about a specific thing. They mean nothing to me, and I think there’s a tendency amongst people my age and younger to get really absorbed in online discussions - in a way that’s not productive or healthy.

A lot of people online aren’t there to be convinced or won over. They are there to vent, and more often than not, vomit bile onto feeds that feeds their need for attention.

So one thing I don’t do, despite how it may seem on here, is waste a whole bunch of time doomscrolling through comments from people that don’t mean anything.

It’s also worth getting some perspective on the content you consume online. There’s been a dramatic shift in politics over the past decade (and long before tbh) in that politics is simply entertainment. As in media companies recognise that controversy and ragebait generates more clicks than simple reporting.

I don’t watch ‘debates’ with ‘one socialist vs 20 conservatives’ or vice versa - Sure some of the highlights can be entertaining. Ben Shapiro being dunked on is great, but it didn’t convince anyone on the ‘other side’. At the end of the day these things are entertainment masquerading as political debate.

Because of this approach, all the most controversial topics are everywhere. All the time. People get trapped in consuming it because they like the peaks and troughs of emotion that come from politics. But you can’t spend your life like that.

So my advice is:

Don’t get sucked in to online conversations that the other side is treating as entertainment.

Find something that you’re passionate about outside the world of politics and awful news.

Stop doomscrolling. Train yourself to recognise when you’re doing it and then do literally anything else.

As I mentioned before I have a habit of treating hobbies as extra work - that makes it work for me because it’s something I feel compelled to do to be productive. It might not work for you, and I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it.

[n0rmal-cat]

Kpop demon hunters x reader- selling your soul for job experience Part 14

[um…i have no idea what this is, not one. so if this is cringe its because i had a mental breakdown writing this…haha]

headcanon's part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13

"You're lying!" shouted in Romance’s face. 

“I don’t lie,” he retorted, flicking through the channels of the TV.  

"You lie all the time! And I thought you didn't have a lover. ‘The stage lights almost feel like the warmth of a lover' sound familiar?" they pressed, crossing their arms. 

Romance sighed, then brought his hand to their face, cold...has it always been so cold? He let go, returning his attention to the flickering screen. "They’re good enough for you."

"Yeah, but them?!" reader whispered.

"Leave me alone, it's been over three hundred years," he paused and started to smile, "and they make me laugh," he blushed.

"But why did no one tell me?"

"We didn't think we needed to. What's the sudden interest, anyway? Jealous?" he smirked, leaning back.

"It's not jealousy," they glared into the other room. "I just hate to lose to him."

"Yeah hun, that's called jealousy, there's no need you know and hey, I'll be honest, I like you." reader blushed at his words, surprised.

"I wouldn’t mind if you didn’t. I can’t say the same for the others, though." He shrugged 

"Are you always this open…?"

"Jinu gave me the name Romance for a reason. If your answer is no, then that's fine, you know, there's no pressure." He looked back at the TV, but not before giving them a closed-eye smile.

Reader got up and slowly walked back into their room, wanting to leave the awkward conversation as fast as they could. 

However fate seemed to have other plans for them as leaving one situation led to another more questionable one.

"Why are you on my bed?" One of their eyes twitched as Reader  stood in their doorway.

"You haven't been paying attention to me lately," Abby pouted. "I thought I might as well take it into my own hands and go somewhere I knew you couldn't resist!"

"Pay attention to you? I see you every day." They argued.

"Yeah, but that’s with the group." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "When's the last time it was just you and me, huh?"

Reader raised an eyebrow, trying to recall. "I met you guys like last week?"

"Oh, come on, spend some time with me!" he whined like a toddler.

"What do you even want to do? Don’t you have to practice for…I don’t know, the end of the world or something?"

"Reader, you will take me out, and we will have fun! Do you understand?" His eyes narrowed as he glared up at them.

Reader sighed, "Fine, what do you want to do so we can get this over with?" They prayed he just wanted to go out to eat or something simple like that, they really did not want to go back out just to do some random bullshit.

"The club," he declared

"The club!? I'm not taking you to the club!" They put their foot down.

"And why not? The club is amazing! Everyone is happy, and they’re all partying!"

"You have never been to any party, have you?"

He puffed out his cheeks in offence. "And if I haven’t?"

"Get up. We’re going somewhere," they instructed 

"Yes!"

"This is not the club," he watched as children ran around the park.

"One, it's two PM, and two, I don’t trust any of you with alcohol," they replied, sinking onto a nearby park bench together.

"I'm a great drinker.." he huffed

"Sure, sure," they patted his knee with a teasing smile. "Tangerine?" they offered, pulling the fruit from their bag.

He silently took a slice, putting it into his mouth. "Why here anyway?"  his voice muffled.

Reader looked out at the field before them, "You said you wanted it to be just you and me, right, and considering my track record so far, I didn't want to bump into you know who." They leaned on their hand

"The hunters?" He chewed 

they nodded

"Yeah, what a shame, man, if I were alive, I'd totally ask her out," he swooned.

"Who?"

"the pink one"

"Mira," reader smirked.

"Mira~" he mimicked,

pink, mean to him, both probably need glasses but never wear them...guy has a type huh?

"And you?" he turned his head to them.

“Hm, what about me?” they replied

He gave them a nudge. “Oh, come on! I see those goo-goo eyes you’re giving them.”

"What I give them..." they deadpanned.

“Admit it, we’re in love, huh?” 

Reader pulled back, "ok, you know what today has been a really weird day for me, and for some reason every time I'm alone with you guys we get to this subject, so I'm stopping you right here." They put a hand to  Abby’s lips

“Think of something else to talk about. I don’t know…” they trailed off, searching their surroundings for inspiration. Their gaze finally landed on a few birds flying through the sky.

“Birds…” they muttered, man, their conversation skills were ass.

"Like Sussie?..." he asked, confused.

"You know what, sure, let's talk about Sussie, what's the deal with him and derpy anyway? I understand their jinu pets, but are they demons too?" They slouched into the bench

"Oh, I guess I never thought about it that way," he thought with a hum. "I guess they have to be demons, huh, I mean, how else would they get down there...did Gwi-ma make a deal with a bird and a tiger...or were they born there?"

He put a hand to his chin, it looked like it was the most he'd thought about in a while.

"Born there? You can be born a demon?" That was new information

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t know. There are basically two paths to becoming a demon: one is the way you did, and the other is being born a demon or, in Purple’s case, being a half-demon.” He crossed his legs, resting his head back against the bench with a yawn.

"Wow, wow! What do you mean, half demon!?" They grab onto his shirt

"Hey, don't hold on so tight, you're gonna hurt me," he pouted.

"Now's not the time to be pouting, who's the purple one! Rumi?!" One of the buttons on his shirt popped off

"Yeah, didn't you know? Well, I guess you weren't with us when Jinu found out, did he not tell you?" he tilted his head.

"So she's really...she's part demon?" They finally let go of him.

“Yeah, it’s kind of weird, though, how Gwi-ma doesn’t have control over her. Maybe it’s because she’s half hunter as well.”

He took the last slice of the tangerine and pop it into his mouth “speaking of gwi-ma he really wants to talk to you face to face, said he needs bonding time”

Reader raised a brow “bonding time, why the hell would me and him need bonding time. More importantly he doesn’t care about me and I don’t care about him”

“Well don’t hurt me over it I’m just telling you what he told us last night” he raised his hands up in defence.

Reader fidgeted with their hands as Abby laid back, "Thanks for bringing me here by the way.." he said looking away from them, his attention fixated on a group of friends walking down the path laughing with each other.

"Yeah.." they tried to talk inside their own head to maybe catch the attention of gwi-ma but the more they did so they realized that they sounded absolutely crazy.

His eyes drifted to the playground. "Hey, you wanna go play on the slide?" He pointed at the slide that didn’t look wide enough to fit his upper body.

“No, no, I do not want to do that,” Reader shook their head.

Abby scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Booooring... What about the swing-” 

"Please stop talking, I'm really trying to think here, you've given me a lot of new information, and I don't know how to feel about it." They shifted away from him.

"reader, you gotta stop trying to solve a mystery that doesn't need solving." He put his arm on the back of the bench.

"Got any more fruit?" He tried to open their bag himself but his hand was swatted away.

"No? I only really brought one for myself." They moved their bag away from him.

He paused for a bit. "wanna go kill someone then?" He looked up at the sky.

“What!? Abby, what are you even saying?!” they exclaimed, eyes wide with confusion and disbelief.

“We can’t just go and do that, Abby! T-that’s insane!” Reader’s voice trembled, caught between shock and disgusted.

“Come on, Reader. There are only eight days left until it’s time, and you haven’t eaten a single soul. When the feast finally happens, you won’t know how to eat,” he added, almost sad.

“The park is nice but I asked to go to the club to forget my past not relive it” he grumbled 

"But I don’t want to hurt anyone..." Reader muttered, shifting uncomfortably in their seat

"It won’t hurt, trust me... probably," he said with a nervous laugh, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. A wide grin broke across his face as he got up, pulling Reader along despite their hesitation. “So let’s go, and feast.”

"But wait, where are we going?!” they yelled, stumbling slightly as Abby tugged them along.

“Buffet!” He smiled

Abby led them through the park and into the streets, “this is where the parties at reader!” He stopped

“The train station?” They gathered themself

He took them inside without a word, weaving between people until he picked an empty cart and ushered Reader inside. The atmosphere was eerily quiet, only the faint hum of the train cutting through the stillness.

“Abby, where are you taking me?” they whispered to him.

"When the lights go off, open your mouth," he instructed

"Why-"

"Trust me, reader."

Reader sighed, glancing out the window as the tunnel loomed in front of them. This was supposed to be a peaceful trip to the park...

The lights from the window were covered. Reader reluctantly obeyed, opening their mouth. Confusion washed over them as they tasted something extraordinary sweet, savoury, almost otherworldly.

When the lights flickered back on, Reader's heart dropped. They were alone in the cart. No one else remained, not a single soul left behind.

“Divine,” Abby sighed contentedly, licking his lips with satisfaction.

"W-what just happened?" They stood up and walked around the cart, it was like they were never there in the first place.

“We just had lunch, that’s what happened! It was a nice trip to the park, and now we’ve got a meal to go with it,” Abby replied casually.

“That was it? We... ate them?” Reader asked, panicked

“They were good, weren’t they? The taste is far better when they don’t suspect a thing,” he said with a shrug as the train doors creaked open. “Well, this is our stop.”

Reader grabbed his sleeve, their voice shaking. “W-Wait...!”

"Are they all gone?" Their voice shook

"And if we don't get out of here soon, the hunters will find us, come on," he grabs their hand once again, pulling them along.

Dragging them through crowds of people and into the shadows of alleyways and in between buildings. He only stopped once they reached a dead end, to which he began to give them sickening laughs.

“Wasn’t that amazing!? What a rush! Hahaha!” he yelled, his laughter echoing off the brick walls, his human form momentarily shedding its facade, wearing only black with skin purple.

"How was it?" he asked, smirking down at Reader.

Reader collapsed onto the ground, their breath coming in shallow gasps as they stared blankly ahead, their mind foggy. “They were delicious... probably the best thing I ever tasted,” they admitted, a strange mixture of awe and horror. 

"Right, it's so good!" he shouted excitedly.

“Amazing,” they replied, shaking their head in disbelief.

"Yeah, yeah! Readers all grown up!" he pulled them up while jumping with them. "Oh, reader, this party is going to be the best!" He hugged them close to his chest.

They didn't even bother at that point, they just went limp in his arms. 'reader, I'm so proud of you, didn't I tell you you would be perfect here. You love it, don't you? It's nothing but heavenly, the others down here are starving, reader, don't you wish to help them?'

Their eyes dulled, and they took a breath before closing them. "reader?...re-" the outside world faded out and went blank.

When they woke up, they were no longer in Abby's arms, or on earth at all, for that matter. They could hear crowds of cheering from below them." What?" They sat up, peering over the many, many stairs.

“It’s so nice to finally see you,” a booming voice echoed behind them. 

They immediately recognized the voice and felt a chill run down their spine. “Gwi-ma, I—”

"Oh no, there's no need to speak. I just brought you here to show you all your adoring fans." reader felt their body being turned around against their will.

Looking down upon hundreds of demons, all cheering for the saja boys, "Show our little manager how grateful you are for them!” Gwi-ma commanded.

The demons erupted into an even louder frenzy, some crying tears of joy. Until this moment, Reader had never truly seen another demon, so seeing all of these demons full of well 'life', to put it simply, was jarring.

“Why did you bring me here?” they managed to ask, desperately trying to sound calm but failing miserably, their voice trembling slightly.

“I just wanted to show you what you’re fighting for. Look at all those happy faces,” he said, and set them back down in front of him.

It was only when they were placed on the ground that they realized they were dressed in different clothing. Glancing down at themselves. Black robs and purple skin, just like the boys.

“Well, don’t you just look adorable!” Gwi-ma cooed and began to puppet their body like there were strings attached.

“Lair, you brought me here for a reason! I may not know you fully, but I know you well enough to realize you want something else!” they shouted, their arms twisting involuntarily over their head, yet surprisingly, it didn’t hurt.

“You're right. I do love to torment you, but there’s another reason I brought you here. You see, you haven’t been doing much with the hunters. You understand how the modern world works, but it seems you lack the skills to torture," he replied.

"So you're gonna torture me so I can learn?!" they yelled.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic! And no, that would be a foolish idea. I’m going to accompany you in the human world,” he said, his voice low and almost mocking.

"Going to what?!" 

A loud explosion hit them straight on, they would have been flung back if their body were actually able to move.

As they blinked through the haze, they heard gasps from below. When they finally opened their eyes, standing before them was a middle-aged businessman fixing his tie.

“To be completely honest with you, I should have done this much earlier, but, haha!” He threw his head back, laughter spilling from his lips. “I just loved the way you fell under my influence slowly, and now that you’re fully under my control…”

Their body squeezed tightly as if they were going to pop. He walked towards them. “I just want to see your world crumble,” he sneered, a dark glint in his eyes.

“Bha!” they gasped for breath as they crashed onto the floor. “Get up, we’re going!” a gruff voice commanded.

"You brought me to hell just for that?!” they exclaimed, rubbing their heads and rising to their feet. Looking down, they were shocked to find themselves in their regular clothes again. “I’m already their manager-was that for nothing?!”

"For nothing? No, making a deal with you wasn’t for nothing. In fact, you gave me something I didn’t know I needed. I should have thought about making one of you sooner,” he remarked, glancing back with a smirk.

Now let’s go. Those idiots are running around like chickens with their heads cut off,” he scoffed.

Reader glared at him from behind

wait...now that they took a closer look at him in the sunlight… Why did he kind of look like them? Confusion washed over their face as they locked eyes with him..

"Why do you-"

“My human persona. Your father, did you like it? I made you the manager of one of the talent groups because I want you to continue the business. You're also a nepo baby now, ha, i just learned that word” he smirked, spinning around to face them.

"No?! Why would you do that!?"

"Good, I like to see you suffer."

Reader’s head throbbed with disbelief. 'I thought this was supposed to be a peaceful day in the park!'

the tag list-

@tumblblob @snowy-violet @yumi-does-stuff @d3sperate-enuf @kashasenpai @scara-simp69 @starwormy @luv1ayala @00hellohello00 @julia-loves-cupcakes @twilightknightt @caffeinatedtale @xoxoyukixoxo @mousedit @minthoneynbasil @iminyourwallsbbg @nightmarewasteland @qxuanii @insideoutjulie @stuxxnioe @milkcatfern @mod-strap @satansdaughter123 @wiggly-yrath @kpopgirliez @lvvcian @inkycapps @pureblood-blake @bunniotomia

[hungermakesmonsters]

(It Is) What It Is

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smut. There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 6.2k

A/N : 😭 I'm not ready for it to be over...

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN | CHAPTER FIFTEEN | CHAPTER SIXTEEN | CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | CHAPTER EIGHTEEN | CHAPTER NINETEEN | CHAPTER TWENTY | CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE | CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO | CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE | CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR | CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE | CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Master List

Chapter Twenty-Seven

You slipped your fingers into his hair as you kissed him, loosely gripping the strands so that there was no doubt over what you wanted.

Him.

You wanted him. Wanted to be with him, wanted to hold him.

You’d spent the last few hours trying to ignore the tenderness between your thighs but, once you were in his arms again, it was all that you could think about. He let out a soft groan against your lips and all you wanted to do was press him back against the wall and sink to your knees for him.

But the sounds of the party around you quickly pulled you back to the moment, and you remembered where you were.

Later. Once you’d got him home and you’d finally had your talk, you would get on your knees for him and show him how much he meant to you.

Billy broke the kiss but lingered close, his forehead pressed to yours.

“We don’t have to stay,” he said. “We can go home right now.”

Had he read your mind or was he just thinking what you were thinking? 

You smiled and let your fingers slip from his hair and down to his shoulder. Your other arm remained firm around his waist, holding tight.

“We should stay a little while,” you said softly. “Just to see people.”

Honestly, it was the last thing you wanted, but it felt like it had been so long since you’d last done anything social. The last time had been the Hamptons and, well, you’d spent half of the time feeling like crap. And you still felt the adrenaline in your veins from being on stage, from calling Corrine out, and you wanted to get it all out before you went home with him.

“And, apparently, Catherine wants to see me,” you added.

Billy pulled a face but the expression vanished before you had the chance to figure it out. 

“Why?” He asked.

“I’m not sure. You know what she’s like,” you said, shrugging.

“Well, Karen and Frank want to see you first.”

His hand took hold of yours and, before you could even think to answer, he was pulling you through the party towards the bar and your friends.

Karen’s face lit up when you saw her, and it put to bed any lingering notion that she might be upset with you and Billy for deceiving her. Even Frank managed a smile.

“You were amazing,” Karen said, handing you a champagne glass.

“Thanks, I thought I was going to have a panic attack up there,” you said, earning a squeeze from Billy’s hand. “I still feel like my heart’s going a mile a minute.”

“You looked good up there,” Frank added.

Billy leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek. “Told you you’d be fine.”

“I think this calls for a toast,” Karen said, handing Billy a glass. “To facing fears with friends.”

You felt your cheeks heat a fraction, not with embarrassment but with a strange sense of fondness. You’d never really had this; friends, people who wanted to support you, people who cared.

You brought up your glasses, clinking them together, then you took a long drink.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the night?” Frank asked.

“Dancing, drinking, having fun,” Karen said, shooting you a grin.

“Lots of dancing,” you agreed. 

“Better make sure Bill doesn’t stand on your feet in those nice shoes,” Frank said.

“Fuck off, Frankie,” Billy remarked.

You gave his hand a squeeze and shook your head. “He’s actually a really good dancer. He does get a little handsy though...”

“I’ll bet he does,” said Frank.

You weren’t sure how to address the elephant in the room with either Frank or Karen, especially not with Billy at your side. They both knew that it wasn’t supposed to be real but - well, you weren’t even sure that it wasn’t real anymore. After the morning in his bed, finally having sex, and the talk he’d promised you later, it felt like everything had changed.

You talked amongst yourselves and you quickly noticed how strange it was, how easily you could talk to them and fit into their little group now. It felt like you were finally starting to find your place in life, finally finding people you could trust and be vulnerable with, and it was all because of Billy, because he had shown you that you didn’t have to always be alone.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Catherine and Leah and gave them both a wave, but your attention was quickly pulled back to Billy.

“Dance with me?” He said, giving a tug on your hand that left no room for discussion.

Of course, you let him pull you away to the dancefloor and smiled as his arms slipped around your waist. You placed your hands on his shoulders and let him lead.

“What’s going on?” You asked.

“I just...” he hesitated and a strange expression appeared on his face, “I wanted to have you to myself for a little while.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, you pressed your hand to his cheek, wanting to soothe whatever he was struggling with. Was he questioning what had happened between you that morning? Was he regretting it? Did he think you regretted it?

“You can have me to yourself as much as you want whenever you want,” you said, hoping he understood the deeper meaning of your words, hoping that he understood that you loved him.

The last thing you expected was for him to frown, to look at you like he had the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. He took your hand from his cheek and pressed it to his chest, right above his heart, letting you feel the way it was beating. The rattle and thump beneath his ribs was enough to make your own heart stutter.

“Billy...” you said softly, not sure what to say.

There were a million different questions in your mind but you had no idea where to start.

His chest rose as he took a deep breath. Then he forced a smile that did little to settle the worry that was brewing inside of you.

“It’s okay, little dove. We’ll talk about everything tonight,” he said, the arm around your waist pulling you closer. “Let’s just enjoy the moment.”

You managed a nod as he pulled you against him, resting your head on his shoulder and slowly dancing in time with the music. From time to time, you’d catch a flash of lightning through the windows or hear the distant boom of thunder as the rain outside became a storm.

A few songs passed before you lifted your head again. “I need to go to the bathroom. Why don’t you find Karen and Frank and get another drink.”

Billy seemed reluctant to let you go, but he slowly took a step back. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“I think someone might notice,” you said, smiling even as your cheeks warmed at the thought. “Besides, we’ve got all night...”

“Right,” he agreed. “Another glass of champagne?”

You nodded and turned, making your way to the bathroom. It was a challenge not to rush as you walked away from him, not wanting to spend more time than necessary away from him. All the while you found yourself wondering what was going on with him and why he was acting so clingy all of a sudden.

It took less than five minutes before you were heading back towards the bar where you could see Billy drinking with Frank and Karen. His eyes caught yours and he started to smile, but then his expression changed to something more like a grimace. You didn’t realise why until Catherine stepped out in front of you.

“There you are,” she said with a smile, “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

“Oh, no - sorry, I mean to come say hi, but things have been hectic, and Billy -”

“Yes, I suppose he wants to keep you near after everything,” she said, giving a knowing nod of her head. “I think your illness gave him quite a scare.”

“Yeah. I think I probably should have been more honest with him about a few things,” you said.

“Nevermind, you’ve got the rest of your lives together to figure out all of that,” said Catherine. “I just wanted to congratulate you on the good news.”

Good news?

You tried desperately to figure out what she meant, not wanting to ask in case it made you seem like you were out of the loop. You hadn’t seen Catherine since the hospital when -

“Do you mean what I said at the hospital?” You asked. “When I said Billy was my fiance, because -”

“Oh, no. William explained that to us. I mean the contract.”

“What contract?”

“Our new contract with Anvil to oversee security in our hotels, of course.”

“Oh,” you managed, feeling like the floor was crumbling beneath your feet. “Of course. That contract.”

“Obviously, it would have been nice to celebrate it straight away but you were still bedridden at the time, but now you’re better, I insist on taking you and William out for dinner,” Catherine continued.

Somehow you managed to maintain a believable smile despite the fact that your whole world was falling apart around you.

He’d gotten the contract with VDK, and he hadn’t told you.

You’d still been in bed sick, so it had been well over a week.

Was that why he was acting strange? Did he know it was all going to come out tonight?

Was that why he’d slept with you? Had he seen it as his last chance to fuck you before he ended your arrangement?

Catherine was still talking, but all you could hear was the ringing in your ears as your mind raced from one terrible thought to the next. You kept nodding and she kept smiling, oblivious to your turmoil.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to William. I need to go check in with Faye and make sure everything is running smoothly,” she said.

You nodded but before she walked away, you found yourself speaking, words seemingly coming from nowhere. “You should be proud of her, she’s been working really hard.”

Catherine’s smile widened at that.

And, as she left you alone, your eyes found Billy’s again. You weren’t sure what the look on his face was, but you didn’t want to think about it. You just turned and walked away.

You weren’t sure where you were going but when you found a door leading outside, onto a large balcony area, you didn’t even hesitate before stepping out into the storm. Cold wind and rain assaulted you the second you were outside but you kept going, kept moving until you reached the edge of the balcony.

Your chest ached and you struggled to fight back a sob.

He’d lied to you.

You loved him and he’d lied.

Freezing rain began to soak through your dress but you hardly noticed over the aching in your chest. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, like all the oxygen had been stolen away from you. 

“Little dove?” You startled at the sudden sound of his voice behind you, barely registering the concern in his voice. “What are you doing out here? You’re going to get cold.”

The rain on your face concealed your tears as you turned, but there was no hiding your pain from him.

“You got the contract with VDK.” A tremor ran through your voice. “You got the contract last week.”

He didn’t say anything but he did manage a reluctant nod.

“You lied to me.”

“I never lied,” he said.

“You kept it from me.”

“I wanted to tell you, I just -”

“Is that what this morning was really about? You wanted to fuck me before I found out that our arrangement was over?” You demanded, pulling your arms tight across your chest, trying to keep yourself from shaking.

“No, that’s not -” he struggled to find the words, “- I wanted to tell you, but I was scared you’d leave. I was scared that you’d want to end things.”

He took a small step forward but stopped the moment he noticed you angling yourself away from him.

“I just wanted more time to figure it out,” he continued, his voice breaking. “I thought that if I had more time I could show you how I feel and maybe convince you to stay, even if it was only for a little while longer...”

(Just a little while longer? So, not forever. He didn’t want you forever.)

“I can’t do this anymore.” It came out as a gasping sob and you pressed your hand to your mouth to keep more from spilling out.

Billy shattered in front of you, his reaction to your words was so visceral, so obvious, that you almost regretted them.

“Don’t say that. Please, don’t -” he tried, but you didn’t want to hear it.

“It hurts too much when you don’t feel what I do.”

“But I do,” he said, pleading with you to just listen to him. “That’s what I wanted to tell you - it’s what I’ve wanted to tell you for weeks. I know what I want. You. I want you, little dove.”

Weeks?

The night before the Hamptons... he’d tried to tell you that he wanted you and you hadn’t listened. 

You shook your head.

“But the arrangement, the contract... how can we -”

“I’ll give it all up,” he said. “I’ll go in there and tell everyone the truth if that’s what you need me to do.”

You’d never heard him speak with such raw conviction before, and you knew he was breaking just as much as you were.

“But it would ruin Anvil’s reputation, it would ruin you,” you said, your hand trying to scrub the rain and tears from your cheeks. 

“I don’t care. None of it matters if I don’t get to have you. I - I love you.”

Your heart skipped in your chest and you shook your head. How could Billy Russo love you?

“You can’t ruin your life for me,” you told him, pulling your arms tighter around you, trying in vain to ward off the cold that was eager to settle into your bones.

“You’re my life,” he answered. “You’re everything to me.”

This time when he stepped forward, you didn’t shrink back. You just watched, confused as he dropped to his knees in front of you, fumbling with his jacket pocket. The flickering lights of the balcony made it hard to see, but the moment lightning streaked across the sky, you realised what was in his hand.

A red Cartier ring box.

He opened it to reveal an elegant but understated engagement ring; three small diamonds set on a thin band of white gold. 

“I got this at the auction. I - I’ve been carrying it around for weeks, wanting to...” his voice broke and he forced an awkward breath, fighting off tears of his own. “I know I always fuck up and there’s something wrong with me... but, please, don’t ask me to go back to a life without you.”

Your heart raced as the penny finally dropped.

He was proposing to you.

Only, he wasn’t down on one knee asking. He was on both knees, begging you to love him, to choose him. After a lifetime of being left and abandoned, Billy thought that he had to beg for your love.

But, no - he’d never have to beg for that.

It all fell into place; the way Faye had shown you the Cartier collection at the auction, already knowing Billy had bid on a ring; Catherine’s surprise when she’d asked about your auction winnings and you hadn’t mentioned a ring; even Corrine’s shitty comment about a Cartier ring.

He wanted to marry you, and he’d had the ring for weeks.

(You could have had this conversation weeks ago, if you’d only let him speak.)

Your knees buckled and you ended up on the floor in front of him. Your trembling hands framed his face and you stared into his deep, dark eyes, trying to understand what was happening.

“Everything kept going wrong,” he said quietly. “I keep fucking everything up.”

“No. No, you don’t.”

“I never even thought I was capable of love,” he sniffed awkwardly. “I knew I wanted to keep you ever since that morning at Sophie’s store, but I thought the feeling would go away. I thought I’d be able to let you go. But when you got sick, I - I realised how much I love you and I’ve never been more scared.”

Lightning lit the sky again and your tears continued to fall.

“You love me?” You asked, and he nodded. 

He was still gripping the ring box so tightly, the unasked question seeming to get louder with every passing second.

“I don’t want to go back to a life without you either,” you managed to say, choking back another sob. “I love you too, Billy. I love you so much.”

When he looked at you like he didn’t believe you, or like he’d somehow misheard you, you closed the distance and pressed your lips to his. You kissed him fiercely, putting every ounce of your love into it, making sure there were no doubts in his mind. His arms pulled around you, and you felt the ring box against your back.

“I love you,” he muttered against your lips. “Please... marry me?”

“Yes.” You didn’t even pause to take a breath.

“Yes?”

You nodded and were quickly pulled back into another fiery kiss that lasted until a boom of thunder sounded overhead and brought you both crashing back down to reality.

“Let’s go home,” he said and, again, you nodded.

Before he got to his feet, he carefully slid the engagement ring onto your finger. It was a perfect fit - you weren’t sure how you’d manage it but, at that moment, you didn’t much care. He helped you to your feet and wrapped a possessive arm around you.

You wiped away your tears as he led you back towards the door. Not that it did much to help your overall appearance. The both of you looked like drowned rats, dripping all over the floor the moment you were back inside.

All it took was one person to notice and, soon enough, almost everyone was looking at you. Your cheeks heated and you pressed closer into Billy’s side, hating the attention.

“Whatever happened?” Catherine’s voice cut through the music and the muttering as she made her way towards you.

Your lips parted, but no words would come - how were you supposed to explain everything that had happened over the last ten minutes? 

“She said yes,” Billy spoke up, taking control of the situation. He lifted your left hand so everyone could see the ring. “We’re getting married!”

A surprised cheer went up around the room and, thankfully, for most people it was enough to satisfy their curiosity.

“I know I told you to propose somewhere romantic, but I didn’t quite mean in the middle of a thunder storm,” Catherine said, tutting as she took your hand from Billy to inspect the ring. She gave you a knowing smile. “I told you men like William talk with actions rather than words.”

Before you knew it the rest of the Van Der Koy’s were there to offer their congratulations, and so were Frank and Karen. It was overwhelming, and you were so glad that Billy was able to step up and answer all of their questions.

After everything that had already happened that day, it quickly started to feel like too much, and all you wanted to do was go home with Billy.

Eventually, you managed to find your voice and plucked up the courage to address Faye and Catherine. “Thank you so much for inviting us, we’ve had a lovely time, but I think we’d like to go home and celebrate now.”

No one questioned it or tried to convince you to stay (probably because you were both still dripping on the floor).

You rushed through goodbyes and made promises to see people soon. It felt like it took forever to get outside and, the moment you did, your arms wrapped around Billy's waist. You held him tight, not caring that his jacket and shirt were wet and close as you pressed your face to his chest.

“You okay?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, through your wet hair.

“I don’t know,” you murmured. “It doesn’t feel real.”

“It’s real, little dove,” he said without a hint of uncertainty. “My ring is on your finger, that means you’re mine now.”

The calm confidence in his voice had you relaxing, letting Billy take control of everything. Not because it was what he needed, but because you needed it. You didn’t have to worry or overthink when Billy was in control, you just held him tight and let him look after you.

“I’m yours,” you agreed. “And you’re mine.”

“Always, little dove.”

A minute later, you were bundled into the back of his car, and pulled against Billy’s side for warmth. If the driver had any thoughts about you and Billy soaking the backseat, he kept them to himself and quickly got you back to the penthouse.

Neither of you spoke until you were home, but in the elevator, your hand in his, you noticed Billy’s thumb brushing back and forth over the three diamonds set in the ring. You wondered if he needed to be reminded that it was real.

He turned as you stepped into the penthouse, taking your face in his hands. You got lost in his eyes for a few seconds, thinking about the life you were going to have together now that you’d both finally confessed your feelings.

“You’re all wet, little dove,” he said.

“You have that effect on me,” you answered, flashing a shy but playful smile.

“Do I?” 

Billy grinned as you nodded, his eyes dropping from yours to take in the soggy, sorry state of you. He must have been considering his options because, a second later, he shook his head and took your hand, pulling you through the penthouse to his bathroom. You half-expected him to run a bath but, instead, he reached into the shower and turned it on.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” he said as he reached behind you and started to unzip your dress. “I don’t want you getting sick again.”

You didn’t say anything, you just turned your attention to undressing him while he relieved you of your clothes. Heat quickly started to spread through your body as he unwrapped you like a present and committed every inch of exposed skin to memory. As soon as you were both naked, he pulled you into the shower and closed the door behind you.

Billy pulled you against him and you rested your head against his chest, the heat of the water quickly banishing the cold from your bones. You let out a contented sigh.

“Are you warm enough?” He asked in that soft voice that always betrayed his concern.

“You don’t have to worry about -”

“I do,” he interrupted. “You’re going to be my wife and I’m going to spend the rest of my life worrying about you.”

“Fine,” you retorted just as quickly. “But it goes both ways. If this is real now, then I get to worry about you too.”

He tensed and your arms tightened around his waist.

“I mean it,” you continued. “I want to be able to take care of you like you deserve, Billy. We’re in this together, and that means we take care of each other.”

“If that’s what you want,” he said, pulling back just a fraction so he could see your face, and he gave you one of those rare smiles that you loved so much.

“It is,” you told him, lifting your head and kissing him softly. “I want everything, Billy. Every single part of you.”

And, you decided, you were going to show him.

You kissed him again, this time lingering against his lips while your hands ran over the bare expanse of his chest, touching him in a way you’d never allowed yourself to before, with love and tenderness. You wanted him to know how much you loved him, and you knew he’d understand this best.

Your lips finally left his and you started to press kisses over each and every scar you could find on his torso, starting with the oldest; the one on his shoulder. His breath caught, but you didn’t stop or hesitate. From his shoulder you moved across his chest and down, dropping to your knees to kiss the faded mark on his abs, then the one at his hip. The whole time, Billy remained frozen, just watching you as you made your silent promises to care for him and love him.

When you stopped, you looked up at him from your place on your knees.

He cupped your cheek, tenderly caressing your skin with his thumb as water continued to cascade over both of you. When you remained on your knees, he realised what you were doing, what you were offering.

His thumb pressed against your lower lip and you saw his cock twitch in the periphery of your vision.

“Do you want to suck my cock, little dove?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Ask nicely.”

Your heart stuttered as he slipped into his dominant persona, and heat started to pool between your thighs.

You felt... free. Free to play his games, free to give yourself over to him completely. And, most importantly, free to love him without fear of rejection. 

Billy loved you, and you wanted to give him everything.

Your eyelashes fluttered in what you hoped was a seductive way.

“Please, Mr Russo, can I suck your cock?” You asked in a low, breathy voice, unashamed of betraying your growing arousal.

Something flickered across his face - surprise? No, thrill - at the question. Or, more likely, at you calling him that. He liked it. And you were going to use that to your advantage.

“How could I refuse when you asked so nicely?” He managed to keep his confident tone, even though his eyes betrayed his fraying control. Gripping his cock, he gave a couple of lazy strokes before pressing the tip to your lips. “Open up, little dove.”

Your lips parted and eagerly wrapped around him, tongue slipping over the tip before you started to take him deeper. This time there was no chance of interruptions and you were going to enjoy it. You were going to learn Billy the way that he had learned you.

You wrapped a hand around the base of him and chased every bob of your head with your fingers. That alone was enough to make Billy groan and swear, his fingers tangling in your wet hair. One day you wanted to let him take complete control, you wanted to let him use your mouth however he wanted. But tonight wasn’t the night for that.

Sinking lower, you gagged softly as he hit the back of your throat, and pulled back a fraction. The fingers in your hair loosened instantly, but you settled his worries when you looked up at him through your lashes and sank back down, this time avoiding the discomfort.

“You don’t -” he tried to say but ended up trailing off into a desperate moan as you swallowed the last few inches of him.

His fingers twitched in your hair when you paused, holding yourself in place for a few seconds. Then you pulled back, letting him fall from your lips as you gasped for breath. As you smiled up at him, proud of yourself, your hand continued to stroke him.

“Marry me?” He asked, breathless.

You laughed. “I already said yes.”

“Then marry me twice.”

You rolled your eyes and slipped him between your lips again, this time taking things a little faster, letting his pleasure build.

All you got was a groan of warning before he started to come. Your lips stilled but your hand kept going, making sure to wring every drop of pleasure from him, until you made him so sensitive that he squirmed away from you.

He pulled you to your feet and kissed you deeply, not caring about the taste he’d left in your mouth.

As he pulled you against him and tenderly started to wash your body, you found yourself slowly slipping into the wonderful, hazy static that you always found when he took care of you. He kissed your neck as he slowly and meticulously washed every inch of you, and you let him. You allowed yourself to be completely vulnerable to him, leaning back against his chest as he turned you and ran his soapy hands up your stomach and over your breasts.

It felt like a weight had been lifted from you, like you could finally breathe.

You were his and he loved you.

He was yours and you loved him.

When he was certain you were clean and warm, he turned off the water and lifted you out of the shower. He sat you on the counter and dried you, even going as far as to wrap your hair in a towel, then he put you in his fluffy bathrobe.

He dried himself off and wrapped a towel around his waist before carrying you to bed, putting you down and laying beside you. 

Your fingers slipped into his still-damp hair, a fond smile on your lips as you just stared at the beautiful man beside you. But something from earlier prickled in the back of your mind, pulling you out of the carefree static.

“Billy, what you said earlier... about there being something wrong with you...” you let the unasked question hang in the air, but continued when he didn’t try to explain or justify it. “Don’t ever say that to me again. There’s nothing wrong with you, and I don’t want you to ever think that there is, okay?”

He stayed silent.

“Okay?” You repeated with more force than even you expected.

“Okay.”

“Good,” you said. “I love you. That should be all the proof you need that there’s nothing wrong with you.”

He gave a nod but didn’t say anything. The pair of you fell back into a lazy sort of silence, just enjoying each other’s company.

“When did you know?” He asked after a few minutes. “When did you start loving me?”

You considered the question, trying to remember when your feelings had turned from that strange feeling of like to one of love. 

“I knew for certain that day on the beach,” you said with a fond smile. “When you carried me into the ocean, I realised that I loved you and - and how much it’d hurt if I ever lost you.”

Billy reached for you, his thumb tenderly brushing your cheek as a couple of tears escaped you.

“But, I think it really started that night you took me for Thai food - the first time you asked me to move in. At the end of the night, when you told me we should practice kissing and -”

He closed the distance between you in an instant, his lips finding yours and kissing you with the same eager intensity that he had that night. You pulled him closer, urging him towards you until the weight of his body was resting over yours. Little moans spilled from your mouth into his, muffled by the press of his tongue on yours.

By the time the kiss broke, you were breathless.

His eyes were teeming with emotion when he looked at you. 

“I love kissing you. Even at the start, I’d come up with reasons to kiss you just because I wanted to,” he confessed, his lips brushing against yours with every word. “I almost lost my mind not being able to kiss you when you were submitting to me.” 

You let out a soft laugh, then a sigh. “I thought I could stop myself from falling for you if I didn’t let you kiss me like that...”

“You were protecting yourself,” he said and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. “You made me work to win you.”

“Hmm, in that case, maybe I should make you work a little harder,” you said playfully.

Without warning you clumsily pulled at the towel around his waist.

“Have you always been this insatiable or have I created a monster?” He asked, smiling and looking happier than you’d ever seen him.

“Why? Are you having second thoughts already?”

He pulled open your robe as you flung his towel across the room.

“Never,” he answered, that familiar, dominant tone sending a bolt of arousal through your body. “You’re mine now, little dove. And I’m never letting you go.”

Your legs parted, letting him settle between your thighs. A moan tore from you the moment he pressed down and started to grind the hard length of his cock against you, immediately rendering you wet and needy beneath him.

“I’m yours,” you agreed. “I’ll always be yours.”

His smile was almost enough to distract from the way he positioned your arms above your head and managed to grip both of your wrists with just one hand, pinning you beneath him. He kissed you again and you eagerly parted your lips for his tongue, already feeling the static buzzing in your head again. Your hips moved against his, desperate for more friction, desperate for more of everything.

But something made him pause. He looked down at you and you understood immediately; he was thinking about last night, about how you’d become overwhelmed while restrained.

“Green light, Mr Russo,” you said, hoping to squash his concerns.

A rumble sounded from the back of his throat and his grip on your wrists tightened.

“If you keep calling me that, it’s going to make working together very difficult,” he said.

“Sorry, Mr Russo,” you said, barely holding back a laugh. “But if I have to live with the memory of you bending me over your desk every time I -”

He silenced you with another kiss.

More needy noises started to escape you when his hand began to move down your body, his fingertips tracing every dip and curve. He paused on your breast for a moment, fingers teasing your nipple into a stiff peak before continuing downwards. When his hands slipped between your bodies, you readied yourself to feel his fingers inside of you again, quickly pushing you towards orgasm.

Instead, he took hold of his cock, and you moaned his name against his lips as he ran the tip through your folds. Clearly your playfulness had destroyed his patience. Good, you were equally impatient to feel him inside of you, to have him completely again.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned against your lips.

You didn’t have the chance to answer. His cock notched inside you and stole your breath. Your back bowed beneath him, your body anchored by his tight grip on your wrists. 

Billy took his time, sinking into you slowly just as he had the first time, and this time you knew for certain that it was because he was just as affected as you were. He stilled when he hilted, his free hand gripping your hip to keep you from moving beneath him and making him come too soon.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered.

“So are you,” you answered just as softly. “You feel so good, Billy.” 

He waited a few moments before starting to move, drawing back his hips, but keeping you completely immobilised beneath him. You didn’t struggle, didn’t pull against his hold on you to try and take more, you gave yourself over to him completely, trusting him to make it good for you.

And Billy didn’t disappoint. He started with slow, deep thrusts, letting you feel every inch of him, and just that was enough to have you coming and crying out his name. Your body trembled and shuddered as you shattered, and you found yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the haze.

“I love you,” he groaned, his hips picking up speed.

“Say it again,” you pleaded.

And he did, over and over. Punctuating each declaration with a thrust of his hips.

You came again, and there was no telling if it was because of the way he was fucking you or the words falling from his lips.

“I love you,” he said, again and again. “You’re being so good for me.”

It was all you wanted; to be loved by him, to be good for him. Pleasure filled your body and you felt like you might burst beneath him.

When his thrusts became stuttered and awkward, he let go of your hands, letting you slip your fingers into his hair and pull him to your lips again. You kissed him deeply as he came inside you, and you held him tight as you both came down from your highs.

“I love you,” he said, breathless and exhausted.

“I love you too,” you said, already half asleep beneath him, exhausted but happier than you’d ever been. “I can’t wait for tomorrow... and the day after... and every day I get to spend with you...”

A/N : 😭 😭 I can't believe it's finally over (well, okay, I can, I just don't want to). There is going to be an epilogue to tie up a few loose ends and give these two a proper send off, but I hope that you all like this ending as much as I enjoyed writing it. I wanted some last minute drama to finally get them both to confess their feelings and I hope the pay-off was worth it. I'll let you know next week what I'm planning on doing after wrapping this series up (I've got a few short-term ideas but I will also be doing another poll at some point with the remaining three fic idea from the last poll)

As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

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[mrsjjongstby]

I'm so proud of my ex - P.SH

You met Park Sunghoon in your hometown — a quiet coastal place. What started as friendship turned into something more. You had dreams outside that town — dreams he understood, even as they quietly pulled you apart. Now, years later, you’re back for your best friend’s wedding as the maid of honour. You didn’t expect to see him as the best man of the wedding. And even after all this time, maybe… you’re still his favourite what if.

starring: ex!sunghoon x f!reader | wc: ⸻ 5.48k | tw: exes to what?! second chances, angst, hurt, comfort, suggestive (if u squint hard enough), mentions of skin ship, kisses, (let me know if i missed anything)

The streets are still warm. 

The walls absorbed the last of your gasps and groans. Sunghoon’s fingers traced your bare back- slow and unhurried like he wanted to save the remnants of you that were already slipping away. 

You were lying on the bed, both of your minds elsewhere but hands tightly around eachother. None of you really tried to break the silence knowing the weight the air held.  

You were leaving in the morning.  He knew.  You knew. 

But here, in his bed, beneath the familiar hum of your hometown’s crickets and the faint buzz of the air conditioner, it almost didn’t feel real. 

“You’re not sleeping, baby.” he murmured, voice thick with something heavier than sleep. 

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Because if you spoke, you’d cry. 

So instead, you turned toward him — eyes glassy in the dark and pressed your forehead against his. His hand found your cheek, thumb brushing a tear you hadn’t noticed had fallen. 

“I wish things were different,” you whispered. 

And Sunghoon smiled — that soft, broken smile he only ever gave when he was trying not to fall apart. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.” 

"Stay." he whispered, forehead pressed to yours, like he was praying. Like if he held you close enough, you might change your mind. 

Your hands trembled where they cupped his jaw.  “I can’t,” you whispered back, even softer. “You know I can’t.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes searched yours like they were looking for an answer that wasn’t there. “We could make it work, sweets." 

You smiled — broken, knowing and traced your thumb across his cheek. “You hate cities, Hoon. You hate crowds. You’d lose yourself there. And I… I already have a future planned out there.” 

The silence that followed was thick. Final. 

He didn’t ask you again. And you didn’t apologize.  There were no screaming fights, no dramatic exits.  Just two people who loved each other… but loved their futures more. 

You kissed him one last time. Long. Slow. Like a goodbye stitched into your bones. 

And when you pulled away, he said it — the line that would haunt you every time you rolled over in bed and found empty space. 

“I’ll wait for you, you know.” 

But you never asked him to. And he never promised how long. 

But that was 3 years ago. Now, you’ve moved to the city, landed your dream job — the one you’d dreamed of all through high school — made new friends, tried new things, and thrived in your new city life. 

And about your dating game? Well, lets just say it wasn't that interesting. After sunghoon, you went on multiple dates, each with a hope of finding the one but those all came crashing when you realized no matter what, sunghoon had your whole heart back in the hometown with him. 

Sure, you moved places, and made a new life around you but you never truly moved on from sunghoon. Sunghoon was like a stubborn keeper of your heart — guarding every inch, never letting anyone else in. 

And so, you stopped trying. You immersed yourself in work, friends and fun. You didnt dare go near the relationship zone because you knew, even if you somehow managed to like someone, you’ll always compare them with sunghoon. You'll draw similarities between them. dissect every single thing they'd do and wonder if sunghoon would do the same. 

But besides those random breakdowns and the constant ache in your heart for sunghoon, your life went pretty smoothly. No interesting events, no big surprises.  

Well that was until, your childhood bestfriend, Emily informed you that she’s getting married to her long term boyfriend andrew- the one who you used to pick up fights over who emily loves more, the one who used to tease you like there was no end and the one who was like your older brother who you never had. 

They both were quite literally your second parents. Always taking you around, being overly clingy infront of you and moreover treating you like a thirdwheel you were. No matter how many times you fake vomited at their pda, you truly hoped that everything good came their way.  

So it was no surprise they were getting married, it was also no surprise that emily asked for you to be her maid of honour. And now, unless and until you were dumb in the head, youd say no- but you arent so, obviously you agreed while on a FaceTime call where she had fake tears and a real engagement ring. 

“If your loving fiancé doesn’t cry while you’re walking down the alter then you bet I'm going to trip him into the sand.”  

You say grinning while sitting on your bed with your suitcase getting filled with cloths you are packing as your phone’s tripod while on a video call with your best friend, Emily. 

"Oh he'll cry," Emily replied laughing. "He cried when we were testing the wedding cake. He's emotionally unstable and madly in love- exactly how I like him"  

You laughed shaking your head as you tossed a bikini in the mix. "God, I miss this. You. The ocean. Fresh air." 

"You'll be here tomorrow!" she said with a bright grin in her voice. "We'll go to the beach, take ugly photos, get lemonades and oh! go to our favourite library-  

"Where the librarian absolutely hates us cause we end up being too loud" You cut her off grinning and closed the suitcase with a huff. 

“I can’t wait.” You flopped onto the bed with a sigh. “Three whole days of early sunrises, salty hair, and wedding duties. You'll have me and your emotionally unstable husband will have his best man and- wait, you never told me who the best man is?"  

There was a beat of silence on her end.  

It stretched for over a second. 

A second too dangerous.  

You frown as you turn and lay on your stomach as you look up at her- her face in your phone. You narrow your eyes at her as she smiles sheepishly.  

“…What did you do.” 

“Nothing!” she said quickly. Too quickly. Then: “Okay—listen, don’t freak out.” 

You sat up slowly. “Ok, spill it Emily Confer" 

Another pause. Then, in one breath: 

“Sunghoon’s coming.” 

Silence. 

Your eyes blinked once. Then twice. 

“I’m sorry. What?” 

“He’s the best man,” she said carefully. “I thought I told you.” 

“You did not tell me that.” You stared at your open suitcase like it had personally betrayed you. “You told me this would be a chill, healing beach wedding. No stress. No drama. No—exes.” 

“Okay but you like drama,” she tried. 

“Not when the drama is six feet tall with broad shoulders and a jawline sculpted by Poseidon himself.” 

She had the audacity to laugh. 

“I thought you said you were over him?” 

You clear your throat, you were over him- of course you were... of course you dont think about that one time where you tripped while chasing Sunghoon on the beach and hurt your ankle to which he felt so guilty and he carried you all the way back to your house while apologizing over and over with words and kisses.  

Hah. Of course you dont think about that- you dont think about him.  

"I am...over him" You say looking everywhere except her. 

She raised her eyebrow, "You don't sound so confident." 

“You invited my ex to your wedding!” you argued. 

“He’s the groom’s best friend!" she argued back 

You groan and fall back on the bed again, at this point its a wonder how your phone is standing up with falling down due to your unhinged movements.  

“You’re so dramatic.” 

“YOU INVITED MY EX TO A ROMANTIC BEACH WEDDING.” 

“...You said you were over him!” 

“I am over him!” you snapped, pacing across the room now. “I am one hundred percent, absolutely, spiritually, emotionally—” 

You paused. Sighed. 

“...Eighty-seven percent over him.” 

“Aha.” 

“Don’t ‘aha’ me.” 

“Aha,” she said again. “Just say you're still in love with him and we’ll plan the seating chart accordingly.” 

You groaned dramatically and fell face-first into your bed. “I am not still in love with Park Sunghoon.” 

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. The silence was judgmental enough. 

“I’m not!” 

“Mhm.” 

“I’m not in love with him,” you repeated, lifting your head just enough to breathe. “I just occasionally check his Instagram. For closure.” 

“He’s literally going to be staying at the same resort.” 

You blinked. “...What.” 

“It’s a wedding in the hometown,” she said, and you could practically hear the shrug in her voice.  

“You think we all booked separate Airbnbs? No babe, we’re sharing a beachfront property.  

You, me, the bridal party, groom's mates and him." 

"Just dont say that we're going to share a room" 

"Oh about that..." She trails off as you widen you eyes and take your phone in hands, sitting up. 

"Omg Emily, I swear-" 

"Ok y/n! have a safe journey!" She said quickly and cut the call.  

You threw your phone somewhere on the bed as you sank back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling again, heart thudding a little louder now. Not in a panicked way. Just… unexpected. 

Sunghoon. 

The same boy who once kissed you with saltwater on his lips and whispered he wanted forever. The same boy you let go when you both had different definitions for forever.  

“I can handle this,” you said to no one in particular. 

Then, quietly: 

“Right?”   

“Right.”  

The memory crashes in, uninvited, like a tide that never really left. 

Salt in the air. Sand between your toes. The sky blushing orange as the sun began to dip beneath the ocean. 

“You run like a baby goat,” Sunghoon had said, breathless with laughter as you chased him down the shoreline, your hair wild and your grin wilder. 

“Excuse me?” you shouted, right before your foot caught on something and your ankle twisted. 

You went down hard. 

“Y/N!” He was by your side in seconds, panic chasing away the laughter on his face. “Shit—are you okay? Does it hurt? Oh my god, I shouldn’t have made fun of you. I’m the worst—here, here—” 

Without waiting, he scooped you into his arms like you weighed nothing. 

“You don’t have to carry me—” you protested, blushing. 

“Shut up,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re hurt. I’m carrying you. That’s the rule.” 

You had laughed. Soft. Small. 

“Okay… but what if I’m faking it to get carried?” 

He paused, looked down at you with a sparkle in his eyes, and whispered like a secret: 

“Then I’ll carry you forever.” 

You inhale sharply, blinking up at the ceiling as your chest tightens. 

Yeah. 

You were absolutely, undeniably, hundred percent not over him. 

The cool breeze hits you as you walk out of the airport, two suitcases occupying your hands. You close your eyes and take a breath, enjoying the wave of nostalgia. You open your eyes to see Emily—the bride herself—jumping up and down, holding a board that reads, "Y/N, THE MAID OF HONOUR."

You grin, leaving your suitcases behind as she throws the board at her fiancé, who stumbles a bit and runs toward you. You both give each other a crushing hug, jumping up and down with smiles on your faces and tears in your eyes. After what felt like an eternity—quote-unquote, according to Andrew—you both pull away and look at one another, soaking the moment in.

"Welcome back!!" Emily exclaims, jumping again as you wipe your tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt and hug her once more, which she returns gleefully.

Soon, taking one of your suitcases—the other being dragged by Emily—you reach near their car, where Andrew is still holding the board with a happy face. You hug him as he pats your back. As you pull away, he gives you a teasing smile and ruffles your hair—just like he used to.

"How have you been, kid?" You return the smile, swatting his hand away—just like you used to—and say, "Great! Now that I’ve finally reunited with my parents!"

The couple chuckles at that, and soon, the three of you get into a very much-needed group hug. Then, you quickly set your luggage in the car, and you three start the journey to the house you'll be staying in—the beachfront property. You sleep on the way due to jet lag while Emily and Andrew talk quietly so as not to disturb you.

The sudden jerk of the car stopping wakes you up. "Home sweet home," Andrew says while removing his seatbelt.

You don’t know what you expected to feel. But as the wind hit your face and the scent of the town seeped into your bones, all you could feel was nostalgia. The kind that doesn’t hurt, but definitely pulls at something inside you.

"The maid of honor is here!!" Emily exclaims, practically jumping in her seat.

You smile at that, but your smile quickly falters when you hear Andrew's next words, "...And the best man too." Emily looks out to see the best man already standing in front of the house, "Oh, he’s here already!"

You follow Emily's gaze to see the best man—Sunghoon. He's in a fitted black shirt and grey sweatpants, probably seeming to have settled in already. And God, he looked so good—too good. You immediately regret your outfit choices; you would’ve dressed up in advance if you knew he was going to be here already.

Emily and Andrew both sneak a glance at you, having known your past, and you just give them a quick smile, acting like it's okay because you didn’t want them to feel bad or guilty.

All three of you leave the car as both Andrew and Emily hug Sunghoon while you take your luggage out. He hugs them back with that small smile on his face. The couple soon disappears into the house, murmuring about the tons of work they have.

There’s a beat of silence between the two of you. "Hey, sweets."

There it is. That damn nickname again—the one he used to call you all the time—the one he said only he had the right to call. And it isn’t helping how he used that sweet tone he always used when it was you he was talking to.

"Hi, Hoon. How have you been?" you ask, trying to sound casual. You swear you saw Sunghoon freeze for a second as you let his nickname slip from your lips. "Better, now that you're here."

Your stomach does a little flip as he says that with that stupid, idiotic, sweet, handsome smile. You clear your throat as you go over to your suitcases.

"Um… let’s go inside. It’s getting dark."

"Sure thing, sweets," he says as he takes the suitcases from you and vanishes inside the house before you can even protest. You try not to crash out as you follow him inside.

You enter the room as he opens the door and drags your suitcases in. The room is just like how you remembered it to be—a bit renovated but the memories still rooted in the concrete.

"We’re sharing a room?" you ask, noticing the open suitcase on the floor, which you assumed was his because of the familiar shirts in there.

He keeps your suitcases aside. "Believe it or not, everyone’s sharing a room. The house doesn’t have fifteen separate rooms."

You nod and sit on the bed. "And they put the two of us together?"

He shrugs while unpacking his luggage. "We’re familiar with each other- we’re used to each other."

There he goes. Did he already move on? How’s he so calm with the situation going on in here? I mean, certainly anyone would freak out if they're sharing a room with their ex, right? Or maybe I wasn’t that important in his life to be missed or to feel the tension. Or did he move on? Did he get tired of waiting? I mean, anyone would. It's not like he was being honest that day anyway. Like, c’mon, who would wait for a girl who’s not even in the same state as you?

All of these thoughts get interrupted by the sound of him closing his suitcase.

You push those thoughts away and try to act normal. "Who said? I’m still not used to your snoring."

He throws one of his shirts at you. "Hey! C’mon, that was one time."

Talking with Sunghoon is always easy—at least, he makes it so. Your conversations used to last for hours. Well, he used to only listen to you yap, but that’s besides the point. And maybe that’s why you didn’t move on. How can you when it feels like you're repeating the seasons? How can you when all you want to do is get in his arms and forget about the world?

You remove the shirt from your face and lay back on the bed. "Sure. Whatever makes you sleep at night."

He sighs and shakes his head. "Want to sleep?"

You nod, turning to your side. He hums—turns off the lights, pulls the blinds, and covers you with the comforter. "Good night, I guess."

You hum and snuggle deeper into the comforter, sleep slowly knocking you out.

You woke up groggy, eyes barely fluttering open as the soft morning light filtered through the curtains. Your head ached slightly — a mix of travel exhaustion and the emotional chaos of last night — and your limbs were tangled in the sheets in the most unflattering way.

With a quiet groan, you turned your head… and paused.

There, standing by the sink near the corner of the room, was Sunghoon. Shirtless. Toothbrush in mouth. Hair a messy, just-woke-up disaster. And yet he looked stupidly good.

You blinked once. Then again.

"Seriously?" you muttered, your voice raspy. "Do you walk around like that now?"

He turned slightly, foam at the corner of his lips, and grinned at you through the mirror.

"Sorry," he said, spitting into the sink and rinsing his mouth. "Forgot I share a room with my ex."

You grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it weakly at him. "You're annoying."

He caught it easily, still smirking as he walked back to the bed, completely unbothered. "And you still drool in your sleep. So I guess we're even."

You shoved your face into the blanket to hide the way your lips tugged up.

Breakfast followed soon after. The kitchen was a mess — Emily running around in her robe, flipping pancakes like her life depended on it, while Andrew poured orange juice into wine glasses for no reason other than pure chaos.

You were seated across from Sunghoon, knees brushing occasionally under the table, and every time they did, you swore you saw Emily glance at the two of you with the most obnoxiously knowing look.

She didn’t say anything, of course. Just sipped her juice like she didn’t notice how Sunghoon quietly pushed the bowl of cut fruit closer to you or how you passed him the syrup without even looking up.

But you knew her. And by the slight smirk tugging at her lips, she definitely knew something. Maybe she knew everything. Everything which you, yourself arent sure of.

The day before the wedding was nothing short of a beautiful mess.

Emily’s house — once peaceful and scented like vanilla candles and lavender diffusers — now looked like a battlefield of open boxes, tangled fairy lights, last-minute checklists, and too many people talking over each other.

You stood in the middle of the living room, holding a curling iron in one hand and Emily’s jewelry set in the other, as she ran past you, barefoot and in a satin robe.

“I can’t find my lashes!” she yelled, more to the universe than to you.

“You don’t even need lashes. You’ll blind everyone with that highlighter alone,” you muttered, placing the jewelry safely down before trailing after her.

“Check the second drawer in my vanity!” she called from somewhere upstairs, her voice echoing.

Meanwhile, Andrew was in the kitchen, stress-eating chips out of a salad bowl and pretending he had control over the situation.

Sunghoon sat cross-legged on the carpet, surrounded by flower petals and name cards, trying to finish seating placements because apparently the wedding planner had to rush home for a family emergency. His brows were furrowed, lips slightly parted in concentration — and for a moment, you just stood there, watching him.

Still the same boy who used to handwrite your project assignments when you had a cold. Still the same boy who could get overly serious over something like wedding chairs.

"You're doing it wrong," you said, stepping closer, gently nudging one of the cards.

He glanced up, eyes narrowing. "How?"

"These two hate each other." You pointed to two names placed side by side. "Unless you're aiming for a food fight at the reception?"

He sighed. "Great. I love drama but not at someone else's wedding."

You laughed softly, sitting down beside him. “Scoot over.”

He shifted, and the two of you started rearranging cards in silence, your knees brushing again, just like this morning. Only this time, neither of you moved away.

Upstairs, Emily screamed again — this time about not being able to find the veil — and Andrew called out, “Babe, I thought you said you put it in the red bag?”

“There are five red bags, Andrew!”

You smiled despite yourself, glancing at Sunghoon, who was now smirking like a spectator in a rom-com.

“It’s like watching a live episode of a drama series,” he whispered, leaning in just slightly.

You rolled your eyes. “A very chaotic one.”

And yet, in the midst of all the madness, the laughter, the misplaced veil, and the wrong name cards, something about being there — next to him, with your best friend marrying the love of her life — felt strangely comforting. Like maybe, not everything was falling apart.

The wedding morning was a dream wrapped in silk and nerves.

The house, surprisingly quiet at 6:30 a.m., was already breathing excitement. You were up before your alarm — which never happened — and found yourself tiptoeing down to the kitchen barefoot, just to feel something calm before the chaos began.

Emily was already seated at the breakfast table in her white robe, sipping herbal tea with her eyes closed. You paused in the doorway, just watching her.

“You look like a Pinterest bride,” you said softly.

She opened one eye and smiled, the kind that reached all the way to her lashes. “That’s the goal.”

You joined her, both of you sitting in silence, letting the moment sit between you like a warm blanket. The hours ahead were going to be loud, teary, and chaotic — but this, this quiet breath before everything changed, was something you both needed.

And then the clock struck 7:30.

Suddenly the house erupted. Makeup artists arrived, steaming dresses were carried across rooms like fragile clouds, and hair curlers buzzed from every direction. The soft white light outside turned golden, bouncing off the windows and bathing the rooms in a glow that felt like something from a movie.

You had your hair half done when Emily turned around, already in the middle of her own glam session, and said, “Did you steam Sunghoon’s suit?”

You blinked. “That’s not my job.”

She raised an eyebrow in the mirror.

“…But I’ll do it anyway.”

Ten minutes later, you were in your guys' room, holding a steamer with one hand and his black suit with the other. He walked in with damp hair, still in sweatpants and a plain white tee, yawning.

“You’re steaming my suit?” he asked, surprised.

You looked over your shoulder. “It was either this or you walk down the aisle looking like a crumpled brochure.”

“Wow. So thoughtful.” He grinned, walking closer and watching you work. “You’d make a great wife someday.”

You didn’t look at him. “Don’t project your regrets on me.”

He chuckled, leaning against the wall. “You’re so aggressive before 9 a.m.”

You gave him a sarcastic smile, returning to your task. “You’re lucky I didn’t ‘accidentally’ burn a hole in this.”

But the moment — the silence between lines — hung thick with something else. The way his eyes stayed on you a second longer than necessary. The way you fiddled with the steamer cord just to avoid saying something you’d regret. It was always like this with him — quiet war, loud heart.

Eventually, you handed him the suit. “Try not to spill anything on it.”

“I’m very responsible now,” he said, already pulling off his shirt, forgetting or maybe not caring you were still in the room.

You turned around immediately. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he mimicked, laughing as he walked into the washroom.

By noon, the venue was glowing.

Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows of the old garden chapel Emily always dreamt of, casting multicolored light over ivory chairs and lilac petals. Guests began to arrive in waves — relatives, college friends, coworkers — all buzzing, all dressed up in love and perfume.

You stood near the altar, adjusting the bride’s bouquet, running through your maid-of-honor checklist in your head for the seventh time.

That’s when someone tapped your shoulder.

“Excuse me,” an older woman — possibly from Andrew’s side — gave you a warm smile. “Are you Emily’s sister?”

You blinked. “Oh no, just her friend.”

“Oh! You must be the maid of honor then. You’ve been running around like the bride’s bodyguard,” she chuckled.

You gave a tired smile. “It’s part of the job.”

She looked around and then leaned in, as if sharing a secret. “So… you know the best man? Heard you both are a pair!"

Your eyes instinctively followed her gaze to Sunghoon, laughing at something the ring bearer said. He looked so natural, so him — the exact version of him that used to fall asleep on your couch mid-movie. That version still lived in small corners of your mind you refused to dust off.

You cleared your throat, smiling a little. “We used to date.”

“Oh,” the woman said, surprised. “Well, it’s really mature of you both to be here, still showing up for them like this. He's a lovely man, really hard working too!

You nodded, eyes never really leaving him. “Yeah... I guess you can say that, I’m really proud of my ex.”

And you meant it. Even if it stung.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the garden, Sunghoon adjusted his tie while one of the groomsmen cracked jokes beside him. He gave a small laugh, but his mind wasn’t there.

“Dude,” the guy nudged him. “Isn’t that your ex?”

He glanced across the lawn. You were standing with Emily now, holding her veil so she wouldn’t trip.

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t it weird?”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

A pause.

“Honestly?” he said, after a moment, voice lower. “She’s doing great. Like… really great.”

Then a small smile tugged at his lips.

“I’m proud of her- I'm so proud of my ex."

The garden was glowing under the fairy lights, chairs lined with white ribbons, and the soft melody of a piano playing in the background. You stood to the side, just behind Emily, holding her bouquet while she faced Andrew at the altar.

Everyone had tears in their eyes, but you… you were already sniffling before the vows even began.

And then Andrew spoke.

“I’ve loved you since the first day you told me I was your favorite person even when I ate all your fries.”

Everyone chuckled.

“But more than that, I’ve loved the way you make a place feel like home. I promise to hold your hand through every bad movie, every thunderstorm, and every time you forget where you kept your keys.”

You wiped a tear, eyes blurry as Emily took her vow sheet with slightly shaky hands.

“And I promise,” Emily’s voice broke, “to never let go of the way you look at me like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world—even when I’m yelling at you in my ugliest pajamas.”

People laughed through their tears.

You… broke.

Tears slipped down your cheeks freely now. You didn’t even try to hide it. It wasn’t just about them. It was love, so raw and open, it cracked something in you that you hadn’t dared touch in years.

You felt someone gently press a tissue into your hand.

You turned slightly, and there he was—Sunghoon. Not teasing. Not smirking. Just… looking at you like he got it.

The ceremony ended in a wave of cheers and claps, and as the evening unfolded into soft music and warm hugs, the first dance began under the starlit canopy.

Soon enough, the dance floor opened to everyone. You were sipping punch at the edge, quietly soaking it all in when a familiar hand reached out in front of you.

“May I?” Sunghoon asked, eyes hopeful.

You let out a breathy laugh. “Seriously?”

He raised a brow. “I’m told I clean up well in a suit.”

You rolled your eyes but placed your hand in his anyway.

As the two of you stepped into a slow sway, the music melting into something soft and nostalgic, there was a comfortable silence.

You didn’t speak for a while. Just… moved. Familiar and unsure. Close, but cautious.

Until he leaned in a little.

“You still cry at vows,” he murmured near your ear.

You glanced up. “You still tease me when I’m emotional.”

He gave a soft chuckle. “You still look beautiful when you’re emotional.”

You looked away. Heart beating a bit faster.

And then… softer, barely audible above the music:

“I missed this. You. Us.”

You met his eyes again — searching, unsure, but open.

“I missed you too,” you whispered.

He didn't say anything more. Just gently pulled you closer, as your hands rested on his chest.

And then, like a moment that had been waiting three years to happen — he kissed you.

Not rushed. Not dramatic. Just a soft, steady press of lips — careful not to steal the spotlight, but quietly claiming the moment for just the two of you.

The kind of kiss that doesn’t scream we’re back, but simply says:

Finally.

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works

liked this? click here for more: (∩^o^)⊃━☆

A/N: Finally, indeed. ummmmmm so, sincere appologies cause i kinda half assed it half way thru. so, really sorry about that........... also, tysm for all the love nd support u guys r showing! MWUAH! stay hydrated.

perm taglist: @gnarlyhoons @stormlit-pages @himynameisraelynn @see-c @shra-vasti @heesbbygurl @elikajinnie @jwyoceans @jaylaxies (lmk if u wanna be added!)

taglist for this fic: @miauumin @nctubatu @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @iwishyourosesxo @nmurark05 @aheewonenthusiast @jaeminchiaa @wonnieswife @iluvhoonn @danielladida @skzenhalove @honestlyatomicpanda (closed cause... it ended.)

[winwintea]

yellow

PAIRING ↬ na jaemin x fem!reader (feat. zhong chenle)

TAGS ↬ angst, romance, lots of feelings, queer, bisexual people exist, idol x idol kinda but not really, im queen of jaemle nation fight me, happy pride month (it's august but idc every day pride month), also written in jaemin pov bc i hate myself (i'm never doing it again.)

WARNINGS  ↬ angst

SUMMARY ↬ his favorite color is yellow. in color theory yellow is often used as a way to describe platonic relationships. because that's all na jaemin will ever have. platonic love.

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.8k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ just wanna let people know i do not hardcore ship idols, this is literally just a story and it's not a reflection of their actual selves. so like don't cancel me omfgjahds. i was so scared to post this, this fic has been in development hell for months but i promised @spacejip so....

PLAYLIST ↬ yellow - yoh jamiyama; boy bi - mad tsai; sofia - clario; sweater weather - the neighborhood; ghosting - mother mother; nobody - mitski

I ALWAYS KNEW I WAS DIFFERENT.

Even before I understood the words for it. I never settled, always switching between boy and girl, between friendship and longing for something deeper. Sometimes I’d catch my reflection in shop windows and wonder why my heart skipped when the boy with the crooked smile walked by, or when the girl with the sunflower dress laughed at my jokes. 

I just couldn’t seem to decide, and well that was the problem I guess. 

By the time I was nine, my mother had begun to notice my odd hesitations when asked about crushes and how I’d like to confess to a girl someday. One Saturday morning, as I dusted the trophies lining our mantel, she paused before me with a mug of coffee in hand “Jaemin,” she said, her voice soft, yet also nervous, “I think you like both boys and girls.” 

Her words weren’t a question. She already knew the answer. 

I nodded my head for confirmation. I’d never said it out loud before, but hearing her say it in that way made it real in a way that both terrified and relieved me. She set her mug down and reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. “I love you,” she whispered, “and you’ll always be safe with me.”

But then her expression shifted, “The world isn’t ready for boys like you,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “So let’s keep this just between us for now.” I studied her face. Not once did she ever look disappointed, but instead always carried a worrying look upon her eyes. Outside our front door lay a world that might not understand, or worse, might judge. 

I learned early on to tuck my truth into hidden places and whisper it only in dreams. In daylight, I became good at smiling along, at telling half-truths and nodding when I should. But at night, I was reminded that being different was both my curse and my gift.

Then came Zhong Chenle.

Or, as I liked to refer to him as: the human megaphone

And, unfortunately, also the boy who would go on to ruin my life. 

But I didn’t know that at the time.

I first met Chenle when I was ten. He moved into the house next door with twelve suitcases, a dog louder than he was, and a zero respect for indoor voice etiquette. The first time we met, he rang our doorbell and introduced himself. I opened the door to a boy with a bowl cut, wide-gapped teeth, and this blinding grin that made me forget how to speak for a full five seconds.

“Hi! I’m Chenle. I’m from Shanghai. You’re my new best friend,” he declared.

I blinked. “Uh… what?”

“You have a trampoline. I saw it. Let’s go.”

And just like that, we were friends.

Chenle didn’t knock on doors. He burst through them. Literally. The first week he lived next door, he climbed in through my bedroom window because he “wanted to see if it worked like in the movies.” 

It did not. 

He got stuck halfway in and kicked over my desk lamp in the process. He still insists that it was my fault, somehow. 

He was loud. He was nosy. He told me his favorite animal was a dolphin “because they’re smart and scream a lot, just like me.” (His words not mine.) He drank milk like it was a personality trait and claimed he’d become a millionaire when he was older. He didn’t need to ‘become’ one though, cause he was already a millionaire. His family was completely loaded. 

And I loved him. God, did I love him.

I didn’t know it instantly. It wasn’t the kind of love you recognize, anyway. At first it was just the comfort of having someone close. We spent years growing up like two peas in a pod. We had a standing Friday night ritual of junk food and horror movies that neither of us had the guts to admit scared us. We'd stay up until 2AM pretending not to be terrified, jumping at every creak and then laughing until our stomachs hurt.

Sleepovers blurred into weekends, which blurred into seasons. We built forts in my living room. We argued over Mario Kart so loudly that my mom made a rule that “no one named Chenle is allowed to enter the house after 9PM on weekdays.

By the time we hit middle school, Chenle had taken to calling me his “number one.”

“My number one sidekick,” he’d announce dramatically, throwing his arm around my shoulders while we walked home.

I’d snort, shoving him off. “I’m not your sidekick. You’re my sidekick.”

“In your dreams. I’m the main character. You’re the tragic subplot.”

He’d always grin after saying that, oblivious. I’d grin too, although maybe less oblivious.

Because at some point, in the middle of all the chaos and teasing and sleep-deprived laughter, something shifted. I started noticing things I shouldn’t. Like how his laugh had changed. I started seeing it differently. Or how his hands had gotten bigger, and when I ruffled his hair, my heart would do this annoying flipping thing like it was trying to escape my chest and launch itself at him.

That’s when I realized my first real crush wasn’t some girl who brushed by me in the halls, or a senior who looked cool leaning against lockers.

It was Chenle.

My best friend.

The boy who once tried to convince me that bees were government spies.

I hated it.

Not because I didn’t like him, like I clearly did. I hated it because it changed the rules of everything. How could I sit next to someone during a movie knowing my fingers are twitching to hold theirs? How could I hear “you’re my number one” and not wonder if it could ever mean something else?

Spoiler alert: I didn’t. I just laughed. I shoved him harder. I hid behind sarcasm and jokes and really long sips of soda whenever he got too close. I buried it. Deep inside my soul.

Because if I told him, I might lose him. And losing Chenle? That wasn’t an option. Not then. Not ever.

So I kept the secret. I played my role. I smiled when he made dumb jokes and called me his “ride or die.”

But part of me kept whispering: I love him. And he’ll never know.

In terms of high school cliques, Chenle and I were placed somewhere between semi-popular and beloved chaotic pests. We weren’t the jocks, but we were the ones who people invited to parties just in case they needed some crazy shit to happen. Mostly Chenle. I was more of a corner-wallflower-watching-me-spontaneously-lick-someone’s-arm kind of guy.

So when the whispers started about a new transfer student, I barely cared at all.

“She’s from somewhere fancy,” someone whispered behind me in the homeroom.

“I heard she studied abroad in like, five countries, so her family is like rich rich.” said another.

“Bro. She wears strawberry clips in her hair.”

Chenle perked up. “Strawberry clips?” he repeated, spinning in his chair. “That's either peak fashion or someone trying to start a cult. Either way, I respect it.”

“Calm down,” I muttered, not bothering to look up.

“No. You don’t understand. This is important. Fashion statements mean she’s either really weird or really cool. I need to know which.”

“You say that like you don’t own a hoodie with a dolphin eating pizza on it.”

“And that hoodie changed lives,” he replied solemnly.

Naturally, we got our answer when the classroom door creaked open and you walked in.

You weren’t like anyone I’d ever seen before. You didn’t just enter a room—you landed in it. Head held high, eyes scanning the class like you were appraising a room of overpriced art. Your uniform was regulation, sure, but somehow you made it look like it belonged on a fashion runway in Tokyo. And there, clipped into your hair on either side, were two fat, ridiculous plastic strawberries that glinted in the fluorescent light like they knew they were starting something.

I blinked. Chenle gaped.

You introduced yourself with a smile, and somehow your voice made the classroom feel warmer. It was terrifying. I immediately went back to pretending to read. Chenle, of course, did not.

“Hi! I’m Chenle,” he said as you passed our row. “Welcome to whatever level of academic purgatory this school is.”

You raised a brow. “Thanks? I think?”

“Don’t worry, I’m the unofficial welcoming committee,” he added, gesturing to himself. “And this guy next to me—” he kicked my foot under the desk, “—this is Jaemin. He’s cool, in a broody, possibly-vampire kind of way.”

I looked up. Just once.

You smiled at me. It was small, polite. You probably forgot it a second later.

I didn’t.

“Hi,” I said, trying not to sound like my throat had been replaced with sandpaper. “Nice clips.”

Your smile widened just enough to make me regret every life choice that led to this moment. “Thanks. They remind me not to take anything too seriously.”

Chenle clapped once, loudly. “See? ICONIC.”

You laughed. And just like that, you were in.

It was like watching magnets meet. You and Chenle clicked instantly. loud to loud, weird to weird, chaos to chaos. He made a joke, you added the punchline. You rolled your eyes, he rolled with it. If Chenle was a human sparkler, you were a box of matches, and every time the two of you talked, the hallway got a little brighter and a little more flammable.

“Have you ever tried wasabi KitKats?” he asked you once at lunch.

You didn’t even blink. “I ate three and hallucinated.”

Chenle gasped like he was witnessing true divinity. “I knew it wasn’t just me!”

That was day 5 of knowing you. On day 6, the three of us were grouped for a science project, and by day 7, Chenle had already given you a ridiculous nickname (I will not repeat it here on the grounds of secondhand embarrassment). You didn't even flinch. You just fired one back at him and kept walking like you'd been part of this dumb dance all along.

And me?

Well… I was there.

Reluctantly. At first.

See, I’ve never been good with change. New people throw off my rhythm. And you weren’t just new—you were disarming. The kind of person who could insult someone and still have them thank you afterward. You took up space, not in a loud way, but in a comfortable-in-your-own-skin way. The kind of confidence people fake. But with you, it was just… real.

So yeah, I held back. Answered your questions with shrugs. Laughed when it felt safe. You didn’t seem to notice. Or if you did, you didn’t push.

Which somehow made it worse.

Because then one afternoon we were all sitting on the floor of the library, fake-studying for a history test, and I realized I was laughing. Like, really laughing, because you’d just impersonated our history teacher’s monotone voice and Chenle’s laugh at the same time, and I genuinely thought I would choke on my own spit.

You looked at me like you’d just unlocked a new level. “See? He can laugh,” you said, triumphant.

And I hated how good that made me feel.

After that, it was just… us.

The three of us. A trio.

Lunch breaks became sacred rituals. You’d bring snacks, Chenle would bring gossip, and I’d pretend I wasn’t enjoying the way you both pulled me into your tornado of nonsense. We’d sit on the floor behind the gym building to escape the sun and the noise, passing chips and bad jokes like currency.

Group projects became borderline illegal. We got nothing done, but our PowerPoint slides had amazing content.

We had doodles on each other’s notebooks. Nicknames that made zero sense to anyone else. Inside jokes about pigeons and the government. You’d steal half my lunch without asking. Chenle would throw pencils at your head. I’d sigh and clean up after both of you.

It was fun. Too fun.

And yet, somewhere along the way, I started feeling like I was always walking a half-step behind you two.

It wasn’t anything either of you did. Not on purpose. But I’d notice the way you’d look at Chenle first when something funny happened. How he’d instinctively hand you the last piece of candy. How your conversations sometimes stretched on without me, like I was background noise to your main act.

And I hated that I noticed.

Because we were fine. We were good. I wasn’t jealous. I wasn’t anything.

…I was just—

There. On the edge of something I didn’t want to name. Laughing when you both laughed, trailing behind when the hallway got too crowded, watching as the space between you two narrowed by the day.

It was easier not to think about it. Easier to ignore the tightness in my chest when Chenle called you by a nickname he hadn’t used on anyone else. Easier to smile, make jokes, and pretend I was still in control.

Because if I thought about it too long?

I might start realizing things I wasn’t ready to face.

It starts slow.

Like a leak in the ceiling you don’t notice until there’s a puddle on the floor.

One day I’m sitting across from you two at lunch, peeling the label off a juice box, and I catch Chenle looking at you.

Not the way he looks at spicy ramen or a sale at the convenience store. No. This was different.

He looked at you like you were something to be memorized.

And I froze. Juice box half-peeled. Air caught in my lungs like a glitch.

Because I’d seen that look before.

In bathroom mirrors. In stolen glances. In my own eyes.

I started seeing it everywhere after that.

The way he leaned closer when you spoke. The way he remembered little things about you — your favorite gum flavor, how you hated when your sleeves got wet, how you always liked cinnamon on hot cocoa.

I watched you laugh at something dumb he said and lean into his space like it was yours to take. And he let you. Of course he let you.

And the part that broke me wasn’t just that he liked you.

It was that I did too. I liked you both.

Then came the sleepover.

Chenle’s living room. Popcorn everywhere. A horror movie on mute. You were half-asleep, slouched on the floor pillow. I was curled up on one end of the couch, scrolling through my phone and trying not to acknowledge the emotional chaos ongoing in my brain.

Chenle flopped between us, laughing at something stupid, his arm brushing yours like it had done a hundred times before.

And then… he leaned over.

Rested his head on your shoulder.

Didn’t say a word.

Just rested.

You didn’t move. You didn’t even blink. You just tilted your head a little, like it was normal, like it was okay, like this was something you both did now.

I couldn’t breathe.

I stared at the TV, pretending to watch, heart pounding. My mouth was dry. My skin felt too tight.

I don’t even know what I was jealous of. Him? You? The space between you?

Or maybe just the fact that I wasn’t there. That I couldn’t be.

That I was watching someone I wanted melt into someone else.

I stayed up that night after you both fell asleep.

Chenle was snoring like a lawn mower, limbs flung out like a starfish. You were curled up in a blanket on the floor, hair in your face, softly breathing. I sat in the dark with my knees to my chest and stared at the ceiling.

Because what do you do when the two people you love most are standing right next to each other, and you know you’ll never be enough for either?

I thought I was doing a good job.

Like pretending, keeping it together, or smiling when I was supposed to. Laughing when I had to. Memorizing the exact distance I could stand from you without feeling like my chest was going to cave in.

I told myself I could handle it. The trio dynamic, the shared jokes, the way you always seemed to look at Chenle a second longer than you did me. I’d made peace with being on the sidelines. Or at least, I thought I had.

And then you pulled out the gum. “Limited edition,” you said, grinning. “Spearmint. Only the cool people get a piece.”

“Guess I’m getting two,” Chenle announced, already reaching for one.

You swatted his hand. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” You handed out pieces one by one until the pack was nearly empty.

“Yo, toss me one?” I asked casually, too casually, already stepping forward.

You blinked, glanced down at the foil. Then your face shifted a little.  “Oh,” you said, voice softening. “That was… the last one.”

It was in fact the end of the pack. Chenle was already unwrapping it, mid-chew, completely unaware of the tiny little earthquake that had just ruptured my insides.

“Wait,” Chenle said, catching the shift in the air. He turned to me, holding out the gum with a shrug and that easy, careless smile. “You want it?”

It should’ve been simple.

Say yes. Take the gum. Laugh it off.

But instead, I just… froze.

Because it wasn’t about the gum. It was never about the gum.

It was about how effortlessly he offered it to me. How kind he was without knowing it. How easy it all came to him with you, with everyone. And how suddenly, in that moment, I realized. 

He’d always be the one who got the last piece.

Of everything.

Of you.

My mouth opened. Then closed. Then it opened again. I think I managed a smile. Or something that could’ve passed for one.

Then I turned around and walked away.

Didn’t explain. Didn’t joke. Didn’t look back.

Just left.

It started with a text.

[You]: lunch tmrw? chenle has music club. ur not allowed to say no. i’ll bring grape juice.

I stared at it longer than I should’ve.

Part of me wanted to ignore it. Part of me wanted to throw my phone into a river. 

[Me]: if there’s no grape juice i’m suing

And that was that.

We met behind the gym, our usual spot. Same cracked tiles. Same half-broken bench. You were already sitting when I arrived, legs swinging slightly as you balanced a lunch tray in your lap. When you saw me, you raised a can in greeting. “Your gross purple sugar water, as promised.”

I sat beside you, trying not to let our knees touch. “Wow. A romantic.”

“Please,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m a walking rom-com. But like… the low-budget kind.”

I snorted. “So self-aware. I’m proud of you.”

And just like that we slipped into the rhythm again. Jokes. Teasing. You flicked a crumb at me when I said your rice balls were lopsided. I mimed choking on your soda when you tried to psychoanalyze my favorite potato chips. It was easy. It was safe.

Almost.

Because in the quiet that came between bites and laughter, I caught myself looking at you. Not like I used to, but with something softer. Sadder. Like admiring a painting you know you'll never be able to take home.

Your hair caught the light just so. Your lips were curled in that kind of smile people don’t realize they’re wearing—the kind that comes from being at ease, from knowing you’re seen.

And in that moment, it hit me all at once:

You were happy.

Without Chenle here, without the noise and the banter, you were still you. Still bright. Still strange. Still lovely in that way that made my ribs feel too small.

And for a brief, flickering second—I imagined it.

Us.

Just us.

Me handing you the grape soda. You laughing at my dumb jokes. No triangle, no third, no half-steps behind.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it?

It wouldn’t be real. Because I’d still be thinking of him too.

Still catching myself looking for his reaction when you smiled. Still waiting for his voice to jump into the conversation with something wildly unhelpful but weirdly profound. It was never just one of you. It was always both.

And if I couldn’t love you without loving him… Then I couldn’t love either of you the way you deserved.

You nudged my arm, snapping me back. “You okay? You’ve got that ‘I just composed a sad indie ballad in my head’ look again.”

I chuckled. “Just full of bad poetry and spicy tteokbokki.”

“Tragic,” you said, mock solemnly. “At least you look pretty while suffering.”

That made me smile. And hurt. At the same time. I looked at you again and something inside me settled. Quietly. Like dust after a storm.

This would be the last time we’d do this—just us. You didn’t know that, but I did.

Because I’d made my decision.

I loved you. I loved Chenle.

And I couldn’t have either of you.

So I’d carry that love the way you carry an old photograph—worn, soft around the edges, a little blurred. Beautiful. Untouchable. But still carried with you.

You tossed me a napkin as I stood up to leave. “You’ve got sauce on your mouth, drama king.”

I wiped it without looking and grinned. “Thanks. I live to impress.”

You laughed. And it sounded like every version of goodbye I’d never have the courage to say out loud.

Weddings are funny.

Everyone says they’re about beginnings—the start of something new, something shared. But when you're standing on the outside, watching it all unfold from behind a wall of hydrangeas and polite distance, weddings feel more like endings.

And this one?

This one felt like the final chapter of a book I dog-eared years ago, hoping I'd someday be brave enough to finish.

The ceremony was beautiful. Of course it was. Chenle’s family did everything big. There were gold accents, string quartet, lots of laughter that bounced off the walls. Your side was smaller, but no less warm. You walked down the aisle with your head held high. Like you did once before.

Even now, you refused to blend in.

Even now, you stood out.

And Chenle looked like he belonged nowhere else but at the end of that aisle. Nervous smile, fingers twitching at his side, eyes locked on you like gravity had chosen a new north. He looked the same, somehow. But older. Softer. Better. Because of you.

I stood at the back. Far enough away that no one would notice if I slipped out early, close enough to hear the vows. I told myself I was only there because he asked. “My number one,” he’d said with a grin. “You better show up, or I’m taking you out of the group chat forever.” Classic Chenle logic.

I hadn’t known if I’d wanted to come. But here I was.

You reached him. Your hands found his. The whole world seemed to still.

And me? I smiled. A real one.

Because of course it was you two.

It was always going to be you two. And I was okay with that.

heh

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip @peterm4rker @viasdreams @mango-bear

[andy-15-07]

Hii, if it’s not too much to ask could you write some hurt/comfort for Pedro? I’m dealing with grief right now since my grandmother died this weekend. I’m feeling down and don’t know how to cope really, just wanna feel some warmth and comfort. I know it’s a sensitive topic so it’s totally alright if you’re uncomfortable with this.

Have a great day!

Stay Here a While

PAIRING: Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 710| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Masterlist II

Joel Miller Masterlist

A/n: hello, first of all I want to tell you that I'm sorry to hear what happened to you and I hope you like this fic.

---

You hadn’t said much that day.

The hours passed in that hollow sort of way where time moved forward but you stayed still, wrapped in Pedro’s hoodie on the edge of the bed. The world outside kept spinning, but yours had gone quiet.

She was gone.

Your grandmother,your safe place, your favorite laugh, the warmest hands that ever held you,was gone. And the grief hit you in soft waves that suddenly became tsunamis, crashing through your chest when you least expected it.

Pedro didn’t ask you to talk. He didn’t try to fix it.

He just stayed close.

When he got home that evening, he didn’t knock or announce himself like he usually did. He found you in the dim bedroom, curled into the blankets, staring at nothing. A faint flicker of light from your phone screen lit your face, and he could see the tired curve of your eyes,the kind of tired that rest couldn’t fix.

He crossed the room without a word and knelt in front of you.

“Hey,” he whispered.

Your lip trembled. You didn’t mean for it to. You hadn’t even been crying, not really. Not until now.

You didn’t say hey back. You just pressed your hand to his chest, searching for something solid in the storm.

He took that hand gently in his, brought it to his lips. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

And that cracked you open.

Tears fell silently at first. Then not-so-silently. The kind of sobbing that came from somewhere deep and old and too raw to name. Pedro didn’t flinch. He pulled you into his arms, tucking your head against his neck, pressing one steady hand against your spine.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured again and again, like a lullaby. “I’ve got you. Just breathe, okay? You don’t have to do anything else right now.”

You gripped his shirt, like maybe if you held on tight enough, the pain would pass quicker.

“She used to make tea when I was sad,” you managed through a breath. “She always knew what to say. And now I… I don’t even know how to be without her.”

Pedro didn’t interrupt.

He didn’t give you some empty quote about how "she’s still with you" or "time will heal it",because he knew better than that. He knew the truth: sometimes, pain just needs space. Sometimes, the only comfort is not having to carry it alone.

He rocked you gently.

“I wish I could take it from you,” he said, voice thick with his own emotion. “I’d carry it for you if I could.”

You shook your head. “Just… stay here a while.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

And he didn’t.

He let you cry. Let you sit in the silence. Held you through every sharp breath and let the grief move however it needed to. He pressed soft kisses to your temple, to your damp cheeks, to your knuckles where your fist had balled up in your lap.

Eventually, when the crying slowed and you could breathe again, he pulled the blanket around both of you and lay beside you, your body curled into his like something precious.

“Do you want to tell me about her?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded. And little by little, you did. You told him about her humming in the kitchen. About the way she always gave you the bigger half of the cookie, even though she pretended not to notice. About the way she smelled like vanilla and lilacs and old pages of a book.

Pedro smiled through misty eyes, fingers tracing gentle shapes along your back.

“She sounds like magic,” he said.

“She was.”

And for the first time that day, it didn’t hurt quite as sharply to remember her.

“Will you stay tonight?” you whispered.

Pedro turned you gently so you were facing him. “I’ll stay every night. As long as you need. As long as it takes.”

You pressed your forehead to his chest and let yourself be held, really held. Not because it would make the grief disappear, but because it gave you something to rest on when everything else felt like sinking.

And in the quiet, you began to heal,just a little. Not because the pain was gone, but because love was still here.

[deadly-zebra]

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘖𝘷𝘦𝘳

mattheo riddle x reader

contents: fluff, slight innuendos, mentions of violence, hufflepuff!reader, sweet!mattheo, slow-burn, no proper verb tense + not proof-read (sorry guys loll)

synopsis: mattheo finds his way into your dorm after a bad fight, hoping you'll clean him up. lucky for him, your roommate is out.

author's note: sorry if there is too much intro, this is my FIRST fic so i'm still figuring out my style. advice is VERY welcome!

2.1k words

ੈ✩‧₊˚ the cold air of hogwarts pierced through your window. winter nights where often spend under a pile of quilts, or by a roaring fire. even though the dorms where under the ground, the chill managed to creep in. lucky for you, the common room contained a raging hearth that burned throughout the winter months. you peel off the many layers of blanket you slept under and grabbed just one to take with you to the common room. with no roommate to wake, it was easy to creep our of your room and sit by the fire.

apon a couch near the fire, the flames warmed your cold hands. the moment of peace was welcome. it was a time of night when everyone was gone, it was just you all alone in the giant room. the stillness of the night was a perfect escape from the pressures of school.

but out of the silence came a noise, so small you almost didn't hear it over the quite fire. a knocking on the dorm's door. the knocking continues, getting more frantic by the second. you decide it'd be best to answer the door, as to avoid being caught by someone else who might wake up.

you creep silently to the large wooden door, dragging your blanket along with you. with caution, you pull the the metal handle. the sight surprises you, and scares you. the boy you've been silently pinning over meets your eye, bloody and bruised.

"mattheo??" you franticly whisper. he is stood holding his bloody. his nose is busted and have has small cuts all over his body.

"please, can you help?" he mutters. his tired eyes meet your. it's hard to resist.

"of course, come in," you practically dragged him inside and closed the door gently. blood drips off his band-tee and onto the floor.

"you have to be quiet. i'll go get my first aid kit, and you try not to drip over the floor."

mattheo nodded and watched you speed walk over to your room. your interest in medicine had paid off for once. once you have retuned to him, he stood in the same spot you left him, still holding his hand. his sass and nonchalance is gone, and a broken man stand in his place. you sign and guide him to the girls bathroom.

"what happened to you?" you ask. he slides down the wall of a shower stall and mumbles something you can't hear.

"mattheo?"

"my brother," he asserts. "we got in a fight."

"he really did a number on you matty," you swear he smiles slightly at the nickname.

"no shit, mate."

you grab a bottle of alcohol and a piece of cotton to pour it on.

"this might sting," you warn. he winces when you make contact with the cut on his nose. "i told you," you say, and let out a giggle. mattheo roles his eyes, finally getting some of his personality back. you continue to clean his cuts, moving up and down his arm and gently patting alcohol in the wounds. he watches you work, noticing your precision.

"so what was the fight about?" you ask. mattheo's eyes go a bit dull at the question. he looks up at you, staring wayyyy to deeply into your eyes to be just friendly.

"stupid shit, tom is always on about some 'great plan' he has," he say, waving his good hand around. you pull in back down so you can wipe the dirt away.

"did you veto it or something?" you ask jokingly.

"of sort. i don't want to get into it," he says, "just- don't tell anyone. i can't have the headmaster know i got in another fight."

"your secret's safe with me, pretty boy," you say, kind of joking. his eyebrows raise and he laughs at your boldness.

"what did you just call me?" he snorts. you choose not to answer his question, in awe of your own brazenness.

"mattheo stop moving!"

"fine, fine." he slumps back against the shower wall, arms folded, and sighs.

"mattheo, seriously, I can't get to the cuts on your arms and stomach." he stares at you for a few seconds, looking at the cotton you're holding in your hands as you crouch on your knees. his eyes drag up to meet yours, and he slow lifts up his shirt with the one un-cut hand he has. his abs are on full display, and even under the dried blood they still look good.

shit. he's really hot.

"what?" mattheo asks.

your eyes widen.

"nothing." you grab a fresh cotton piece and soak it in more alcohol. with gentle wipes, you scrub the blood from his stomach and abs. he really is gorgeous.

"i have some on my chest, too," he says in a tone you can't quite place.

"alright, can you pull your shirt up some more?"

you expect him to make a joke at that request, but he simply lifts the fabric up more. then, he pulls it over his head.

"can you help with this arm?" he asks. his lifts his bloody hand up, allowing you to pull the shirt off completely. you never thought the first time you'd take his shirt of would be in this context. with nothing covering his top-half, his beauty is more evident to you than ever before. his tired eyes started up at you, silently asking if you were blushing as hard as he was. and you were. unable to hold the intense eye contact, you look down at his cuts tending to them and trying to pretend that you weren't as red as a strawberry right now.

you break the silence. "you're clean, now i just need to bandage everything up."

the room seemed to shrink as to draw closer to him, to get a better look at his wounds.

"you'll need quite a few wraps to secure these big ones." you run a finger down the outside of the slashes along in chest. you hand lingers for a bit too long. you turn around to grab some bandages. facing him once again, you begin to tie and tape the gauze to his body.

"here hold this piece up,"

mattheo nods. then he grabs you hips. your eyes widen in shock as he drags them closer to himself and lets go when your hovering above his lap.

"s'rry," he mutters, "you can't reach well enough when your crouching over me like that,"

you blush even harder, but give in and sit on his lap. you try not to think about how close you two are now, but your mind always seems to wander to... different places. his breath seems to speed up, and suddenly your aware of how cold the tiled bathroom is. you finish bandaging his chest and very fit arms, and move his face.

mattheo eyes lock on you, and he tracks your every movement.

"it's cold, huh?" he says, smiling a little like he just made the joke of the century.

"it is winter mattheo, and night time."

he rolls his eyes at your sarcasm. he is still staring at you. your hands hover above his nose, waiting to place the last small band-aid over his cut.

"close your eyes matty,"

he shuts them and you gently place the band-aid.

"perfect."

you lean back to admire your work. he may be covered in white gauze, but there is no more blood or open wound. but your eye brows furrow as you see a cut you missed. the right side of his lip is split open.

"shit, i missed one."

he smiled.

"i was waiting for you to notice," he says, his grin wide.

your hands reach for his jaw, and you trace the the small cut. his smile drops, and his eye wander to your lips.

"i think it's too small to tape up, it should heal quickly," you say, completely oblivious to where his eyes are glued too.

"mhm," he nods, eyes completely fixed on your face.

"mattheo? are you falling asleep here?"

his eyes close and he shakes his head.

"i might be."

"well you're all done, i can take you back to your dorm if you'd like."

he starts to get up, grabbing what he thinks is the wall, but upon hearing "your dorm," he flinches and accidently turns something behind him. icy water come shooting over both of you as you are harshly reminded that you are in a shower stall.

"merlin!" mattheo curses as he scrambles to to turn the cold water off. the night just got more freezing.

"i'm so sorry," he whispers as he pushes you out of the stall, "are you alright?"

"it's okay, just a bit cold..."

mattheo laughs a bit, but then goes stone face as he realizes this is not the time for him to joke around.

"i can't go back to my dorm, not 'till the morning when there's more people around."

you brush the wet hair out of your face, trying to think about what to do. then you remember something.

"my roommate isn't here," you blurt out. you take a second to hear the implication you just made and then continue, "you can maybe use her bed. and i have some towels in my dorm to warm up with."

"sounds good to me," mattheo nods, "and thank you."

you meet his eyes.

"i-" he stops himself, "i'm really grateful for everything you've done for me."

you blush a bit a lightly push his shoulder. "wow, mattheo being thankful, it looks good on you."

"ok don't make it a thing," he laughs as he starts to follow you to your room.

─────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

you grab a towel from your closet and toss it to him. mattheo catches it with his good hand and fluffs his hair.

"do you know where your clothes are, in your room?" you ask him.

"yes..." he says, looking confused.

"good, you can summon them."

"right," he murmurs, "i don't really have a wand..."

"what?"

"tom broke it in the fight." he pulled out a cedar wand with a broken tip.

"oh." you say. "i think I can fix it with some tape, it should work for now."

you wrap tape around the tip and hand it to a drenched mattheo. while he tries to summon some clothes you dry yourself as much as you can with a towel.

"mattheo turn around."

he looks up at you and then back down at the pajamas you are grabbing from a drawer.

"ah, of course."

he spins and continues to try and summon clothes of his own.

"yes!" he yells, scaring you as you frantically pull your shirt on. he spins around to face you.

"mattheo!" you scold. his eyes shoot to the floor.

"sorry, but look!" he holds up a pile of clothes. "shit, there's no shirt."

"i guess that wand isn't working too well after all. you can borrow a sweater of mine."

you toss him a hufflepuff sweater and he puts it on. you study his frame. plaid pajama pants and your sweater, it was a look for sure. but your eyes are pulled to his face, his soft jaw, his sweet brown eyes... and the band-aid that was falling off his nose.

"merlin," you curse, and leap to re-stick the falling bandage. the water must have un-stuck the glue. he laughs at your speed, and you can feel his cool breath on your face. your eyes meet once again. the room seems to get a bit warmer.

"seriously, thank you," he whispers, "you mean at lot to me."

silence fills the room as you search your brain for a response.

"no problem," you say. real smooth. internally you face palm but he just chuckles. you realize your hands have been on his jaw, and you slip them down to rest on his shoulders.

he stares at you even harder, and finally makes a move. he callused hands meet you jaw and he pulls you into a kiss. his lips are surprisingly soft and you feel his hand reach to caress your hair.

he pulls away gently and looks at you. and then he laughs. his hand wipes his mouth and you realize the cut on his lip is bleeding. you wipe your own lips and see blood on your hand.

"sorry!" you cry out, scrambling to find a gauze to stop the bleeding.

"it's alright." he laughs some more and pulls your shoulders parallel to his. "i'm fine," he whispers, and pulls you in for another kiss.

"i'm glad you came to me," you speak into his lips.

"i wouldn't have come to anyone else."

author's note: thank you for reading! i know this was kinda long but i loveee a good slow burn.

[usagimygoatfr]

SUDDENLYN Y/N...? chapter 18 (half written)

casting director huh yunjin is desperately trying to find the perfect seymour krelborn after practically begging on her knees to get sophia laforteza to play as audrey for the school's upcoming musical theater event. little did she know, the perfect seymour was with her all this time; raging to stardew valley and animal crossing.

○o。..。o○○o。..。o○○o。..。o○○o。..。o○○o。.

she kinda is pretty stupid

sophia was quiet during the movie. granted, she just got her heart broken, but what didn't make any sense for the rest of the girls is a shit eating grin making its way to her lips for a split second every now and then.

"do you think she's going through psychosis?" lara whispers to manon. manon looks at sophia with a mixture of empathy and concern. "that's a possibility."

daniela, tired of all the whispering, sighs and pauses the movie, earning a whine from yoonchae, "that was the best part! what gives?" her back was turned towards the girls, shielding her from the creepiness emanating from sophia.

"what gives is that sophia looks like she's about to go insane! one minute she's watching the movie all dazed out then the next she's smiling like a crazy person. last time i checked she didn't look crazy when bibble's on screen." now all eyes were on her. sophia looks around the room, the tension so thick it made her squirm a bit.

"what's happening to you, soph?" lara asks. "look—i know getting rejected sucks and trust me, y/n will be hearing from me—but you have to get up, girl. this behavior is creeping us out." manon nods in agreement followed by a 'yeah' from daniela.

sophia looks at her friends and to her phone, taking a deep breath before unlocking the device and showing its content. a few seconds pass by, followed by pure silence.

then a snort breaks out from manon's mouth.

"oh my god she is so stupid."

"how can anyone even do that?"

"is she serious? like, for real?"

"now that's the y/n unnie i know."

there were so many voices sophia had to shush all of them, "alright, stop! one at a time."

manon wipes away the tears pricking her eyes, "oh my god, i needed a good laugh. did she actually meant to send that to yunjin?" sophia nods, "i messaged yunjin earlier to confirm and she said it was true. apparently y/n was playing when it happened and she didn't even realize what she did until lara messaged yunjin about it."

lara shakes her head in disbelief, "i'm just glad she's not an asshole. from the message alone i think she's regretting what she did." "yeah, i think so too." daniela adds.

yoonchae looks at sophia, "do you forgive her?" sophia smiles, "is it bad that i was never mad? i mean, i know her reply was rude but i did ask her out and she had the right to say no."

lara scoffs at sophia's answer, "see, because if i were her i wouldn't be this nice." manon slaps lara's shoulder lightly, "you know you left her on read, right?" sophia's eyes widened in realization.

daniella checks sophia's phone again, "yeah, for nearly two hours." "fuck, give me that!" sophia snatches her phone from daniella's hands. "what do i do?" her eyes glued to the screen. lara steals sophia's phone, typing something out. "leave it to me."

○o。..。o○○o。..。o○○o。..。o○○o。..。o○○o。.

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an: y'all can thank @avanzinii because she just HAD to tug at my heartstrings for an update.