#if i delete this later bc no one reached out...

[fameandfiction]

IMAGINE PART I: “Respectfully Down Bad” — Reneé Rapp x Reader

— Reneé Being Effortlessly Hot and Unimpressed by It.

It was a casual thing. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it motion. A throwaway moment in the middle of an otherwise unremarkable Thursday morning in Reneé Rapp’s house. She was standing in front of the fridge in one of her many tragic tank tops, having a personal war with a block of vegan cheese.

And then it happened.

Right there—in the wild—she reached under the strap of her tank top, slipped two fingers between the fabric and her chest, and readjusted her bra with one smooth, single-handed motion.

Back arched.

Hip popped.

No warning.

Your brain short-circuited.

You were sitting on her counter, minding your gay little business, sipping cold coffee and thinking about absolutely nothing when your body was electrically hit with a physical reaction so visceral you almost dropped your phone.

You couldn’t even speak.

You just blinked and stared like a man in a medieval painting discovering lust for the first time.

So you did what any emotionally repressed GenZ with Wi-Fi would do.

You tweeted.

[@/you] MY GIRLFRIEND JUST DID THE HOTTEST THING EVER!!! HOW CAN I CONTROL MYSELF???

You slammed your phone down like it was on fire and immediately chugged the rest of your iced coffee like it could extinguish the lesbian meltdown brewing in your bloodstream.

You didn't expect a reply.

You especially didn’t expect a reply from her.

[@/reneerapp, reply] I literally just readjusted my bra????

The silence in her kitchen after that was deafening.

You looked down at the notification like it personally attacked you. Which, in a way, it had.

You were still sitting there. On her counter. In her hoodie. Watching her chew dried mango like this was any other normal moment in your normal life. And meanwhile, the timeline was dragging you.

“why do i feel like she tweeted this while making direct eye contact with her.” “no bc the gay urge to lose your mind over the most mundane hot girl behavior is SO real.” “she’s just like me fr.” “reneé is wearing one of her 3 bras today??” “screaming because this is me watching a girl open a can of seltzer.” “how do i get a gf who thinks my bra-adjustment is tweet-worthy 😩”

“I can’t believe you ratio’d me in my own thirst tweet,” you mutter, phone face-down.

Reneé raises an eyebrow and tosses a mango slice at you. It hits your shoulder.

“You tweeted like you needed medical intervention. I was doing a basic adjustment. Like... for comfort.”

“It wasn’t basic, Rapp.”

“You looked like you were about to explode.”

“Because you did it with technique.”

She snorts. Walks over. Leans against the counter between your legs.

“You’re obsessed with me.”

“It’s so unfair that you know that.”

“You tweeted it, babe.”

“That was private.”

“It had 12K likes in five minutes.”

You slide your phone off the counter with a dramatic sigh.

“Can you delete your tweet?”

“Nope.”

“Can I delete your tweet?”

“I’ll pin it.”

“Reneé!”

“Should I respond again? Like ‘she moaned when I opened the dishwasher’ or something?”

You grab her by the hips.

“Do not turn my downfall into a thread.”

“Too late. Caption’s already in the drafts.”

“I hate you.”

“Liar.”

She leans down until her forehead presses to yours. There’s a smirk on her mouth and syrup on her breath.

“You love me so bad you can’t even watch me fix my bra.”

You let out a strangled sound.

“I’m taking your phone away.”

“No you're not.”

“I will deadbolt the Wi-Fi.”

“Then how will you tweet your next horny crisis? Hm?”

You glare.

She kisses your cheek.

Twenty minutes later, you’re scrolling Twitter again while she makes toast.

The top tweet on your feed?

A screenshot of the thread.

Captioned:

“The femdom-submissive energy in these tweets is outrageous. Like girl. blink twice if you’re okay.”

You show it to Reneé.

She laughs so hard she chokes on her jam.

That night, she’s laying on top of you like a weighted blanket, phone in one hand, a smug grin on her face.

“Should we just tweet ‘we’re dating btw’ and see what happens?”

You freeze.

“...are we?”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

“You didn’t even like my tweet.”

“It scared me. You were too down bad.”

“I WAS SITTING NEXT TO YOU!”

“And still couldn’t contain yourself.”

You press your hand to your face. “I want to disappear.”

She hums, pressing a kiss under your jaw.

“You’d miss me too much.”

You pause.

Then whisper:

“Still doesn’t mean I was wrong.”

She smiles into your neck.

“Didn’t say you were.”

[darabeatha]

/I miss writing dynamics between characters , but this is really a me issue I should strive to correct, but even then, I I still find myself yearning like a cold animal by the road-

[rsenak]

in fun and exciting news i had 4 painkillers and started working on the calien death chart. and i got a good chunk down but then i reached the 'viago eventually becomes the next king (through totally legal means)' point and now im lost in the sauce. that thing gets so complicated from there on. branching paths everywhere. is caterina still alive? yes/no. if yes, does she approve? yes/no. if no, whats next? whats the state of the alliance between house de riva, cantori and dellamorte (now that antiva is free of the antaam)? how does that affect this? how many buckets of blood are we going to shed and whose? (the fact it could all go down on a minimal bloodshed "good" route and it could also go down on a horrible "we are imploding antiva from the inside in the process" route bc i can picture and work out the logic for both. head in hands help)

and all this just to figure out the events when and where calien could potentially die

[doerot]

It's really silly goofy bc all of my short term/mid term goals are about action steps to getting back on track and going to college again and all that jazz, except, haha small issue, I have literally never been consistently good at school and even thinking about classes throws me into a full blown anxiety attack. Lmao

[itsahotsecondafter]

.

[zipquips]

i haven't been to class or campus in a few days bc i'm having a tough time and i'm kind of upset none of my friends have noticed or reached out

[nanabanonana]

reading comprehension is dead and it's taking me with it

[vulpixelates]

ajoiefowife overstimulated and turning evil

[celestialmancer]

...

5 years or less...

That's the most time I have left to scramble everything together despite also struggling w my own health & everything I already struggle with. & That's assuming nothing happens in the time span before then that accelerates everything at a rate faster than I can maybe handle

Bc with the unpredictability I seem to live in constantly, with how common it is for me to have shit strike out of nowhere? When I've never even known stability in the first place so I can't even trust that that 5 years won't suddenly be accelerated to less than 2 years or far less than that? Esp when last year was the start of sudden "yeah so we are becoming rly unstable & idk how well we're going to be able to live here for the next x months/years" that was dropped on me out of nowhere?

...I don't know.

[joshujin]

dude, nice try!

teaser • series masterlist • part one ▶

joshua hong has had the immense privilege of living 30 whole years without ever feeling so much as an ounce of jealousy. that is, until you come prancing into his picture-perfect life on your dumb burner account with evidence that his long-time girlfriend is cheating on him… with your boyfriend.

as he gets tangled in your chaotic plan to get back at your adulterous partners, he begins to wonder if this growing discomfort in his chest was ever even heartbreak to begin with, or if it’s something entirely new to him—something that has the ability to eat him alive from the inside out.

♫ get him back! olivia rodrigo ⟡ hot girl bummer blackbear ⟡ lackin’ denise julia ⟡ is this love xg ⟡ why can’t i? liz phair pairing: joshua x fem!reader cw: strong language, mentions of/implied sexual activity tags: strangers to partners-in-crime to partners-PERIOD, joshua pov, pining, he fell first AND harder hehe, a few smau bits but mostly writing, no smut, inspired by get him back! by miss rodrigo, basically john tucker must die except joshua is sophia bush hehe iykyk a/n: this was a request for jealous!shua and i’m laughing bc i started responding to this anon and said i was going to just answer with bullet points bc if i didn’t, this would turn into a whole thing. and here we are anyway… with a whole thing lol. i know he doesn't seem super jealous here, but consider the joshua x jealous arc a slow burn haha. anyway, enjoy this teaser!

dividers by cafekitsune! cover by yours truly!

joshua's phone pings, and it’s one message from you, just a little over 24 hours since your last message went ignored.

he glances down and feels his stomach turn.

i have evidence.

an hour later, joshua and jeonghan are sprawled across the latter’s living room. when they’d seen your message, both of them had quickly and wordlessly vacated the cafe they were holed up in, gotten to jeonghan’s apartment frighteningly fast, and rifled through the series of messages you sent���all of them photos you took of your boyfriend’s phone screen.

at first, joshua was just annoyed at how hard snapchat made it to read messages; most of the ones sent by whoever your boyfriend was were deleted. he was ready to wave you off and call your “evidence” a reach. but then, he got to more damning photos—photos he was vexed jeonghan got to see too.

because they just proved his know-it-all best friend right. mina was a fucking snake.

he’s shocked at the lengths they went to to be able to communicate with each other without being caught.

but perhaps the most damning piece of evidence of them all comes last: a photo of a woman’s naked back as she laid on her side in a bed—that wasn’t joshua’s or mina’s—away from the camera. it could’ve been anyone. the small tattoo at the base of her neck told joshua exactly who it was.

“so what now?” jeonghan asks, both of them still starfished on the floor and staring at the ceiling after spending several minutes furiously swiping and cussing at his screen. “let’s fill all her shampoo bottles with hair remover,” he answers his own question before joshua can even open his mouth. “oh! or we can follow her around, inevitably find this dude, and kidnap him! i’m sure this y/n person will appreciate that too!”

joshua doesn’t bother entertaining his best friend with a proper response, choosing to ignore the suggestions altogether. his mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to find the point in his relationship mina might have started straying away. has it been happening the entire time? or did she recently decide joshua wasn’t fulfilling her needs to her liking?

“… his car and it’ll probably break down and explode at some point later that week?”

he frowns, realizing jeonghan has been suggesting ridiculous things they can do to mina and your boyfriend the entire time he was contemplating his relationship. it’s his first time getting cheated on, but he isn’t surprised at his best friend’s reaction to it. he’s more surprised when silence blankets over them for several long seconds before jeonghan asks:

“are you okay?” he sighs. “i know that’s a dumb question to ask. you’re obviously not going to be okay after finding out your girlfriend cheated on you.”

his frown deepens at that. it’s a fair statement. he always imagined this kind of thing would throw him into some kind of jealous rage—emotions he’s not really familiar with. rage like yours.

he wonders if he had been the one to find out about this, would he have had a meltdown the way you did? make a burner account and find you to tell you the way you did? try to find someone to commiserate with—even if it’s a stranger—the way you did?

no, probably not. he was telling the truth when he told you that all he would do is break up with mina.

and he’s incredibly confused to find that, contrary to what jeonghan is saying, he feels very okay with that. he can’t really imagine caring enough to do anything more, and he doesn’t know why. shouldn’t he care more?

if you and jeonghan were wrong about him loving mina the way he was so convinced you were, why didn’t he care more?

“joshua,” jeonghan reaches over and pokes his shoulder. “speak. you’re scaring me.”

he snorts. “i’m fine.”

“okay…” he responds slowly. “so still in shock?”

“no, i really think i’m fine,” joshua says, shaking his head at the ceiling. “i feel… normal. i guess just confused about when and why she decided to cheat.”

“you did nothing wrong. she’s just a conniving, slutty ingrate who doesn’t know that she’s throwing away the most decent man in the universe,” he assures him. “which brings me back to my initial question. what should we do now to punish said conniving, slutty ingrate?”

joshua sighs. “we’re not doing anything. i am breaking up with her as soon as she gets off work.”

jeonghan perks up, rolling over onto his stomach and crawling to him until his head appears in his line of vision. his best friend has a shit-eating smile on his face that makes him instinctively roll his eyes.

“can i be there?”

he knows he should say no. it’s an absurd request and it shouldn’t even take joshua more than a second to answer. but as he thinks about it, jeonghan continuing to smile at him like a little devil on his shoulder, he thinks it might be nice to have him there and shame mina for cheating in a way he knows he doesn’t really care to do himself.

he shrugs. “sure, why not?”

jeonghan squeals with delight, scrambling to get up. “come on, we have to make sure you look smoking hot so it hurts her twice as bad. you can borrow my leather pants.”

“leather?!” joshua repeats. “it’s the middle of summer!”

joshua texted mina to let her know he wanted to talk to her after work and he would be dropping by. she told him several times that tonight wasn’t a great time and insisted they wait until tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about her convenience, so here he is, with jeonghan practically vibrating with excitement at his side, standing outside her apartment building.

“i still think you should’ve worn the leather pants,” his best friend says, “but you look killer. she’s gonna shit herself.”

joshua recoils at the idea but thanks him anyway.

“ready?”

he sighs. “yeah, i guess. ready as i’ll—oof!”

he stumbles a few steps and right into jeonghan as someone violently shoves him, continuing to push and slap at both him and his best friend until they’re several steps away from the entrance to mina’s apartment.

“what the—”

“and what the hell are you doing here?!” a female voice shrieks.

he wants to yell at this stranger for putting her hands on him. he wants to tell her to have some manners and to get away from him. at the very least, he wants to glare at her until she shrivels up in shame and scurries away. but all ideas of even attempting to do any of that die as soon as he lays eyes on the stranger.

your instagram photos don’t really do you justice. your photos were well-taken and curated perfectly for your profile, but now that you were—for some weird reason—standing in front of joshua and jeonghan, he can confidently call your photos dirty liars. he can’t blame them, though. he has a feeling no camera in the world can capture how pretty you actually are in real life.

prettier than anyone i’ve ever dated, his intrusive thoughts remind him. prettier than mina.

“well?!” you screech when neither of them answer you, making them both flinch. you don’t notice your effect on them, though, because you’re busy frantically looking between them and the entrance of the building like you’re scared the three of you will be seen.

he knows jeonghan is thinking the same, exact thing he is because he is never rendered silent.

“i—uh,” joshua stammers for what he thinks might be the very first time in his life. “we…”

jeonghan glances at him, face twisted in amused confusion before he schools his expression and points his signature stunning smile at you. “you’re y/n! hi!”

“who the hell are you?” you turn back to them, cross your arms, and practically bark at him.

his best friend’s laugh is exaggerated and several decibels louder than it has any business being. it grates joshua’s nerves. he glares at him but jeonghan pays him no attention. “i like her,” he mutters to him before saying, “i’m jeonghan.”

“okay, jeonghan,” you spit his name like venom, obviously unimpressed, making him giggle.

joshua rolls his eyes at him and his increasing giddiness. his best friend doesn’t date often, but he shouldn’t be surprised that he enjoys this kind of vitriol. jeonghan is, at his core, attracted to the same chaos he himself is made of.

“what are you doing here?” you ask again, raising an eyebrow at joshua to make it clear you’re talking to him.

“i’m… here to break up,” he answers weakly. “with mina! i’m here to break up with… mina.”

he doesn’t know what’s come over him, but being confronted by you in person and unnervingly close in his vicinity has him forgetting how to properly communicate. the thought of blocking you was a lot easier when he had no idea if you were a real person. now, he feels like there’s no escaping you.

“what are you doing here?” jeonghan asks the question he forgets to return to you.

you ignore him, eyes staying trained on joshua as you speak, and something about you pretending like his best friend doesn’t exist forces him to fight down a smile.

“you’re not breaking up with her today,” you order him confidently, like you know saying it is enough for joshua to agree. if the way his palms start to sweat are any indication, you might be right. “she’s up there with siwoo.”

“who’s—”

“my boyfriend,” you answer before jeonghan can finish his question. “i followed him here when he told me he was getting drinks with coworkers.”

joshua’s stomach flips. he’s not really sure how anyone can even think about another person in your presence, let alone cheat on you. maybe your intensity scares siwoo, though. it definitely kind of scares him.

“you mean… they’re up there right now… and they’re probably…” jeonghan’s sentence trails off, but you’re you and you don’t shy away from finishing it.

“fucking?” you ask with a biting and sarcastic enthusiasm. “yeah, jeonghan! probably!”

joshua winces. your fury was already palpable via DMs, but it’s near suffocating in person. it grabs him by the neck and shoves his face back into the dilemma he was quietly contemplating back at jeonghan’s apartment: why isn’t he sharing the same anger? why isn't he doubled over, throwing up at the idea of mina having sex with someone up in her apartment at this very moment?

“are you hungry?” you ask joshua.

“what?” he asks dumbly.

“are. you. hungry?” you repeat, irritation laced in your voice.

“i am!” jeonghan announces.

you give him a blank stare before looking back at joshua. when he fails to say anything, you sigh, your temper appearing to deflate infinitesimally.

“they’re going to be a while,” you inform him like you’ve done this before. “there’s a fried chicken shop i like nearby.” okay, so you’ve definitely done this before. “we can eat and… talk, i guess.”

“we would love to talk. right, joshua?” jeonghan asks, pinching his side with more force than necessary. he fights to keep from jumping.

"sure," he finally agrees. "i could eat."

"thanks for ignoring me amidst my weekend-long menty b, by the way," you say sarcastically as you set down a pitcher of beer and three glasses next to the tray of friend chicken on the table.

"ment—?"

"mental breakdown," jeonghan whispers to him as he reaches to pluck a piece of fried chicken from the tray.

instead of depositing it on his own plate, he stretches across the table to put it on yours. joshua's eyes involuntarily narrow at the gesture. he doesn't realize he's glaring at his best friend until he speaks again.

"what?" he pouts at him but his eyes glint with mischief. "ladies first."

"thanks," you murmur, not-at-all sounding thankful. jeonghan snorts. "well? explain your rude behavior." he looks back over to you to find you sulking. you add more chicken to your plate even though you haven't touched the one jeonghan gave you.

"ah." joshua shakes his head. "i was just... not all the way convinced."

"and now?"

"now what?"

"i take it you're all the way convinced?" you clarify as you tear into your first piece of chicken like you haven't eaten in years. with a full mouth, you add: "i mean, i assume you are if you're here to break up with your girlfriend."

"uh... yeah..." he nods slowly, distracted.

joshua is often described by his friends as a gentleman—elegant even. with the exception of jeonghan and mingyu—the two people who know him best—he is always polite and accommodating. he's careful that his clothes are always pressed and lint-free. he always has good posture, and he does his best to remember his table etiquette, especially in the presence of elders. he tries to be buttoned up and put-together almost all of the time, sometimes even to his own detriment.

so staring at you, wiping soy garlic sauce off your mouth with the back of your hand and talking with your pieces of chewed up chicken tucked into one, puffy cheek, he should absolutely feel repulsed.

he frowns at you and knows it probably looks like he is repulsed by you. but really, he's just confused about why you look so endearing sitting there, eating like it pains you to while taking turns glaring at your drumstick and glaring at him and his best friend.

"hello?" you wave your saucy fingers in front of joshua's face. "is he always this... spacey?" you ask jeonghan without taking your eyes off him.

"i'm glad you asked! no," the man next to him answers—also through cheeks full of chicken. "i've actually never seen him this nerv—"

"sorry, what were you saying?" joshua interjects before everyone at this table, including him, has to face the fact that yes, he is very much nervous and he's unsure why.

you sigh as you wipe your fingers on a napkin. "what is it about me that men's eyes just begin to glaze over as soon as my mouth opens?" you complain, the signature rage joshua has come to expect from you in the one hour he's known you bubbling back to the surface.

his eyes widen in horror at the thought of you mistaking his fascination with disinterest. "oh! i didn't—no, i'm not—i—"

"what joshua is trying and failing miserably to say," jeonghan cuts in, sneaking him a look that screams get it together, "is that no one here is ignoring you. he's just... trying to process all of this. after all, you had all weekend to think about this, and he just realized you were telling the truth, what? two hours ago?"

you stare at jeonghan with the same unimpressed expression you’ve been forcing on him since you met him. after a moment, your gaze travels to joshua, and he gives you a meek smile. you finally hum in understanding.

“sorry, i know i’m projecting. i’m just all…” you wave your hand wildly near your temple to mimic a muddled brain. “siwoo has done a number on me.”

joshua finally gains enough composure to string a sentence together. “i’m sorry i ignored your messages… and blocked your burner account.” you cringe at that but nod an acceptance of his apology. “and i’m sorry i’m not fully present right now. jeonghan’s right.”

kind of. not really. he was processing your existence more than he was processing being cheated on, to be frank.

“i’m just… trying to understand what’s happening, i guess. for what it’s worth, i find it really unbelievable that anyone would ever cheat on you.”

he ignores the way jeonghan inhales deeply and slowly through his nose. only joshua would be able to tell it’s the equivalent of him scream-giggling and kicking his feet when he’s trying to be discreet.

your eyebrows rise like you’re shocked joshua is capable of more than grunts and one-word replies.

“ditto,” you say plainly. joshua can’t help the immediate laugh that escapes his mouth at that, and he’s pleased when you smile for the first time since you met. “mina seems dumb. and not just because she and siwoo are ruining my life. you’re very handsome. and if you blocking me on instagram so fast was any indication, you seem very loyal too.”

you say it easily, as if giving out compliments like that is no big deal to you. maybe it isn’t, but even if that’s true, he’s going to appreciate it nonetheless.

unfortunately, that appreciation manifests in a fierce blush joshua feels spreading across his face like wildfire, much to his mortification. he doesn’t remember the last time he blushed like a pathetic schoolboy with a crush. it was probably when he was an actual pathetic schoolboy with a crush.

he clears his throat, choosing to ignore the compliment. “yeah, i guess we have the same, bad taste in dummies.”

you suddenly groan, throw your head back, and blink rapidly at the ceiling like you're trying your best not to cry. both men glance at each other and fidget awkwardly at the abrupt change of mood, neither of them being great at handling a crying woman. joshua has little to no experience with it and jeonghan tends to fall back on ill-timed jokes during times of distress.

"i followed him here months ago," you tell them unprompted. “i followed him here so many times because he was always so fucking sketchy. but his lie always involved ‘one of the guys,’ so i just thought his friend lived in that building.”

“and you found out this weekend…?” jeonghan asks carefully. joshua rubs the back of his neck nervously.

you nod, squeezing your eyes shut briefly before bringing your line of sight back to them. your eyes are glassy but your efforts to keep from crying were mostly successful.

“he lent me his laptop because mine stopped working,” you explain, rolling your eyes like having a broken laptop on top of all this is almost enough to send you over the edge. “his texts are connected on there too. i was at a cafe with a friend, and one of those verification texts came through. i ignored it but a few seconds later, it messaged again and i saw that he’d replied on his phone.”

“he told her it was safe to text,” joshua says, remembering the photos you sent.

“yeah…” you breathe, hugging yourself tightly and rubbing your arms as you try to self-soothe. “and i just sat there in front of my friends, watching him make plans with her in real time… brainstorm the lies they agreed to tell us… and i just had to pretend to be normal or else i would’ve burned that cafe to the ground.”

jeonghan coughs as he chokes on his chicken a little. joshua pats him on the back absentmindedly, eyes never leaving you, even as his best friend stretches across him, still coughing, to pour everyone a glass of beer. you sniffle as you accept your glass with a small nod, your body visibly relaxing after the first sip. he tries not to gawk when you finish the entire glass in one go.

joshua thinks this is probably what someone in love should look like when their heart has been broken: drunk and sad. now that the initial shock of seeing you in person has worn off, he can see how tired you really look. there are dark, bruising circles under your eyes, visible even under your makeup, and your hair looks like it was haphazardly put up into a ponytail to avoid having to wash or brush it. your eyes are tinged pink, a little swollen, and dull, like you’ve been crying all weekend. you have been crying all weekend.

and joshua? he’s asking himself why he hasn’t felt the urge to cry at all yet because right now, he could be the poster child for soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend who is going to be okay has been okay, is okay, and will always be okay. aside from his irritation with mina and her insane audacity, today is like any other day.

he’s never had his heart broken before this, but maybe it’s just different for guys. he read somewhere that men’s emotional intelligence develops a lot slower than women’s; maybe he just hasn’t reached a level of maturity you have.

“anyway,” you say as you stifle a tiny burp that makes jeonghan giggle for the nth time tonight, “i’m going to ruin his life.”

okay, so maybe maturity is the wrong word.

“wh…” joshua glances at jeonghan for confirmation he heard correctly.

his best friend’s eyes are lit up with excitement as he leans forward with impossibly even more interest in what the pretty lady across the table has to say. joshua would slap him if they were alone. what for, he doesn’t know, but he would.

“sorry, what was that?” he asks, trying not to sound judgmental at the risk of setting your anger off again.

“she’s going to ruin his life,” jeonghan answers for you giddily. “what are you going to do? i told joshua he should fill mina’s shampoo bottle with hair remover.”

that earns the two men another smile from you, but this time joshua finds himself annoyed it was because of something jeonghan said.

“oh my god, that’s vile,” you say even though you’re grinning and obviously love the idea. “maybe i’ll add that as a little cherry on top for siwoo.”

“oh, he’ll be so ugly,” jeonghan claims like he’s already daydreaming about it.

“you don’t even know what he looks like,” joshua murmurs.

“i don’t need to,” he responds, smiling as he stares off into the distance. “a stupid motherfucker who can cheat on our lovely y/n here like that has to look like ass.”

you roll your eyes at the compliment but your cheeks turn a cute shade of pink anyway.

“well, making him bald will look like child’s play when i’m done with him,” you match jeonghan’s dreamy tone, and joshua feels a chill of fear from having the two of you at the same table crawl up his spine. why was he a magnet for agents of chaos?

“is that why you haven’t broken up?” he asks. “you’re scheming to ruin his life?”

you frown. “what makes you think we haven’t broken up?”

joshua shrugs. “maybe the fact that you followed him here and then shoved me and my best friend into next week to keep us from attracting any attention?”

jeonghan snickers and your cheeks turn a darker shade.

“ah, right.” you nod once. “sorry about that.” you don’t look sorry at all and joshua finds himself thinking it’s amusing. “i suppose that was a bit… rude.”

joshua hums like he’s contemplating your apology but he knows it’s clear he’s fighting a smile as he brings his beer to his lips.

you sigh. “anyway, yes. that’s why i’m still with him. he doesn’t even know i know. i’m trying to get my ducks in a row and figure out the most devastating way to leave him.”

jeonghan smirks. “my kind of girl.”

joshua’s foot finds his best friend’s and stomps on it as hard as he can without thinking twice about it. it almost shocks him—how much it felt like instinct—but after the day he’s had, he thinks he’s entitled to a bit of a tantrum. maybe this is how he is when his heart is broken. a little mean.

“ow, what the fu—”

“so what’s the plan?” joshua asks loudly when your eyes snap up to jeonghan mid-sip over the glass of your beer.

you lick your lips clean of foam before setting the glass down, and joshua forces himself to look away when he notices how plump and pink they are.

“well, to be honest… i haven’t been the smartest,” you admit, seeming timid for the first time since you barged into his DMs. it’s an odd look on you. “i—um. i kind of rely on him… financially.”

the explanation comes tumbling past your lips after that like you’re afraid the two of them are going to judge you if you allow even a second of silence to pass.

“i had a job! i had a great job! but siwoo’s a bit traditional, and he comes from a more conservative family that really buys into gender roles, and i mean, fuck that, right?”

you give them no chance to agree.

“i’m a feminist! i swear to god i’m a fucking feminist!” you’re practically shouting now and the two men are so stunned, they can’t bring themselves to notice or care that the other patrons of the restaurant are starting to look over. “but i was in love! and i thought i was going to marry this moron! so i convinced myself i wanted to stay home and i wanted to clean the house and take care of a man—”

you say the word with so much disgust, both joshua and jeonghan struggle to keep from laughing.

“—and he was so happy when i quit my job like he’s been asking me to, and i thought i was happy too, like, what woman doesn’t want to be taken care of by a rich man?!”

you pause to burp briefly but it still isn’t enough time for either of them to get a word in.

“though again, i was in love! i was looking at that shithead through rose-tinted glasses! he’s nothing but a spoiled mama’s boy with a rich family! that asshole doesn’t have to do anything for the wealth he has! so now it's, like, what woman wants to be fake-taken-care-of by a 30-something-year-old mama’s boy?!”

the words come with even more disgust than “man.”

“and he had the nerve to act like he was better than me because i had to make everything i had before i met him! like, dude. if your bank account is still connected to your fucking mom’s, lower your goddamn voice when speaking to me!”

his best friend’s mouth drops open in absolute joy-filled shock at your biting remark. he’s enjoying meeting someone as chaotic as he is too much.

“and what was it for?! empty promises that he would propose soon?! endless faked orgasms for a man who’s afraid to give a woman head?!”

jeonghan chokes again, this time on nothing. joshua has more decorum but he can’t help the way his face turns bright red.

“you’d swear i was harboring a monster down there the way he cringed at the mere mention of oral, like, what is he, 12?!”

joshua has to avert his eyes to the ceiling of the restaurant at the mention of your “monster,” and he can’t even get it together long enough to nudge jeonghan when he bursts into hysterical laughter. they might as well be nonexistent, though, because you keep barreling through your rant.

“i was on track to be a director before 30! i was a fucking star! and look what he made me!” you screech, words slurring.

it takes your slurred speech and yet another burp for joshua to realize with mild horror that the pitcher of beer is almost empty, and that he and jeonghan are still on their first glasses. he elbows his best friend, who’s still cackling, and motions at the pitcher. jeonghan sighs happily as the last of his laughter leaves him and mutters a quiet: holy shit, pretty aggretsuko can drink.

“he turned me into a housewife without even making me a wife! and let me remind you: I AM A FEMINIST!” you slam your palms against the table with each word to punctuate your point. joshua can see why you picked aggretsuko for your burner account. “i support a woman’s choice to be a housewife if that’s what she wants, but my dumb ass didn’t realize that this isn’t the life i wanted until this fucking weekend! god!” you groan miserably. “all of this heartache and for what?! he cheated on me and now i’m jobless and about to be homeless and completely broke, and i…”

you seem to abruptly run out of steam, slumping in your seat and looking at your near-empty glass of beer pitifully. joshua has the urge to round the table and give you a hug, but he stays put, trying to process the whiplash of witnessing what he imagines is a mini “menty b.”

you take a few breaths before quietly saying, “i can’t believe this is what being in love got me.”

something violently lurches inside joshua’s chest when you say that.

“i can’t believe something that’s supposed to be as beautiful as love blinded me so badly.” your voice cracks. your eyes well with tears and this time, you make no move to stop them as they begin to streak your face. “how the hell can love hurt this much?”

joshua’s mouth falls open to say something—anything. any kind of comfort or kindness or advice. but no sound escapes his lips as he watches your heart break into tiny, little pieces in front of him.

he’ll look back at this moment and realize this was the first time his heart learned something he, himself, didn't know yet: what he had with mina wasn’t love—that maybe, he had actually never even been in love before. there’s no world where mina would ever have the kind of effect siwoo has on you on him, and there isn't anything mina can do that would make joshua scorn the concept of love because it's something he never even experienced with her.

but for now, all he can think is that, despite barely knowing you and despite being somewhat afraid of you, he has an insatiable want to fix this for you. he wants you to stop crying. he wants to see the rare smiles they were gifted tonight on your face once more. most of all, he wants to make the man who made you cry sorry for ever entering your life.

the words are out of his mouth before he can think twice about them.

“i’ll help you.” you immediately stop crying and look up at him with wide eyes. “i’ll help you ruin this idiot’s life. and when the two of us are through with him, i promise you he’ll be afraid to breathe within a 10-mile vicinity of you.”

[gracie-eilish]

study break {part two}

warnings: contains mild smut - fingering r! receiving, dumbification if you squint really hard without glasses on

an: i freaking love this trope🤓 pls lmk if you want more of them bc they’re adorable to me:))))))))))))

also this will probably be the last smut fic i write for a teensy weensy bit!! idk i’ve just been feeling weird writing smut lately!! im not deleting any smut requests already in my inbox though so fear not, i’ll probably write them later hehe :)

pairing: jock!billie x nerd/student!reader part one

You were completely at her mercy, your breath shallow, your heart racing.

“You—” You swallowed.

“What baby? Cat got your tongue, hm?” She smirked watching you struggle to speak, your big eyes shifting on hers.

“You’re a menace,” you finally squeaked out.

“And you love it,” she whispered against your lips, kissing you again, deeper this time, as she carried you effortlessly toward your bedroom.

Just before she reached the door, she smirked against your lips. “By the way,” she murmured, her voice dropping an octave, “you’re not getting any sleep tonight, baby.”

And with that, she kicked the door shut behind her...

... and crashed her lips onto yours making you squeak in surprise.

The air was thick with anticipation as Billie lay you down on the soft silk sheets, your heart racing with excitement and a hint of nervousness.

"Bils," you whined, grabbing at her top, trying to pull it off.

"Patience, baby girl. Wanna take it slow, yeah? Let me help you relax for once. Turn that pretty brain off for a bit," she purred, leaning in to kiss just below your ear. "Can you do that for me, sweet thing? Can you relax for me?"

You were goo in her hands, like pure honey as she looked at you hungrily yet so softly. You nodded without blinking, jaw going slack watching her smirk.

"Nah uh baby, you know better. Need words, mama." You squirmed in her grasp and whined making her chuckle cockily, poking her cheek with her tongue.

"Yes, Bils, just need you please touch me," you rambled, making her giggle and lean back in.

"Sshhhh, honey, let me love on ya," her whispers made goosebumps appear on your skin as she started to push your top up and off of you.

Slowly, she helped you sit up a bit so she could remove your sweater, revealing a dainty lace bra decorating your breasts.

"Did you wear this on purpose?" she teased, knowing she was usually the one to initiate sex and not the other way around. Your face flushed burgundy.

"No, I haven't done laundry because I've been studying, so I didn't have any normal bras clean, so I had to wear- oh!" She cut off your adorable rambling with a trail of kisses from your jaw to your breasts.

"It's perfect, princess," she mumbled into your skin, looking up at you through her lashes.

One by one, the remaining layers flew off of both of you, only stopping once so Billie could admire the matching underwear you had on. For such a quiet little thing, you always surprised Billie with your wild side.

"My sweet girl," Billie purred, her voice low and full of promise. She sat back on the bed, revealing her luscious body to you. Her full breasts were barely covered by a black lace bra, and a matching thong accentuated her slender waist and round hips. "Are you ready for me, baby?"

Your shyness melted away under Billie's intense gaze.

"Yes, Billie," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. "I'm ready, Mommy." The pet name slipped out, a sign of your submission, and Billie's eyes lit up with delight.

"That's my good girl," Billie cooed, leaning over to capture your lips in a searing kiss. Her tongue invaded your mouth, demanding and passionate, leaving you breathless. Billie's hands roamed freely, caressing your thighs, teasingly close to your core.

As the kiss deepened, Billie's touch became more daring. She slid her hand beneath your bra, cupping your soft breast, thumb stroking the hardening nipple. You arched into her touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. Billie's fingers deftly unhooked the flimsy garment, baring your flawless body to her hungry gaze.

"You're so beautiful, my angel," Billie whispered, her breath hot against your skin as she trailed kisses down your neck, pecking the marks she left earlier. "So shy, yet so eager. I love seeing you like this, wanting me."

Your body trembled as Billie's lips traveled lower, leaving a trail of kisses along your collarbone. "P-please, Billie..." you pleaded, your hands tangling in Billie's hair, urging her downward.

Billie chuckled, the sound filled with lust. "Patience, my sweet.

With that, she nipped at your sensitive skin, making you squirm. "You gonna call me Mommy all night, aren't you, baby?"

You nodded, face flushed. "Yes, Mommy," you whispered, your voice steadying as you embraced your submissive role.

Billie's fingers trailed down your body, pausing at the waistband of your lace panties. She gently tugged them down, exposing your glistening pussy. "So wet already," she murmured, admiration in her voice. "You want me inside you, don't you?"

Your cheeks burned, but you nodded eagerly. "Yes, please, Mommy. I want you so badly."

Billie's fingers danced over your folds, teasing your clit, making you squirm with need. "Tell me what you want, baby," she urged, her touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"I-I want your fingers inside me, Mommy," you gasped, your voice laced with desperation. "Please, touch me..."

With a wicked grin, Billie complied, sliding two fingers deep into your tight heat. Your back arched off the bed as a wave of pleasure hit you.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, your body already sensitive and responsive.

Billie's touch was firm and relentless. She pumped her fingers in and out, twisting them to hit your sweet spot with each thrust.

"That's it, my good girl," she growled, her breath hot against your ear. "Let me hear you. Scream for me."

Your cries filled the room as Billie's skilled fingers worked your body into a frenzy. Your hips bucked wildly, seeking more of Billie's touch.

"Faster, Mommy! Please, don't stop!"

Billie added a third finger, stretching you deliciously. "You like that, huh, baby?" she asked, her voice rough with desire. "You love being filled by Mommy's fingers."

"Yes! Oh, God, yes!" You panted, your eyes rolling back as pleasure overwhelmed you. "I love it, Mommy. I'm so close..."

Billie's thumb found your clit, circling it relentlessly as she finger-fucked you with abandon.

"Come for me, my sweet girl," she demanded, her voice commanding. "Let me feel your pussy clench around my fingers."

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over your senses. You cried out, your body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through you.

"Mommy!" You screamed, your voice hoarse as you climaxed, your pussy contracting around Billie's fingers.

Billie slowed her movements, gently withdrawing her fingers, leaving your body buzzing with satisfaction. She brought her slick fingers up to your lips coaxing you to open, letting you suck your juices off her fingers.

"That's my good girl," she praised, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "You took everything I gave you baby."

You smiled shyly as she slipped her fingers out of your mouth, your eyes glazed with post-orgasmic bliss, chest still heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. "I—I can't believe I did that, Billie. I've never..."

"Never what, sweet girl?" Billie asked, tracing patterns on your naked body, making you shiver.

"I've never been so... vocal," you admitted, your cheeks flushing.

Billie's eyes softened, and she leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

"You did amazing, my angel. I love hearing you scream my name." She chuckled, nipping at your lower lip.

You giggled, your heart fluttering as you felt a newfound sense of empowerment. Billie's hand drifted lower, her fingers brushing against your sensitive clit, causing you to gasp. "Don't get comfy yet, princess, I have a few more tricks up my sleeve to keep that brain turned off for a bit, yeah?"

Your eyes widened with anticipation, your body already stirring with renewed desire. "Oh, Mommy," you breathed, your voice a mix of surrender and excitement...

[slu7formen]

I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!

So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)

whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying

reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.

The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.

The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.

Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.

It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.

News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.

Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.

A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.

The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.

He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.

He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.

In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.

He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.

Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.

"Luke!"

Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.

He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.

"Luke!"

The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.

The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.

He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.

"Luke!? Luke!"

The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.

But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.

He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.

"Luke!"

But it was you.

Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.

Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.

He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.

Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.

"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.

"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.

Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.

And his breath hitched in his throat.

The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.

Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.

But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.

"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.

Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"

The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.

His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.

Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.

Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.

As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.

One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.

"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"

Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.

Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."

He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.

"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"

Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”

He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.

A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.

"How is she?" Luke asked.

Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"

A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.

Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her like this... we can't let you"

Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.

Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"

The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.

Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."

And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.

The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.

He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.

Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.

But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.

But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.

He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.

Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.

Then he ran.

His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.

He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.

But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.

You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.

He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.

Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.

"Luke!"

The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.

"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.

But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.

He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.

The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.

The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.

The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.

He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.

"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.

But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.

You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.

"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.

"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.

[augustghosts]

Crossed Lines

A break up, years of friendship, a power outage and then… oops. No going back.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: SMUT! Not proofread. Non!idol au. Friends to lovers. Sex on a couch. Unprotected sex bc fiction. Oral f!recieving.

AN: I debated posting this bc i’m insecure abt this one lowkey lmao. Might delete </3

Soobin, oh Soobin. Your soft, kind and awfully handsome friend. The one person who’s always been there - rain or shine. And here he is today, helping you haul boxes out of your no exes place, late at night, while you keep sniffling and tearing up. You’ve been newly single for two weeks now and, honestly? Soobin couldn’t be happier. But he’s not about to share that with you. Especially since being back here and moving your stuff out of he who shall not be named’s apartment seems to have opened up some old wounds for you. He finishes putting the last box of your stuff into his trunk and turns to you. You look adorable. Wearing his hoodie he gave you because it had suddenly gotten cold during your 1am moving out heist.

“You okay?” He asks, softly. His deep voice is gentle and calming as he reaches out to touch your arm.

“Yeah. Should we?” You answer, gesturing to the car. You climb into the passenger seat as he gets on the other side and starts his car. He helps you haul the boxes back up the steps into your own apartment, like the angel he is, and offers to make you dinner. Dinner at 2am? He laughs when you shake your head and makes you tea instead.

“So, uh, I'll see you soon?” He asks, handing you a mug. He puts his hands in his pockets and prays to every god he can think of that you’ll ask him to stay.

You sigh and look down at the mug. “Do you… wanna stay? It’s lonely living alone now.”

If Soobin could do backflips, he would have done one at this moment. But he keeps his cool and smiles at you sweetly. “Of course I will. Wanna watch a movie?”

You nod and watch him as he reaches for your tv’s remote and flops down next to you on the couch. You guys have stayed on each other's couches a million times before, but never when you were both single. He’s also glad you asked him to stay because he’s kind of exhausted from carrying all of those boxes, but he won’t tell you that. He was your hero today, and it’s making his ego soar. You’re both exhausted, to be honest, it's almost 2am now and all the crying you did today has worn you out as well. Thats why your eyes flutter open a few hours later, 4:30am according to your phone, and find Soobin asleep next to you. You had somehow ended up with your head resting on his shoulder and his head resting on top of yours. His arm is behind you on the back of the couch, his fingers lightly touching your shoulder. His legs are still splayed out in front of him on your coffee table and yours are tucked up beneath you, your knees just touching his thigh.

He looks beautiful when he sleeps. His hair is a little messy from how many times he ran his hands through it today and his pouty lips look even more pouty when his face is completely relaxed in sleep. You stare at him for a minute, enough to make you feel like a creep. You don’t want to move. You wonder if he’s gonna be uncomfortable when he wakes up from sleeping like this, but at this moment. You kind of don’t care. You selfishly lay your head back down on his shoulder and close your eyes again. Falling asleep feeling safe tucked up against your best friend's side.

The next morning, he wakes up first and gently untangles himself from you. When you wake up he’s pulling on his shoes and jacket.

“Good morning.” He smiles down at you. His voice was slow and lazy and laced with sleep. You guys have slept at each other's places before, but you’ve never spent the night cuddling. That was new, and it should probably feel awkward, but with Soobin it doesn’t - of course it doesn’t. It never would with him.

“Morning.” You reply, stretching and sitting up. “Do you want something before you leave? Coffee? Breakfast?”

Are you asking because you care or because you secretly want him to stay? You don’t have time to think because he shakes his head and answers. “No. I’ll get something on my way home. I need to leave, I have stuff to do today.”

“Yeah, me too.” You sigh. You get up to hug hug goodbye, as always. He hugs you tightly. He hated seeing you so upset yesterday. It broke his heart and he just wants to hold you. When you pull away he keeps a hold of you, searching your eyes for something… honestly, he doesn’t even know. He just loves looking at you. When you reach up to brush his hair out of his face he gently stops you, grasping your wrist.

“Don’t do that if you don’t mean it.” He whispers.

You don’t move your hand, you look at his big hand grasping your wrist. He lets go first. Neither of you say anything, and then he leaves. You didn’t even get to thank him for his help yesterday.

A week later, you and Soobin are sitting on the couch at his apartment, playing some kind of video game. You don’t even know what's going on, you just love seeing him happy - so you play them because he enjoys them. You’re both trying your best to ignore the howling of the wind outside and the rain beating against the windows.

You’re thankful that the both of you are so good at acting like nothing happened. You want to ask him what he meant, what he thought you were doing when you touched his face. But to be honest, you’re not even sure what you were doing. You were just innocently touching his hair, right? You weren’t going to go any further. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

“You good?” His deep voice cuts through your thoughts like a knife. You jump slightly and nod mumbling a small ‘mhm’.

“I thought i lost you,” He chuckles. “You looked deep in thought. Wanna play another round?”

You’re glad he doesn’t pry at what you were thinking about. Soobin usually isn’t good at minding his own business. But little do you know that he doesn’t need to ask, he already knows what’s on your mind. Because it’s on his mind too. You open your mouth, about to answer his question, but as you do the entire apartment is plunged into darkness.

“Shit,” He mumbles. “Is the storm that bad?”

The room is lit up again as Soobin turns on his phone flashlight. He wanders around the room flicking all the light switches and checking the sockets behind the tv.

“Power outage i guess,” He says. “Uhm…” He looks around like he’s thinking of what to do.

“Do you have like… candles or something?” You ask. Still sitting under one of his blankets with your knees to your chest, clutching the game controller.

“Uh, not many. Only a few scented candles. Let me look.” He leaves and takes the flashlight with him. You’re plunged into darkness again until you reach for your own phone. Eventually he returns with three glass jars. He rummages in a drawer and pulls out a lighter.

“This is all I have so it won’t be very bright.” He chuckles. “But better than running down our phone batteries.”

“Yeah,” You agree quietly. “Why do you have these?” He didn’t seem like the scented candle type.

“My ex-girlfriend. She left them here, but I don’t really use them so…”

“Oh. We should thank her then.” You joke and smile, ignoring the way it feels like your heart just twisted in your chest. You knew Soobin dated, you’d even met multiple of his girlfriends. So what the fuck just happened inside your chest?

“I don’t think so. I don’t have anything to thank her for.” He scoffs. You wonder which girl he’s talking about. He’d never told you that any of his relationships ended badly.

“What are we going to do now?” You ask. Soobin lights the candles and puts them in different corners of the room. He was right, they aren’t very bright. But they give off a nice orange glow that is oddly peaceful. The TV’s dead, the hum of electricity gone.

“I don’t know,” He sighs. “I’m pissed about my game. I bet it didn’t save, now I'm gonna need to play that level again.”

“We’re too reliant on technology. The lights go out and now we’re like two lost puppies.” You laugh. You could get out your phone and scroll, but you don’t know how long the electricity will be out. Saving batteries is a good idea.

“You think we can’t find something to talk about? We used to talk for hours on end.” He smiles. “Are you okay though? You look so tense.”

“I’m good, really. You don’t think this is a little nerve wracking?” You laugh a little awkwardly.

“Of course it is,” He agrees. “But I don't mind being stuck here with you, I can think of much worse people to be trapped in a power outage with.”

“Yeah,” You scoff. “The last time the power went out like this I was at… his place.”

Soobin knows you're talking about your ex, and he can’t help the way his face scrunches up in disgust. He’s glad it's dark enough that you probably didn’t even notice.

“So it wasn’t candlelit and romantice like this?” He jokes, trying to ease out the tension that’s suddenly in the room.

“No,” You sigh, pulling the blanket up higher on your chest. “Unless you count him ignoring me and calling me dramatic while I was panicking romantic?”

Soobin has to physically fight the urge to roll his eyes. “Of course he did that. You know…”

He trails off and looks at you, not sure if he should carry on. He doesn’t want to make you mad or upset you. But he’s needed to get this off of his chest for a while. “He always… rubbed me the wrong way. You know?”

“Really?” You ask, looking at him with wide eyes. “I thought you guys got along when you met?”

“We did, but… I only got along with him… for you.” Soobin looks away as he talks. He can feel your gaze burning into the side of his face. “He was always…smug and uncaring. I thought so anyway. So different from you. I could never figure out why you were with him.”

You’re about to speak when he starts again. “Actually I do understand. You’re way too forgiving. That's why.”

You’re shocked. He sounds angry, but you know he’s not angry at you. But he is angry. You didn’t know he felt so strongly about this, about your relationships. “Don’t start.” You sigh. You don’t know what else to say.

“No, seriously,” He finally turns towards you as he speaks. He’s so close to you, knees almost touching. “It’s true. He treated you like you were lucky to have him, and the whole time I was wondering if he ever realised how lucky he was to have you.”

Your breath catches. His knee presses lightly into yours, deliberate this time. His eyes are locked on you, unwavering.

“You deserve someone who shows up for you. Someone who actually listens to you.” He whispers. He’s talking about himself, selfishly. But he’s so right. He’s the only one who ever showed up. Who actually cared.

“You always know exactly what to say.” You smile. Your fingers brush his and he doesn’t pull away, your knees are still pressed together. You look at him, your eyes wide and pleading. Trying to stop yourself from tearing up.

“Or, maybe I'm telling the truth. Maybe I mean it.” He says, his face is serious. His eyes searching yours. He leans a bit closer, close enough that you feel the heat off his skin, his breath barely ghosting over your cheek. Your hand moves without thinking, resting on his thigh like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m gonna do something really stupid.” He whispers against your cheek. His voice is so small and gentle, using a tone you’ve never heard him use before. The tension between you is unbearable now. His big brown eyes are on your lips, flicking up to meet yours again, like he’s checking, almost begging, for permission.

“Tell me to stop.” He mumbles as he leans closer, his voice is low and breathy.

You should, but you don’t. You can’t. You just look at him like he’s the only safe thing in the world and that fucking does it for him. He leans in slowly, like he wants to savor the moment. He does, he’s been waiting for this for years. When he finally kisses you it’s soft. Gentle. Like he’s trying not to break you. One of his big hands comes up to your face, fingers brushing your jaw, then sliding into your hair. You make a tiny noise as his fingers tangle in your hair - barely a gasp, and he swears it's the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. it breaks something in him. His other hand finds your waist tugging gently at you until you climb into his lap. His hands roam over your back, your waist anywhere he can, like he’s waited his whole damn life for this. The kiss deepens, lips parting, breath mingling. It’s hungry now. Everything you’ve both been unable to say to each other pouring out between kisses and sighs and hands. Your hands grasp at his shirt, tugging him closer, and he groans against your mouth like it’s killing him not to have you completely.

“We really… shouldn’t be doing this.” He groans breathlessly.

“Then let's stop.” You whisper, you don’t mean it. And you know he doesn’t either.

“Not a fucking chance.” He practically growls as he kisses you again, harder this time. He’s already made up his mind, there’s no going back now. His large hands slip under your shirt and travel up your back, he pulls away and looks you in the eyes - asking permission. You nod desperately, grasping his face and pulling him back in to kiss you again, only breaking it when he pulls your shirt over your head. His hands grasp your bare waist tightly, possessively. He pulls back to look at you, his eyes taking in your beautiful form - lingering on your chest. He groans and attaches his lips to your neck, desperate to mark you as his own. Although you’ve always been his - you both know that.

As he sucks on your neck your hands run through his hair, holding the back of his head. You moan softly and it lights a fucking fire inside of him. His hands race lower to your ass and he squeezes roughly. You copy his move and pull at the back of his shirt, begging him to take it off. He listens and leans away from your neck to get rid of it - you gasp as you look him over. He’s so fucking gorgeous, you run your hands over his strong shoulders and down the soft skin of his chest. His abs clench under your touch and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

Your touch drives him crazy and he stands up abruptly with you still wrapped around his hips, he turns and drops you down onto the couch. His hands reach for your hips and his fingers slip under the waistband of your sweats. “Can I, baby?” He asks breathlessly. God, he’s never looked more beautiful. Looking up at you with big brown glassy eyes - full of hope. His hair is messy, his cheeks flushed and his lips swollen and wet. He’s never called you ‘baby’ before and it makes your stomach flip.

“Yeah… yeah.” You mumble, helping him pull them off of you. You lift your hips and let him take everything off you. He places his hands on your knees and keeps your legs spread for him.

“Fuck, baby. All this for me?” His voice is low and gravely and it makes you squirm. You nod and caress his face.

“What?” He coos. “What do you want?”

“Please,” You whine, already desperate for him. He’s desperate for you too, he’s desperate to touch you and hear you moan for him, but he wants to hear it come from your mouth. “Please touch me, Soobin. Please.”

He smirks and wastes no time. He lifts your legs over his shoulders and grabs your thighs pulling you up slightly so your hips are at an angle, your pussy directly in front of his face. He spreads you open with his thumbs and licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. Your hands fly to his hair, almost out of habit, as he attaches his mouth to your swollen, desperate nub. He looks up at you, gauging your reactions. When you moan and whine he sucks harder or moves his tongue faster. You don’t want to think about how he’s so good at this, but you’re thankful for it.

“Oh my god, Soobin…” You whine and throw your head back onto the couch. You're clutching his head so tightly but he doesn’t seem to mind. He moans into you when you lightly tug at his hair and cry out his name. It doesn’t take him long to bring you to the edge and he lifts an arm to pin down your hips when you start to buck into his face.

“I’m close, Soobin.” You warn him. He swears the tone of voice you use is the hottest thing he’s ever heard and his cock is aching in his sweats.

“Yeah?” He pulls away to ask, the smirk on his face should be condescending but looking into his eyes makes you even more turned on, if that's even possible. He pushes a finger inside of you and gets back to work on your clit, desperate to tip you over the edge. You whine out his name as he adds another finger and it ignites the fire in your belly. You moan out his name and tense on the couch as he makes you finish with his mouth. He pulls away and rests his head on your thigh, a shit eating grin on his face.

“You’re so pretty when you come.” He says, kissing your sensitive inner thigh. His lips are flushed and wet with you and he looks gorgeous. The candle light makes him look even more ethereal. Now you think about it, you’re kinda impressed at how he just did that in the semi-dark.

“Yeah? You wanna see it again?” You grin back at him and pull weakly on his arms. He laughs and stands up, crawling back over you to kiss you messily. Your hands brush past his stomach and slip under the waistband of his black sweats, he groans into your mouth. He’s so fucking hard. He was trying his best not to hump the damn couch as he ate you out, he wants to fuck you properly and didn’t want to come in his pants from pleasuring you - which he definitely could have.

“Mhmm, I do.” He mumbles against your lips. “I wanna see it everyday, forever.”

Oh Soobin, ever the romantic. Even as you're pushing his sweats down his thighs and taking his leaking cock into your hand. He moans quietly and thrusts slightly into your hand. Your other hand is on the back of his neck pulling him closer to you, he gets the message and climbs over you, taking one of your soft thighs into his hand and pulling it over his hip.

“You don’t know how long I've wanted you.” He whispers as he takes his cock into his hand and finally slides home. You want to reply, you want to tell him about how long you’ve wanted him as well, but the feeling of him finally stretching your walls out leaves you speechless. Your mouth falls open as he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes watching your reactions closely as he starts to thrust into you. His own mouth is open and his brow furrows as he finally feels you wrapped around him, warm and wet and better than he ever could have imagined.

“Oh my god, baby… fuck.” He practically whimpers against your lips as he leans down to kiss you. “Oh, you feel like heaven. So fucking good.”

“Oh, Soobin,” You moan as he picks up his pace. “Harder… please.” The whine in your voice makes his stomach twist and he has to slow down for a second. He’s in a tough position - fucking you for the first time on the damn couch. But he’s determined to make it work. He plants one of his feet on the floor so he can thrust into you harder.

He groans as you dig your hands into his shoulders and arch your back so your chest is pressing against his. He lowers down onto his elbows beside your head so he’s even closer to your face, he wants to be as close and possible to you. Your legs wrap around his waist as you moan for him and can’t fucking get enough. He’s drilling into you like his fucking life depends on it.

“God, I'm not gonna last baby,” He whispers. “You look so fucking pretty like this… so gorgeous.”

“Me too.” You nod and cup his face. “I’m almost there.”

His eyes widen as your hand leaves his cheek to travel down between you both, he watches as you touch yourself and its his last fucking straw. He whines your name beautifully as he fills you up, his hips stilling and his hands beside your head grip your hair and tilt your head up to look at him.

“That’s it baby, come for me. Let me see it.” He groans, watching your hand on your clit. He hisses as you finish around him, squeezing the life out of his sensitive dick. He kisses your cheek as you both come down from your highs, his strong arms are still holding him up beside your head. And if you weren’t so fucking spent from how good he fucked you, you might have made a comment on it. Instead you bring your hands to his biceps and feel the muscles rippling under his skin.

Eventually he climbs off of you and the aftermath of sex on the couch is a little more awkward than you thought. You wrap the blanket around you and he pulls on his sweats before leaning down to kiss you.

“I love you.” He whispers. “I’ve loved you for so fucking long.” He holds your chin between his fingers as his eyes search your face.

“I love you too. I always have.” You whisper, and kiss him feverishly. When you pull away you stare into his beautiful eyes in disbelief, is this really happening? You just had sex with your best friend and now you’re both confessing your love for each other.

“Why did we wait so long?” He wonders aloud.

“I don’t know.” You sigh. “But i do know that i’m fucking starving now.”

His face lights up with his signature boyish grin, the one you love so much. He kisses you one last time and jumps up to disappear into the kitchen.

“Go into my room and find some clothes, take anything you want.” He calls out to you as he goes through his cupboards. The power is still out, so eventually you settle on cereal and whatever snacks you can find and you both watch you tube on his ipad until the power comes back on. It’s so fucking cheesy, and very cliche. But it’s all you’ve both ever wanted, there’s no going back over the line you’ve both just crossed. But why would you want to?

[madamspellmans-met-tet]

Sea, Salt, Thirst

wc: ~1.5 k

tags: TRIGGER WARNING, mommy issues, nonverbal reader, severe depression, angst/comfort, nursing kink but non-sexual ig?, Lilia's boobs could cure my depression, writing pathetic stuff so I don't kms, unnecessarily poetic, not sure if I'll put it on Ao3 might delete later anyway bc what even is this shit, not edited, not beta'ed

****************************************************

You had been floating on a piece of driftwood, too far out perhaps. And then, out of nowhere, the white whale had leapt out of the abyss and swallowed you whole, taking you down with him as it crashed through the surface. In the belly of the beast, acids dissolved more of you each day, erasing the evidence of your existence.

And Lilia... Lilia tried. It was in her nature to fuss and nurture, but her helplessness in regards to your condition brought it to new heights. She hovered. She worried. She pleaded and held her peace.

Today, you had awoken in the middle of the night, as if a bucket full of ice had been chugged over your head, and had been unable to go back to sleep or do anything except weep. Weep and bawl and wail like a hungry infant. Because you always came back to this place no matter how many miles of running had hardened your soles. Everything you wanted had manifested as a fata morgana out of reach, appearing in the middle of the desert, induced by thirst, the promise of better. But every drop of water in your body had already evaporated in the flaming sun, and you could run no more. The heat struck you down and made you a crinkling, rotting heap in the sand, buried between dunes, whose endless stream of tears were but sand corns falling from your eyes, chafing and scratching your decrepit cheeks.

Lilia came to check on you again in the afternoon, carrying a fresh cup of tea and a burning bundle of sage to "clear your spirits," as she liked to say. You hadn't even touched the cup she'd made you for lunch; it sat next to the equally neglected food that had done nothing more than bother you with its nutritious smell. Your position was the same she'd left you in—curled up in a ball in an unmade bed with crinkled sheets that Lilia couldn't change since you hadn't left it for days, shaking with quiet sobs, tears streaming down your face.

Sitting on the bedside, she put her hand to your forehead and brushed your hair back to get a better glimpse of you. "Sweetheart." A heavy sigh left her. Her voice was distant and muffled, and your eyes as if paralysed. You couldn't look or blink. You could only cry. "What's with all those tears, hm? I hate to see them."

The only reaction your body produced was a fresh wave flowing from your waterline. Lilia tutted and cupped your cheek, moving her thumb in crescents. "Baby..."

You whimpered; something about the word struck a chord within you. Her hand was so warm and tender on your skin, not burning like the sun that made you fade and bleach, but warm like a home warmed by an old, rusty oven; thick and enveloping.

"I'm going to close the shop early," she said and stood up. "Be right back."

When Lilia returned a moment later, she climbed into the narrow wall bed with you and settled against the headboard. Without another word, she pulled you into her lap and began to stroke your head. Her fingers threaded through your hair, separating the strands along your scalp and thereby giving it a gentle massage, and her rings would graze your skin from time to time. Her plush thighs in the very leggings she sold cushioned your heavy, leaden head; a taste of weightlessness to sink into... and the tears fell easier.

"Still not better?" Lilia asked, a helpless edge to her voice.

She wiped at your cheeks with the pad of her thumb. Before she'd removed the first layer of salt, a new one pooled and draped over the finger. She took out a tissue as her next line of defence, but you soaked it within minutes. Your lips, hands, mouth—all dried out and desertificated. You hadn't found water in so long, and all that you'd held within had left you.

"Is there nothing mommy can do?" Lilia's fingers tangled in your unkempt hair, causing a pinch-like pain to shoot across your scalp, but even the pain couldn't find you, brushed right past your weary mind. "For her sweetheart?"

Your eyes squeezed shut with the spillage of more tears, sweeping overboard, pressing through the creaks, and leaving their previous confinement sore and aching dull. You lifted your hands to your burning eyes and clawed your fingers against them, wishing to tear them from their sockets. Your nails sank deeper and deeper into the thin layer of skin until Lilia's fingers curled around your wrist and drew your hands away.

"None of that, baby," she cooed and gathered your loose limbs closer, bending her arm to provide you with a soft place to rest your head while her other hand kneaded your hip. You crumbled more with every touch, like a dry slice of bread for the chicken to pick from the ground with their sharp beaks. "Let mommy hold you. I'll make it all better, I promise."

You closed your eyes, succumbing to the sensations of the infinitely overflowing well and Lilia's arm being the only thing keeping your head above water. It didn't matter what happened to you out there on the ocean, alone amidst the tall, black waves, drifting on a mouldy raft that had infested you already and would die with you before you were washed ashore.

Lilia's clothes shifted around you; sails rustling in the wind. Soft skin brushed against the tip of your nose, and then it bumped against a peak. You opened your eyes and found Lilia's rosy nipple in front of you. She cupped your tear-stained cheek and looked down on you, her face tear-blurred, with an encouraging smile on her lips, nodding.

You opened your mouth just an inch, and Lilia ran her hand over her nude breast, spreading her middle and index finger to slip her nipple in between and guide it between your lips. It was the lightest of brushes. You closed around the small tip and gave a tentative first suck. Lilia let out a long breath, relief, as you did, and nudged her breast around until you found the right angle to suck comfortably. The soft flesh touched against your face as it settled, and she lifted her hand away to tuck a hair behind your ear instead.

"That's it, sweetheart. Latch on to mommy."

It was odd. A terrible vulnerability clutched your heart, but the uncertainty in Lilia's own voice, the rawness, told you she felt the same. Yet, as you continued to nurse, lazy and unhurried, your tears stopped. It went quiet. Everything did.

Her rings and knuckles caressed your cheekbone, slow and languid, falling into a calming rhythm.

"Shhh," she cooed. "No more tears, baby. I've got you."

Cradling the back of your head, Lilia pushed you a bit further into her breast, making you suck her nipple deeper into your mouth. The shape of it pressed against your tongue each time you pulled it in and left a stamp of tingles behind that filled your stomach with a viscous sweetness, chasing away the sickening churns you'd battled for days.

"My sweet girl," Lilia whispered, continuing to hold and caress you, settling into a soft rocking motion. "Mommy's taking care of you now, see? Nothing to be afraid of, nothing to worry about. Just my sweetheart suckling so nicely, like a good girl."

Your breathing evened out, and expelled the spirits from your haunted bones until all that was left was the sensation of your tongue laving against Lilia's breast, growing more hungry for her comfort, diving your nose deeper into the supple swell of it. Muffled noises escaped you, and their subtle hum soothed you just as much as Lilia's gentle voice did.

You spent a while like this; Lilia had sunken further into the pillows supporting her back and sat half-lidded, her hand protective on your waist. You had lulled yourself into sleepiness yourself and slowed, only giving small kitten-licks on occasion. Before either of you could fall asleep, Lilia changed your position so that you lay more comfortably between her legs and your head was pleasantly tucked between her breasts, her slow and steady heartbeat in your ear.

"Feel a bit better?" she murmured into your hair as she combed her fingers through it.

"Yeah," you breathed, nuzzling against her bosom despite already being impossibly close.

"Then just stay like this as long as you want. I'm here just for you," she pressed a kiss into your hair, "and I'm so happy to be able to comfort you, my precious one."

Lilia's arms tightened around you, making it impossible to slip away. All you could do was nestle into the solace of her embrace and let it console you, to surrender into her soft body that moulded to yours and provided you with a place to rest.

"I love you so much, baby. So, so much." She showered you with more kisses, one for each breath you took in her arms. "I'll do anything for you."

[craziertogether]

I have a doubt. Yall always say that mileven is bad because:

1- Mike has hidden insecurities

2-El needs independence

But in the monologue Mike finally talked to El about his insecurities and El heard that he loved her for exacly who she was. Why can't El be free if she is in a relationship? It is said that the monologue made them closer.

hi! thanks for my first anon response! i want to make it clear that my argument isn’t mileven is bad because of the fact that mike has insecurities although he definitely does, mike is loaded with mountains of queer coding. and while i agree that el needs independence, i agree more that el’s journey is about accepting herself and finding love beyond male validation.

so with that clarified, i want to attack this as kindly and factually as possible. to begin, what we know about mileven:

established in season 1 w/ mike’s out of place kiss. i want to make a bold claim here but season 1 is the most mileven centric season because of the absence of will’s character. will being gone for the majority of the season is a huge set up for mileven, but even that set up is very weak and centers around mike’s desperation to find will & the pressure from lucas, nancy, dustin, & remarks made by his father. to break it down, mike’s affection towards el doesn’t develop in a natural and romantic manner like we see with other endgame ships (jopper, lumax, & jancy), instead their relationship in this season is defined by mike’s almost paternal/pet owner instincts to help protect el mixed in with his desire to find will. he never actually says anything about her that shows he cares about her romantically and her character that isn’t superficial or in reference to her powers (she looks pretty and then he says they need her bc she is a “weapon”, something he contradicts later in season 3 but it’s not coming from a place of romantic love). we finally get to the kids which does NOT leave el feeling excited and giddy, she actually looks pretty confused and unsure, because a moment ago mike was suggesting she could be his sibling? (foreshadowing 101)

season 2 they spend the entire season apart have a semi-sweet reunion then immediately just kiss again @ the snowball. we left off season 1, with mike being forced to watch el “die” in front of him, but is then given back will who becomes his primary focus of season 2. el’s “death” does NOT make him realize he is in love with her, it instead gives him the strongest case of survivors guilt seen in the show (greater than nancy’s bc nancy got closure through her report mid season). now season 2 remains mostly in mike’s perspective, we see how he is protective of will and cares most about will out of everyone in the group. something that is undeniably debatable, we watch him formulate a plan for will, all because he doesn’t show up to school for one day and then he spends DAYS & NIGHTS with will at his house and at the hospital. now i want to reiterate something, mike ABSOLUTELY cares and cherishes el, but it is not on the level that he does will. mike reached out to el for that entire year and yet even when given signs of life, he doesn’t rush to find her nonstop like he does with will in season 1 (recall will’s breathing that forces mike to even befriend el and lead the party to search for him). when el does return to him, he is overjoyed and angry with jopper for lying. but it’s interesting that he doesn’t hold himself to the same level of anger when he could’ve easily searched for le on his own, but as we recall from season 1, when will is dead (deleted scene but he cries riding his bike home and then sits there and genuinely GRIEVES will and reflects on his drawings). there’s so much to dissect about the snowball scene and how mike is actually yearning for will, but if we ignore that. the dance between them is awkward (same way will’s is), there’s no genuine romantic connection that we really feel, especially since lumax was also just set up in that same season. strangely enough, mike and el’s dance is a combination of the awkwardness of will’s and the friendly nature of dustin & nancy’s. it’s sweet when platonic but is then forcibly reminding the audience that oh yeah they’re romantic when they kiss.

woohoo, season 3! unfortunately this begins the active dismantlement of mileven from the writers. eleven has been safely with hopper and the gang knows that she’s safe. mike and el are established to be dating, but man is their relationship completely lack luster and inconsistent when compared to two canon ships in the show at this time (jancy & lumax). they are not only not even somewhat mature like jancy, fine they’re kids. but they lack depth like lumax, and they’re the same age? the only romantic aspect of mileven at this point is that they kiss, they show signs of physical intimacy and yet none of emotional intimacy. jancy have literally done it & yet we don’t focus on that aspect of their relationship at all this season, why? lumax have also kissed at the same dance last season and yet this season they’re shown bickering and having romantic moments, but el and mike cannot why? it’s clear why, mike and el lack any real connection romantically, they are both bringing in their preconceived ideas of a heterosexual romantic relationship (el thinks this because of the soap operas she’s watched, and mike saw nancy kissing boys growing up and thought that must be what all couples do). aside from superficial kissing, mileven ends up broken up for the majority of the season, which ironically leads to their best work together. though tensions are there, mike holds onto and looks out for el the most when they’re not a couple (the same way he does with his friends lucas & dustin). speaking of breakups, if you don’t see the insane contrast between byler rain fight and mileven mall breakup, literally ONE episode apart, mike’s in the same position of being called out for his shit behavior. and yet only one time does he apologize with sincerity and show his genuine apologetic nature. you mentioned that mike has insecurities but i think the more interesting part of this is that starting from this season we lose mike’s POV ENTIRELY. we only see it 4 times. when el dumps him, when will and him fight in the garage, and when el tells him she loves him and kisses him, and when the byers are gone and he comes home and hugs his mom. we are only shown his genuine vulnerable nature at these 4 critical moments and in those moments it’s interesting that only two is he genuinely sad, and the two containing el show genuine confusion and uncertainty.

season 4 sets up a love triangle (V) between mike, will, & el for ONE reason ONLY. p.s. this season basically disintegrated mileven as a ship. now i’ll get to the monologue soon i promise. but i have to say this, even if you don’t ship byler, you have to admit that the writers are setting up something strange with a love triangle. every other love triangle in the show has been set up for one purpose and purpose only, to put a character in an uncomfortable position and force them to choose between the two interests. in s4 mike is INTENTIONALLY set up to be this guy who struggles to tell his girlfriend that he loves her. (WHY? when last season he was able to scream it and she responded positively to it) and then is set up to be the LOVE INTEREST of his best friend and have MULTIPLE heart to hearts and literal episodes apart arguments/apologies (s3 callback) between el and will. WHY do that again unless you are trying to show how conflicted your character is? (reminder this is a fictional show where every word and prop is intentional). now onto the monologue. i first want to say that if you have proof from writers or netflix that say that the monologue was acc helpful to el, please provide them! but i won’t break down the entire monologue there are much better analyses out there. what i will say is, it’s impossible to say that monologue came from mike alone. most aspects of it came from 2 other monologues, will’s from the van (aka a literal love confession from will to mike) and eddie (his little boy crush who is trying to motivate the hellfire club to defy the social norms). if you rewatch the monologue, you’ll see that mike saying “ily” to el, each time it does not help her. instead each time it causes vecna to get a better hold onto her and max and her face does not look relieved. el’s memories with max LITERALLY plays right before she finds the strength to break free. showing that she finds strength through others yes, she doesn’t need independence so much as she needs lasting bonds. interestingly, she also finds this strength as a result of mike’s monologue, but not the “ilys”. it’s actually because mike calls on her to fight. platonically his push to get her to fight works but when he tried to romantically get her to fight, she’s weakened even more. and finally, if that monologue was actually helpful. why did eleven not talk to mike ONCE after they arrived in hawkins? he instead ends the season having a heart to heart with will about WILL’s feelings, reaches out to touch will, and stays by will when they’re in top of the hill. he feels comfortable and safer with will than he does with el.

i hope this better explains why we don’t see mileven as the endgame ship, it’s just been beaten down and shown to be superficial since the beginning. even without byler, the ship mileven just lacks depth like others do. thanks again for the ask! (i love anon asks please feel free to ask if you’re a mileven, open to byler, or ever have byler doubt)

[jaxxsoxxn]

>> ELIMF SAYS HORN IT UP [gn!reader x elimf x odxny]

elimf uses he/him pronouns (bc im pretty sure he's referred to himself as a guy? but that's about all the reasoning), uses they/them for everyone else.

Probably ooc, im still figuring everyone out ;;

smth silly <3 I take requests if this barely existing fandom is alive

lowkey horny elimf for the duo, even if he doesn't realize it for the most part.

tw. drinking; irresponsible drinking especially; kind of dissociation but depends on how u look at it; elimf is technically having a bad fcking day even if it's not stated clearly.

im writing it at, like, 1am n i might not notice most of the uhhh writing errors.

___

El didn't smoke that much lately, but he was sipping lazily a beer while using only one hand to write back in the chatroom. He wasn't sure which beer was it, but he was pretty buzzed at this point.

"Elimf" looked at the words passing his screen with a small smirk. Thrim, bless them, gave them a year of peace. As they learned more and more, they finally decided to try to find them and ask them to join something a bit more like a social groupchat, still hidden from curious eyes if or when they wanted to brag about their possible hacks.

If you'd ask him before thrim, if he'd chat with incri or even wnpep out of his own will for simple fun after they're done, he'd laugh. Now here he was, sending a meme of a staring hamster after pep made the mistake of saying something vaguely sexual.

All he gets is the staring emoji.

He sits back in his chair, a low sound leaving it with the move, almost like a whine. After a few slow blinks and a deep sigh, he finally looks back at the screen.

thrim: lmao stare off, you got this elimf

He should go to sleep.

He should leave the chatting for later today, the clock on his laptop showing 2 AM.

Instead, he slides into thrim's dms, one simple message being sent before he closes his eyes and takes another sip.

He wishes he'd have something heavier to drink.

elimf: wanna have a drink with me?

thrim is writing...

It only takes one more sip for the bottle to be empty and, thus, useless. He hovers with his mouse on the text, asking himself if he'll delete the message, will thrim have enough brain in their head to not mention it. He's too late in the end.

thrim: I'd be down, as long as you're aware that od will be there somewhere in the back thrim: I mean, they'll probably hear us thrim: Just wanted you to know thrim: and also had to ask them if they're okay with it beforehand, so that's why it took a while for me to respond thrim: in case you were wondering

Talk about not carrying about double- or, well, quintuple texting. If that's a thing. If not, trust thrim to be the one to come up with it.

He calls without answering the texts, his finger slipping once while trying to do so. Maybe he's drunker than he thought he was. He doesn't disconnect.

"Hi there, elimf!"

The way their voice goes softer, slower around his "name" makes him chuckle. They were obviously trying their best at sounding it out. The idea of them trying it out beforehand made him a little heated.

"Just L's fine." he states, noting a green smudge in their background. "How's ya, thrim?"

He wants to stay silent and just watch them as time passes, he wants to reach for them and pull- their hair, their skin, the hoodie that's obviously not theirs, anything.

He tries to take another sip and grimaces when the empty bottle lightly hits his teeth, too light without any liquid. Furthermore, he lets it fall, ignoring the breaking glass as he reaches for another. Thrim doesn't seem to be good at following in his footsteps.

"You're alright?" they have a slight accent, something so soft that it's barely there. "Did the bottle break?"

There's music in his headphones. He doesn't remember when it was turned on, he cannot remember if it was playing before he called.

"Ya didn't answer me." he says it almost childishly, a stupid grin on his face. The green smudge in the back becomes more visible, the person stopping in their tracks.

"I'm alright, would be better if I'd know if you're good too."

He's staring, probably. He lets himself look down at the new bottle in his hand, before popping the top off with his teeth. As he does so, thrim holds a shot glass, already filled. The green wearing person has a fox mask on that looks like their emojis. They also have a shot glass in one hand and their other hand is patting thrim's shoulder.

He knows it's Od, he knows it so well it hurts, but all he can do is think about how much he wished it wouldn't be odxny themselves. How much easier would being jealous be if he wouldn't know them.

How much easier knowing who he was jealous of would be, too.

"Ya'r drinkin' with us, oddy? What a blessin'" his accent is getting the best of him, he should try to fight it a bit more.

He gets a delicate chuckle back, the mask lowering itself with their face, as Od shakes their head lightly at that. He wants to tear it off, he wants it to be an actual part of him.

He feels unreal, his mind is getting sharp even if his vision seems to be worse - there's an ache in his chest, almost like he's smoked too much-

"L? We're drinking or what?"

With the other voice joining in, he finally remembers to breath. He really shouldn't drink another.

"Of course, unless ya'r already chickenin' out." he slightly grimaces at those words, a pained laugh leaving his throat. "That was a bit too incy for me."

Wnpep would've tried to scold him, Incri would've thrown a fit - but the two just laugh with him, odxny lighter than thrim, but still easy to be heard.

As they raise their glasses, the masked one whispers something to thrim before downing their own. Thrim, stars above, Thrim puts their mouth around the rim of the glass and raise their head, letting their whole neck show and their Adam's apple show off its movement. Two swallows is all it takes, before they whip their head back and lay the glass back down.

He wants to scream, the bottle stopped halfway to his mouth, his other hand's nails biting into the skin on his left thigh.

Thrim outright laughs, their eyes squinted and their hair becoming even messier. Od rests their head in the place where the shoulder and the neck connect, an obvious smirk on their lips as they shake lightly with their own laughter.

He's bright red - he realizes, while blinking owlishly.

"You did this on purpose."

Thrim smirks at him, leaning back lightly. A tiny change, yet still a change. Whatever was the trap they laid down, he walked right into it.

"What can we say, we wanted to know if you'll like what you'll see half as much as we do."

He takes the sip he was meaning to before, his eyes following Od's hand, which was playing with Thrim's hair.

As another chuckle left them, thrim sent him a wink. He couldn't handle it.

He let himself disconnect, a smile on his lips as he stood away from the desk, moving the glass slowly with his bare foot to the side, so he wouldn't step on the bigger parts. A shower and a power nap sounds like a dream duo to him right now and those feelings? Those real feelings that he felt at the duo teasing? Well, those are for the rare sober elimf, thank the stars.