#and this time is like a lot of things crashing out

[sincerelyneo]

death by a thousand cuts | l.hc

“but if the story’s over, why am i still writing pages?”

💿now playing: death by a thousand cuts by taylor swift

❯ summary: If you get more than one love in a lifetime, why does your heart still beat for the boy who wrecked you completely?

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, second chance, cheating trope, smut.

❯ words: 9.6k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, cheating (booo), exes, toxic relationship, a therapy joke, lots of angst, swearing, heartbreak, a whole lotta hurt, drinking, insecurities, jealousy, arguing, heavy petting, protected sex, nipple play, oral sex (fem receiving), i can’t lie this is just 9k words of heartache and sex lol.

an: this fic will not be for everyone!! i do not condone cheating in any way, you’re a loser if you cheat. i just felt like writing something heart achey, and this is my favourite taylor swift song that inspires cheating fics whenever i listen to it.

“Give me that!”

Yeji snatches the phone out of your hand with the kind of urgency only a best friend possesses—the kind forged after too many years of watching you do the stupidest things when it comes to boys. Her eyes flare the moment she spots the familiar username. 

@ haechanahceah

“Oh my god. You’re kidding.” Her thumb hovers accusingly over the screen. “Y/N, it’s been a year. A whole year. Why haven’t you blocked Hyuck yet?”

You don’t answer immediately. Just tilt your head back with an exhausted exhale, reaching for the phone. Not because you want it back, but because it feels incriminating in her hands. Like a wound she’s now inspecting. And you don’t need her inspecting it.

“Because we’re okay,” you say, not entirely convincingly. “Mostly.”

It was just a like. On an Instagram post. Of him—with his friends.

(Some of them girls. Most of them girls. All of them tagged. And you definitely weren’t planning on clicking through their profiles in the middle of your best friend coffee date with your screen brightness criminally low. Definitely not.)

“And because we’re friends,” you add breezily. Then you pluck the phone from her hand and tap back into the app, your thumb moving faster than your brain, already leaving a comment beneath his photo.

Something flippant. Something funny. Something that screams: See? I’m a functioning, emotionally stable adult who can totally be friends with the boy who annihilated my heart while he gallivants around Europe on a boat with girls. 

Except probably subtler. 

Yeji stares at you like she’s witnessing a slow-motion car crash. “Oh, absolutely. And when that guy drove me home from the bar last weekend and told me I had pretty eyes, we were just friends too.”

You roll your eyes, swatting the air with your hand. “That’s different. Hyuck’s my childhood best friend. I can’t just cut him off now that we’re not…” you pause, the words catching in your throat like they always do, “you know?”

“No. I don’t know,” she says, arms crossed and chin lifted in that annoyingly perceptive way of hers. “Because you two are in a loop. An exhausting, toxic, ‘I-don’t-know-where-we-stand-with-each-other’ loop. And staying in touch with him is why you can’t move on.”

“We are not toxic.”

You are. 

But you’d already said it out loud like a reflex, before you even had time to make it sound believable. So, you try to fix it. 

“We’re just…”

You trail off, blinking hard like the answer might fall from the ceiling.

 “Co-dependent?” Lia offers helpfully. 

 You sigh. “Yes. That. Thank you, Lia.”

“It’s weird, is what it is,” Yeji says. 

You lean back in your chair, arms folded across your chest like armour. “Ugh. You wouldn’t get it.”

And they wouldn’t. They never have.

Because nobody gets you and Hyuck. Not Yeji, not Lia, not even the therapists you’ve paid a concerning amount of money to explain it all to you. No amount of therapy or psychoanalysis can remove the him-shaped hole inside of you. The way he exists like a second heartbeat.

How many times does a person truly get to fall in love? Not the practical kind. But the kind that rewires you completely. That makes you wonder how you ever existed before this person, and fear who you might become after. 

If love were fair—the answer would be simple. Once. Only ever once.

Because to love someone—truly love someone—is not just to hand over your heart. It’s to fold it delicately, wrap it in every part of your soul, and place it willingly in that person’s pocket. Trusting that they won’t ever give it back frayed or barely beating. 

And if they do (and he definitely did) well, what remains might resemble a heart, but it never beats the same again. You don’t think it ever will.

So yes. One love. One person. One boy—him.

Yeji calls it nostalgia. Says that since he was your first everything, it feels bigger than it was, and that’s why he’s taking up too much space inside your chest. She says you're scared of forgetting. But that’s not it.

You’d give anything to forget. It’s better than remembering everything. Of living in a world where he’s everywhere and nowhere all at once. Where songs feel like him. Where movies feel like him. Where your own body sometimes feels like him because he’s marked it so damn much.

But if you did move on, if you could—you’d still have to ask yourself: where does all that breathless, foolish, all-consuming love go? 

The common consensus is that love turns to hate when it stays too long without being fed. But you can’t imagine a universe cruel enough to make you hate the very boy who made you believe in soulmates.

So you don’t hate him. Even though you should.

“Fine,” Yeji slumps back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes sharp with that familiar fury she reserves exclusively for you—when you’re being like this. “You’re right. I don’t get it. I don’t get why you’re still in cahoots with the same boy who cheated on you and left you a complete mess.”

Lia gasps. “Yeji!”

But the thing is—Yeji has a point. And you know that. But knowing something and truly understanding it is two different things. 

You don’t understand how he put his hands on someone else. How his mouth touched a body that wasn’t yours. How he delivered that line—“I didn’t mean for it to happen”—with the kind of ease that made you wonder just how many times he’d practised it in the mirror before he had the balls to actually tell you. 

You didn’t understand, yet you knew all the same.

You were wearing his shirt when he told you. Still in his house. Still in the space you thought was yours too. And all you could think was: how many nights did he lie next to you like nothing was wrong? How many times did he touch you with hands that had already betrayed you?

He never told you when, or who. Just a sorry. A soft one. A useless one. And a vague promise that he’d do anything to fix it.

But there are some things sorry can’t fix.

You clear your throat, suddenly too aware of how loud your heartbeat feels in a room full of people who love you enough to hate him.

“Because we’re not in cahoots,” you correct. “We’re friends, Yej. Him and I have always been friends.”

It’s not a lie. Not exactly. 

You have been friends with Hyuck ever since he moved in next door to your family when you were six. And even then—when you climbed trees and shared crayons—you think your heart was already beating for him. So much you don’t know what life is without that pulse anymore. Without a hint of him running beneath your skin.

It’s why you plaster on a smile and say, “In fact, I even invited him to my birthday party next week.”

They look at you, eyes full of pity and sympathy. And that hurts way more than him breaking you ever did. Because now your friends are staring at you like you’re some sad, shattered, pathetic thing he left behind.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Lia asks weakly. 

“You’re seriously a lunatic,” Yeji cuts in before you can respond. “You’re just dragging this out for yourself. Death by a thousand cuts and all that.”

“I am not a lunatic,” you say, shrugging her off. “It’s just... he’s still part of my life. It’s not like I’m inviting a stranger.”

“He fucked up your life,” she huffs, the words stinging. “He hurt you.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “But I love him anyway, don’t I?”

And you do. Because some loves don’t end—they just rearrange themselves. 

Yeji yanks her chair back so hard the legs screech against the floor.

“He’s gonna hurt you again,” she spits. “How many times are you gonna let him rip you apart before there’s nothing left? Before you’ve sacrificed yourself and everyone else around you and you’ve got nothing left to give?”

You want to say something, but the words get stuck, because she’s right.

Lia reaches out, “Yeji—”

“If he’s there next week, Y/N,” she says, eyes burning over her shoulder looking from you to Lia, “then I won’t be.”

When Hyuck got a DM from the only girl he’s ever loved—two days ago, now—he sobered.

Which, if you asked Mark, was some kind of divine miracle. Because Mark had been watching his best friend drink himself into oblivion for the better part of a year. A slow, intentional kind of fucked up that was clearly a desperate, pathetic attempt to forget you.

But no shot, no spirit, no stranger’s skin pressed to his could ever do the trick. Not really. Because no matter how hard Hyuck tried, the hangover was always the same: he’d wake up, and you still weren’t his girl.

So when he saw your username light up his phone, he paused. 

Because the preview didn’t give anything away. It did that annoying thing that said “2 new messages.” No hint. No breadcrumb. Just a loaded gun of a notification staring up at him.

And, of course he clicked it. He had to. You knew he would. You’d sent two back-to-back messages on purpose—he’s certain of it. Because that’s exactly the kind of person you were. Always two steps ahead. Always orchestrating even your vulnerability. 

You wanted to see when he’d read it. 

And he did.

At 2:36 a.m. Because you’d definitely be asleep by then. And that meant he had enough time to draft the right response—measured, brisk, detached—like the past year hadn’t cracked him open.

He read it in the half-light of Mark’s living room, surrounded by people he didn’t really like and a bottle of something he couldn’t quite remember picking up.

hey. i’m having a thing next friday for my birthday—just a chill party. nothing major. 

you can come, if you want.

Hyuck stares at the two messages.

It’s not because of the party. He couldn’t care less about the cake or the candles. That’s not what has his heart in his throat. It’s the fact that—for the first time in a year—you actually reached out. None of that accidentally bumping into each other nonsense you two pull. No one buys that it’s an accident. 

At least, it’s not an accident on his behalf.

It’s not an accident when he keeps frequenting the same coffee shop you once claimed made the best lattes in the city—always at the same time. It’s not a coincidence when he drives through your favourite places on rainy days, just in case you need a ride and are too proud to just call him. And it’s definitely not a coincidence that makes him take the long way to your house. He does it deliberately. He selfishly takes more of your time than he deserves.

Because saying goodbye wasn’t an option for him. Not until it had to be. He’d take prolonged suffering. Death by a thousand cuts.

And it’s not his fault. Well. It is. All of the ruin, anyway. But in the twelve months since he blew it all up, you’ve still lingered. You always do. You always will. So he just keeps showing up in your life when he knows you need to move on. Because he doesn’t want you to. 

Because everything in his life is still half-yours. And he won’t board up the windows of that love—not even now. Not when some part of you still flickers inside it, and half of his heart is still in your chest.

Hyuck stares at your message again. He types something. Deletes it. Types something else. Deletes that too.

what kind of thing is it?

Too uninterested.

who’s gonna be there?

Too nosy.

sure, if you want me there.

Too honest. 

Everything felt like a trap—too much, too little, not enough to win you back, but equally too honest and would remind you of his actions that hurt you. 

How was he supposed to respond to the girl who once memorised every mole on his face? Who was the muse of every song he’s written? Who still makes his hands shake on the keyboard? Who he cheated on? Who he destroyed completely? 

Eventually he landed on:

might swing by, angel. happy early birthday, btw.

He hit send before he could change his mind.

11:27PM

Thirty-three minutes left of your birthday, but you’re not celebrating.

Instead, you’re sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter with one leg dangling, the other tucked beneath you, whilst your dress wrinkles and bunches around your thighs because you stopped caring how ruined you looked an hour ago.  

You don’t care that your lipstick is all but gone or that your mascara is smudged under both eyes. You don’t care because he’s not here. 

You were supposed to be smiling by now. 

But he didn’t walk in. 

He still hasn’t.

And you don’t even know why you’re surprised. He’s not your boyfriend. He’s not your baby. He’s not your Hyuck anymore. He doesn’t owe you a goddamn thing—not a happy birthday, or his time. You gave that privilege up the night you stopped being his. Or maybe the night he stopped being yours. You still haven’t decided which one came first.

Still, you hoped he would come. 

It was the only thing keeping you remotely sane—delusional hope that he might still show up. That maybe he’d walk through the door like he hadn’t betrayed you and still want you. You still wanted him. 

You hated that he broke you and still got to keep the pieces. Hated that even now, on your birthday, all you could think about was him. Hated that you still wanted his birthdays, his weekends, his forever. 

You take another drink. Cheaper vodka this time, and let it burn your throat as it goes down. You want the sting. You deserve the sting. Your eyes drift (again) to the front door.

Still nothing.

“You need to stop doing that,” Lia pads barefoot into the kitchen, coming right behind you to smack both her hands on your shoulders. “Stop watching that door like a hawk. Yeji would kill you if she saw you pining after him on your birthday.”

You press your lips together and glance away like you’ve been caught red-handed. Because, well. You have.

“Yeah, well. Yeji isn’t here,” you mutter, taking another sip—longer this time. 

Lia raises an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

You drain the last of your drink and look her straight in the eye. “Because I invited him.”

Lia looks at you expectantly. You know she hates being caught between you and Yeji, but it’s clear she thinks you were wrong to invite Hyuck tonight, knowing full well how Yeji would react.

And maybe she’s right.

That’s why you sigh.

“Look, he said he might come,” you say finally. “He didn’t promise anything. Yeji was overreacting.”

“He never promises,” Lia says gently. “And yet, you keep prioritising him like he’s still that sweet boy we both used to love, who used to buy your favourite cookies before class, or pick fights with the boys who made fun of you. But he’s not that boy anymore, Y/N. And he’s not yours anymore either.”

You flinch.

She notices. Regrets it. “Sorry.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine.”

But it isn’t, not really. Because this is the first birthday he’s missed since you were kids. Since you were eleven and he showed up with a homemade card. 

It’s not fine because his absence would say something that the cheating weirdly never quite did—that he’s not the boy you fell in love with. Maybe he hasn’t been for a long time.

Lia leans against the counter beside you. “It’s allowed, you know? Being hurt.”

“I don’t get to be,” you reply, glancing at her. “He doesn’t owe me anything anymore. I was the one who didn’t want to forgive him that night. I said I was done. I don’t expect him to grovel forever.”

“No,” she agrees. “But you deserved something. More than a half-assed apology at least.”

That lands in your chest harshly. You press your tongue to your cheek, the way you do when you’re trying not to cry. You’re not drunk enough to cry yet. Give it another hour.

“Come on,” Lia sighs and wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into her side, “I’m not letting you stay in here staring at that door and giving him the power to ruin the rest of your birthday.” 

But even as she says it, your eyes flicker to that door again—still no him.

Lia doesn’t let go of your hand as she leads you out of the kitchen and into the living room, where people are scattered across the sofas and floors. They all feel like strangers at your own party because you’ve spent the whole night looking for one person who never came. 

“Y/N,” Lia says, squeezing your hand, “this is Hyunjae.”

You blink. The boy in front of you is pretty. Dark eyes, strong jaw softened by the curve of a perfect smile, black hair pushed back sexily. He’s holding a drink loosely in his hand as his eyes sweep over you. 

“Happy birthday,” he says. “You look—”

Please don’t say beautiful. Please don’t say gorgeous. Please don’t say anything he would’ve said.

“—pretty,” Hyunjae finishes. “Really fucking pretty.”

You smile. Or try to. “Thanks.”

And look, it’s not that Hyunjae isn’t nice—he is. You can already hear Yeji telling you to give him a chance. He’s the kind of boy who’d text back, who’s safe, who’d never leave you staring at a door wondering if he’ll show up on your birthday or not. Hyunjae is the kind of boy who wouldn’t cheat on you. 

But the truth is, you don’t know if you can be the girl who lets someone call her pretty and fawn anymore. Not without wondering if they’ll still mean it once they see someone better, shinier, hotter than you. 

Just like he did. 

You nod along when Hyunjae talks. You laugh where you’re supposed to. Play nice. Be sweet. But everything he says sounds like static. Everything he is feels like a placeholder. 

And then, you hear it. That deep, honey-smooth, familiar voice saying: “Happy birthday, angel.”

It slices through the room. Through you.

Because there’s only one person who ever called you that. One boy. Lee Donghyuck.

You didn’t even hear the front door open. Typical. But there he is, leaning in the doorway, all tan skin and messy hair. His hands are buried in his pockets, his jaw set tight—too tight, like he’s seconds from grinding his teeth into dust. 

But it’s not you he’s looking at. It’s Hyunjae. Sitting far too close. Arm tossed lazily behind you on the couch, thigh pointing into yours, almost grazing like he owns your space. 

And Hyuck notices. You know he notices.

His eyes narrow. Lips parting slightly as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. You know that look. You’ve seen it before. That blend of heat and hurt and possessiveness he has no right to anymore.

It hits your chest all at once—shame, hurt, lust—and you fumble. Your hand twitches with the red plastic cup still clutched tight. The drink tilts before you even realise it’s slipping. Cranberry vodka sloshes, causing sticky, cold liquid to spill down the front of your dress, dripping into the neckline. 

“Fuck—” you hiss, jerking upright as the cup lands onto the coffee table. You paw uselessly at the now soaked fabric, trying to blot it with the hem of your sleeve, but it’s only smearing it worse.

Hyunjae starts to reach for a napkin, concerned. But your eyes have already found Hyuck’s again. And the way he’s looking at you now…

Your throat goes dry. “I—I’m gonna go change.”

You don’t wait for a reply. You’re moving before anyone can stop you, heart hammering against your ribs because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

You barely make it up the stairs, breath coming fast, fingers trembling as you reach for the door to your room. You close it. But you don’t get the chance to lock it. Because the door creaks again behind you. And then it clicks shut. You spin around. And there he is.

You don’t say anything at first. 

Just stalk over to your wardrobe like it’s perfectly sane to have your ex-boyfriend—your ex-best friend, the boy you used to see every single day, the only boy you’ve ever slept with, the only person who knows all the tells on your body, the boy you still love—in your bedroom for the first time in over a year.

You wrench the closet door open. A pair of heels fall out and land with a little thud. You don’t flinch. You pretend to rifle through hangers, but you’re not looking for anything specific. All of it is just something to do with your hands, because looking at him right now would be a sick kind of torture.

“What are you doing here!?”

Hyuck doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, you only hear the soft thud of his shoes on your floor, the creak of your floorboard by the dresser. He’s closer than you want him to be.

“You invited me,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You spin around. “I invited you to my birthday party. Which started five hours ago.”

He lifts his phone, the screen glowing in the dark. “As far as I’m aware,” he says, tapping it once, “you’ve still got thirteen minutes left. So again, happy birthday, angel.”

You stiffen. 

There it is. That.

That fucking word. The one that used to make you feel warm and wanted. Now it feels like an insult wrapped in silk.

“Don’t call me that.”

That stops him. Just for a second. Then, slowly, he lowers the phone. Shoves it back into his pocket.

“I thought you liked it when I called you that.”

“I used to like it,” you spit. “Back when it meant something. You know, before you fucked someone else behind my back.”

His jaw tightens. Good, you think. The truth hurts; you hope it hurts. And maybe that makes you cruel. But then again, he was cruel first.

He rubs his jaw, then exhales. “We’re really doing this now?”

You laugh dryly. “Oh, sorry. Would you prefer we pencil it in for next week instead? Talk about it over brunch sometime, yeah?”

You turn back to your wardrobe, suddenly too irritated. Your fingers find the old grey hoodie you always loved. It looks soft. Comfortable. Definitely not party appropriate. But you don’t care because you don’t want to go back out there. Not after this.

You peel your dress off in one motion, leaving you in the black lace set you picked out this morning—because it was your birthday. Not for anyone else. Not for a boy. Certainly not for him.

Him. 

You forget for a moment that he’s still behind you.

It’s like your brain short-circuits in his presence. Like it still confuses this boy for the lifeline he used to be. Like your heart can’t shout loud enough to warn you: this boy broke us, this boy hurt us, this boy is bad for us. All it says is: this boy is Hyuck. This boy is sweet. This boy—we love.

You only remember when you hear him inhale—sharply—and turn around. 

He’s looking at you like that again. Like he did back when he loved you, and you loved him, and he hadn’t ruined everything yet. He looks hungry, and like the only thing that might satisfy him is you. 

That thought makes you clutch the hoodie to your chest. “Turn around!”

He does. Obediently. But then: 

"So, did you wear that for me?"

His voice is so annoyingly smug it makes you roll your eyes as you reply. “No.”

But your cheeks betray you. Hot. Guilty. Flushed. Thank god his back is still to you, because if he turned around now and looked at you, he’d know. Because he knows all your tells. Always has.

And from just a simple flush, he’d know that yes, you wore this set for him. That yes, despite pretending you were over him in his Instagram comments, your traitorous heart had hoped that he might come tonight and rip the set off of you.

And just in case he caught your second tell (the tremor in your voice), you twist the knife a little more.

“I wore this set for Hyunjae, actually.”

A silence. Then the fucker starts laughing.

Not a little laugh. A full-bodied, head thrown back, belly laugh. You hate how much you’ve missed that sound, how it still makes your stomach flip. 

“Five minutes ago, I might’ve believed that, angel,” he says, turning slightly. Just enough for you to catch the outline of his grin. “And it would’ve driven me fucking crazy.”

Your heart stutters when he nods toward your chest.

“But I wasn’t talking about your underwear,” he says, eyes dipping lower. 

You follow his gaze down to the delicate gold chain resting just above the swell of your breasts. The one with the tiny heart pendant. The one with the H engraving. 

“I was talking about that necklace. The one I bought you for your sixteenth birthday,” He cocks his head. Smirking now. “Did you wear it for me?”

Your fingers fly to it instinctively. You hadn’t taken it off. Not even after finding out. You always wore it underneath your clothes, tucked away like a secret, because Yeji would have a field day if she knew you still wore his necklace.

But in the heat of the moment, stripping down to your underwear, your brain hadn’t realised that he’d see it again. 

“I thought I told you to turn around,” you snap, furious with yourself.

He lifts his hands defensively. “I am turned around.”

“I meant your head, not just your body, Hyuck.”

And so he does, again. Obediently.

You pull the hoodie on. It swallows you immediately. The sleeves dangle past your hands, the hem skims your thighs, and it smells like dust and weirdly like…the boy behind you.

“I’m decent,” you mutter.

He turns around, eyes flicking down before he smiles. Not smug, this time. Just soft and… a little sad?

“That’s mine.”

You roll your eyes, tugging at the sleeves. “No it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is. It’s massive on you. And unless you’ve got a secret stash of men’s hoodies in your closet, that one’s mine.”

You glare. “Oh yeah? And who says I don’t have a collection of men’s hoodies in my closet?”

“I do.”

 So fast. So sure.

You scoff, a single sharp laugh. “God, you think so highly of yourself.”

He crosses his arms—all tensed jaw and too-tight t-shirt—and it’s irritating, how stupidly good he looks whilst being smug.

“Yeah,” he says, deadpan. “I do. Because, despite us being broken up, you still wear my necklace.”  He nods toward your nightstand.  “You still have a photo of us beside your bed.” And then, one step closer. “And you fucking invited me here tonight.”

You lift your chin. “I invited everyone. It was a mass text.”

“Funny,” he says, a fake smile forming, “Mark didn’t get a text.”

“Aww,” you coo, mocking. “You still talk to your friends about me, Hyuck? Christ. Now I’m gonna start thinking highly of myself.”

“You should.”

For some reason, those two simple words hit you like a slap across the face. Because no.

“You don’t get to do that!” you snap at him. “You don’t get to tell me I should think highly of myself when you’re the exact reason I can’t even imagine the top anymore, Hyuck!” You laugh bitterly. “I don’t know my worth because you had me. But you wanted something else.”

And in that moment—maybe it’s your tone, or maybe it’s accountability—a flash of hurt crosses his face, that makes him wince. 

“Y/N, angel…” His voice cracks a little on your name, as he runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck! It was one mistake. You don’t understand—”

But you don’t want to hear it. You’ve already heard it.

You hold up a hand, stopping him from wasting his breath. “I don’t want to understand anything about the night you decided to fuck another girl, thank you very much, Hyuck.”

“Of course, I get that but—”

“But?”  you raise an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“Yes, but, Y/N,” he fires back. “Because I don’t know what you want from me. You say you don’t want to forgive me—and I get it. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He’s pacing now. “But you string me along. You comment on my posts, you let me drive you home, you still have my fucking hoodies—”

His eyes flick down to the one you’re wearing now, oversized and drooping around the neckline to show that gold chain. 

“—you wear my initials around your neck, and you asked me to come tonight—you. And now you’re mad that I’m here?”

His voice rises and you swallow—hard. Like maybe if you keep swallowing, you’ll stop the tears from climbing all the way up your throat. Because it’s all too raw. All of it. Him. You.This.

He’s unraveling in front of you. And even though you know—deep in your bones—that he doesn’t have the right to be this angry, a part of you gets it. Because this awful, splintered, aching love you have for him is confusing. It’s contradictory. It fucks with your brain so much that it doesn’t matter that you’re hurting because he’s hurting too. 

And that’s all you can focus on.

It’s like you said:  nobody gets you and Hyuck. 

“I don’t know what you want from me, angel,” he says again, quieter this time. He takes a slow step forward. Close enough to reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, like he used to.

His hand lingers.

“I don’t know what you want,” he breathes, “but if you tell me—I’ll give it to you.”

Your breath stutters. Your throat tightens.

And then, so quiet you almost miss it: “Because. I. Love. You.”

You close your eyes. You don’t want to. You don’t even mean to. But those three words wrap around you tight. 

“Don’t,” your voice cracks. “Don’t say that to me, Hyuck. Not after everything.”

When you open your eyes again, they’re full of tears. Angry ones. Bitter ones. Hopeful ones too—because you’re weak, and stupid, and still a little bit in love with a boy who shattered you.

“I mean it,” he says instantly. His hand twitches at his side—you see it. He wants to touch you. Wants to wipe your tears like he used to because he hates them. But he doesn’t know if he has permission anymore. (He does, but he doesn’t know he does.)

“I’ve always meant it.”

“Then why’d you throw it all away?” You spit the words out like poison. “Why did you ruin us for a quick fuck?”

“I don’t know,” he breathes, stepping back. “But I do know I hurt you. And I’ll hate myself for that forever. But I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”

You laugh. But it sounds more like a sob. “You have a funny way of showing love.”

“I know.”

“You know everything,” you say, “except why you did it.”

A beat passes. Two. Three.

“You should go,” you whisper. “The party’s over. You’ve said what you needed to say. And I thought I could do this but I can’t.”

“No.”

Your eyes fly to his. He’s shaking his head, tongue in his cheek again as he sniffs.

“No,” he says again “I’m not leaving us like this.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Liar.”

“Hyuck—”

“You want me to say it again?” he asks, voice rising just slightly. Not angry. Only desperate. “You want me to beg? Fine. I will. I’ll fucking get on my knees if that’s what it takes.”

And then, to your absolute horror, he does. 

“Hyuck, stop—”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry for everything. For all of it. For her. For the lies. For shattering everything good we ever had. But I love you, Y/N. And I’m not sorry for that. I’ll never be sorry for that.”

You’re trying to stay angry. Trying to hold onto the rage but it’s slipping. Because you want him. You love him.

He’s still on his knees. Still looking up at you. Still pleading. You wish he’d just stand up. You wish he didn’t look so much like the boy you fell in love with instead of the man who broke you.

“Please,” he says again.“I know I don’t get to ask. But I’m asking anyway. I’m asking because I love you. I never stopped. I swear to God, I never—”

“Stop it,” you say, too fast.

It feels like your chest caves in. Because the thing about love is: it’s loud. Louder than hurt. Especially right now. You love him so much you could scream. But instead, you drop down to your knees. Right there in front of him. And before you know it, your hands are reaching for him. Stupid, traitorous things.

“Stop,” you whisper. “Please, stop.”

But he doesn’t.

Of course he doesn’t.

Because he’s Hyuck. And Hyuck never knows when to shut up.

“I know I ruined it,” he’s saying. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I wouldn’t forgive me either. I wouldn’t. But I can’t stop loving you. I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried so hard. I’ve kissed girls who weren’t you and I’ve gone home wanting to claw off my own skin.”

You suck in a breath.

“You don’t have to forgive me now. Or ever. Just let me prove it. Let me try. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you for fucking ever, I swear—”

You’re kissing him. 

You have no idea why, but it just feels like you have to. Because you physically can’t not. Because the love of your life, him, is bleeding out in front of you and you’re the only one who knows how to stop it.

And when your mouth crahses into his, it tastes like heartbreak and history and every stupid, selfish thing he’s ever done. But you keep kissing him. Because just as much as it hurts—it feels like home. Like you’ve finally been returned to the place you belong. Like his lips have been waiting for yours all this time. 

He’s kissing you back just as fiercely. Like he might die if he doesn’t. And maybe he would. Maybe you would too.

You don’t know who moves first. You think it’s you, but maybe it’s him. You’re both equally desperate—lunging backward until his back knocks against the foot of your bedframe and you’re straddling his hips. 

His hands find your waist, landing heavy and possessive around you. But you don’t mind, because your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him groan into your mouth—and God, you missed that sound. Missed him like oxygen.

His mouth moves to your neck, lips skimming every slither of skin he can reach, greedily not wanting to miss a single piece of you since he’s trying to make up for all the parts he used to take for granted. And you tilt your head back, giving him that access, because you’ve never been able to deny him anything.

“Tell me you’re still mine,” he breathes against your skin, half-choked.

You should tell him no. Should tell him he doesn’t get to ask things like that—not when he gave himself away so easily. Not now when he’ll never solely be yours like you’re solely his. 

But your heart is so tired and so in love it’s ridiculous, so instead you whisper: “I never stopped being yours.”

And then he’s kissing you again—deeper, this time. Until he pulls away and his forehead presses to yours, and he pants against your lips. “Let me love you,” he begs. “Please. Let me love you right this time.”

He feels solid beneath you. It’s making your brain fuzzy. It’s making you whimper.

“Okay,” you pant, tugging harder at those soft brown strands, as your hips shift and grind down against him, making him groan lowly. 

His hands clamp tighter around your waist, dragging you down harder, closer, like he’s trying to fuse you to him. And suddenly your skin feels too tight. You’re too aware of the clothes between you—what little there is.

Because you didn’t put on pants. Just that hoodie of his over your pathetic pair of black panties—thin, useless fabric—and now your pussy is rubbing right up against the thick outline of him through his jeans, and it’s overwhelming. You can feel absolutely everything you’ve missed.

Heat blooms in your stomach and you roll your hips again. It’s so shameless. So needy. But you don’t care. Not when it’s been this long. Not when it’s his fault it’s been this long—because you never would’ve let it be anyone else.

And he meets you in it. Each grind matched with one of his own, more harsh than the last. Until his hips are moving on impulse, chasing you like a man starved. His head drops to your shoulder, and his breath stutters. 

“Fuck, angel, slow down,” he chokes, “You’re killing me.”

You press your lips to his temple, to his jaw, anywhere you can reach, and whisper, breathless, “You deserve it.”

He groans—louder this time—like he agrees.

His hands slide beneath your hoodie, fingers splayed wide, dragging up the warm skin of your back like he’s relearning it. 

“I can’t believe this is happening again,” he breathes into your neck. “You can’t be real.”

But you are. You’re right here. Straddling him. Shaking for him. Letting him touch you like he never stopped having the right to.

He kisses your collarbone. Then lower—your sternum, the tops of your breasts, the edge of lace peeking from beneath his hoodie. His hoodie. That fact alone seems to snap something inside him.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and then he’s pushing the fabric up and up and up, until it pools around your ribs and the cold air hits your bare stomach. You shiver. 

“Take it off,” he murmurs. “Please. Want to see you.”

You raise your arms, let him peel it over your head, and suddenly you’re half-naked in his lap—wearing nothing but that black set you wanted him to rip off, then didn’t, then did… and now, he is. Fingers working at the clasp, slipping the straps from your shoulders and tossing the bra aside in your room somewhere.

And then, he takes his time letting his eyes drag over you. Taking a sick pride in seeing his initial rest in the valley of your breast. 

“Jesus,” he whispers. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

And something about that word—still—makes your stomach twist.

Your arms fold over your boobs on instinct, shielding yourself from the one person you’ve always felt safest with. Because still means there’s someone else now. Someone he’s looked at. Someone he’s touched. Someone you had to beat—and somehow did.

But you shouldn’t have had to.

He notices the shift immediately—how your arms cross, how your body goes stiff, how the room, warm just a second ago, chills.

“Hey. Hey,” he says, brows furrowing. He cups your face, thumbs brushing just beneath your eyes. “Talk to me, angel. What’s wrong? What happened?”

You’re still straddling him, half-naked, kissed raw and dizzy, and yet you feel like you’re a million miles away. You try to speak, to explain, but the words choke you. How do you tell him something he’s never known? How do you make him understand? You’ve never done this to him before—and just knowing how much it hurts—you don’t think you ever could.

“I just—” your voice cracks. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

He flinches—just enough for you to know it landed. But he doesn’t pull away.

The thing is, he doesn’t say her name. Doesn’t even mention her. Never has. But she’s here. Right here. In this room. Your room. In the silence. In his presence.

He shakes his head like he’s trying to wipe the thought away. “No. No, don’t do that. Don’t think about her. This—” his hands cup your face tighter, gently desperate, “—this is you and me. Always you.”

Your jaw clenches, your eyes sting. “Then why wasn’t it only me?”

He swallows hard, his gaze dropping to your lips before flickering away. He doesn’t answer—of course he doesn’t. He never does. And that’s been half the war between you. He doesn’t want to tell you the why.

Instead, his hands drift from your face to your waist, pulling you in like proximity might somehow make up for his silence. Like touch could smother your insecurities. 

His breath ghosts over your skin as he leans in.“Forget her. Just for now. Right here, right now, it’s only you. Only us.”

You hate that you melt. Hate that the ache in your chest loosens its grip the second his hands coax your arms from where you’d folded them. Hate that even after everything, he still knows how to make you feel safe inside the wreckage he caused.

He’s infuriating.

“Let me show you,” he whispers. “That it’s always only been you for me.”

His hands skim up your sides, thumbs brushing delicately beneath your tits. His eyes never leave yours—not for a second—as he kneads and explores and feels your body in his palm. And then his mouth follows.

Lips warm, slightly chapped, close around your right nipple. Your breath punches out of you. You can’t help it because his tongue flicks once, then again, then again until your spine arches and pushes the bud further into his mouth.

“Hyuck,” you moan, helpless, feeling the curve of his smirk drag against your skin.

His free hand trails up your other side, rolling the neglected peak between calloused fingers so deliciously because he remembers exactly what used to make you fall apart, and now he’s hell-bent on proving he hasn’t forgotten.

“God, you’re fucking unreal,” he murmurs against your skin, then bites gently, just enough to make you gasp. 

His words make you ache. Everywhere. Especially between your legs, where you’re still pressed tight against the thick, unrelenting shape of him through his jeans. And he hasn’t even touched you there yet, but it’s coming—you know it is. 

His mouth keeps going, warm and wet whilst he stays sucking just hard enough to turn your bones to water. And whenever you whimper he groans. 

“Please, Hyuck,” you plead. “Need more.”

He lifts his head, murmuring, “Yeah? You want me to show you how much I missed you?”

You nod, dizzy. 

“Fuck,” he groans and wastes no time lifting you off the floor like it’s nothing, carrying you to your bed. He lays you down gently, spreads you out beneath him like something precious. And then he peels off his t-shirt.

That tan skin—scattered with moles you’ve memorised, counted, traced with your fingers and your mouth—is on full display, just for you.

“I’ll give you everything,” he says, voice low as he drops to his knees, crawling between your legs. “Absolutely everything. As long as you don’t regret this. Don’t regret me.”

Your fingers sink into his hair before you can think. “I won’t,” you whisper. “Couldn’t.”

And then he dips down.

His mouth finds the inside of your thigh, open-mouthed kisses dragging tantalisingly up your skin. He’s not rushing. He never does when he gives head. It’s his favourite thing to savour. You. On his tongue.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs, nipping at your skin, making you gasp. “How many times I’ve had to stop myself from texting. From begging you to take me back.”

“Who said anything about taking you back?” You say, hips shifting, dying for friction, but he pins them with strong hands, keeping you right where he wants you. 

“I did,” he says, a smirk ghosting over his lips. “Am I wrong, Y/N? Because if I am, we can stop right now?”

“No,” you whine on a trembling breath.

He smiles. “I didn’t think so.”

Then, finally, finally—his mouth finds the place you need him most.

He licks a slow stripe up your center, groaning from the taste of you in his mouth. He does it again, and then again, until your legs are trembling and one of your hands fists the sheets, the other tangled in his hair, pulling and tugging at it, just how he likes. Just how you like.

He flicks his tongue, circles it, moans when you cry out for more.

“God, you taste the same,” he says hoarsely. “Still fucking perfect.”

You try to respond, to say something, but then he sucks again, so hard, you almost shoot clean off the bed.

“Hyuck—please,” it’s half a sob, a half moan, one hundered percent completley ruined.

He growls, arms locking around your thighs to keep you still, mouth relentless as he licks and sucks and worships like this is his penance.

“Shit, Y/N,” he mutters between licks, “I missed how fucking responsive you are. Always so good for me.”

You whimper. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“Not gonna,” he promises. “Not until you fall apart for me. Right here. Right now.”

He hums, the vibration making your stomach flutter, and you swear your heart forgets how to beat.

“Let me make you come,” he says, voice completely ruined now too. “Wanna feel you fall apart on my mouth. Please.”

And you do. You let him. Because you want this. Want him. Still. Always.

Your entire body coils, legs shaking, hands clawing at the sheets as your orgasm crashes through you. It’s shattering, making you cry out, his name falling from your lips repeatedly. 

Hyuck doesn’t stop. Not until your body finally slumps back to the mattress, boneless and trembling. Only then does he lift his head, lips wet and shiny. He crawls up your body, kissing your thigh, your stomach, the underside of your boobs, your jaw. Everywhere. Until he’s hovering over you, and you’re staring up at him, glassy-eyed and overwhelmed.

“You okay?” he whispers, brushing hair gently back from your face.

You nod, breath catching. “Yeah. I just... I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I never really left,” he says. “Even though I know I should have. I’m too damn selfish.”

Your throat tightens. You reach up, tracing his jaw with shaking fingers. “I want you to fuck me, Hyuck.”

He blinks, then his eyes darken. “You’re sure?”

You pull him down until your foreheads press again and then whisper a soft, “Yes.”

Then he kisses you. Slowly. Passionately in a way you know this about to be more than just fucking. It feels like the before. The soft. His hands coming up to your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. Everything so tender and full of love. 

And somewhere between the kiss and the forgetting, his pants are off. His boxers too. He’s about to fuck you completely raw—like he used to—and for a moment, your body almost lets him. Because it remembers. The blind trust. 

But this isn’t then. And that’s why you reach out, fingers curling gently around his forearm. Stopping him.

“Condom,” you whisper, cheeks flushing as you glance toward the nightstand.

Because it shouldn’t have to be like this. Back then, you were on the pill. You were his. He was yours. There was no one else. But now? Now you’ve had to share him—with her. Maybe with others too. 

He freezes. And for a second, you swear he looks gutted. But then he nods.

Wordlessly, he reaches into your nightstand, gets one open and rolls it on his cock. He doesn’t protest. He never would. Because it’s not the condom that guts him—it’s what it means. It’s that reminder that everything’s different now. And why. A barrier he put there himself because he was reckless, drunk, stupid and ungrateful. A consequence he crafted with his own hands.

But he doesn’t let that thought linger too long. The past is the past—he hates thinking about it. It’s what wrecked him. What wrecked this. What wrecked you.

Now, all he wants is the present. Not even the future. Just this. Just you. Because you’re here. Beneath him. Asking him to fuck you. You’re his—if only for now. And that’s enough.

He slides back over you. And for a second—just one—you both just… look.

You’re looking at him like maybe this could fix it. He’s looking at you like he knows it won’t. Sex doesn’t fix anything. It’s what broke you two in the first place if you really think about it . But he’s still doing it. And so are you.

He pushes inside of you slowly and your breath stutters, nails digging crescent moons into his biceps.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, voice tight and thick. “You feel like—”

“Home,” you whisper, beating him to it.

Because you do. And he does. And it’s pathetic. And perfect. And completely going to destroy you in the morning.

His forehead drops to yours and he lets out a shaky breath, like the kind that comes right before someone starts to cry. But he doesn’t cry—he moves. Gently. Tenderly. 

You cling to him, every nerve alight, oversensitive in that desperate, raw way that makes you breathless beneath him—letting him kiss you through it, through the pain, through the slow, aching stretch of him inside you. 

And in between those kisses and the thrusts and the way your fingers tangle in his hair again, he whispers:

“Missed you.”

“God, I missed you.”

“I’ll never stop being sorry.”

He fucks you like he’s trying to put you back together with every snap of his hips. And maybe he is.

So you let him.

You let him fuck you until you’re both a mess of moans and apologies and, fractured I love yous. Until you’re panting in time with each other. Until you’re cumming—together.

After, it’s quiet.

Not awkward or bitter or biting, but comfortable. You’re tangled in each other, limbs overlapping, as Hyuck brushes his nose against your temple. Eventually, he slips out of you, careful to not hurt you, but you flinch at the loss. He presses a kiss to your forehead, one to each cheek, and then he’s moving—disposing of the condom, finding his way back to your side. 

“Let’s shower,” he murmurs, thumb storoking your jaw. “Let me take care of you first. And after… we’ll talk, yeah?”

You don’t say anything—because you can’t. Your throat is raw from all the moaning and the whimpering. And also because you’re scared of the talking. Terrified, really. Of the hurting that’ll come with addressing it. 

So instead, you swallow and say softly, “I’ll be a minute. Just... need a sec before I move.”

He pauses, like he’s checking you over again, brows pinching. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Not in the way he means.

“No,” you whisper. “Just… been out of the game for a while.”

He pauses but doesn’t argue. Just leans in and presses the gentlest kiss to your cheek. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, brushing a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll start the shower.”

He slips out quietly, to the bathroom attached to your room. You hear the soft creak of the cabinets. He still remembers where everything is. 

And then—of course—his phone buzzes.

You glance over. You don’t mean to look. You really, really don’t. You know you shouldn’t if you wanna rebuild trust and whatever. It’s just…It’s on the floor, fallen from his jeans with the screen lighting up. 

It was taunting you. 

And anyway, he’s the one that broke your trust first. He’s the one that made you so paranoid. He’s the one who made you like this. 

Yeji

if i find out you went to that party tonight, hyuck, and didn’t tell her the truth, i will.

Your stomach drops straight through the mattress.

Another buzz.

Yeji

i’m serious. how long are you gonna keep it from her that it was lia you cheated on her with?

you’re ruining our friendship!

And suddenly you’re not warm anymore.

Suddenly you’re freezing. And hollow. And very, very awake and out of the afterglow sex haze. 

You can’t breathe.

You feel sick. 

Are you sick? Are you dying? Are you about to have a fucking panic attack?

Because it feels like something has clawed its way into your chest and is now eating you alive from the inside out.

Lia?

It all makes sense. It all echoes.

“That sweet boy we both used to love.”

“He’s not yours anymore.”

The door creaks again. Hyuck walks back in, towel slung low on his hips. Completely clueless. 

“You okay?” he asks, soft and smiling. “Shower’s warm.”

You don’t answer because your heart is hammering against your ribs and because you physically, viscerally, cannot breathe.

His smile falters, just a touch.

And then you say it.

One word. One name.

“Lia?”

You’re not even sure if you want to scream at him, or sob, or laugh—because how dare he. How dare he touch you like that, kiss you like that, look at you like that, when he knew—he fucking knew—he’d fucked your best friend and said nothing.

The same best friend who held you while you cried over him for a year. Who told you it wasn’t your fault. Who had her arms wrapped around you less than an hour ago trying to comfort you about him. 

You hold out his phone, pointing to the screen. “You fucked my best friend, Hyuck?”

He freezes. He lifts an arm reaching out towards you or towards his phone, you can’t tell. Probably the phone to see how much you know so he can spin it. Twist it. Try to manipulate this—manipulate you—again.

“Angel—”

“My name is Y/N.”

The words are a blade. His hand drops.

“Y/N,” he breathes, swallowing thickly, “it’s not what it looks like—”

But it is. You both know it. 

“Yeji seems to think it’s exactly what it sounds like.”

And then it hits you. All over again. Yeji knew. Your other best friend. She knew. 

Did everyone know? Everyone you loved? Everyone you trusted? Everyone you thought was safe? 

And suddenly your knees give out. You drop to the floor, spine hitting the edge of the bed on the way down, but you don’t even register the pain. You’re already somewhere else, hands trembling, vision blurry, gasping like there’s no oxygen. 

That fucking necklace around your neck—the one he gave you, the one you swore you'd never take off—isn’t fucking helping. So you rip it off. The chain snapping in your fist and you throw it. It lands at his feet. 

It’s the first time you’ve taken it off since you were sixteen.

“Y/N—”

Hyuck’s voice sounds panicked now. Hurting. He kneels in front of you, eyes wide, reaching for you—

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

You flinch so hard you nearly hit the nightstand. You can’t stand the idea of him touching you now, even though you know there isn’t a part of you he hasn’t touched.

He freezes. Arm stopping in the air. His face furrowed. And you know that face. The face from the night, the one carved from guilt and horror and regret—but it’s too late.

It’s so late.

You’re sobbing now. And it’s ugly—gasping and choking and curling up on the floor. 

“I—I didn’t mean for it to happen like that,” he whispers. “I never wanted to hurt you—”

You laugh. Actually laugh.

“You didn’t want to hurt me?” You shake your head, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, spit and snot and mascara streaking your face.  “Hyuck, you fucked my best friend. And then you came here, tonight, and touched me like…like I was still yours.”

“You are—”

“No. No, I’m not!” You snap. “I don’t even know who I am right now. But I definitely am not—and never will be—yours again.”

“Please, Y/N,” he whispers. “Let me explain. It wasn’t—”

“You’ve had time to explain.” Your voice trembles, but the words are steel. “I gave you so much of myself. So much trust. So much love.” You swallow hard. “But it wasn’t enough, was it? You needed to fuck my best friend. And keep it from me. And somehow rope the other one into it too, so now—”

Your voice cracks.

“So now I can’t trust anyone.”

He opens his mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to lie, maybe to beg. But then he doesn’t. He doesn’t say a word. He just looks at you, regret written in every line of his stupid, beautiful face.

He doesn’t deny it. And that’s the last straw. You fold in on yourself. Arms wrapping tight around your knees as you bury your head and whisper: “I need you to leave.”

He doesn’t move.

You look up—eyes glassy, voice so quiet and weak.

“Get out, Hyuck. Now, please”

And this time, he listens. And you’re glad he listens. Because this time it feels different. This was it. The final fracture. Whatever you had with him? It’s dead now. You just wish you hadn’t kept it on life support for so long—wish you hadn’t clung so tightly to something already bleeding. 

That thousandth cut finally bled dry.

[jellymochii]

Stray Kids as the Seven Deadly Sins (kinky edition)

⛓️pairings: ot8 skz x fem!reader

⛓️genre: pure smut

⛓️cw: smut, bdsm, degradation, cunnulingus, p in v, unprotected s3x (please don’t), and lots of other things hehe

⛓️wc: 3k

⛓️authors note: hi im alive! pls read my previous post as to explain why I wasn’t active for such a long time. if you have a request currently pending I WILL GET TO IT before the end of my summer, im just doing this as a little hobby to keep myself busy hehe. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

**THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AS DOES NOT REFLECT THE TRUE NATURE OF THE INDIVIDUALS MENTIONED.**

Bang Chan - Wrath

He swore the day he met you that he’d never let his rage control him and hurt you, and he still keeps his promise to this day—with its exceptions.

Once you told him that you actually loved rough sex on some occasions—biting, spanking, hair pulling and all—he still hesitated to even stoop to that level, since you were so delicate and fragile to him, but you insisted that you didn’t mind if he initiated any sort of dominance over you sexually.

His breaking point was the night he came home after work where all hell had broken loose. He had gotten into an argument with his boss over deadlines after spending hours slaving away at his laptop trying to recover his lost files, resulting in him working overtime which wasn’t too abnormal.

However, you felt a certain chill up your spine watching his car pull up—like something was wrong, and your worries seemed to come true the moment he walked into the house already fuming, only to stub his toe against the door. He let out the most frustrated and enraged scream of his life before throwing his backpack full force at the wall and storming into the bedroom, causing both you and the dog to flinch.

You crept into the bedroom and observed Chan with his hands in his hands as his fingers desperately combed through his hair to try and self regulate—until his eyes laid upon you, like a bull staring right at a red flag.

In what felt like a split second, he had you cornered against the wall as his lips crashed into yours as his grip on your hair grew tighter with each growing second. After letting out a frustrated growl, he shoved you into your knees and trembled as he undid his belt—unsheathing his veiny cock with dribbles of precum already seeping out. You’d be lying if you said that this wasn’t a heavenly sight you’d dreamed of for so many nights.

“Open. Now.” He commanded, and you obeyed as you gently wrapped your lips around his red and swollen tip—only for Chan to grab a fistful of your hair and fuck your throat as tears poured from your eyes for what felt like an eternity. When he felt as though he was close, he pulled out and watched the string of saliva connecting his dick to your mouth slowly disconnect.

“Color?”

“G-green.” You mumbled out, prompting Chan to scoop you up and carry you over to the bed and slam you down, clawing your panties away and wasting no time slamming his cock straight into your cervix. Your cries of a mixture of pleasure and pain seemed to only fueled him more as his pace quickened, his face contorting in pleasure as ungodly moans left his lips.

Maybe his wrath wasn’t so bad after all.

Lee Minho - Pride

Minho’s always had that damn stupid smirk since childhood, you swore you’d find a way to somehow wipe it off his face—but you never have.

Since the day he first took you to bed he used his fingers with such unmatched skill that you swore he must have been doing this all his life (he hasn’t, but he did a LOT of research.) You swear you’ve never cum so hard in your life, and amidst your post-climax daze you can still make out a cocky smirk on his face.

The truth is that he knows how badly you hate his attitude and lives for the feeling of pushing you straight into submission after each nasty remark you shoot his way. He gets such a kick out of you trying to hold in your moans and whimpers out of protest—only to be screaming his name in ecstasy five minutes later, begging him to let you cum.

It’s days like these where Minho is pistoning his cock into you after a bicker that you really wish he would stop laughing in your ear and mocking you for melting under his touch. Unfortunately, he prides himself too much on his ability to make you cum no matter how much you choke on your own words and sobs—so your resistance was only met with Minho abusing your sweet spot into overstimulation.

“Say it. Tell me how I’m the only one who can make you whine and slobber like a bitch, and no other man will ever fuck you as good as I do.” He whispered, his grip around your throat tightening. You protested, biting your tongue and trying your hardest to not make a sound and give him the satisfaction.

Your body though, had other plans—as you felt your gummy walls spasm on his cock as your body began to tremble.

I guess it seems in the end, he’s earned the right to be prideful.

Seo Changbin - Pride

Changbin developed incredible discipline over the years of working out ritually, and it paid off with his newly incredible physique.

It was so easy for him to boast about all his achievements in the gym to his juniors now that he was no longer the wimpy kid he thought himself to be—and now that he had you, the most gorgeous girl in the eyes of many, he was unstoppable.

Truthfully, you’d often find yourself drooling over his big strong arms and dreaming of all the ways he could suffocate you to death, and he could see it all in your eyes. Your lust towards him only boosted his ego even more, and he was more than willing to show you just how great he was for you.

Here you were, tits smashed against the window pane as Changbin pinned you like prey—gazing down at the busy traffic of your urban city. Anyone could look up and see you so vulnerable like this.

“Binnieeee….what if someone sees us?” You choked, your throat still ensnared by the deadly grip Changbin had on it.

“Awww, let them baby. Let them see how well I fuck you.” He giggled, swiftly picking your legs up and positioning his cock juuuust right.

Oh, and how the angle was indeed just right. His display of sheer strength as he pistoned his thick cock into you, making you feel so full and yet so empty and hungry for more at the same time.

“Binnie, please! I’m gonna cum if you keep this up~!” You moaned, breath fogging up the glass.

“Hehe, of course you will jagi~. No one else can fuck you like I can, right? Say it.”

You’ll be saying it all night, I promise. No amount of praise will ever be too much for his pride.

Hwang Hyunjin - Lust

Every little detail about you seems to send Hyunjin into a daze.

He can’t describe the pure lust that boils in him from just the little things about you—the way your thighs look so soft and supple from just sitting on the couch, or how your back arches ever so slightly when reaching for things. His obsession and desire for you seems to grow stronger every day.

Making love to you is his favorite form of art—an addiction he can’t bear to be without. The little squeals of pleasure you make when his fingers are buried in your cunt are music to his ears, only fueling him to make you cum over and over again.

When you came home exhausted from work just wanting to escape from it all, you were greeted by the loving arms of your boyfriend while placing gentle kisses on your temple. You can smell the warm scent of vanilla candles scattered across the room, it feels like heaven. You truly feel so safe and loved in his presence, but you always know what comes next once your hormones kick in. Seriously, it’s like he knows when you’re ovulating.

Ten minutes later you’re in a drunken state of absolute euphoria, surrounded by the smell of sex and the sounds of your lips smacking against each other. Hyunjin takes his time with you at first, but as his primal need for more takes over he quickly transitions into a rapid and feral pace of pounding in your cunt. He swears he has no idea what comes over him—he’s possessed. The only thing he needs right now is to be holding you close while buried deep in your sopping wet pussy.

“Ghh-too fast!” You cry out.

“Shhhh I know baby, but you can take it. You’ll take it all in f-for me, promise”

You’ve always put your trust in each other and you know he would never harm you, but sometimes the look in his eyes is that of a possessed man looking over you and soaking all of you in like a monster hunting its prey.

And when his orgasm finally hits him, it’s like all the lust that was building inside of him finally surrounds him in a single perfect moment—with the harmony of your combined moans making him the happiest man alive.

Truthfully, he doesn’t care that he lusts after you all the time—it’s what he thrives on.

Han Jisung - Gluttony

His friends like to tease Jisung about how obsessed he seems to be over you—how the time spent away from you seems to deflate him into a shell of his former self. Like he’s starving for something more than the hot pot wasting away on his plate.

Almost like he needs to be buried in your pussy 24/7.

The first time the two of you ever agreed to try anything sexual, he seemed somehow tempted to try eating you out. He watched countless videos on how to perfectly pleasure you to the fullest with both his cock and his mouth—so when the time finally came, he would be well prepared.

What he didn’t prepare for though, was how badly he’d crave you more after just tasting the first drop of you.

What once was a challenge to be a better man to you turned into a spiraling obsession of devouring you like a starved man every chance he could get, sometimes cumming without even the slightest touch from you because of how intoxicating the smell is. Every part of his life when he’s not slaving away at work is devoted to your pussy—and how well your greedy hole sucks him in so much that his dick becomes a prisoner inside of you. It drives him to the edge so so fast.

Just like today, when he’s barely even thrusting into you and doesn’t seem to be pulling out at all, he's just humping you desperately with his cock sitting inside while he whines.

“God, this pussy’s gone be the f-fucking end of me, babe.” He groaned, pounding your cervix rougher with each thrust. “I’m gonna cum so fucki—SHIT~!” He cries out as you begin to push back against him, creating a whole new rhythm of pure ecstasy—only amplified by the unholy and sloppy sounds of your juices squelching against him.

And when the waves of pleasure finally crash against your shaking body, who else but Han to clean up the creamy mess you two created.

It’s filthy, raw, and pure gluttony at its finest.

Lee Felix - Envy

You’d think with all the lights flashing just for Felix and all of his glory and fame, there’d be nothing for him to be jealous about, but there’s a teeensy little problem he has that he just can’t shake.

Well you, duh.

He thought you were the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen—soft and delicate hands, a smile that could light up the room, and God, your perfect body. He wishes he could have all of it—and yet, it all goes to that stupid son of a bitch of a boyfriend you have.

Tall, muscular, perfect posture, and a jawline so sharp that could slice through anything. Although Felix had the muscles, he wasn’t nearly as tall as he would’ve liked to be and his posture was like that of a shrimp with all the back pain he’d been suffering. His natural feminine beauty was enough to have millions of fan girls desperate for him, but why not you? Why couldn’t you see through that dumb hunk of meat and look at him instead?

He spent months playing the part perfectly of an innocent male friend, even faking having a girlfriend who mysteriously also dumped him when your boyfriend had dumped you. He stayed by your side and pretended to be heartbroken with you while engulfing unholy amounts of ice cream straight from the bucket—and yet—he overheard you on the phone begging your ex to come back.

He’d had enough.

Slithering up from behind your disheveled figure and wrapping you up in a warm hug and whispering in your ear. “Don’t you think it’s about time to forget about him, baby?”

You froze, not knowing how to respond to that pet name.

“W-Well how? All I think about is him, y’know.” You muttered, feeling less like you were being hugged by a teddy bear and more like being suffocated by a snake.

“I can help you. I’ll make you forgot alllll about that stupid piece of shit—if you’ll let me.” He groaned, hands wandering down to rub circles on your clothes clit earning a whimper from you.

You’d never expected your best friend to be the living embodiment of the green eyed monster himself.

Kim Seungmin - Sloth

Truthfully Seungmin isn’t lazy in the slightest, the way he’s manipulated you to please him in every way and give you an orgasm almost on command takes effort. And yet, now it seems after all that training he can’t seem to be bothered to help you out at all when you just look so cute and desperate when you’re begging for it.

He seems to always tell when you’re ovulating because of how increasingly horny and clingy you become to him—begging him for just his fingers to help you out—but it’s more fun for him to watch you try and get yourself off without his help (and failing.)

Today may just have been the worst of it. You’d been itching for a release all week to destress from work, but your fingers weren’t cutting it. It seemed like every time you asked Seungmin to touch you—even offering to be his fuckdoll for the night—he still just looked down at you with that stupid smirk on his face and replied “Hmmmm….nah. Maybe after dinner, but you’ll be fine.”

Fine? Are you kidding me? He’s been taunting and denying you all week and insists somehow you’ll just be able to tolerate it? You couldn’t decide at this point if you wanted to rip his face off or ride it into oblivion.

You tried to settle yourself down in the bed and get into a zone while he jumped in the shower, hoping that maybe the memories of being pounded into like a dumb doll would be enough to get you off until he came back.

It wasn’t, and when Seungmin stepped out to see your frustrated scrunched up face and your fingers pumping brutally into your cunt—he’d felt like the king of the earth.

“Awww, look how disgustingly desperate my little slut is.” He sneered.

“Minnie…please, I’ll do anything—just please let me cum!” You whimpered out, feeling utterly defeated at this point.

He heaved a sigh in response to taunt you. “Ffffine, I guess since I’m the only one who can make you cum, I’ll help you out a little.”

You seemed relieved at his response, but little did you know you were in for an entire night of orgasm denial to turn you further into his perfect obedient dolly.

It’s not as lazy as you’d think.

Yang Jeongin - Greed

Jeongin was used to not being someone’s first pick. Whether it was being called a monster for the way he looked, being shoved aside by his friends—or being rejected for giving his heart to someone.

And yet, you saw right through all of that and gave him the love he never had.

He’s obsessed with you, truly. The way your hair sways when you walk, your toothy grin, and your caring heart—it’s enough to make any man kneel. And that’s the problem.

You’re used to being catcalled and it seems to not bother you as much anymore, but it’s hard to distinguish whether someone is truly being friendly or trying to get into your pants. It doesn’t matter to Jeongin either way though, he’ll see red every time. Anger consumes him whenever he sees another man compliment your outfit or ask you where you’re from—after all, he’s a man too, therefore he knows what those perverts are thinking.

And thus his rage turned into greed, he was going to make it a point to both you and everyone else that you were his and only his. He didn’t care how inconsiderate or embarrassing he was in public, no one was allowed to have what was his.

Like today, the two of you were just grocery shopping when the clerk at the checkout was just too nice to you in Jeongins opinion. Who the hell did he think he was calling you pretty? Why is he smiling so much? Why won’t he just shut up and put the tomatoes in the bag?

The more the thoughts swirled in him the more he realized he had to claim you as his possession, what was rightfully his.

And so that’s how you ended up pinned against the wall, being pounded into at a torturously slow yet sharp pace while your oh so loving boyfriend whispered filth into your ear.

“Do you really think that stupid pervert could ever fuck you like this, huh? Could he hit your pretty little sweet spot—just. like. this?” He sneered, thrusting harshly into you with each word he spoke.

The hardest lesson you had to learn today was to always watch carefully what greed and sin can do to a man, and how it can fuck you oh so deliciously.

[wonyology]

The Years Next Door (m!reader x Babymonster's ASA) - part II

part I - part III (coming soon)

Summary: Enami Asa - one of, if not the most important person in your life - moved in next door a few years ago. You didn't know back then. It started with awkward first meeting, family dinner and dish washing duty. Looking back now, you still remember it like yesterday. When did things change between two of you? You don't know for sure - but you know that once it changed, no going back for you two.

tag(?): fluff, lots of fluff, maybe fluff only

ASA x yourself/Original Male Character

Word count: ~6.8k - uhm, you guys can read and try to figure out what happens next, have fun reading~~

Also, give your boy a follow if you like what i write

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

 That morning, you woke up feeling different. Sunlight spilled just a bit through your window curtains, giving you that feel good Disney vibe. Yesterday… yesterday was... definitely something. Your eyes hadn’t fully opened yet but they were squinting like crazy as you were reminiscing about her. She called you sunbae, she called you nice, she agreed to go around the neighborhood with you. For a teenager, life hadn’t felt this exciting in a while. 

 Getting up from bed, you walked around a bit before sitting on your study desk chair, taking in the little bit of sunlight that wasn’t covered by the curtains. Reaching out to open the curtains, the familiar view from your room welcomed you. But something changed yesterday, Asa and her family moved in. Just right across from your room, there had always been a window - could that also be her room? You glanced at the clock on your desk, 7:36AM. Should i text her right now? - you thought.

[준혁선베🥋]

hii

are u up yet?

[김아사🌸]

guess ㅋㅋ

You smiled, unconsciously. Thinking of how to reply when she texted back.

[김아사🌸]

you didn’t reply to my text last night

that’s rude, sunbae

 Ohh, right. You were in cuckooland last night because of her, didn’t even remember to reply back. Stupid. Stupid you.

[준혁선베🥋]

uhm… i’m sorry

what time are u free this morning? does 9am work?

i’ll buy u something to eat at the convenience store as an apology…

[김아사🌸]

9am sounds good 

*loopy thumbs up emoticon*

i’m just kidding tho, i’m not mad at you

 You felt relieved - like you just lost 10kg. Looking out the window, you snapped a quick photo of the one directly across from your room before sending the photo.

You sent a photo.

[준혁선베🥋]

is this your room window? it’s across from mine

sorry if it’s not. i’m not trying to be weird…

 Feeling both nervous and excited, you looked at the window. Someone was opening the curtains, you prayed to some supernatural force just for it to be Asa. Please be Asa, please be Asa… The curtains parted a bit, just enough for someone to peek their head out. 

 It was her. Yes!!! Her hair was slightly messy - like it was freshly combed, a few soft strands stuck on her cheeks, eyes puffy from sleep. Cute. So freaking cute. She blinked a bit before waving at you, that graceful beauty of hers made you feel like time just slowed down for the both of you. You knew better than to act like an idiot who just fell in love, not wasting any time smiling and waving back. She then pulled her head back from the window, maybe out of shyness. You stepped away from the window too, crashing right back into the chair with a thudding heartbeat. Glancing at the clock, it was 7:45AM.

[김아사🌸]

see u ㅎㅎ

can u come to my house later???

[준혁선베🥋]

ㅇㅋ (okay), see you later

 Hands running through your hair as millions of thoughts went through your mind, trying your best to keep it together. It wasn’t a date. You were just showing her around the neighborhood, as a friend - no big deal, just being nice, like she said last night. But still, you gotta get freshen up. Can’t go out showing Asa around looking like the neighborhood’s dummy. 

—

 You stand in front of the mirror, towel wrapped around your waist, hair still damp from a rushed shower. “Why do I have nothing to wear?” you muttered.  This was your first time in a while having such a dilemma choosing what to wear. Putting on a pair of clean-fit black pants, a “polite” white t-shirt and the nicest looking jacket you owned. Was it too much? Was it not enough? Was it just about? Whatever. Don’t overthink, it’ll do for now. You’ll hop on IG and look for some new clothes later if  this thing between you two ever works out.

 You then sprayed on four cautious sprays of the cologne that mom got for you on your last birthday. You didn’t know why a teenager your age needed cologne, but somehow, mom knew the best. Love you, mom. It smelled nice, just right, not too strong. Checking yourself out in the mirror once again, just to make sure you looked nice.

 Chill out, act normal. It’s not a date.

 Running downstairs, you slid your phone in your pocket before telling mom and dad you wouldn’t be having breakfast with them as you got plans, not mentioning Asa.

 “Are you meeting up with Asa?” your mom asked.

 You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around. “Uhm…”

 “The cute little girl next door. Your dad said he saw you two waving at each other this morning.” mom said while smiling lovingly.

 “Yeah, I’m just… showing her around. She’s new here”

 “Mm-hm.” Your mom nodded, eyes twinkling like she’s already imagined the entire future in her head. “Do you still have some pocket money left?” 

 You just blinked. “Yes, mom...”

 “Good” your mom walked to you, handing over a neatly folded 10,000 won bill anyway. “Buy her something nice, Joonhyuk-ah. Banana milk and some sandwiches or cream bread, she might like those. Don’t feed her those sausages in the morning, okay?”

 “Mom…”

 “I’m just saying. Your mom knows best.” her hands reached over, trying to brush your hair - which you immediately ducked. “First impressions matter a lot.” 

 You ran to the doorway, putting on your favorite pair of New Balance 550. “We’re just going around the neighborhood mom… I don’t like her or anything.”

 Your mom gasped, clutching her chest and acting hurt, way too dramatically. “You hate your mom now?! It feels like yesterday when you were so clingy to me, now that you are all grown up - you are too cool for the woman who raised you?!”

 “Mom… I’ll be back soon” you groaned. Teasing you had always been her favorite pastime.

 “Be nice to her. I will text Ms. Keiko and ask how you behaved” she called out before walking back to the kitchen.

 Behind all that teasing, you know - mom loves you. Always has, always would. Her way of showing affection was just embarrassing sometimes. Shutting the door behind, you walked slower than usual next door, trying to look cool, or normal. Glancing at your phone, it was 8:56AM. Perfect. A bit early? Maybe. But not late.

 Stopping at the front gate, you wondered. Do I ring the bell? Text? Call her out? Now what?

 Just when you were about to ring the bell, the sound of gates clicking made you freeze. It was Ms. Keiko and one of Asa’s sister, Lisa.

 “Oh, Joonhyuk-ah. Good morning” Ms. Keiko said. Lisa stood beside her, smiling politely at you.

 You straightened and bowed. “Hi, Ms. Keiko. Hi, noona.”

 “Aren’t you a bit early?” Lisa said, a hint of tease in the way she said it - just like last night.

 “Uhm, figured I shouldn’t be late.” your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your jacket.

 “Cute,” she added. “Asa should be down now. She just took too long to look pretty.”

 You nodded, trying not to let the thought of that rattle you, nodding.

 “We are just heading out for a bit.” Ms. Keiko said while opening the side gate slightly for you and stepping outside with Lisa.

 “Oh, we will make sure to come back before lunch.” you replied quickly.

 Just when they started walking down the street, Ms. Keiko smiled and gave you her blessing - half knowing, half warm. “Okay, just have fun, you two.”

 And with that, you bowed goodbye to them. Asa should be here any second now. 

 You heard footsteps. Then the creaking of the gate - there Asa was. Her eyes were smiling at you. She stepped out quietly, was she also nervous to see you too? Her hair was pinned back, left a bit loose on both sides - just enough to allow the sunlight to emphasize her features. She was wearing light makeup, nothing too fancy. A sky blue button-up, slightly cropped cardigan on top of a white tank top, paired with fitted jeans and a clean pair of Nike. Simple, casual yet… so beautiful. Your eyes met for a few seconds too long before she spoke up.

 “Hey”

 “Hi” you replied, a small pause in between - it didn’t feel awkward at all.

 “You came a bit early.” she said while glancing at her phone, not really checking the time.

 “I’m the type to be early.” 

 “So… you lead the way?”

 “Yeah, I’ll show you the local stuff. Secrets only longtime residents know. Real government-level classified stuff.” You nodded, trying to make her laugh.

 And laugh she did, quietly - the kind of laugh that can make a thousand boys fall for her. Just like that, the two of you started walking. Side by side.

 That moment, you felt like Park Kyung’s “Ordinary Love” was playing in the background, and the two of you were the main characters in a teenage romance. The weather that morning was great. Gentle morning air, perfect mix of breeze that made the world feel fresh and warmth from the sun shining at everything in the neighborhood. Just so good that you wished it would stay like this forever.

 The streets of Eungam-dong were nice, peaceful, disrupted occasionally by the sound of cars passing by or people opening their shops. You two passed through rows of nice buildings and light chatter of people starting their day. This silence - with her, felt nice. “Do you always wake up early? Like this morning.” Asa wondered, turning to look at you.

 “I don’t know. Depends on what plans I have on that day.” you shrugged.

 You pointed at the local convenience store just right around the corner. “Right there. Five stars. Nothing else in Korea can compare to this.”

 She smiled. “Wow.”

 You reached for the handle and opened the door for her. The bell chimed softly as you two entered. Inside, the store had everything teenagers like you two needed for a light breakfast. Instant noodle, snacks, cold milk... everything. You know every corner of this store, you’d been here since you were just a kid after all.

 “My treat, as promised. I have government funding.”

 “Funding…?” she replied, her head tilted, brows scrunching just a little bit - looking confused. “What does it mean?”

 Oh right, she’s Japanese - her Korean wasn't perfect back then. The way her voice sounded so sweet, soft and curious reminded you to take things slower with her. Gentler.

 “Oh, funding means… like money. Government money.” you tried to explain.

 She stared at you for a second. Then, she laughed - finally, sounded like candy to your ears. “Wow, must be nice.” The two of you walked to the drinks section. You went straight for the classic. “This one”

 You said while holding up a little bottle of milk to show her. “Everyone in Korea knows this. Legendary. I grew up drinking this… well, I still drink this but, you get the idea.”

 Asa leaned in, her eyes had a mix of curiosity and surprise. Her hand reached out to take the bottle - fingers slightly brushing against yours. Turning it around, she read the label just like your mom would. Are all women this careful? You, personally, just consume anything as long as it tastes nice. 

 “Cute packaging.” 

 “Yup, but I’m sure Japan has way fancier drinks.” 

 You then turned and scanned around. “And maybe… cream bread. Or this sandwich? I’m not sure what suits your taste but these are really nice. You won’t die from it.” you grinned while showing her one of the pastries.  Asa nodded, smiling. “I’ll try.”

 You then grabbed two triangle kimbap (one for her, just in case she was still hungry). Grabbing everything to the counter, you paid with the government funding (thanks mom) and led her back outside. There was a small bench right outside the store, just beside that familiar tree you always walked by on the way to school. You sat down first, she then followed. For a moment, the only sound there was the gentle crinkle of the plastic wrapping and the faint breeze passing by.

 “Try it.” you said.

 She took a sip of the banana milk, blinked for a second. “Mmm… It’s really nice.”

 You smiled, giving her a thumbs-up. “Told you. Only the best stuff.”

 She giggled again, feeling more comfortable this time. She mumbled thank you as you handed her her food, which you already peeled open. You two sat there, enjoying each other’s presence as time passed by - eating, sharing smiles between bites. Just two teenagers, under the morning sun.

 “So what was it like in Japan?” you asked after a short pause, still chewing a bit of kimbap still in your mouth. Damn, you really are your dad’s child.

 Asa started telling you everything - her hometown, her friends, her sisters, how she had to move here because of her dad’s job, where he now worked with your dad. She even told you how scary it was to leave everything and move to a new country, despite her dad trying his best to notify their family two years in advance. You listened. It must have been really tough on her. You couldn’t even imagine moving from Eungam-dong to Yeokchon-dong (which are right next to each other btw). 

 “That’s tough.” you said, in honest.

 “Yeah, but Korea’s nice. I guess I have a lot to do in Korea now.”

 “Uhm, do you watch… like, dramas or listen to K-pop?”

 Her eyes lit up. “Ooh, of course. My mom is a really big Block B fan, she’s the reason why I got into K-pop too. I also learnt Korean through watching dramas. What are your favorites?” Well, that made sense. No wonder why your speech is so cute.

 “Well, I don’t really watch dramas that much these days. I remember rewatching ‘Boys Over Flowers’ with my mom… Mmm, the other one, what is it? ‘Gentleman's Dignity’? Ever heard of it? The one with Jang Dong-gun in it. Really popular with middle-aged women.”

 She shook her head, laughing. “It sounds familiar.”

 “And K-pop, yeah… I listen a lot. Block B is nice, too. I like ‘Her’. My main is TWICE* and Bigbang.”

 “Ooh, I love them too. Super popular in Japan.”

*I LOVE TWICE.

 Great, you two had something in common. She even suggested - just threw it out there lightly - that you two start watching dramas together sometimes, if the chance ever came. Just say the word and I’d do anything with you. The conversation went on for a bit - teenage concerns, favorite songs, both of you two’s hobbies, the way your mood during the day was unhealthily decided by Manchester United’s result (I don’t know if we can stay up next season), how she wanted to try and start dancing… Then it slowed down, into something soft and easy. 

 “So there’s this arcade nearby.” you said, rubbing your hand on your knees. 

 “Oh, that’s nice. I haven’t really had the chance to go to one yet.” Asa tilted her head at you.

 “Wanna check it out? It’s really nice.” you asked, hoping not to sound over-excited.

 “Sure, is sunbae gonna show me all his skills,? she said, standing up slowly.

 “You’re gonna be amazed.” 

 “Or extremely disappointed.” she teased.

 “You’ll see.” The two of you - side by side, now closer to each other - with sunlight following, casting warmth along the peaceful street.

 The arcade was small, tucked in a corner near the main street, but it had everything: from claw machines, basketball game, racing simulators... you name it. LED lights along with a bit musty-but-still-clean-and-magical air of a place where kids, even adults come to make memories. You led the way, like a proud local. You showed her how to use the punch machine. With a light shoulder roll and a quick breath, you stepped up and swung. Baam.

 The machine blared: 674.

 “Woah.” Asa blinked. “That’s pretty good.”

 Did i look cool? You thought. “I mean, could’ve been better.”

 “Should I be scared of you, taekwondo master?” she asked, face holding a grin.

 You tilted your head slightly at her. “Only if you annoy me.”

 She laughed, holding her hands to cover her smile. Something about that way she does that still makes your heart beat crazy - till this day. “Try it, let’s see how you do.”

 Her punch was more like a gentle tap, scoring only somewhere around the 180-200s. She turned her head around looking at you, pouting - clearly playing it for the effect.

 “Not bad. You got potential.” You placed both your hands gently on her shoulders, pretending to console her but actually just taking any chance to be closer with her. You sly devil. And she didn’t pull your hands away, yes!

 After that punch machine victory, you two wandered around - laughing at each other’s poor attempt at racing, throwing bricks like Draymond Green at the 3-point line at the basketball machine and eventually ending up at the claw machine.

 Asa put both her hands on the glass, eyes wide. She pointed at the Crayon Shin-chan plush keychain - with him showing his butt, looking mischievous. Adorable.

 You tried. Then again. It took 4 tries. But you finally got it. The claw dropped it just enough to fall into the prize slot.

 “Victory, hehe.” you said, crouching to grab it, handing Asa the keychain while also hoping you really impressed her. Her eyes were sparkling. She mumbled thank you as she took it with both hands. So beautiful.

 Then, you tried once again to get the same one for yourself. You two walked out of the arcade with matching keychains - hers swinging from her cropped cardigan, yours clipped onto the neck of your jacket. 

 There was still a lot of time before lunch. No need to rush. You showed her the hidden alleyway shortcut behind the bakery - the one no one used except the kids who lived nearby. You passed the local park along Bulgwangcheon stream, stopping by the swings and sat there for a while. Taking in the scenery - the sunlight, the breeze, her beauty. Quiet, peaceful, nice. You showed her auntie Bomi’s snack stall near home, your favorite, where she got brave and tried something spicy - fanning her mouth after the first bite. Auntie Bomi didn’t even let you pay for it, saying it was a welcome gift for “this cute new girl”, she even gave Asa a free egg roll.

 On the way home, she asked if you ever get bored here. “Sometimes” you said. “But now it feels nice having you next door. Hanging out with you is… uhm, fun.” You two didn’t talk about feelings. Not yet. But she got closer to you, exchanging glances every now and then. Oh, before you even knew it, you guys already got home. Just in time for lunch.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

 From that day on, something quietly began to grow between you and Asa. Late night texts, occasional video calls where you two spoke really quietly - not wanting to be caught… It felt so comfortable. You didn’t label it, didn’t feel the need to - maybe she didn’t either. 

 Your families noticed too, of course. They weren’t dumb, not at all. On the first day of school, your families forced you two to take a picture together, saying it would be “nice” to look back on in the future. Well… maybe they’re right. Your mom started asking if Asa had eaten yet so casually, as if she was already a part of your family. Ms. Keiko started calling you over to have meals with their family, like it was second nature. You guys walked to school - Youngrak middle school, together. Just a 15 minute walk from home. You guys ended up in the same class - sitting next to each other, right beside the window at the back of the class. That made everything easier - being next to her almost everyday. The first month at school was a bit tough on her. New culture, new language, new everything. But you were there, volunteering to help her whenever she needed - translation, math homework... Teachers noticed you guys too, being such nice, diligent and studious kids. One of your names can’t be mentioned without the other. Asa adapted really quickly, faster than you thought. The girls at school loved her, of course they did. Look at Asa. Guys at school didn’t really approach Asa, since you were with her almost 24/7.

 Friends also tease you guys, in that harmless silly middle school fashion. Whispering jokes in class, calling her “Joonhyuk’s girl”,... you guys laughed it off. Asa usually rolled her eyes, but not with her signature half smile-half sigh. Neither of you really said anything. Teenagers… 

 Back home, Asa’s sisters’ teasing her even more. They once saw you guys walking home on a rainy day after 학원*. You were holding an umbrella, tilting mostly on her side to shield her from the rain. She blushed like crazy, but you just smiled and waved at them, playing along. Everything about her became part of your life, naturally.

*학원/hakwon: like study/educaiton center for after school study (typically after school, at night), really common in Korea, my country or just Asia in general. 

 As the time went by, you two also grew - not much, but small changes counted. Asa decided to join the dancing club, finally. Part of you felt proud of her, Asa was such a talented girl, drawing, dancing, writing - she did it all, shining in everything she did. The way she danced with those soft, precise grace made everyone feel like they were really fortunate to be in her presence, be near her. The other part of you, was it… jealousy?

 The more she participated in the dance club, the more attention she got, especially from the guys, or those sunbae. Fuck that. Those guys didn't know how special she was, they didn’t treasure her like you did. You hated that, but you still reminded yourself: you two were NOT a thing. Just friends, close friends - next door neighbors.  But then again, they had her front and center for pretty much every school performance. Damn it…

 Meanwhile, you started taking taekwondo more seriously. Going to practice after school as a routine slowly became a rhythm you couldn’t skip. Twice a week slowly increased into three, four times. They had you coming in for the weekend too, but your parents had your back, making excuses for you to enjoy your teenage years whenever it felt like too much. Something about this, growing up, the pressure to do well, to win - was a bit overwhelming, but you still liked it... right? You won a few medals at the city level, yeah… but as a kid. Then you won even a few more as you grew up, to your surprise (not your coach’s tho). Word got around, your names started circulating around the taekwondo circle. “There is this kid, from Eungam-dong, really good - too good for his age.”  You thought it was just gibberish when your friends told you about it. Then came the messages, representatives showing up at your house - talking about “your son’s potential, international level”, then the offer. You got scouted for a sports-specialised highschool, all the way in Suwon. 

 Suwon… away from Seoul, away mom and dad, away from Asa… A school for kids who are extremely good at their sports, for kids who had the potential to represent Korea on the world stage. The best of the best. Flattering, sure… But it was also scary and confusing at the same time. Well, this all happened during later middle school - early high school, let’s roll back the time - to when things were a lot more simple.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

 2019

 It was April, Asa’ birthday. You had been planning for a few weeks. With the help of Lisa and Chisa, you bought her a nice necklace from a really niche online jewelry shop on IG, with your saved up money that you were planning to spend on Juventus summer tour tickets in Korea that summer, planning to see Ronaldo (my GOAT) in real life. But for Asa, everything was worth it. The necklace was really nice, nothing over the top with some cute little charms. That night, you told her present was caught up in some delivery problems. She was a bit sad, which broke your heart but after your families were done celebrating her birthday at her house, you texted her.

10:24PM

[준혁선베🥋]

yah, kim asa, come out for a bit

ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

my mom said she forgot to give you some money for your birthday

[김아사🌸]

what? it’s okay

that’s nice but she doesn’t have too

[준혁선베🥋]

just come out

5 minutes

[김아사🌸]

your mom is too nice

give me one second

 After a few minutes, she was outside, wearing that oversized yellow pajama of hers, Donald ducks printed all over them. Hair a bit messy but still looking like she came out of your dream. Why do you have to look so cute even this late at night? The two of you standing under the lamppost between your houses, eyes gazing at each other. The soft glow from the lamppost definitely didn’t help you either, making her look even prettier.

 “Close your eyes. Give me your hands.” you said, a bit shy.

 “Huh… what are you doing?” Asa said, mouth grinning like she already knew what you were plotting.

 “Just do it or I’m walking back in.”

 “Okay, dummy.” She teased, closing her eyes. She held her hands out. Palms up, Trusting you.

 Right then, a wild thought ran through your mind: you really wished you had given her a light kiss on the lips. Your first kiss, hers too… maybe? No, it’s creepy. Instead, You pulled out a small box from your shorts pocket carefully, like it was highly classified, 24K carat, only-one-in-the-world type of jewelry, placing it into her hands.

 Her eyes opened, lips curling into a cheeky smile. “You really surprised me tonight, Seo Joonhyuk. I was actually mad at you a bit earlier ”. she said, clearly touched

 “Your sisters helped me pick it out. I felt like it really suits you. Just… don’t open it yet. Go inside and then open it. It’s really cold now.” you lied while rubbing the back of your neck. It wasn’t that cold. You were just really shy, so shy that you could die standing right there.

 “Okay, thank you for the gift, Joonhyuk-ah.” Asa waved at you one last time before smiling, going back inside.

 You waved back then walked back inside, pacing around the living room for a bit to calm the storm in your heart before sprinting to your room like a maniac. Thank god your parents were in their room, but little did you know, Asa’s mom was right upstairs in their house, witnessing the whole encounter with a loving smile on her face. 

 Your phone suddenly buzzed.

[김아사🌸] sent a photo.

 It was a selfie of Asa, lips puckered like Donald duck on her pajamas, hands up in a v sign - she was committed to the bit. Your eyes wandered around. On her neck was… there it was, your birthday gift. It was resting just above her collarbone, catching the soft light of her bedside lamp. 

 You stared at it for a while, smiling like you were a fool, president of cuckooland, just when a notification brought back to reality.

[김아사🌸] 

it’s really nice ㅈㅎ ah (your initials)

thank you so much ㅎㅎ

[준혁선베🥋]

see, i know the best

with a bit of help from your sisters, of course…

but still, mainly me.

[김아사🌸] 

you really know my taste huh

thanks again ㅎㅎ

[준혁선베🥋]

happy birthday, kim asa

 She then sent an emoticon of a cute bear, running around panicking with blushes on its face. Heh, i made her day. Well, she made yours too. From then on, you saw her wearing that necklace proudly on every special occasion. Seems like she really treasured your gift, nice.

 Late May came, 채육대 (Sports festival/day) at school

 Your school was buzzing with noise. Colorful t-shirts, cheesy banners. You weren’t really one to be excited for these kinds of events. But this year was different, Asa was here. The weather was a bit hot, but not so much, it was enough to make everyone feel energized.

 Asa, of course, was part of the cheering performance. She had her hair in pigtails, decorated with pink ribbons. She was almost front and center the entire performance, white shirt and black shorts - so simple yet so ethereal, looking like everyone’s first love in a drama. You didn’t want to stare that much, but you couldn’t help it. Her movements were sharp and graceful, always in sync with the rhythm, leading the other girls.

 You yourself were signed up for football, since you were, say, “a bit athletic”. People also knew you were a die hard United fan. When you told her you would be playing that day on the way home, she told you she would be cheering for you. No backing out now, buddy.

 When the match started, you glanced towards the audience and there Asa was, with her friend groups, jumping up and down while chanting something, felt like she was mouthing your name. Your chest felt like it burst open, time to turn into prime Ronaldo and impressed her. It wasn’t serious league football - just 7v7 - but to you, it was serious. Games gone by, you contributed by making passes and escaping presses in midfield to make play for your friends up front. When your team got to the final, you really hoped that Asa saw it all since your head was really into the game and didn’t want her to see you running around like a headless chicken. 

 Your class was screaming like crazy when there was 10 minutes left in the final. Asa was still there, sitting under an umbrella with her close friends. The score was 2-2. Then came a chance, a free kick with 2 minutes left. You stepped up.

 Your friend, Jooheon, jogged over and whispered in your ear “Whip it out right for me, I’ll try and score a header.” You smiled.

 Like mann, shut up. Watch me turn into 2008 Ronaldo and whip this ho in from 20 meters myself.

 You took your chance, kicking it with precision and just enough power. Please don’t embarrass me, ball. 

 As it flew through the other team defence, Joonheon stared “The fuck?”

 Time stopped, well… you felt so. Boom. It’s in. Top bins, baby.

 “Oh shit!”

 “Is it in?”

 The whole pitch erupted. 3-2. You turned to Asa, she was jumping with her hands up, mouth wide open - clapping while beaming at you like you just won the Champions League. You did it, just when you were deciding on what celebration to do, your friends tackled you onto the grass. 

 “You did it, you dumbass!”

 “Gang up on him, guys!!!” You couldn’t stop smiling, even under the dogpile of smelly, sweaty friends. That day was incredible, not because of the win. It was because she was there, you were there. You guys were there for each other, supporting each other even if it was just a sports festival day at school. That feeling when you made her feel happy - that rush - gave you something extra to hold onto when the real competition came. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

 A few weeks later, there was a taekwondo competition, national level. It was nothing like you’d ever seen before, not in a local center, not a school level competition. There were cameras to broadcast everything for TV.  It was held at Jamsil Student Gymnasium. It was huge, high ceilings, LED lights everywhere, rows of chairs stretching out endlessly, banners from every corner of Korea to cheer for their representatives. You still remember that day, it smelled like floor wax, sweat and raw nerves. 

 Looking around, you spotted mom and dad in the crowd, waving their hands like they were at a concert. You smiled, they would never miss this. Asa was sitting between your family and hers, giving you two thumbs up when your eyes met. As you squint your eyes to try and confirm, she was in fact wearing the necklace you gave her on her birthday - just like she would on every special occasion. You waved back at them, half smiling since the nerves were also getting to you. You hadn’t competed in anything this serious yet up until that point. This was "the one" for you to prove it, on the national stage.

 “Representing Eungam-dong, Seoul. SEO JOON HYUK”

 Everything passed by so fast, you had gotten to the final before you even knew it. It was not too easy, but not too hard. Still, those hits and kicks you took hurt like crazy, nothing like you felt before. Like damn, chill on me bruh… 

 As you were resting on the bench, waiting for the final, nothing was in your head except for  the rhythm of Twice’s ‘Cheer Up’. Weird, huh? You didn’t even notice that coach was encouraging you and giving tips on how to exhaust your opponent before going for it. Well, easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one with a sore rib and throbbing legs.

 But then, something made you turn around. A voice cutting through the noise of the arena. It was Asa’s.

 “Fighting, Seo Joon-hyuk. You got this.” she shouted with both her hands around her mouth, mimicking a megaphone. The families were cheering on you too, but for some reason, hers felt like the only one you needed. Time for the final.

 You stepped onto the mat, steady breath, mind relaxed. Fuck… why did your opponent look so big even though you two were in the same weight class. First round… Second round, then came third round. You two were aggressive. Every move hurt even more than the last. Everyone in the gymnasium was holding their breath. Your mom was holding back her tears, seeing her son all bruised up like this. Your dad’s hand was over her shoulder, still worried but knowing you can win this. 

 Fuck. Your neck felt so stiff.  Right leg so sore too.

 Final round, the moment came. You blocked, ducked and then decided to land a sharp body shot. Your opponent came down. It connected. The crowd roared. 

 The buzzer finally rang. You didn’t know how to react, crouching down to your opponent, asking if he was okay. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

 He nodded, while still lying down in pain. “Yeah… okay. Just need a moment to… you know…”

 You stood up while tapping on the side of his arms to signal that everything was fine between the two of you. You stood there, hands on your knees, heart beating like crazy, the adrenaline was through the roof - everything around you seemed so blurry, but you won.

 The ref raised your hand. There it was. The crowd cheered for you. You walked to your opponent and gave him a friendly hug, no hate, he gave you a fair beating. Proper guy. Your teammates, coaches crowded you. Hey, you won something grand, on behalf of your Eungam-dong and your school - which was not really known for athletic talents. But everything faded as you walked over to your family, signaling at the security guard, asking him to let them down.

 Mom reached out first, hugging you, despite the fact that you were drenched in sweat and probably death. “Oh my baby, I’m so proud of you.” She just kept kissing your head, it also smelt like crazy by the way. Your dad was proud on the side, busy taking pictures with his over 10 years old camera, yeah this one is going into our family history book, buddy.

 Her family came to congratulate you too, one by one, not forgetting to ask if you were okay.

 “It’s fine, Ms. I’m just a bit sore here and there.” you lied. It hurt so bad.

 “Come to our house tonight, Joonhyuk-ah. We will make you that magical Japanese potion. Fix you up real good.” Asa’s dad said. Everyone laughed. They are such nice neighbors.

 Just then, a thought crossed your mind - Oh, where was Asa? - your around. Shit, forgot my neck still hurt. There she was, behind her sisters, who were smiling like crazy. Your eyes met, this time, Asa wasn’t screaming or jumping anymore. Her usual self was back. You could tell she was proud, her face said it all. 

 As you took a step toward her, she took one too. In her hands was a towel and a water bottle, seemed like she was gripping it tightly ever since the start of the final - cold, condensation running down the sides. She looked… shy? 

 “Hey…” she said softly while handing you the towel “Congratulations. You did well today.” 

 You grinned, like an idiot, wiping your face and hair. “Really? Did I look cool?”

 She didn’t say anything, that signature half sigh-half smile is back on her face again.

 “I’ll take that as a yes. Thank you very much.”

 That was it, everything felt so peaceful. Then, you were called up to receive the medal, right after the cheering performance ended.

 Right, you almost forgot about that part. As you were walking to the podium, you felt like every pair of eyes in South Korea were on your back. Never the one for this much attention. The ceremony finally began. You bowed, shook hands with the vice president of Korea Taekwondo Association as he placed the medal on your neck. 

 “You really are one of a kind, kid. When it’s time, we will call you up to train for the national team.” 

 You smiled, out of politeness. National team, are you joking???

 Everything was a blur. Pictures being taken, TV interviews, you were now a local legend-celeb. But behind all that noise,  Asa was still in the crowds, tiptoeing behind her sisters to get a better view of you. Media duties done, you walked right back to her and your families. Without even knowing it, you took the gold medal off your neck and put it on hers. She was shocked - not in a bad way, just surprised at how naturally you did this.

 “Hehe, how does it feel?” you asked, still shy but it didn’t matter, Asa was in front of you. Well done, that was smooth.

 “Uhm… nice, I guess…” she said, looking down at the medal, touching to see how it feel. Her lips were also smiling. Cute.

 “I guess your mom is a nobody now. I’ll just live like this with your dad until old age then.” your mom, now done crying, happily teased as she saw the scene in front of her played out.

 “C’mon, mom.” you tried hard not to sound too flustered, while Asa was blushing like crazy, head down as she didn’t know what to do. 

 “Get in, you two. Let’s take a picture.” your dad said.

 Then, you two got closer together. Asa hooked one arm around yours, the other hand holding up the medal like a proud girlfriend. But, remember this, you two were still not a thing yet. However, it didn’t matter. You were just drowning deep in the moment. Meanwhile, Asa leaned in, putting her head on your shoulders and joked:

 “Pose, you smelly dummy.” Right, right. I’m sorry I didn’t take a 30 minute break during the middle of a taekwondo competition to shower before standing next to you.

 Click. A memory was sealed. Later that night, both your families had dinner together - a warm, chaotic celebration in the neighborhood. Everyone couldn’t stop smiling and laughing. Your dad was calling every relative you had to tell them about your big win, even the ones in Busan. Wait, you have relatives in Busan? Mom was so proud, she couldn’t stop talking about how her son won it on national TV.

 Peaceful, warm… The rest of 2019 went by just like that. Both of your and Asa’s families grew tighter - casual dinners, shared nights, moms started going out together and catching up on the neighborhood dramas… What about you and Asa? You guys walked to school together, waited until each other's practices ended. Casually hanging out in the neighborhood, video calls became more frequent, you guys even started dozing off without ending the calls, which felt normal. Even though you two got busier, there was still time for each other. You two kinda became that couple at school that everyone knew about - teachers, classmates, your coach… you name it, but neither of you dared say anything about it. 

 No one said anything. As you guys grew older together, at some point,  whatever this is between the two of you started to feel a bit unusual. A bit too complicated.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Yayy, part II is out now. Sorry for any mistakes, will be going through it again later. Like always, much love to you guys, feel free to leave comments/review/suggestions. ❤️❤️❤️

[sinofwriting]

Please Take Advantage (of me) - Cody Rhodes

Words: 1,818 Summary: After lunch with a friend, she can’t help but think she’s taking advantage of Cody. Note(s): Implied Age Difference (but no direct reference),

Masterlist | Support Me!

“I know I said it before, but that dress is gorgeous on you.” Her friend says, reaching out and after she gives a nod, stroking the fabric for a second.

“Thank you.” A pleased smile is on her face, blood rushing to her cheeks. “Cody bought it for me.”

The other girl stills, hand halfway to reaching for her drink. “Really?”

She nods, smoothing the fabric. “Said the color suited me.”

Her friend makes a face and then sighs sitting back in her chair. “Could we actually talk about Cody?”

Her eyebrows raise but she nods. “Yeah, of course.” She leans a little forward, the seriousness on her friend’s face concerning her. “What’s up?”

“It’s just,” She pauses. “You're taking advantage of him.”

Her mouth drops open.

“I’m not saying you don’t deserve these things, you do. But, maybe slow down, pump the brakes a little before he realizes what you're doing. I mean, the plane tickets, the new clothes, the jewelry. It’s a lot. And it’s fine to ask for things.” She reaches forward, patting her hand and Y/N has to resist flinching back from the touch. “I ask May for things, but not all the time. It’s like every time I see you in person or on insta you’ve got something new.”

The rest of their lunch is quiet as she processes her friend's words and it doesn’t help when her friend when hugging her goodbye whispers for her to think about it.

And it’s all she does. It’s all she can think about.

She had never thought about it that way, that she was taking advantage of Cody. Not when every time he gave her something it was always him saying, Look, baby, I got you something, I got you a gift, I remember you saying you liked this, all variations she’s heard a dozen times now. And she’s loved everything he’s given her, it’s all been things she’s mentioned liking to him or friends and her heart sinks her. She was taking advantage of him.

Every time she mentioned liking something it seemed to be given to her within a week because Cody was hearing something in her voice that she hadn’t realized was there, a question of will you buy it for me and it brings tears to her eyes as she sinks into her bed. The necklace around her neck doesn’t feel right anymore, it feels wrong to wear and her fingers scramble to take it off, tossing it on her nightstand. The dress is quickly taken off, falling to the ground before she buries herself underneath her blankets.

She had been using Cody and hadn't even realized it… what kind of person does that make her?

She wakes up with missed calls and texts and feeling worse than before. The guilt is festering inside her. She can’t try and give back what he’s given her. Cody wouldn’t accept that. But, she thinks staring at herself in the mirror, she could be better.

“Fuck, are you okay?”

She blinks at the worried tone that greets her as she answers her phone. “Yeah, Cody, I’m okay. I fell asleep after I got home, my phone was on silent.”

She can hear Cody take a deep breath, practically hear the worry melt away from him and another wave of guilt crashes over her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it.”

“No. Don’t apologize. I just, I got worried. You hadn’t texted me since this morning, didn’t tell me you got home and then you weren’t answering and,”

“And I always answer during the day.”

“Yeah.” he breathes.

“I’m okay.” She soothes, sitting down on the foot of her bed, wincing as the dress she had worn earlier comes into her eyesight.

“How was lunch?”

“It was the normal kind of catch up.” She tells him. “Nothing too exciting.” And god was that the truth.

“Take any pictures of you in your dress? I know you look gorgeous in it.”

“Just one.” She answers after a moment. “And thank you again for it. You didn’t have to.”

“You don’t need to thank me for getting you something.”

She has to bite her tongue to stop herself from saying anything to that, because she did. She really did. But what she really needed was to make sure he didn’t feel like he had to buy her anything ever again. And that would require a conversation, an apology, that she couldn’t give over the phone.

“Do you want to come over tonight? I’ll cook dinner.” She offers.

“You come over to mine and I’ll grill the main while you cook the sides?”

She laughs at the familiar offer but gives a nod of her head. “Sounds perfect.” She pulls her phone away from her ear, looking at the time. “Let me get dressed and I’ll stop by the store and be over.”

“Wear the dress? And maybe bring some more clothes over.”

“I think you have about half my closet at your house.”

“But not your full closet yet.”

She shakes her head. “I’ll try to be over in an hour.”

“With more clothes?” Cody says, hopefully.

“I’ll see you soon, Cody.”

“That’s not an answer. But I’ll see you soon, drive safe.”

Hanging up, she shakes her head, a wide smile spreading across her face. It fades a little when she catches sight of the dress. She wants to kick it underneath her bed, make up some excuse to Cody about it getting stolen or going missing, but she forces herself to put it back on.

As she touches up her makeup, the dress seems to feel heavier and heavier, her neck feels bare but her stomach twists at the thought of putting back on the necklace he gave her a little after a month being together, it twists more when she considers not putting it on.

Everything seems to weigh a ton, the dress, the necklace, her mind, and she’s unable to escape it. Music in the car doesn’t take any of the weight away, the cute baby in produce that giggles and waves at her doesn’t, and parking in Cody’s driveway certainly doesn’t either.

She sits there for a minute, hands gripping the wheel, head pressed against, giving herself just a minute, before she takes a deep breath and gets out of her car.

It’s a single bag of groceries that she has to grab from the backseat, but her lips twitch into a smile as she knows what Cody’s reaction to her carrying it will be.

Knocking on the front door, she doesn’t have to wait long before it’s opening and her boyfriend is smiling at her, leaning in and kissing her in greeting before a hand is being pressed to her lower back and she’s being ushered into the house.

“You really don’t have to knock, babe.”

She shakes her head, “I do.”

“You have a key.”

“Yeah, so I can get your mail and check on things while you're gone.”

His eyes roll, “and to let yourself in and out whenever you please.”

Her mouth opens to protest, but his eyes catch on the grocery bag in her hand and his whole expression changes and she has to bite her lip to stop herself from grinning as he immediately reaches for it.

“What is this? Why didn’t you text me?”

“It’s stuff for dinner and it’s maybe a pound.”

His offended look grows worse, fingers tugging at the bag and she lets him take it from her. “I’m supposed to bring in the groceries.”

“It’s one bag. And what do you think I do when you're gone and I’m restocking your fridge and cupboards or when I do my own grocery shopping?”

A look of horror flashes across his face. “This is like my worst nightmare.”

She laughs at his dramatics and his offended look transforms into a grin at the sound.

He’s quick to put the bag on the kitchen counter before kissing her again. It’s a far longer kiss than the one he gave her before and she melts into it, into him. Their lips move together lazily for a few minutes, separating with slightly tingly and slick lips.

“This looks gorgeous on you.” Cody murmurs, giving her a peck on the lips as his fingers give a small tug at her dress.

Her smile fades at the compliment, guilt hitting her all over again. “Actually I wanted to talk to you about that.”

He straightens a bit at her words, hand squeezing her waist.

“I’m sorry.”

His head jerks back at the soft words, confusion overtaking his concern.

She swallows, thickly. “I never meant to make you feel like you needed to buy me things and I’m sorry. That was never my intention, Cody. And I want to be better.”

“Babe, what are you talking about?”

“I-” she starts and is cut off by his hands gently cupping her face.

“I have never felt like I needed to buy you anything. Have I wanted to? Hell yeah, that’s why I’m constantly doing it, but you have never once even hinted at wanting me to buy something for you. You fight me on paying for everything. You tried giving me two dollars for a pack of gum when you forgot your wallet and that’s been the only thing you have ever asked me to buy you.”

“You never let me pay you back for that.” She mumbles.

He huffs out a laugh, one his hands slipping back down to her waist. “And I’m never going to. I like getting you stuff. This dress, your necklace, that art print you pretended not to like.”

Blood rushes to her cheeks at the mention of the art print. It had been so early in their relationship and she hadn’t thought he could read her so easily, but he had, and a few days later the art print had arrived at her door.

“I love doing it. It’s taking care of you and I love doing that, it’s important to me. Hell, I wish you’d ask me to buy things, even just a pack of gum.”

She softens, guilt no longer festering but disappearing. She knew he liked taking care of people, but it was different hearing him say it. Hearing him say that he wanted to take care of her.

“I’ve never really had anyone that wanted to take care of me, not like this.”

His face softens, his lips brushing against hers for a second. “Well, I want to.” He presses their lips together again, firmer this time. “Now, you're gonna sit on the deck, I’m gonna make you a drink and start dinner and you're going to relax and talk to me about whatever you want.”

“Okay.” She says and the utter joy and relief on Cody’s face rids any lasting guilt that was trying to cling to her.

[eldritch-elrics]

saw a post implying that spamton and tenna were Fully In Romantic Love and would have been fine if not for that damn phone call - and oh my god, you do you op but i just can't understand taking spamtenna in that direction lol

like, i think one of the things that's so fun about the ship to me is that they are playing at romance without ever actually getting there. imo this is two guys who are first and foremost business partners, and who, because they are both success-obsessed workaholics, treat being "business partners" as something as important, consequential, and emotionally charged as marriage. the central joke of spamtenna, arguably, is that they are divorced without ever being married. if you make them married (or adjacent), it ruins the joke a little, doesn't it?

to me, this is a "yeah some stuff has happened between us that you might define as 'gay sex' (if you squint) but it didn't actually fulfill any of our deep-seated desires, and it doesn't matter anyway because all that shit is not as important as our Business Partnership" ship. this is a "we go out to expensive restaurants and spend lots of time alone together but we're just 'celebrating our success' or 'planning business ventures,' not 'dating'" ship. this is a "we implicitly understand the homoerotic undertones of our relationship but do not want to define it (for various reasons, including 'repression' and 'too closeted' and 'it doesn't matter' and 'i don't want to be vulnerable')" ship.

as for whether or not they would have worked out as an actual couple... i can see it going in many different directions. they could maybe make it work! but they could have just crashed and burned from some other thing. like, they were totally both manipulating each other/using each other for selfish reasons! they're disasters! that's what makes it great!

[alanisstonedd]

MDNI

bum!ony that sees you walking your route to work when he starts crashing with his hb, always outside on the corner chopping it up when you stroll by minding your damn business. mad cute but wayyy outta his league. you got it all together, and he’s practically the opposite

bum!ony that swallows his pride to holla at your fine ass when you’re waiting to cross the street one day. you giggle at some one-liner he drops & he’s hooked.

bum!ony who forms a lil bond with you on the corner before it gets serious. it’s a lil routine — you giggle at him on the way to work and throw him a clever line on the way back home. he loves y’all’s lil game & is honestly happy with whatever attention you give him.

bum!ony who is so surprised when you ask him to lunch on your way home one day. he jumps at the opportunity not even tryna front like he’s not excited.

bum!ony who charms you on the date. you don’t even seem to care that he spends too much time on the corner to have a consistent job. that smile? the way he looks at you? that rough, slightly unreliable sex appeal he oozes? your guard is embarrassingly low. but what can you sayyy — he makes you feel a way. a way you’re not ready to let go of.

bum!ony who moves — in as a “friend” — when his hb gets booked. you figure, he’s not exactly a stranger & you can’t let him go homeless! he said it’d only be until he could get on his feet so it’s fine! you have the extra space, it’d be a waste basically.

bum!ony who gives you foot rubs in exchange for his laundry done - unspoken ritual of course. his hands do tend to wander tho… sneaking up to your thighs to sink his fingers in.. you just smile & do that cute snicker he likes, courtesy of the two blunts he rolled for you earlier. no clue how he’s getting all this loud since he still don’t got a J O B

bum!ony who leaves his socks in the floor just to see your pussy print when you bend over. matter fact, you catch him looking quite a lot. always “grabbing sum real quick” when you’re in the shower, “accidentally” peeking his head in your room while you’re changing for a quick question. but you appreciate how comfortable he is — taking it as a compliment to your hospitality.

bum!ony who starts rubbing on your booty whenever you bring up his unemployment. mumbling some excuse while he licks his lips at you. taking your accidental moan as the go ahead to start dragging you into him. you can never stay maddddd he’s like crack.

bum!ony who man-spreads on the couch with just his draws on. print fully out. he palms it when you walk by. dragging you into his lap for a “hug” because you look like you had a hard day apparently. he’s the best hugger tho so your happy self don’t mind. you feel a little guilty honestly - feeling like a slut for getting so wet when he was just trying to get comfy.

bum!ony who starts sleeping in your bed when the couch gets to “uncomfortable”. his big ass frame taking up half the bed. his half-chub somehow finding your booty in the middle of the night. he’s just so big, you might as well start cuddling. he’s even worse then… lowkey humping you “in his sleep”. yall end up tangled with his head smack on your tits, mouth open and snoring over your nipple.

bum!ony who gets so horny when you cook for him. which is every night bcs he doesn’t help you with shit. you end up laying on top of him making out, letting him push into you bcs you gave him blue-balls baby. duhh. he takes you back to your bed and fucks all the calories off, drilling you into the mattress like a rag doll.

bum!ony who teases you when you leave your laundry out in the living room — about your panties specifically. talking out his ass about the lil lacy thing to the point you put it on to show him how wrong he is about them. and oh is he wrong… makes you ride his face with them pulled to the side, all over the couch.

bum!ony who humps you while you wash the dishes. that’s it

bum!ony who tricks you into sex with his fine ass face after he misses another job interview. kissing all over you cuz he knows it distracts you. dicking you down sideways with a hand on your tit and more empty promises in your ear. but you don’t even hear none of it over the slapping of his hips and the squelch of your cream all over him.

bum!ony who loves when you have a bad day at work bcs you don’t ask him about a job and you fuck him like a toy. using him for that nut. your hand moves to his neck and you start fucking out the frustration you’ve built up at his bum ass. its animalistic.

bum!ony who randomly comes home with a BAG one day. like serious money. first thing he buys is some lingerie for you to model for him. might take some photos while you doing ya thang for posterity ofc.

[lemonfizzyy]

This headcanon fits rather well in my Reverse Robins AU, except my version is not nearly as cute as yours.

So, its is a well-known Thing that if you're the youngest of a family (especially a large one) everyone will forever see you as young, right? This is exactly what happens to RR!Dick, who is the youngest of a family of ten.

It started rather innocently. Everyone picked him at some point or another because he'd ask or it'd be convenient. Dick loved this arrangement because because at the circus he was picked up quite a lot too. Everyone's happy with this habit.

Fast forward to Dick's preteens. His family is still picking him up, this time like you would a newborn deer. Just bundling his lanky limbs and pointy elbows into their arms and hoping for the best. Dick is a little confused why this is still happening because the picking up is less comforting now and more awkward. He tolerates it though. In fact goes limp like an overcooked noodle each time they grab him, just to earn a laugh or two. Things are still good.

Fast forward to his teens. Dick has shot up like a weed at this point. He's 5'10, reasonably muscular and has inherited enough passive lethality from his adoptive father (Damian) that he's quite a bit intimidating even if he's standing still and doing nothing.

Surely the whole 'Let's carry Dick places like rich woman would a small dog?' thing would stop now, right?

No, it has not stopped, only gotten more reckless. To be clear, Dick no longer fits into their arms, nor does he want to. (He's sixteen and would like to use his own feet, thank you very much.) He still goes limp when they grab him, but this time it's a defense. His unwieldy weight just drags both of them to the ground and now neither of them are getting anywhere. This does not deter his siblings however, they just assume advanced maneuvers to bypass the issue of physics.

...By the way, 'advanced maneuvers' is just tossing Dick over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

The worst offender of all this nonsense is of course one Damian Wayne who will forever see Dick in his mind as World's Littlest Boy. (Cue that one scene from Phineas and Ferb.) Damian struggles to verbalize his love in words, so he often shows it by instead physically hauling his actively struggling teen son around. Or, alternatively, stalking him on weekends, since he's out of town with his friends on weekends. Or, alternatively, dragging him along on week-long JL missions against his will.

Dick hates all of this with a passion but he will have a violent crash-out if any of these behaviors stopped. Damian knows this fact because it's happened before.

You see, Dick wants to be a rebellious teenager in theory but he also, like any true Bat, has complicated abandonment issues that make him anxious to actually acquire the space he's gunning for.

So instead he just goes through the motions of pushing Damian away and complaining loudly about having a suffocating dad, just to happily pretend he doesn't notice his own father stalking him through Metropolis while he goes to the movies with his friends. It's also pertinent to mention that he's only Damian's ward and he's going age out in two years, so he takes a lot of comfort from all the reminders that Damian is 100% dedicated to being his dad.

I love when people pick my beautiful man up, I think he deserves to be constantly carried around by the people he loves. He deserves to feel loved.

Okay but consider this: everyone is so used to carrying Dick because he was so little when they first met him that it was just instinct to pick up and whisk him away by the time he got older. It doesn’t matter that now it looks sort of ridiculous to snatch up this lanky teenager and sprint away with him, it works. It’s efficient. And Dick doesn’t actually mind it.

Then he’s an adult, and people still are picking him up for like no reason. Just because they can. Because they want to. And Dick just shrugs and goes along with it.

He’s a little prince and it’s proven by the way they hardly let his feet touch the ground.

[artisiumstudios]

I need angst, I need 19 year old Stan and ford timestuck au where they meets their mid 20year old counterparts (a bit before the betrayal and ford hits rock bottom).

Now I have so many ways this could work:

1) Stan and ford (teens) end up getting stuck together and get stuck with Stanford, which leads to both fords having a lot of emotions. Stan looks sick, his baby fat is not quite gone but compared to ford it’s like he’s aged years despite him being 19 and the same age as his twin who still looks full of life. He sees Stan and ford as a child and the guilt that he tried to hide behind anger and betrayal is starting to peak out once more. His twins younger self is covered in new scars and his compared to the loud mouthed brother who always spoke his mind at any given time without any thought of consequences is now eerily quiet, always hanging in the background, trying to make himself small, trying to disappear.

Paranoia oozes out of Stan with every twitch and flinch at the slightest sound, and while not super obvious, he can tell that while ford has gained an inch or so, his body still maturing into one of an adult, Stan — well he isn’t. And while he is hunching Stanford knows that one inch difference should have never happened. Ford is almost the same noticing as much as Stanford except that that guilt comes crashing harder because that’s HIS twin brother looking absolutely miserable, exhaustion etched onto his skin. And the worst part for ford is that Stanley keeps avoiding him (well he avoids both fords but Stan and him are in the same situation so why can’t Stanley just stop his avoidance for one second? Be mature about this! Let ford make sure he’s okay-).

And meanwhile Stan feels super happy that Stanford got himself a good place and that even thought Stanley ruined his life he still made something of himself! Even if it was without him. Because pa was right, everyone was and Stan was only holding ford back

And also for a little curveball Stan thinks his older counterpart is dead. He’s 19 barely scrapping by, he lives in his car, gangs are coming after him, and Stanford hasn’t mentioned anything about his Stanley, and when asked where his Stanley was he had this far away look as he shamefully said I don’t know. That was enough confirmation for him to know that he wouldn’t make past 30.

(He does indeed freak out when Stanley shows up still alive and looking worse for wear)

2)The Classic Stanford gets Stan and Stanley get ford. Except ford is there for the aftermath of either the Tijuana incident, the trunk incident, or the kidney incident. Either or but basically he saved Stanley and comes to the realization that his own twin’s future could be like this. That he could lose or have lost Stan without knowing. The fact that HE saved this Stanley and that if not for him this ford would have lost his brother and possibly have never of known. It sickens him and he makes it his personal mission to get home, rebuild his relationship with Stan if possible, and save his brother no matter what.

Stanley meanwhile is trying to fix his “mistake” (ford shouldn’t have seen that, he should have never known-) and is pampering the shit out of ford, stealing whatever he can for his little brother (?) , which caused more tensions because Stanley is the one hurt not ford! He needs to rest not be trying to shoplift his favorite snacks, books, etc!!!

On the other end of things Stanford still had the same realization from the first idea (minus the height thing but he does take into account that Stan is severely malnourished) and does try to pamper and connect with him. Does it backfire on him? Yes. Does Stan feel like he doesn’t deserve it? Yes. Does Stan lash out because clearly ford is doing it out of guilt? Yes. Is there drama where Stan ends up running away because ford reveals that the dream of sailing was never going to happen, especially not with Stan suffocating him!

(Some dialogue I thought for it.

“Stan, that’s not what I meant to say-“

“You think I’m suffocating?”

“No- well, yes I did but that doesn’t-“

“Is that why- that’s why you wanted to leave me. I’m suffocating, a burden-“

“Stan you’re not a burde-“

“YES I AM- IM THE EXTRA STAN, THE DUMB STAN, THE STAN THAT NOBODY WANTS-“

“STAN YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND-“

“Oh i understand, i might be stupid but i understand this, you don’t want me, nobody does. All my life I’ve been nothing but a burden to you, all I’ve ever done is ride on your coattails. It’s just like Pa said. But you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Stan what are you-“

*restraints Stanford in some way idk *

“You don’t have to help me anymore, it’s not like I’m worth much”

*runs away* )

3) Stanley and Stanford are the ones to get stranded in time thanks to Stanford doing some magical stuff that had the twins connected and sent to the past. Idk too much about this one but it could be fun. Especially if Stanford accidentally gets drunk trying to help Stan and reveals stuff about bill only for Stan to clock his shit and be like “yeah no you’re getting scammed bro. Played like a cheap kazoo”

Meanwhile Stanley is idk doing drag, perhaps going through withdrawal symptoms from lack of “flour”. Maybe some mental issues? Who knows, ford sure doesn’t!

[perseephoneee]

┈ ⟡ crash out [a frank langdon fic]

˖ 𐦍 CHAPTER 1: SOMEONE SAYS 'I DO'

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After returning from rehab and looking to earn forgiveness for his mistakes, Frank makes his way back to the Pitt Trauma Medical Center, where he discovers he's been given a supervisor to oversee his progress.

a/n: finally returning to this after crashing out for the past three weeks. can you even crash out for three weeks? it doesn't matter...i did it anyway

beta'd by the beautiful @eurydiceauxenfers <3

“I’ll bet you $10 this isn’t going to work,” you said, watching as Langdon operated. The patient had been injured on a construction site, and you both were arguing over the best way to treat them. While part of you was well aware that he usually had smart ideas for how to handle these situations, you also knew he responded best to competition.

“Then you are going to be $10 short and feeling very stupid,” Langdon laughed, eyes focused on his work. He seemed a lot more joyful than he was a few weeks ago when you first met him. 

“Don’t be a douche.”

“Can’t,” he shrugged. “Because I just succeeded.”

You bit back a smile as he finished off his work, standing back and gesturing to the nurses to bandage the patient up. You left the room, knowing he’d meet you later, as he finished cleaning up. 

You’d had no idea what to expect when Robby asked you to be Frank’s supervisor. You had heard from the rumor mill that he tended to be arrogant, had a hard time not being in control, and was close with Robby. Oh, and the whole stealing drugs thing. But the man you saw on the first day seemed more desperate and sad than anything. Challenging him in his work was the closest you got to seeing that version you were told of before. 

You had also heard him referred to as ER Ken, which gave you a certain idea of what he was supposed to look like. You were not disappointed. 

He’s married, you thought to yourself, looking at the board in central. You heard his footsteps a second later. You could always tell it was him because the steps always seemed hurried, much like a puppy. He wore a grin.

“You owe me $10.”

You raised a brow at him. “How about I just get you a drink from the vending machine and we call it even.”

Langdon pretended to think about it, even though you knew he had already decided. “Deal.”

“Good. We have a sick child in six.”

Langdon pouted. “There’s an amputation in three.”

“I don’t care,” you snorted, watching as his expression fell. You enjoyed that aspect of being his supervisor, getting to make him do whatever case you wanted. He didn’t complain…much. 

He made sure to stay a few paces behind you as you approached the curtain, announcing yourself as you opened it. A little girl, seven years of age, sat on the bed with her knees to her chest and a rabbit in her arms. She was frowning as her parents sat in the chairs next to her. 

“Hi Chloe, I’m Dr. L/N and this is my colleague Dr. Langdon,” you smiled, closing the curtain behind you. “What seems to be the problem?”

“She says her ears won’t stop hurting, and we gave her Tylenol, but it isn’t doing anything.” Her mom twisted her hands, looking anxiously between you and her daughter. You grabbed your otoscope and got closer to Chloe. You hummed as you looked inside both ears. 

“Any other symptoms?” Langdon asked as you examined her ears. 

“She said her head hurt a little bit, but we thought it was just from the strep,” her dad replied. 

“Strep?”

“She just got over strep throat,” the mom replied. You put away the otoscope.

“Her ears are very swollen, but it doesn’t look like the eardrums are affected. Her strep likely didn’t go away and moved to the sinuses, which gave her an infection,” you explained. You felt bad for the little girl. Her ears were so inflamed that you were shocked she wasn’t crying. “Dr. Langdon, what would you prescribe as treatment?”

“Another round of antibiotics, as well as oxycodone as needed for the pain,” Frank smiled, hands in his pockets. You nodded in agreement. 

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he replied. 

“Her ears right now are full of pockets of excess liquid. Her hearing might be slightly affected, but it’d only be temporary. At some point, the pockets will burst and drain out naturally. If they don’t go away and she’s still in pain after finishing the antibiotics, you should come back in.”

“Thank you so much,” the mom smiled gleefully, giving her daughter a kiss on the head. You noticed Frank tense up out of the corner of your eye. 

“We’ll write you a prescription now for everything,” you nodded, opening the curtain and stepping out with Frank behind you. He seemed quieter than before. 

“What’s wrong, Langdon?” you asked, bumping his shoulder. He looked down at you, plastering on a smile. 

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You never do, cupcake,” he grinned, walking backwards towards the ER entrance. You frowned at the nickname. You don’t remember when he started calling you cupcake, but you didn’t always appreciate it. 

“Where are you going?” you called out, arms crossed.

“STEMI incoming, and I’m going to beat the record.”

“Like hell you are,” you grumbled, following after him. He was like a dog with a bone when he wanted to do something. The STEMI rolled in a moment later. You both ran alongside the gurney as you wheeled it into the emergency OR… 

Langdon did not beat the record (neither did you). But the guy survived, so all in a day’s work. Things managed to calm down a little bit, and you found yourself taking a breather in the break room. You slumped against the wall with a Rice Krispies treat, staring a hole into the opposite wall. The door creaked open, and Frank slumped down next to you.

You sat in companionable silence.

“Wanna see me shotgun this Red Bull?” He asked, holding up the can.

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” you responded. “But yes.”

It went about as poorly as expected. Frank’s scrubs were now covered in the energy drink. But it made you laugh, actually snorting laughing. He was an idiot, one whom you were in charge of.

“Glad my failures entertain you.”

“Always,” 

Frank smiled. You were waiting to see the smile reach his eyes, but you knew progress was slow. You cleared your throat. 

“What happened earlier?”

“Earlier?”

“With the kid. You got kinda…distant.”

Frank looked down at his hands. He played with the wedding band on his finger, twisting it around. You observed the action.

“I just haven’t seen Tanner in a while,” Frank admits. “And it’s hard.”

“You haven’t?” He wore his friendship bracelet everywhere. Frank wore Tanner’s friendship bracelet everywhere, you’d noticed. You knew he had to be the light of his life. “How—?”

“Abby left me,” Frank shrugged. You felt your heart drop. “After the…she was mad at me. For lying. For everything.” Langdon ran a hand through his hair. “I haven’t seen him since. Courts are still figuring out custody.” He takes his ring off, holding it up in front of you both. “And I didn’t want people to know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’m fine,” Frank forced a smile, in a way a totally not fine person would. 

What do you do in this situation? Sit and empathize, you guess. You’ve prided yourself on being good at comforting, but you didn’t always know what to say. 

“Do you mind not telling anyone?” Frank murmured. God, he looked like a wounded puppy with those eyes. 

“Of course I won’t.” You paused for a second. “Would working on the amputee make you feel better?”

“Yes.”

~ * ~

You’re not sure why you did it. Following your co-worker home was never a good idea. Following the mystery that was Frank Langdon was a worse idea. But you couldn’t get that look of his out of your mind, nor the way he held his ring like he wasn’t sure if he should toss it or cherish it. And frankly, you were nosy. 

You follow a little bit behind him as he walks. Luck had it that he didn’t drive to work (your snooping would’ve ended then), but that didn’t leave many options in the closest area. He didn���t ride the bus either. He walked for several blocks, and there were a few close calls where you would roll into the bushes very sleek and cool like a movie spy. You were kidding yourself; you fell into the bushes like a flying squirrel. 

Thoughts of squirrel-like tendencies left your mind as you watched him enter the three-star hotel near the hospital. 

Well, shit.

[pagesfromthevoid]

Tyler Owens + “Oh… you look tired”

She slept like shit last night.

Usually, after a successful chase, she’s fine. Sleeps like a baby because the adrenaline wears off and she crashes comfortably in the backseat of the truck. But last night? Nah, last night was rough. Didn’t help that Tyler spent most of the night fixing the truck, and didn’t crawl into their bed at the motel until well after two in the morning.

It was a successful chase. There’s no doubt about that. But it was a close call right at the start; the trucks grounding system didn’t deploy on time because a wire was misdirected somehow under the hood. By the time the system did work, the truck was halfway into the tornado, the front end of the truck was lifting off the ground, and Boone was cackling like a fucking madman.

This isn’t the first time she’s been stuck in a storm where things could have gone wrong. But something about this one hit her like a bag of bricks. Maybe it was the fear on Tyler’s face —brief, barely there. But there. Or how he reached back as if to check that she was still in the backseat, buckled into the harness.

“Oh,” Tyler suddenly says, and she realizes she’s half asleep in her lawn chair in the parking lot. He kneels beside her, looking her over in concern. “You look tired, darlin’. You good?”

She just nods a little, rolling her head to the side to look at him. “I am tired,” she admits with a sigh. “Didn’t sleep well. Runnin’ on fumes.”

“Why don’t we sit this next chase out?” He offers, voice soft as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You? Take a break?” She teases, but her voice is lazy, soft. “Since when do you give up a good chase?”

“Since my girl is tired and needs some proper TLC,” he counters, standing up now. Then he’s pulling her up out of her seat and into his arms. “C’mon, pretty girl. Nap time.”

“Sorry,” she sighs again, tucking her head into his chest.

“Don’t you start that,” he scolds lightly, walking her up to the motel room. “Any excuse to get in bed with you is all I need.”

———

Send me a character + a title for a drabble!

[kjiscrawlingbackformore]

Peace - Act III : Chapter six

Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Reader comes back to her hometown and transfers to Wiskayok High School after getting expelled from her previous high school. Follows Junior year into Senior year, all the way up to the crash. (Eventual NSFW mdni)

Warnings: None

The sun hadn’t fully burned off the morning fog, and already the parking lot of Wiskayok High School was buzzing, converse thumping on pavement, freshmen tripping over backpack straps, someone blasting Sublime out of a too-loud stereo.

But none of that mattered in the moment Lottie Matthews’ car rolled to a stop at a red light two blocks from school, Mary J. Blige spilling out of the windows like a declaration.

“All night long…”

Lottie was singing—no, belting off-key but fearlessly, hands drumming on the steering wheel, curls still damp from her shower, and pulled into a half-hearted pigtails. You sat in the passenger seat, laughing as you joined in, mouth full of melody, one sneaker propped up on the dashboard in total disregard for Lottie’s clean car policy.

It was the song. The kind you scream into the wind on the first day of senior year when everything feels too bright, too sharp, too terrifying to name. And then, mid-chorus, mid-laugh, you leaned over and kissed her.

It wasn’t long. Just a kiss. But it landed like a thunderclap in the center of Lottie’s chest.

Lottie grinned like she’d just won something. “This is gonna be so fucking hard to keep lowkey.”

You, smug, leaned back against the headrest. “Why’s that?”

Lottie rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “You can’t kiss me like that and then ask me why. You know why. That’s just mean.”

You snorted. “Okay, okay. I promise I’ll stop.”

“You better not,” Lottie muttered, turning up the volume as the light turned green. But beneath the teasing, the grin faltered just for a second. She wished they didn’t have to be lowkey. She wished they could walk into school with this song still playing, holding hands, not caring who saw. But you both knew better. The world didn’t make space for girls like them, not here, not yet.

So when she pulled into the back lot, you went quiet. You grabbed your bag. Lottie adjusted her purple cardigan like armor. They exchanged one last glance, charged, unspoken, and then parted ways.

You ducked into the side entrance near the east end. Lottie merged with the other athletes, laughing at something Allie said as if her morning hadn’t just rearranged her heartbeat. No one suspected a thing.

The senior hallway still smelled like waxed floors and stale air conditioning, the kind of institutional limbo that somehow never changed no matter how many years passed. Jackie and Shauna leaned against the lockers like they'd never left, fresh coffees in hand, sweaters tied around their waists like it was still early September and not already creeping toward the last weeks of summer heat.

Shauna was in the middle of a story, something chaotic and half-true about her neighbor’s lost cat, when she added, almost too casually, “Oh, and that’s when Y/N called me from North Carolina.”

Jackie blinked. “What?”

Shauna took a slow sip of her coffee, not looking at her. “Yeah. Just to talk. Her Grandparents were driving her up the wall.”

“She called you?” Jackie repeated, sharper this time. “From her grandparents’?”

Shauna shrugged. “Well, if you hadn’t been so busy sucking Jeff’s face off all summer, maybe you would’ve gotten a call too.”

Jackie barked out a laugh, too loud, almost genuine. But there was something clipped about it, something that made Shauna glance sideways. She couldn’t tell what kind of laugh it was. Was it mocking, surprised, or defensive? Regardless, it was the first day of senior year, it wasn’t worth analyzing. So she decided to let it go.

Jackie didn’t.

Something hardened behind her eyes, a decision forming mid-sip of her latte. Senior year was supposed to be hers. Her year. Clean slate, varsity captain, top of the food chain. She had done the family vacation. She had made up with Jeff. She was going to nationals. She had a plan.

And that also meant whatever had happened with you, whatever brief, reckless, raw moment existed between them, it didn’t fit. So it didn’t exist. It never happened.

She decided that the moment you came around the corner, backpack slung over one shoulder, keys still dangling from your belt loop, heading to your locker, the one, unfortunately, still right next to Shauna’s.

You paused when you saw them. Jackie didn’t.

“Hey!” Jackie said brightly, like you hadn’t gone three months without speaking. Like she hadn’t kissed you in a haze of smoke and music. Like she hadn’t treated you like you were invisible the very next day.

You blinked, thrown by the sudden normalcy. Your eyes darted to Shauna, who looked apologetic, maybe. Like she wanted to say something, but didn’t know if now was the right time. Or if there even was a right time.

“Hey,” you said back, slow and guarded, pulling open your locker like it might protect you.

Jackie just kept smiling, as if the tension wasn’t there. As if she couldn’t feel it buzzing under the fluorescent lights.

Shauna, bless her, picked up the dead conversation and breathed life back into it. “Y/N was just telling me about the food in North Carolina. Fried everything.”

“Sounds on brand,” Jackie offered, leaning on her locker like she didn’t notice you stiffen.

You nodded, “Yeah, my grandma is obsessed with her fried peanuts.”

Jackie's face scrunched into confusion, nose wiggling. You tried to ignore your heart fluttering at the cuteness. “Fried what?” She asks in a mix of pure confusion and pure disgust.

You chuckle despite yourself. “Dude, it’s so weird. It literally deep-fried peanuts. I hate it, but she SWEARS by it.” You explain, grabbing your books from your locker.

Jackie gives you a grossed-out look, and Shauna laughs at her reaction. “No offense, Smalls, you’re not making me want to take a trip to North Carolina anytime soon,” Jackie says with all sincerity.

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, trust neither do I. It was just a small visit for Max. I think unless you like Billy Graham and Racing, there's not much to do.”

Shauna scoffs, “Billy Graham and Racing is such a random combo?”

“Exactly.” You agree with a snicker.

“You have successfully convinced me. Never moving over there.” Jackie says with a nod, like it's all been decided.

She held your gaze for a moment, and it was tender. You almost felt the same magnetic pull that always comes with being around Jackie. Your breath hitches the longer you hold eye contact with her. The way her eyes are soft and so sure. So sure you were still her, Smalls.

You clear your throat. “Well, gotta get to uh Math. See ya later.” You say quickly, slamming your locker and rushing past them.

You didn’t argue. You didn’t ask why you and Jackie were suddenly pretending it was all fine. Like she didn’t say a word to you all summer. Like you didn’t dial her number three different times when you were visiting your grandparents. Because she was the only one who knew, who could truly understand and say something that’d really help. Like you didn’t stop yourself because you knew she wouldn’t answer.

No, we were pretending it’s fine. Yet the more you walked away. You felt a weird sense of gratefulness. Because in truth, you didn’t want to talk about it.

You weren’t ready to talk about it. Hell, even Lottie didn’t know about it. Maybe they would never talk about it. Whatever that night was, it shouldn’t have happened. And pretending was safer for everyone involved.

So we are pretending. And it was like a secret pact amongst the three of them, no one would say the truth out loud. You were fine with it. Besides…you did miss Jackie. In some fucked up way.

You could forget it happened…

The cafeteria buzzed with first-week energy, tray clatter, the hum of fluorescent lights, and the familiar scrape of sneakers against floors. The senior table had claimed its usual corner, the one by the windows where the sun poured in too bright.

Van had her boots kicked up on the bench, Tai was halfway through a carton of orange juice, and Lottie was picking the crust off her sandwich without much interest. You sat near the end, beside Shauna, quiet but present.

You were getting better at that at blending in without fading away. Tai leaned in suddenly, eyes flicking between you and Jackie her across the room. “So… you and Jackie making up now? Saw you two talking this morning.”

You didn’t look up from your tater tots. “Uh, yeah. We kinda have. She’s just… Jackie being Jackie, you know?”

It was neutral. Careful. True enough.

Lottie stilled beside her. Just a flicker of tension, the kind you’d only notice if you were watching closely.

“Figures,” Lottie muttered, a little too sharp, like something bitter stuck to the back of her throat. She peeled another bit of crust, dropped it on her tray. “Jackie Taylor is always full of surprises.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. The air between them dipped slightly one beat too long, one glance too brief. But Lottie caught herself. She didn’t have the luxury of looking jealous. So she pivoted, tone flipping on a dime, eyes lighting up like she’d been waiting for a better topic.

“Anyway, has anyone noticed Travis Martinez literally can’t stop staring at Natalie during practice recently?”

Van snorted into her iced tea. “Oh my god, yes. He almost walked into a goalpost yesterday.”

Tai leaned forward, grinning. “That was because Natalie told him she liked his stupid barbed wire tattoo.”

“She said it looked like something out of Buffy,” Van said, laughing. “And he thought it was a compliment.”

The table erupted in familiar, easy noise, everyone tossing jokes, leaning on elbows, slipping into the rhythm that had always existed between them. You smiled faintly. Lottie finally relaxed. You didn’t look at each other. But both felt the space between them settle again, uneasy but unspoken. The secret they shared folding back into the folds of a sunny afternoon.

Shauna was halfway through her fruit cup when she dropped her spoon and leaned dramatically across the table. “You guys, Coach is losing it. Like, full-on pacing the sidelines muttering about ‘legacy’ and ‘discipline’ like we’re in the damn military.”

Van nodded through a mouthful of fries, looking at you. “He made us run suicides for twenty minutes yesterday because Jackie sneezed during drills.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Oh shit. Really?”

“That’s not even an exaggeration,” Shauna added. “I thought Jackie was going to cry.”

You snorted. “Honestly, I’d pay money to see that.”

Lottie smirked but said nothing, her foot brushing yours under the table like it always did now. Her foot tapped gently once, a signal you understood but didn’t return. Not here. Not yet.

Van shifted her focus to you again. “We seriously miss you at practices. You should come by today. Bring the camera. Make us look heroic and sweaty.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I just don’t want to stand outside for hours watching you guys kick a ball around. I did that enough last year.”

Van scoffed. “That’s literally the whole point of your job.”

You shrugged, deadpan. “So? I can’t still hate that part of my job?”

Shauna leaned in with a grin. “Come on. The lighting at golden hour’s good today, right? Make us look like a Nike commercial.”

Even Lottie chimed in, voice smooth and teasing, “It’s not like you have anything better to do. You already said no to getting slurpees with Megan after school.”

You shot her a look dangerously close to one that said you’re pushing it, but Lottie only smiled wider, all false innocence and dimples. You immediately regretted telling her that earlier today. You only divulged that piece of information so you could stay with Lottie’s car to get burger king.

“Fine,” You sighed dramatically, tossing a chip into your mouth. “But only if I get to leave halfway through.”

Van smacked the table. “Hell yeah. See? I guilt-tripped her, and it worked.”

As you pulled out your planner (courtesy of Mr. Weaver) to write down the practice time, you added dryly, “Just don’t tell the lacrosse team about this. Ben Grimes has been sending me all types of bribes to get me to go to their practices. One more Hot Fries bag taped to my locker and I’m calling the cops.”

Lottie’s smile faltered for a millisecond-just a flicker, but she recovered quickly. “Gross,” she said lightly, sipping her drink. “Maybe tell him bribery isn’t flattering when it smells like gym socks and MSG.”

You snorted. “I’ll add that to my yearbook quote.”

Shauna reached for your fries. “As long as you bring the big lens. I need an action shot for my grandma.”

You nodded, a grin stretching on your lips. “Only if she frames it.”

The bell rang before Lottie could say anything else, and as the group gathered their trays, she lingered just a second behind. Watching you laugh with Shauna and Tai, easy and alive. She didn’t like that you and Jackie are buddies again. And she DEFINITELY doesn’t like Ben Grimes. Lottie didn’t like anyone liking you.

But that was a problem for later.

[hard-core-super-star]

cards on the table [L.Calderu]

pairing: lilia calderu x vampire!reader

summary: the morning after, you can't bring yourself to leave lilia again. instead, you let the desire you still feel for her take over.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> morning sex; mommy kink galore [because it's lilia, duh]; SO much biting [because vampires duh]; desperate switch!lilia is SO important to me; grinding; making out; unholy uses of magic; fingering; praise kink go brrr; lilia's boobs deserve their own warning fr; plot and feelings randomly thrown in because i can't write porn without it; so much banter

wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: HELLO! this part took longer than i planned but i'm really happy with how it turned out. i couldn't write vampire!reader without throwing some smut in before more plot 😌i'm having a lot of fun writing for lilia so i hope i've delivered. as always, my inbox is open and i hope you enjoy <3

part one |

* * * * * * *

When your eyes open, the first thing you see is the way the sunlight bounces off the ceiling. Unlike what most vampire myths said, you weren't afraid of the sun. At least not any more than a mortal with secrets made far too vulnerable by the light.

The second thing you notice once your eyes focus and your mind starts clearing is the comfortable weight settled on top of you. Reality's quick to crash into you after that.

For some reason, you had expected Lilia to be up and about by the time morning came. Even though she had made fun of you for wanting to run away, she was the same way. Actually, she tended to be worse. But of course, she would never admit it, preferring instead to throw the blame on you.

Seeing her like this, though, soft and vulnerable, reminds you why you hated leaving her in the first place. While you knew it had to be done, it didn't change how awful you felt about it. How lonely the years that have passed have been.

"How are you already so tense?" Her words break the silence and draw a sigh out of you. It really isn't fair how easy she can read you, even now.

"I'm just not used to waking up under a beautiful woman," you reply, the corners of your mouth tugging up into a lazy smile.

"I find that very hard to believe, sweetheart."

You suppress the urge to laugh and instead give in to the easy atmosphere. "Ouch, are you calling me a whore, Madame Calderu?"

The eyeroll you earn yourself is more worth it. "I'm calling you charming, my dear."

"Oh, my mistake."

She laughs, the sound rich and soft and capable of turning all your thoughts to mush in a second. "I've missed this."

You know what she means, but you don't allow yourself to linger on her words too much. A part of you feels undeserving. It wasn't like you didn't have good reason for leaving and yet…the guilt threatens to swallow you whole.

"Insulting me?" You ask as your fingers draw random patterns on her back. The fabric of her robe is thin enough for you to feel the warmth of her skin beneath it.

With a soft sigh, she lifts herself enough so she can stare down at you. The wrinkles in the corners of her eyes are as soft as her smile. "Laughing with you."

It's impossible to ignore the truth in her tone. "Yeah, I guess that's nice too."

"You guess?" She responds, attempting to sound offended. It doesn't work very well, though, since she's still grinning too hard. "You're a hard woman to please, my darling."

It's impossible to stop yourself from laughing at that. "You of all people should know that's not true."

Instead of instantly replying, she allows her eyes to drift down your face, lingering on your lips. You're not sure if she knows exactly what she's doing, but you do know you can't stop yourself from craving more.

And you can't even be mad at yourself for it.

You never even tried to lie about your feelings for her. Even after the visions, the prophecy, the knowledge that she'll be your undoing, you still love her. You've always loved her. How can you fight against that part of your fate?

One of your hands comes up, fingers slowly grazing against the side of her neck. The only thing left of your bite is the memory and yet she still shivers. Still leans into your touch.

"y/n," she whispers, her eyes fluttering closed for a few seconds. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

"I find that very hard to believe," you reply, your voice just as soft as hers.

She lets out a soft huff of air, something halfway to a chuckle, before you steal whatever teasing words were on the tip of her tongue away with a kiss.

Despite how strong your longing for her has been, you still surprise yourself. You almost assumed you'd walk out of her life again without doing exactly what you'd been thinking about since you left.

Clearly, you're a fool in more than one way.

Your fingers move back to tangle in her hair and even though you try to keep yourself in check, you can't. You want more. Need her in ways that scare you and excite you at the same time.

Lilia pulls away from the kiss, her heaving breaths fanning across your lips. "I missed this too."

"I missed you," you admit, your face warming up exponentially.

It's dangerous to say it out loud, but there's no use in hiding. Not when her eyes can see everything you don't say. Everything you feel without meaning to.

"Yeah?" Her head tilts to the side, wide pupils scanning your face. "Show me."

You grin, sharp teeth poking out from under your top lip. "Gladly."

Your hands travel down her body in an instant and your fingers grasp the fabric of her robe. A laugh escapes her as you hurry to slip the garment off of her, shifting around until your lips can meet the exposed skin of her shoulders.

"Impatient as always, little one?" She questions, using her words to distract you from the way she's moving above you. It's subtle, but you can't ignore the feeling of her heat pressing against your thigh.

"Only when it comes to you."

You let your fangs graze her skin, dragging along her shoulder blade until she's shivering above you. The urge to bite her is far stronger than it should have been considering how much you'd drank the night before. Then again, your thirst for her has always been stronger than anything else. Including your common sense.

"Such a flatter," she mutters.

Her hands move to her robe, helping you get the rest of it off, while your attention is captivated by her warm skin. You sink your teeth into her shoulder, not hard enough to actually draw blood, but enough to feel the connection that thrums beneath your veins.

"And so eager too," Lilia hums.

There's no way you can deny her claim. Especially with the way your hands start exploring the newly revealed contours of her body. Your fingers trace the lines of her muscles, mapping out the freckles you can't see but know are there.

As much as it pains you, you remove your fangs from her without drawing any blood, focusing on her hunger instead of your own. "I'm not the only one, I think you're soaking my pants."

"Oh, very funny." Her voice lacks humor but her eyes dance with a mischief she was sure she'd lost years ago. "Maybe if you weren't so preoccupied with biting me, I wouldn't have to be doing all the work by myself."

"All the work- oh-"

Your question is answered by the way she shifts her hips, slowly grinding against your leg. One hand lands on her hip to steady her as she sits up slightly to get better friction. You move with her, rising into a slightly uncomfortable position just to latch your mouth onto her chest.

"There you go," she coos. "You remember what mama likes?"

You don't think you could forget if you tried.

Your lips wrap around one of her nipples, feeling it harden under your tongue. Her back arches into your touch and you can't stop yourself from letting your teeth graze her sensitive skin.

The noise she makes in response is more than enough of a reward, but then her hand tangles in your hair and pulls you closer. "Fuck, darling. You're so good for me."

Her whimpered praise sends sparks of electricity up your spine. Not even your own pleasure can distract you from your mission, though.

One hand stays on her hip, slowly guiding her movements when her hips stutter, and the other one comes up to toy with her other breast, lavishing both of her nipples with the attention you know she needs. If your mouth wasn't so busy, you would have teased her for how frantic her movements against you are.

And she was making fun of you for being eager.

"y/n," she whispers, her voice shaking almost as much as her thighs.

All you do is hum, biting down on her nipple just enough to hear her gasp. Her movements speed up and you double your efforts, flexing your thigh and pushing up into her as much as you can.

It makes you a little dizzy due to the proximity but you force your eyes to travel upward until you can take in the curve of her neck and her parted lips. The puffs of air she lets out sound more like whines than anything and you let them wash over you like a wave.

You wait until she starts muttering curses beneath her breath to move again. Your hand leaves her breast and glides down the front of her body, easily slipping under the waistband of her ruined underwear.

You detach yourself from her nipple only to trail kisses up the valley of her breasts. "Cum for me, mama, I know you need it."

Your fingers press against her swollen clit and you watch as her whole body shudders in response. It's the most beautiful sight you've seen in years.

You work her through her orgasm, feeling as she soaks your fingers and her underwear all in one go. It's sinful and delightful all at the same time.

When she slumps forward, worn and overly sensitive, you instantly wrap your arms around her waist and lie back against the couch once more. For a moment, it's like no time has passed at all. Like you managed to cheat both time and space just to be with each other.

As silly as it might be, you allow yourself the fantasy.

Your lips press against her temple as the two of you lay there, her head on your shoulder and her nose nuzzling your jaw. As hard as it is, you don't move. You don't dare break the moment.

Because you know once you do, you won't get to have her like this again.

The runes may be strong and the wards may pulse with life every time you make her heart skip a beat, but you're being hunted. And every second you spend with her only puts her in more danger.

You know that.

But then she's shifting again and her lips find yours and it's hard to think about anything else except her.

When she pulls away, you're both breathless, gripping onto each other like you're afraid you'll disappear. The helplessness that simmers beneath the surface is hidden well under desire and desperation, but you can still feel it. Thrumming to life after every kiss.

"You were so good for me, angel," she murmurs, almost like she doesn't want to risk breaking the moment by being too loud. "Let me make you feel good."

"Yes please," you reply as your arms wrap around her neck to keep her close.

To your surprise, she makes no move to make fun of you for how clingy you are and instead her arms move down your arms, caressing your skin like she's commiting every touch to memory. You don't doubt she is.

Once she reaches your shirt, she simply smirks down at you and with a flick of her wrists, your clothes dissapear. "Cute trick."

Lilia just raises an eyebrow at you, hovering over you with a borderline dangerous glint in her eyes. "Trick? Are you insulting my magic, little one?"

"Oh, I would never dare," you tease.

Of course, she doesn't believe you, and you honestly don't blame her.

"You just can't stop yourself from being a brat, can you?" Her question is completely rhetorical, especially considering her next idea.

She hovers above you, watching your face closely as one of her hands trails down your body to the heat eminating from between your legs. Her fingers part your folds, revealing your clit to her before she murmurs something ancient under her breath. You have no idea what she's doing…until you feel a sudden shock on your clit.

"Lilia-" you gasp, your thighs attempting to close.

She clicks her tongue in dissaproval as she lands a warning smack to your inner thigh. "Don't you dare close them, I'm just getting started."

Your cunt clenches around pure air at that and the pleasure sends another shock-like sensation through your cunt. You quickly realize you don't mind, though, as the pain morphs into unbelieable pleasure.

"Oh, fuck."

"You read my mind, baby."

You don't get anther second to react before two of her fingers are teasing your already sensitive clit, pressing down until your thighs shake and then moving down to gather your wetness on the tips.

She's absolutely playing with you and you can't find it in yourself to mind. Not when the way she toys with you feels so damn good.

"Please," you all but whimper. "More."

"Always so needy, it's adorable."

You whimper again and she finally takes pity on you, sliding those same two fingers into your wet cunt. It only takes a few thrusts and another well placed shock for you to near the edge.

"Mama- please-"

"Already?" Despite her teasing tone, she can't hide her excitment. "You wanna cum for me, sweet girl?"

You desperately nod, your hips bucking up into her without meaning to as you chase your incoming orgasm. "Yes, need it, please."

"I've missed hearing you beg like that. Go ahead, baby, don't hold back."

She doesn't have to tell you twice.

Your body instantly reacts to her, clenching uncontrollably around her fingers while her thumb plays with your clit. You cry out as your orgasm crashes into you and you're left whining and shaking underneath her.

She leans down to pepper kisses across your face, her tongue darting out to lap up the few tears that escape the corners of your eyes. "Always so sweet for me."

All you can manage are a few incoherent mumbles and she chuckles as she removes her fingers from between your legs. Another incantation is mumbled and the ache on your clit subsides.

"Better?" She asks, shifting around once more so she's on her side, arms bringing you closer to her.

You nod and mirror her, tucking your head beneath her chin and wrapping yourself around her warmth. "Did you melt my brain so I wouldn't leave?"

"Not on purpose," she replies with a laugh. "Does that mean you'll stay?"

You allow the question to hang in the air for a few seconds. There's nothing you want more than to stay. Not only are you technically still injured, you'll have to drink from her again soon or risk growing weak once more.

You know the risks, the ones that go beyond simply being a vampire in love with a witch. Between the Guild, your family, and the prophecy that looms over both of your heads…staying with her will do nothing besides bring you more pain.

And yet, the answer forms before you can stop it.

"Yes. But only because I'm still hungry."

Lilia knows you're lying, but she doesn't call you out on it. Instead, she simply holds you closer, her fingers tracing the area where you'd been stabbed by the Guild's hunter. "Just give me a few minutes, then we can get up."

You know she's lying too, but all you do is smile and burrow into her chest.

* * * * * * *

taglist: @p00ki3-m0nst3r

[op1umeyes]

Boyfriend!Peter Summer Headcanons

⌖ some cute headcanons i randomly generated in my braincicles.

⌖ since i’m hot and miserable, i need to occupy my mind with other things than of my misery. i just love him and i think andy peter will always be my precious boy so there!

peter LOVES the heat. Before he was bitten, he 100% preferred spring, but didn’t much care for summer

i read that some spiders thrive during the heat: good weather to help them grow, hunt, and reproduce. Wink wink.

if you aren’t a hot weather person, peter will accommodate to your request even if you dont ask

LOVES going to the pool with you!!! Heh yes he likes going so he can see you in a swimsuit (because he loves whenever you change it up) but he also likes swimming so he can impress you with his muscles and play games with you and your friends

like one time you were playing chicken with him as your partner. (If you dont know what chicken is, you have to have at least 4 people. One person gets on their partners shoulders and they try to push each other into the water/make them fall. Peak childhood game.) He literally didn’t even stress as he picked you up. I mean, yeah, he’s Spider-Man and has all this strength but geez does he need to be so showy about it smh 🙄🫣

another reason he likes the pool is because he likes seeing you fresh out the shower. Skin glowing, smelling like coconuts, hair wet… Peter really does think that you’re are picturesque while you have your back toward him as you brush out your hair. Ugh. Ur just so perf to him.

You have Peter take you to the park at dusk to run around and chase fireflies!! He somehow has like three in his hair before you can even catch one

there’s a little spot between two buildings Peter found after a particularly rough mission that had a nice opening to watch the stars. Peter takes you for a date there as much as he can because you’ll both pack up a little basket and he’ll swing you there. You’ll open up the basket and get the food ready while Peter whips up a little hammock out of his spiderwebs. You always end up falling asleep because the fresh air just knocks you out like a little baby. Peter loves nights like those 🥹

the fourth of July is good for everyone. May cooks some good food, you come over, everyone’s happy. May will insist on driving out to see the fireworks and fuss over the both of you: “are you kids having fun?” “did you eat enought, sweetheart?” “oh, do you both wants some of the good ice cream on the way home?”

Peter loves that you love May, and May loves that Peter loves you. And making her happy had become a major priority for you (and Peter) so you liked taking her to things

late night drives stress peter out due to the amount of car crashes he’d assisted before. So instead, he insists on swinging you everywhere!!

The first couple times? Less than ideal. You wrapped your arms and legs around his front, comforted ONLY by the hand he wrapped around your back as he swung with the other. But you didn’t scream. (Peter noticed that: at waterparks and rollercoasters you never screamed. He asked you about it and you shrugged it off. ‘Too breathless to scream,’ you replied casually, ‘I don’t really know, honestly.’)

After the seventh time swinging, Peter noticed your heartbeat staying relatively steady during the trip and he was just super happy that you trusted him with your life in his hands so literally. Hes just. So perfect. 😓

You convince Peter to get matching shoes with you! They’re nothing flashy- just some reliable blue converse- but hey: they’re yours. Something solid and real, a symbol of the love thats taken the two of you so far. Peter wrote a little note saying ‘Be safe! I love you! - Spider Boy’ in both of your shoes. You wrote ‘Keep kicking butt, Spidey! I’ll always be here to heal ur butt when u need it :)’ You giggled despicably as you wrote it. Your smiley face was a little (read: LOT) crooked because you ran out of room but Peter treasured it like it was a gift from the Queen herself bc thats just the guys he is

takes you to get ice cream. All. The. Time.

Learns how to braid (if your braid your hair) so it takes you less time to get ready for things and because he knows you hate your hair in your face

when he takes you back home, he always gives you a kiss. Either on the lips, temple, cheek, hand, head- you never know. It makes Peter feel like hes in a movie

saving people takes up a lot of time. So he sometimes just comes over to nap or even parallel play in your presence because knowing you are safe is why he does what he does. 🙃

[redheadsramblings]

Ship Sleep Dynamics

I was tagged by the lovely @aetherflowers for this 🥰

I need more screenshots of the two of them. All the ones I have, someone has their eyes closed or is pulling a weird face 🤣

So I have to keep reusing the few good ones 😅

💚Emmrich Volkarin 💀 Rowan "Rook" Ingellvar💜

How often do they sleep together?

Once the relationship is a go every night, but not in a sexual sense as Rowan is not ready (also I haven't quite decided if their first time is the coffin or not) and he would never ever think of rushing her. Emmrich is horrified when he sees Rowan's sleeping situation at the Lighthouse. And will not hear of leaving his darling to sleep in a cold, damp room on that abominable sofa with nary a pillow or blanket that isn't her pack and cloak (his exact words).

It starts with them just in the same bed, he being a gentleman offers to go sleep elsewhere, but Rowan asks him to stay. So he puts a bolster pillow down the centre of the bed so she feels safe and as a barrier. Which lasts all of her first nightmare. He knew she sleepwalked because of bad dreams, what he didn't know was how it all started before she started walking. Lots of whimpering, talking in her sleep (he didn't know his heart could break over such innocuous phrases like No, Don't, or It hurts) so how can he not hold her and try to soothe her and the rest is history (OK the rest is kind of written but not really, and I want to keep some things a mystery for later fic chapters)

Where do they sleep?

Once the relationship is a go they're both in Emmrich's bed in his room at the Lighthouse (I am an Emmrich has a secret bedroom behind a bookcase truther) and again in Emmrich's bed in his flat/house in Nevarra once they go home. Before, Rowan didn't have a bed either in the Lighthouse or Nevarra. She barely had a room in the Necropolis before she had to leave after the War of the Banners.

How do they prepare to sleep?

Emmrich I see as have a very structured routine. A bath followed by applying his various lotions and potions to his hair and skin, I'm not saying the man has the Thedas equivalent to a Korean skincare regime, but I'm also not not saying it. Puts oh his fancy pyjamas (he strikes me as a silk pjs kind of man) then a calming cup of tea before brushing his teeth, getting his clothes ready for the next day, putting the ones from that day in the laundry basket. Then finally gets in to bed to read for a while before going to sleep.

Rowan in comparison is a lot simpler, not because she doesn't want to, but because she couldn't afford the lotions etc and never had the time or space. A wash if she can, then braids her hair, puts on her old worn shift and heavily darned socks (she's always cold), brushes her teeth, and then crashes out on the nearest flat surface. If she even bothers going to bed in the first place. She, Lucanis and Neve are giving each other a run for the worst insomniac in the Veilguard. Bellara is disqualified because she actually falls asleep while she's working.

Once they're sharing a bed, suddenly Rowan has a multitude of lotions, potions, and oils that Emmrich gifts her. She also has beautiful nightwear and warm slippers, stockings, and wraps to wear if she gets cold. Her old shift may have "accidentally" got burnt after a mysterious, very localised fire.

What do they wear to sleep?

Emmrich is an absolute silk pyjamas man and nothing will make me change my mind. In sumptuous jewel colours and no doubt embroidered with gold wherever it won't be itchy.

Rowan had a simple linen shift that is very old, faded, much mended and while it used to be black it is now a dingy grey shapeless thing that she has slept in for years. It's also the shift she wears under her "formal" dress when needed, or is her other dress that she wears when she's not on an expedition or patrol. It's ugly, shapeless, but it's all she has.

After Emmrich sees it, he makes it his mission to a) make sure she has beautiful things to sleep in and b) remove that shift from existence entirely. It's not that he doesn't think she's beautiful in it, she is stunning in his eyes no matter what she wears or looks like. It's the sheer magnitude of neglect and a life bare of anything like kindness or affection, it encompasses.

Do they cuddle?

Yes. Rowan is always cold and Emmrich is warm, so she always ends up draped over him and snuggled in, no matter her intention when she goes to sleep. Add in her nightmares and Emmrich noting that if he holds her, they are less frequent, then he sees no reason why they should deny themselves the pleasure of sleeping in each other's arms.

What are their preferred sleep positions?

Emmrich is a side sleeper preferably and Rowan is a curl up as small as I can to keep warm and maybe no one will find me if I'm small sleeper by necessity/upbringing to start. Once they're in the sharing a bed stage, then Emmrich is still a side sleeper with Rowan cuddled to his chest with her legs draped over his hips and her arm over her chest.

They do also often end up with Emmrich on his back and Rowan draped over his chest more often than not. She's unconsciously trying to get as much of her on his warmth, and even in his sleep he could never refuse her anything.

How easy do they fall asleep?

Emmrich falls asleep relatively easily, as long as he's not deep in his research or too deep in his own head.

Rowan just doesn't sleep unless she is just about ready to pass out, and even then it depends on how much caffeine she can get in her system before she crashes. Until she's sharing a bed with Emmrich. It's the first time she feels absolutely safe and secure, add in how warm she is, and she's out like a light.

It's not always effective as she's very good at ignoring her body's needs, but Emmrich knows if he can get her horizontal and next to him, then she'll sleep. That's the easy part. Catching her and getting her to listen is the hard part.

Do they toss and turn a lot?

Emmrich no unless he's in his own head.

Rowan to start, yes. She has nightmares, or a Dread Wolf in her head, or just bad headspace. Again, it gets better once they're sharing.

Do they snore?

Emmrich has been known to on occasion snore, but it's not all the time. And it's more gentle wuffles than full on snoring.

Rowan doesn't.

Who hogs the blanket?

Emmrich. Mostly only at the start and because he's used to having blankets to hog. Rowan doesn't fight for herself, even in her sleep. But as they're usually cuddles together, the blanket hogging quickly becomes a non entity.

What do they dream about?

Emmrich has mostly innocuous dreams, lots of whimsy and fade walking. He does have nightmares occasionally of losing his parents, losing Manfred after Blackthorn and after Tearstone losing Rowan and his fear of death.

Rowan has nightmares more than dreams. It's part of why she doesn't like to sleep. Not going to go into her nightmare subjects because a) Spoilers and b) dark subject maters.

How easily do they wake up?

Emmrich wakes up easily, but he typically sleeps deeply, so he doesn't wake up to every noise or movement once he's asleep.

Rowan sleeps like a 9-tailed cat in a rocking chair factory. She sleeps poorly if she even sleeps at all and every little noise or movement wakes her. It's from all her years of solo expeditions deep in the Necropolis, where sleeping too deeply was the fastest way to die quickly.

Once they're sharing a bed, she sleeps a bit better because she feels safe, but she still wakes up at the drop of a pin.

How awake they are afterwards?

Emmrich is fairly awake and chipper after waking, even if he had a late night.

Rowan is wide awake as soon as she opens her eyes and is usually on the move before then. She's not happy about it, but her survival hinged on it for too many years to easily unlearn it.

She gets more relaxed as they continue to share a bed and feel safe to grumble and take her time as she wakes up. But it's rare.

OK, this was so much fun, so I need to more people to do it so I can read about your ships and their sleep habits 😍

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[enby--ghost]

Chapter 10 of "Can I Crash on Your Floor?" is up now! A chapter all about Jax and Gangle talking... and maybe something else

Chapter 10: Closer than anticipated

10 chapters already?! It feels like I just started this dang thing! Good golly, that's crazy! Not to mention how much this fic has exploded! I looked at all the ao3 numbers and there are quite a few of you. Oh crumbs, are there a lot of you. The support has actually been crazy, I can't thank y'all enough!

Feel free to leave a comment here or on the fic itself letting me know what you thought, any constructive criticism you may have, pointing out mistakes, or just sharing whatever is on your mind! I love getting to hear from y'all! It always makes me smile when I get those emails!

I really can't state enough how much I enjoy writing this and I hope you all enjoy reading it just as much! I'll wrap this up quick to let y'all read the funny ribbun story! Again, thank you all for the support! As always, I'll see y'all next time!

Happy reading, Dummies!

[yunwangja]

merit | team yn

masterlist

team yn

2nd year college students

yn

taking up cognitive science, decision & cognition track

the hardworking, passionate, competitive girl

she was instilled with the mindset that she has to do her best to fulfill her purpose

contrary to what it may seem, there isn’t really that negative pressure to push herself too hard

she doesn’t get “burnt out” because she has a healthy mindset

you could say she’s a positive person - “i’m doing this because i want to be my best, and not because my parents say so”

and at the same time, she enjoys it a lot; being active, studying, putting herself out there - it’s her personality so she doesn’t have hidden wounds about it

views as her competition with akaashi as challenging. she started it, but well it was more of an exciting thing for her

like she hates it when she loses but it drives her to be better, yk?

despite her passion, she doesn’t push her friends to be the same though

she is very reliable and helps her friends a lot when it comes to acads and others

but she doesnt pressure them, if that makes sense

also has a big brother ! athletic, smart, and two years older than him, but he’s chill ! same univ but diff course

hajime iwaizumi

also taking up cogsci, cognitive neuroscience track

big bro of the group lowkey !

he helps yn a lot - drives her to places, assists her if she needs help with class rep or org duties

serious and protective of his friends, but calming when anybody’s crashing out

smart too but iwa < yn, they’re both very hardworking in that sense

is team yn with the rivalry ofc, he’s more neutral over akaashi though

like “i don’t care about you but i don’t want you to d1e though” lol

when for example, akaashi gets a win, he just calms yn down by thinking of other opportunities she could win the next time

meaning he’s not a basher much LOL but again he does help yn out so if he has info he says it

either is on the same side or opposite side of tsukki in situations, no in between

like they’re either so passionate about how they disagree or the other way around

in the same building as oikawa’s dorm, though they’re in different floors (this has a story wait for oikawa’s - spoiler alert - but also not actually)

whenever oikawa would talk about the two’s rivalry he would just let him be LOL

and as you've seen, his socmed is handled (hacked) by oikawa sumtimes

hitoka yachi

this girl is taking cognitive science too, cognitive development track

in this world, her heart is in creating environments where learning feels safe, accessible, and encouraging, especially for children and neurodivergent people !!!

yn’s girl <3 her roommate as well

academically smart < creative !

still the clumsy, artsy friend though!

lowkey a basher LOL but yachi < noya

she kinda hated akaashi’s group esp before they got together

when tsukki asked why she just answered: “because theyre men ???”

it probably was influenced with the rivalry though

“they open their mouths too much” LMAO

the one who initiates hangouts in the group

she’s special because she’s the one where yn can show her feminine side a lot

not that yn conceals it, but she just has more of a “hardworking competitive student” vibe than a girly girl one

they study together at cafes - she asks yn to tutor her (it's her love language ok)

yn’s not a strict teacher w her so when yachi gets overwhelmed she’ll just let her sleep while she continues to do her stuff LOL

yuu nishinoya

a sports science~ major

it sounds fancy but he chose it because he's well... he's athletic (even in this world)

he took it up coz it sounded smart and he was like, "oh it'll just be like a sciencey PE subject right?"

HE HAS ANOTHER CAST WITH HIM IN THE SAME MAJOR !!! STAY TUNED WHO LOL (yeah it's from the other group)

an akaashi hater LOL

“don’t mind him yn he’s not that smart even”

“he talks all smart i dont even understand anything he says”

as always the chaotic one

partners up with yachi a lot, esp when it comes to studying (they love dozing off together)

is just like a solid yn supporter

“QUEEN”

“YOUR BRAIN IS SACRED YN”

gets scolded a lot by iwa but he doesn’t really care

treats yn lowkey like a mom sumtimes (esp when iwa is annoyed at him)

has a lot of petty arguments with tsukki - also his roommate

would come over to yn and yachi’s place whenever he has a fight with tsukki

it would get as petty as “he didnt want to hear me chewing on my chips”

kei tsukishima

also a cogsci major, computation & cognition track

idonteven think i should explain this because he smart right

as mentioned in previous characters, he argues a lot

starts the petty fights with noya most of the time

here’s the thing - he’d make a comment that he thinks is subtle and noya would get fed up

and then he’ll think it’s ridiculous to argue over it (but they’re already arguing)

doesn’t really care about yn and akaashi's rivalry

he just wonders why yn is so pressed about it since he’s closer to her

“it doesnt really matter tho”

“you’ll live”

“stop being obsessed”

“are you inlove with him” (subtle foreshadowing)

he’s smart but he’s not as passionate as yn

he could be if he tried though, but well it’s a chore for him

when you ask him for a hangout suggestion, he’ll always recommend the bar

because he loves watching live bands

note: these are how i envisioned them to be when i started forming this smau. but along the way, there might be times their personalities may shift a little and/or expand more. just wanted you guys to take note of this in case i forget some of the details i wrote down here or make something along the way that might not be written here. but rest assured the core of their personalities will be consistent throughout !

i had to research a LOT because i have to focus on their majors (at some point) for this story ! don't worry though i'm dumb so they're not gonna sound all academic much really LOL. i just had to make it make sense and create a world where they were really focused on univ (esp for the main leads).

anyway, stay tuned for the bros...

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