#so i want to work on that before posting them :)

[hangmanwrites]

your personal kryptonite ━ clark kent

dedicated to ━ @frivolousimagination because she’s the one who convinced me to post this ridiculous filthy mess even though i was being a coward about it, love u bestie, this one’s for you!! word count ━ 3.4k words pairing ━ clark kent x fem!reader content warnings ━ smut, mdni, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it irl unless you’re also dating superman), soft dom clark, praise, overstimulation, crying during sex (in a hot way), emotional support himbo vibes, aftercare, romantic filth, gentle but devastating author's note ━ this is only my second time writing smut so please be kind to my fragile little writer brain, i’m still figuring it out one emotionally unhinged paragraph at a time, but i really hope you enjoy it anyway and fall a bit in love with soft filthy clark, too. masterlist read here ━ we have a little discord server if you want to talk about david corenswet, clark kent, or anything in between. it’s a cosy community where we spiral together, share ideas, and help each other out with fic writing too. everyone’s welcome to join as long as you’re over 18. minors are not allowed, sorry loves!! 🩵

Today was a shitty day.

Work treated you like you were some sort of animal, not even a real person, just this empty thing people could toss problems at and expect answers from, like your brain was some kind of machine that didn’t glitch or ache or hit its limit after hours of passive aggression and sugarcoated threats and stupid bloody spreadsheets that kept crashing for no reason. 

You’d barely managed to get through lunch without biting someone’s head off, and you did snap at a printer, which definitely made at least one intern scared of you forever, but honestly, at this point, let them be scared. 

Let them think you’re heartless, because you can’t keep doing this, you can’t keep pretending it’s fine, that you’re fine, not when the train made you late and the rain soaked your socks and some stranger told you to “smile more” like that was going to fix your entire nervous system spiralling into self-destruct mode.

You almost didn’t come, almost got off at your usual stop and went home to cry into the same pillow that’s soaked up too much already this month, but the thought of being alone felt unbearable, like your body might shut down if you didn’t see him.

So now you’re outside his flat, fingers aching from gripping your keys too tight, throat thick with everything you can’t name, and the second he opens the door—

It’s over.

Your whole posture collapses like your spine forgot what holding you up looks like, like his face was the final straw, and suddenly he’s right there, stepping forward like you’re made of something delicate, like he knew before you said a single word that something was wrong, and he doesn’t hesitate and just pulls you into his chest with both arms, firm and warm and steady, and it ruins you completely.

You don’t even get a chance to apologise, because he’s already holding you like you’re not a burden at all, just tired, just human, and your fists are already curling into the front of his jumper like it’s the only thing keeping you standing upright.

And you can feel your breathing hitch against him, feel that awful stutter in your chest like a sob is waiting to break free and you hate it, you hate it so much, but he just keeps whispering, quiet and careful and close to your ear, It’s alright, I’ve got you, love, I’ve got you.

And he does, one arm wrapped firm around your back as though he’s trying to hold you together by force, the other hand steady at the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair in slow, soothing motions as though he knows exactly where the panic lives and how to quiet it without being told. 

He sways with you gently, barely a movement but enough to keep you present, enough to remind your body that time is still passing, that you’re still here, still held, still safe in his arms even if the rest of the world spent the entire day trying to convince you otherwise.

He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t push or question or try to coax anything out of you, he just stays there with you. He’d done this before, he’d memorised the shape of your silence and knows how to sit inside it without making it about him. 

When you finally manage a full breath, not the shallow, uneven things you’d been taking all day but an actual proper inhale that lifts your chest and makes your shoulders fall, his hand presses gently against your back as if to say I felt that, I see it, you’re doing so well.

“Come here,” he says, soft and certain, and you follow him instantly, still clutching his sleeve, still a little folded into yourself, but he doesn’t seem to mind, just guides you through the flat with both hands at your waist as though you might vanish if he lets go.

He sits you on the edge of the bed and crouches in front of you without hesitation, his hands on your knees, thumbs brushing slowly over your tights in a way that doesn’t ask for anything, and when he looks up, his eyes are so impossibly kind it nearly undoes you again, not because he pities you, but because he doesn’t, because he’s really looking at you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, gently, carefully, as if the question is something he’s laying at your feet rather than pressing into your hands, “Or do you just want quiet?”

You shake your head, not sure which one you’re saying no to, not sure it even matters, because he nods anyway, as though a quiet understanding in the way he leans forward and presses a kiss to your knee, soft and lingering.

Then he kisses you again, a little higher, just above the edge of your skirt, and his hands slide to your hips, not in a greedy way, not in a way that demands anything, just a presence, just a reassurance, just him reminding you that he’s here.

“Alright,” he murmurs, voice lower now, gentler, as though you might fall apart if he speaks too loud, “Then we’ll just sit. You and me.”

You nod, barely, just once, and maybe he thinks that’s it, that you’ll stay still and let the quiet carry you, but your hands are already reaching for him, moving like they’ve been waiting all day for permission, and the second your fingers thread through his hair, your whole chest twists, as though something in you finally dares to ache now that he’s here to hold it.

He doesn’t pull away, just lets you tug him into the space between your legs where you’re still curled on the bed, and your mouth finds his before you’ve even had time to think, messy and eager and a little too much, as though your body’s just trying to survive through contact.

He kisses you back like he’s been waiting for it, like this is exactly what he hoped would happen the second you walked through the door, and it’s slow at first, careful, as though he doesn’t want to take anything from you that you’re not ready to give, but the way you’re pulling at him makes it impossible to keep it gentle.

You know he feels it too, the way the air thickens around you the second you tilt your head and open your mouth for him, the way his hands tighten on your hips as though he needs something to hold or else he might break apart entirely.

It’s not perfect, not neat or delicate or slow-burn cinematic, it’s messy and damp and hungry, and the exhaustion still clings to your limbs, the rawness of the day still presses at your skin, but none of it matters, not with his mouth on yours like it’s the only place he wants to be, not with that heat building low in your belly every time his thumb finds your waist or his tongue brushes yours just right.

You’re not trying to start anything, but the way he groans when your nails scrape the back of his neck pulls something up from deep in your chest that has nothing to do with sadness and everything to do with want.

You press in closer, tighter, chest flush to his, legs drawing him in, and you don’t stop kissing him because you don’t know how else to ask for more.

“Wait,” he breathes, voice rough now, ragged around the edges like he’s barely holding onto restraint, forehead pressed to yours, “Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage, I—”

“Please,” you whisper, too fast, too breathless, too much, but you don’t care, you’re already chasing his mouth again before he can finish the sentence, already wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him in, and he lets you, because it’s Clark and he always does, and his lips are back on yours before either of you can think.

He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t push or take more than you’re ready to give, just kisses you with that quiet, steady focus that makes your whole chest tighten, his mouth slow against yours, his hands firm and careful even when they slide under your thighs to lift you into his lap, holding you close like it’s second nature.

You shift slightly, just enough to feel the heat of him pressed between your legs, and the sound he makes is low and helpless, his hands gripping at your hips like he’s trying to keep control, and for a second he pulls back, just enough to look at you again, and there’s no rush in it only that same quiet awe in his expression.

When he leans in again, he doesn’t go for your mouth, not yet, just presses a kiss to your jaw, then your throat, then just under your ear, each one slow and unbearably tender, and when he whispers, “You’ve had such a hard day.”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he kisses you again, quiet and steady, as if he knows you’ll try to brush it off and doesn’t want to let you.

His hands move lower, sure and careful, fingers sliding beneath your underwear like he’s done it a hundred times, not from habit but because he knows you now, knows how to move without asking for more than you’re ready to give, and when he pulls the fabric down your legs, you lift your hips for him without needing to be told.

And when he sees you, really sees you, he exhales like it knocks the breath out of him, low and quiet and almost reverent, like he still can’t believe you’re letting him in.

“God,” he murmurs, barely louder than a breath, hands sliding up your thighs to part them, not rough, not rushed, just steady, grounding, and when he sees how wet you already are, he doesn’t say anything else just leans in and licks into you like it’s all he’s needed all day.

It’s filthy, right from the first slow pass of his tongue, so deliberate it pulls a whimper straight from your throat before you can even think, and you can’t hold it in, not when it’s not just his mouth.

Your thighs twitch, your hips shift, and you’re gripping the duvet in tight fists just to stay grounded, but he just keeps licking into you, slow and deep and steady, as though this is the only thing that matters.

And when you moan his name, helpless and breathless and wrecked, he groans back into you, fingers digging in just a little harder, and it’s not for show, it’s him, it’s real, it’s yes, that’s it, let me have it without saying a word.

Then his hand slides back down, his fingers warm and slick when he pushes two of them inside you, slow but sure, like he’s done this in his head a hundred times, and the stretch is so good it knocks the breath from your lungs, makes your hips jolt into his mouth, and he groans low and keeps going, his fingers working you open as his mouth stays right there.

And you can feel your climax building already, hot and unbearable and close, because it’s him, Clark, on his knees, giving everything, and you’ve never felt more wanted in your life.

You say his name again and it’s not a choice, it just happens, your mouth moving before your brain can catch up, because everything’s gone fuzzy, because your body is too full to hold anything else, and he hums in response, pleased and steady and so full of love it makes your chest ache all over again.

His palm presses firm to your lower stomach, and his voice comes soft and ruined against your cunt as he says, “Let go for me, baby, I’ve got you, it’s okay, just let me have it, come on.”

And you do, God, you do, it hits you hard and fast and so deep you don’t even realise you’ve stopped breathing until it all rushes back at once, and your body’s jolting up into him without warning, a helpless thing. Every muscle snapping tight and letting go all at once, and your thighs are shaking around his shoulders and your fingers are pulling hard in his hair and he just groans, low and hoarse and wrecked.

He slows down, keeps his tongue soft and steady and lets you fall apart in his mouth, lets you ride it out with his hands holding you still, one on your thigh and the other pressing down gently on your stomach.

You’re shaking, breathless, too far gone to speak, not a single thought in your head beyond the crashing release still flooding your chest and hips and thighs, and your hands are still in his hair, and when he finally lifts his head it’s slow.

His mouth is red, his eyes unbearably soft, and he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. He’s flushed and wrecked and breathing hard, but he still smiles when he sees you staring at the ceiling like your mind hasn’t caught up yet, and he reaches up with a trembling hand to brush your hair back, voice low and hoarse when he asks, “Are you alright?”

You nod, or something close to it, and he seems to understand. Then he leans down, kisses your hip, your stomach, the centre of your chest, soft and slow and steady, like he’s still trying to take care of you even now. 

Your throat tightens all over again, because it’s him, and he’s still looking at you like you’re a miracle.

His mouth moves higher, kissing along your collarbone and neck, and his hands slide back up your thighs, hot and unshaking, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. 

You can feel it in the way he breathes, in the way his body holds still like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

You feel him now, still hard, still clothed, the shape of him pressed to your thigh, and you can’t help it. Your hips roll, slow and greedy, your body answering before your head can catch up. 

He groans into your skin, low and deep, and you feel him falter, feel him fight not to lose it.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he says, quiet and hoarse and almost dazed, and it’s not a complaint, it’s reverent, it’s full of disbelief that he gets to have you like this, that he gets to stay here, and then he’s sitting up just enough to tug off his shirt and undo his belt, one handed.

And you watch him, still flushed and sensitive, still sore in the best way, but your legs spread for him automatically because your body wants this, wants him, wants to feel him everywhere, and when his trousers hit the floor and you finally get to see the full, desperate shape of him, flushed and thick and twitching with how hard he is. 

You swear under your breath because it’s obscene, it’s not fair, he’s so beautiful, and he just kneels between your legs like he belongs there.

He leans down to kiss you again, mouth still messy from everything he did to you, and you moan into it, half from the taste of yourself on his tongue and half from the way his cock presses right up against you, not pushing in yet, but it’s hot and heavy against your overstimulated cunt.

Your body jolts with it, and you hear yourself whimper, and he shushes you softly, forehead pressed to yours.

“Tell me you want this,” he says, not because he doesn’t know, but because he needs to hear it, needs to be sure, always so careful even when he’s wrecked and seconds from losing it completely.

You nod again, this time more definite, more desperate, and you whisper, “Please,” and that’s all it takes.

He pushes in so slowly you can feel every inch of it, feel every thick, aching stretch of him as he fills you, deeper than you thought anyone ever could, thick and hot and perfect, and you’re already gasping before he’s fully seated, already clutching at his back with both hands as your body adjusts, 

“You feel—” he starts, and then cuts himself off with a soft, broken noise, and presses a kiss to your throat as his hips roll forward, just enough to make you whimper, and he whispers, “So warm, sweetheart, so soft, you feel incredible.”

And then he moves for real, pulls back just enough to drag the whole length of himself out of you before sliding in again slow and deep, and your mouth falls open because it’s filthy, the sound of it, the slick, obscene drag of his cock inside you, your body taking him like it’s what it was made for, and Clark’s still breathing like he’s trying to survive it.

Clark sets a rhythm, gentle but full, grinding deep into you with every stroke, his hips tilting just right to press against that spot inside you that makes your thighs twitch and your stomach clench.

And every time he finds it again, again, he murmurs something soft into your skin, “There you go, That’s it, I’ve got you,” as though he’s guiding you somewhere, as if your body is answering him and he’s proud of it.

And it is so much, the stretch of him, the wet slide of your bodies moving together, the way your slick is dripping down your thighs now, messy and shameless, and Clark can feel it, can hear it, and instead of shying away from it he groans softly into your neck, presses his hand flat against your lower back to keep you right where he wants you, and says, breathless and stunned, “You’re so beautiful like this, I don’t think I’m ever going to forget how this feels.”

His voice is wrecked, soft and rough as he shudders above you, fingers finding your clit with slow, careful circles that make your whole body jerk beneath him. He doesn’t speed up, just keeps fucking you deep and steady, every thrust dragging right through you, and your legs are shaking, your hands clutching at him just to stay grounded.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs into your mouth, kissing you slow, “I’ve got you, I promise, just let go for me, sweetheart, please—”

And you do. It hits hard and hot, your body locking tight around him as everything breaks open, and you cry out without words, just Clark, just need, and he holds you through all of it, kissing your face, whispering soft things you can’t even process through the pleasure.

And he’s still inside you when it fades, still thick and hard and throbbing, just watching your face with the kind of awe that makes you ache all over again, and when you finally open your eyes, blinking up at him with wet lashes and parted lips, he leans down and kisses you one more time, deep and slow and full of everything he hasn’t said yet.

“You’re alright?” he asks, and he’s flushed and wrecked and still holding back, and you nod, still breathless, still clenching around him, and his whole body shudders again.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he admits, so softly it makes your heart twist, “You feel too good, I can’t— I don’t want to hurt you—”

But you’re already pulling him closer, because he needs it, because he’s holding himself so carefully, still buried in you and barely moving, arms shaking and jaw tight like it’s taking everything not to fall apart.

You press your hands to his face, tilting his head until he looks at you, and the second his eyes meet yours, something in you snaps again, because he’s beautiful and he’s yours and he’s waiting.

You don’t have to speak. He sees it in the way you nod, in the way your hands cradle him, in the way your thighs pull him in.

And he exhales, shaky and wrecked, and leans into your touch like he’s been waiting for it, and he presses his forehead to yours and whispers, barely audible, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you say, and it’s not breathless anymore, not messy or chaotic, it’s just soft, steady, honest, because you mean it, because you know him, and you know he never could.

He starts to move again, slow and deep and careful, as if he’s trying to memorise how you feel now that he’s allowed to. It’s not rushed anymore, just warm, just full of that unbearable closeness that only he ever gives you, and when your body clenches around him he groans, low and reverent.

Clark kisses you again and again, mouth soft on yours, whispering between breaths, “So good, I’ve got you, I’m right here,” and it’s never really about him, not even now, not even with his hips starting to stutter and his hands gripping tighter like he needs to hold on to something real.

And when it happens, when he finally lets go, you feel all of it; the shake in his thighs, the rough sound in his throat, the way his mouth drops open against your cheek and you hold him through it, hands in his hair, whispering his name just to let him know you’re here.

He groans your name like it’s the only word he knows, and he spills into you with his face tucked into your neck, his entire body trembling as though he’s never felt anything like this before, as though this moment, this warmth, this love, is undoing something in him he never thought could be undone.

When it’s over, his hips still and his breath evens out, and he doesn’t move. He stays close, chest to chest, mouth pressed to your skin like he’s not ready to let go, and you lie there with him in the quiet, holding each other, breathing slow and steady, hearts still racing in sync, and you know you’ve never been loved like this before.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, tangled and quiet, your legs still around his hips, his arms still tight around you like he’s afraid to let go. And maybe he’s right. Maybe you would fall apart if he stopped holding you like this, so gently, so steady, like he’s keeping you from breaking again.

When you finally shift, just enough to breathe deeper, he follows without question, tucks his face into your neck and sighs. Quiet and warm and full of peace, as if something inside him has finally gone still.

It’s a mess, all of it, your bodies sticky, your thighs still shaking, your heart beating too fast to keep up with your thoughts, but you don’t care. Not when his hand keeps stroking slow across your back like he’s soothing something deeper than skin, not when his mouth keeps finding your shoulder in soft kisses that feel more like promises than habit.

You should say something, maybe thank him or laugh or breathe properly, but all you can do is hold him tighter and hope he gets it. Hope he hears it in the way your fingers stay in his hair, in the way your forehead presses into his cheek, in the way your breathing finally begins to settle, not calm, but easier. 

And the thought hits you, not all at once but slowly, creeping in through the quiet like a truth you’d been ignoring until now;

Kryptonite could kill him, sure, it’s the one thing strong enough to bring him down, the one weakness he can’t hide, but Clark Kent on his knees, hands steady and tongue slow and eyes so full of love it breaks you, that might just kill you first.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Baby’s First Resurrection

Tags: Nanami x fem!Reader, established marriage, angst, mentions of death, suicide, self mutilation, hurt/eventual comfort, reader discretion is advised.

Synopsis: In which Nanami’s death doesn’t stick.

An: You are all going to pretend that I made Gojo’s sixth eye make sense in this story. You will not ask me questions on how it works. Everyone wanted Nanami to come back after this post, so here it is. The secret third option.

The world moved in bouts of chaos around you, but time stood utterly still. The Shibuya Incident will forever be ingrained into your mind. The atrocities and losses that occurred that night altered the Earth’s path, shifting it on its very axis.

Not only did the Earth shift, your world collapsed entirely. Your husband, your provider and protector, the father of your sweet daughter — gone.

The absolute pinnacle of evil stole the most righteous man and plucked him from the mortal planes. Nanami had always been too good for this world, but you selfishly wanted him back anyway.

Voices were static in the background. Shapes and colors blurred together in your vision. You couldn’t react. How could anyone expect you to after a half of your soul left you?

Your eyes were glossed over from staring straight ahead without blinking. Nothing made sense anymore. You had everything you could ever want right in the palm of your hand, and it was viciously ripped from you without a second thought.

The place around you was filled with life. Jujutsu students and teachers alike took shifts, keeping you company. Perhaps it was a suicide watch, or maybe they just felt the need to try and make up for his death.

It didn’t change the cold sediment that weighed down your lungs.

The sick joke about grief was the guilt that came along with it. Nanami was gone, but you had a daughter to raise. Hana had done nothing to deserve the emotionally distant mother you were slowly becoming.

In the early stages of your pregnancy, you and Nanami would talk for hours about different parenting styles. His palm would gently rub against your stomach as he listened to you pray that you would be better than your own parents.

He always encouraged and praised you to no end — your biggest supporter. He reassured you that you would a fantastic mother. The amount of love you had to give would supersede all else.

He was gone, and it felt like he took all of your love with him.

“Dada.” You flinched like Hana’s word — the only word she knew — stabbed you right in the chest.

Your vision slowly focused, and it was a mental effort to turn your head. Your beautiful blonde daughter was sat on the floor with Yuji. Her chubby fist was in her mouth as she smiled up at her adoptive big brother.

An invisible force squeezed your heart, causing your chest to ache. Even when you didn’t think you could possibly have anymore tears left to give, they streamed down your cheeks anyway.

Mom guilt was a different breed. You should be there for them. You’re the adult, aren’t you? Nanami would’ve been there for them if you had passed.

Why couldn’t it had been you?

“That’s right! That’s Papamin-“

“Dada,” Hana sassily corrected, looking up at Yuji like he was wrong.

“Uh, I knew him first, and we called him Papamin,” Yuji rebutted before he carefully looked in your direction. He was worried for you, but he hoped it didn’t show on his face. No one could get you to eat, drink, or move from the rocking chair that Nanami loved to sit in with his morning coffee.

You met his gaze, and you could immediately see through his facade. Yuji never had a good poker face. He was just a kid. A kid who was worried and lost. A kid who witnessed Nanami’s death with his own eyes.

Did you have any right to grieve when Yuji was there when it happened?

He was being so brave. Nanami would be proud of him, but he’d also give him the space to break down. To be vulnerable. To be a kid.

Your legs felt quaky and unsure as you rose from the rocking chair. Yuji was at your side in an instant, bracing you. “Where are we going?” he asked.

He was never suffocating in his approach. He didn’t try to make you sit down or do anything you didn’t want. He met you where you were at, buckled in along for the healing journey.

“I wanted to sit with Hana,” your voice was uncharacteristically quiet, a bit raspy from not using it, except for when you sobbed and called out for Nanami at night.

“Ten-four,” Yuji said, helping you down to where Hana was playing.

Your daughter had a building block in her hand, and she glanced up at you with a cheeky grin.

This felt unfamiliar, even though you used to spend your days playing and teaching her. She was right there — right in front of you, but she felt like she was miles away.

Your hand hesitantly reached out and brushed against her soft pudgy cheek. She was here, alive and breathing. Your daughter cooed from the touch, waving around the building block with excited flappy arms.

“Thank you… for being here, Yuji. You are one of the strongest kiddos I’ve ever met.. even when you shouldn’t have to be.” Your eyes look up to meet the teenager who had at some point grown taller than you.

Yuji furrowed his eyebrows a bit as he tried to keep his tears at bay. His cellphone was still barely hanging in his hand. Getting down onto his knees, he pulled you and Hana into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give him a proper death.”

*** *** ***

Loss looked different. Satoru stared at himself in the mirror, and for once in his life, he couldn’t see everything in the space between him and the mirror.

He used to pray for days like this. Satoru Gojo was on another level — the strongest because he was gifted the six eyes technique along with limitless. It was fucking isolating being on top.

However, now that he’s looking in the mirror… he couldn’t see every molecule of energy radiating from him. He thickly swallowed. At some point after Suguru’s death, Gojo found comfort in being lonely at the top.

After all, it was his six eyes that allowed him to immediately see through Kenjaku’s disguise and avoid being captured in the prison realm. Shibuya would’ve been a real travesty if he hadn’t swiftly dealt with what he could get to on time.

On time, which he wasn’t. Mahito’s soul transfiguration had already sentenced Nanami to death.

It was a swift decision after the curses were properly dealt with. A decision that was made with only Shoko present.

The two were alone in the morgue, right where Yuji had previously beaten death by making a deal with Sukuna.

“Are you sure?” Shoko asked in a rare tentative tone. She wasn’t even smoking a cigarette. That’s how serious this was.

What’s the point of having six eyes if you can’t see your only friend anymore?

“I can’t let another one of us die. I can’t. He has a wife, a daughter—“

“You don’t need to convince me. I’m just not sure it’ll work.” It had to work. It had to.

The blade slashed through the sixth eye like butter. Satoru couldn’t tell if it simply didn’t hurt or if he was numb to all physical pain after Nanami’s passing.

He looked at himself in the mirror. His hand was streaked in blood, the only evidence of his sacrifice. Two cerulean unharmed eyes stared back at him through the reflective glass, and despite everything, he didn’t feel overstimulated for once in his life. His brain wasn’t being overloaded with data gathered by all six of his eyes. He wasn’t over analyzing every small detail.

The cursed energy that had inhabited Gojo’s sixth eye had no where to go… no where besides the body Shoko had repaired with reversed cursed technique.

Nanami’s first breath back into this world was a dry heave. “Malaysia,” he gasped. His eyelids blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. “Where are my wife and kids?”

*** *** ***

“Let me watch Hana,” Shoko insisted. “I even washed my hands. She’s not going to get any sort of secondhand smoke.”

“I’m fine, really…” you responded, trying to keep your tone from snapping at Shoko who was just clearly trying to help. “I want to spend time with her, and don’t you hate kids?”

Shoko ran a hand through her hair with a ragged sigh. This stupid plan was Gojo’s idea. “Maybe I don’t hate them anymore. Are you going to deny me the chance to find out something new about myself?”

You sent her an incredulous look, and she let her shoulders drop. She couldn’t bullshit you anymore. Crouching down, she placed her hand on your shoulder. “Look. Gojo wants to show you something, but it…” It felt wrong referring to their little ‘surprise’ as an it. “It may be best if Hana doesn’t see — not yet.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. What could he want to show you that Hana shouldn’t see yet? Surely it had something to do with Nanami. You hadn’t been able to explain to Hana that dada wasn’t coming home anytime soon.

“Okay..” you said reluctantly, passing Hana towards Shoko. She held your daughter very… clinically, like she was scared she might contract rabies from your little bundle of joy.

“We’ll be in the play room,” she said awkwardly, walking off with Hana in her arms. You scoffed a small laugh. It was the first time you could find humor in anything since him.

Your hands fell to your lap. Yuji had left a little while ago, called out on a mission. The house was silent, unmoving. Looking back towards the rocking chair, you could picture him there, drinking a mug of coffee while reading a book. He always knew when you were looking at him. Sometimes, he’d shoot back a charming smile and invite you onto his lap.

You’d never feel one of his embraces again.

Just as the tears started to well up once again, the door opened to reveal Yuji in his uniform. He had a wide grin on his face as he practically bounced his way into the living room.

“Hope you don’t mind. I’m here for lunch,” he said, flopping himself onto the couch. Despite his energetic demeanor, he couldn’t meet your gaze.

“Why would I mind? This is your home, Yuu.” You slowly stood to go to the kitchen. You were trying your best to be normal, but it only seemed to work if you were caring for others rather than yourself.

“Hey wait—“ Yuji said, sitting up from the couch with the intention of preventing you from leaving the living room. “Gojo’s coming too.”

“That’s alright. Shoko told me. I’ll make enough for him as well..”

“Shoko told you…?” Yuji asked as he furrowed his eyebrows. His lips curved into the small pout he made while he was confused by something. He thought you’d have a bigger reaction than this…

Before anything else could be said, the door opened once more for Gojo to step through. “Sorry. I don’t knock,” he said with a boyish grin on his face, leaning against your doorframe.

You looked over at him, and you immediately tilted your head to the side when his eyes met yours. He wasn’t wearing his blindfold or his glasses. As far as you knew, Gojo had been relatively unharmed in Shibuya, but perhaps you were wrong.

“That’s okay… You’re looking.. well today,” you said because what else were you supposed to say. It was rare that Satoru had his eyes out for everyone to see.

The white haired male grinned even more as his brushed his hand against his own cheek. “Yeah? Tell me more. Notice anything different about me?”

You rolled your eyes at his usual antics. Satoru never shied away from the limelight. “You just rarely walk around without something protecting your eyes. It’s refreshing to see you like this, but are you sure you’re okay? You don’t have a headache or anything right?”

“You’re cute when you fuss over me, Y/n, but I have a feeling your husband probably feels jealous hearing you talk to me like this.”

Out of habit, you nearly looked to your side where Nanami would’ve been. He would’ve coughed, signaling his discomfort with Gojo’s flirtatious nature. He would’ve told him to knock it off.

Your heart sank as you realized no one was there to keep him in line.

The room was still and heavy. Nanami’s loss left a hole in conversations. He wasn’t there to balance everyone out. The universe simply felt wrong without him.

“Stop torturing her,” a familiar voice said gruffly. Gojo chuckled as a hand shoved him to the side. He stumbled out of the doorway, so another figure could walk in.

He was there in all of his glory. Fixing his cufflinks awkwardly like he did the first day he met you. He slowly met your gaze, and it felt like his heart was going to beat straight out of his chest to get to you.

His entire left side had been permanently marred, skin red and irritated with divots that were not there before. His left eye had been carefully wrapped, showing how he had experienced loss as well. His usually perfectly styled blonde hair laid messily upon his head, giving a rare sight of his undercut.

Your late husband somehow stood before you, and he was perfect.

You were glad that you were not holding anything in your hands because you would’ve dropped. You would’ve trampled people to get to him.

You had dreams like this where he would come home just for a day. You knew that you couldn’t let any time pass by.

His arms which were perfectly sculpted to hold you carefully wrapped around you as soon as you flung yourself at him. The questions of ‘why’ or ‘how’ died on your lips. You didn’t want to waste any time with him worrying about that stuff.

“Darling,” he gently rasped as he felt your tears soaking through his shirt. His hands gently rubbed up and down your back soothingly. “I love you. I’m sorry it took a while to get back to you.”

You shook your head vigorously. “Don’t be sorry. I love you so much. I missed you so much. Nothing made sense without you.”

His hand trailed up to your hair as he dipped his nose against your neck. You smelled just as he remembered— like home. His heart finally seemed to rest a bit with the promise that he was right where he should be.

“In case it hasn’t been clear, I’m retiring,” Nanami spoke up, looking over to Gojo, but he didn’t dare stop holding you.

“Aw, that’s okay. I’m pretty sure you were considered terminated anyways while you were—“

A sharp glare from you made the words clog in his throat. “I’ll plan your retirement party,” he corrected with a cheeky grin as he joined in on the hug. He was like a little parasite that you two couldn’t get rid of. A parasite that had made himself at home with both of you. A parasite that both of you cherished.

“I’ll miss you at school, Nanamin,” Yuji said, walking over to join in on the hug, rubbing his face into Nanami’s shoulder. When he was called out on a mission earlier, he had actually been brought into the morgue to see Nanami, to help plan the surprise, which was terribly hard to keep a secret.

“You’ll have me here though,” Nanami said as he used one of his palms to ruffle Yuji’s soft pink hair. “I’ll still come visit the campus as well.”

You let out a deep breath, releasing the tension in your body that had been there since Halloween night. Everything felt so surreal. He was really here, breathing in your arms. His flesh was warm and very much alive.

“Hana hasn’t stopped asking for you,” you whispered against him, still not ready to let him slip from your arms.

Nanami’s chest rose as he sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t want to scare her… I know I look different.”

“You’re still you, Nanami, and you’re perfect. She may not recognize you at first, but our daughter is a bright little girl. She’ll recognize the love you have to give.” You finally leaned your head up, pressing your hands to either side of Nanami’s cheeks gently.

His hazel eyes shined with unshed tears, and the smile on his face was bittersweet. “I’m just glad to be home.”

“You are my home,” you whispered before capturing his lips in a soft, longing kiss.

“Ew.”

“Gross,” Yuji echoed as he and Satoru both pulled away from the group hug.

Neither you nor Nanami reacted to their comments. Both of you were too caught up in each other’s embrace — unwilling to give up the serenity.

“Ugh, I wish I would’ve waited a few more minutes before coming in here.” Shoko’s voice cut through the tender moment. Her nose was scrunched up as she feigned disgust.

You reluctantly peeled yourself from your husband to look behind your shoulder. Shoko was holding Hana near the hallway to where she couldn’t see Nanami just yet.

“Bad news. I’m still not great with kids,” she said with a lilt of sarcasm in her tone that made you chuckle a bit; however, Nanami tensed in your arms.

He knew what he looked like, and he knew how easily young toddlers could get scared. One time before the Shibuya incident, he had let a five o’clock shadow grow on his chin and jaw. Hana wouldn’t let him hold her until he shaved it off. He was so devastated that he shaved it almost immediately.

“No matter what, it’ll be okay,” you murmured to him. “Having you here is what matters.”

He nodded, knowing that you were right. Hana would get used to the scars… eventually. He could handle his daughter looking at him like he was a stranger for a little while.

“Ahem— Hana..” he said tentatively as Shoko walked closer to the front entrance way. The world stood still while everyone held their breath.

Hana immediately perked up from where she had her fingers wrapped up in Shoko’s long brown hair. She turned her head, eyes bobbing around to see the source of her dad’s timber voice.

As soon as your daughter’s eyes — the ones she got from her mother — found Nanami, her entire face lit up. “Dada— Dada!” she grunted while fighting to get out of Shoko’s arms.

The doctor gladly passed her off to Nanami, wiping off her coat sleeves with a relieved look on her face.

Your husband melted. Tears welled up in his one functioning eye, and he held Hana close to his chest. “Hi pumpkin,” his voice cracked. “I missed you,” He looked up towards you, “and your mama so much.”

Her small stubby arms wrapped around him, still chanting his name with glee. Gojo patted his back, a silent gesture to welcome him back home. Nanami didn’t think he’d ever be able to repay Satoru for the sacrifice he made.

Your daughter’s small hands experimentally touched the wrapping around Nanami’s eye. “Dada,” she cooed. Her eyes then searched until they landed on Satoru like he was the one who should have the wrappings around his eyes. She was such a clever little girl.

Nanami followed her gaze until he saw Gojo. “Yes, I’m here,” your husband responded. “Are you looking at Uncle Toru?”

Satoru leaned down a bit to look Hana in the eyes. Babies always seemed a little rattled by him, probably due to the amount of cursed energy he practically radiated.

It was if the two had a silent conversation between them. You and Nanami stared in confusion, wondering what was going on in your daughter’s head as she stared at Satoru.

No matter, she smiled and turned her attention back to Nanami with a loud giggle that turned into a squeal. “Dada!” She then followed that up by a bunch of incoherent babbling.

“His name is still Papamin,” Yuji corrected, to which Hana merely stuck her tongue out at him and blew a raspberry.

It didn’t matter which name you all called him: Nanami, Nanamin, Papamin, Dada. You could call him whatever you liked, so long as he got to cherish the rest of his life with his family.

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @airandyeah

[bravehyde]

hi !! can we have any sort of source about the google docs thing? I use it for pretty much everything and I want to know for sure before I move everything somewhere

I'm not sure if you're from the US but I'm not and I don't if it's something happening everywhere or somewhere specific

I absolutely appreciate warning people about something that could cost someone their hard work but I doing so without any sort of checkable source could get people kinda panicked

(genuine message/request, I don't mean to discredit your personal experience at all, I don't think what you've shared is made up, I just wanna look into on my own too and couldn't find anything)

yeah, so sorry about that! I was so busy telling all of my writer friends, who know I wouldn’t lie about something like this that I personally watched occur, that I totally forgot people outside of my circle would not just need “hey this happened in front of me” as confirmation something’s real. Also this blog isn’t that big so I thought it would just be in the writer circles I’m in, I’ve never seen so many notifications! I’m writing this on my phone so sorry if it looks bad, trying my best here.

I’m from the US and the person who had their property deleted by Google is also from the US. I saw someone else in the reblogs who also stated they had their content removed without their permission, but I technically can’t verify for them because I did not know them before this occurred and I wasn’t there when it was discovered.

While trying to find similar experiences I found multiple complaints over the past few years of people getting their permission to their content revoked even though it’s not sexually explicit and posting to their help forums, but that’s also hard to use as a concrete source since we don’t know those people’s full stories. Google’s official policy on explicit content is as follows:

I know the friend whose content was removed would share their document for writing feedback, as that is the reason many people choose docs over word (as well as that it can be opened and edited easily on an iphone). It may be that “distribute” is the key word here for getting your items removed.

Someone was kind enough to link this story of it happening to an adult romance author last year who had this story sent to multiple news articles. I’m still looking for if this had more incidents, there are some claimed in the article but they don’t have names attached the way Renee is.

Once again, these people had their work removed because they would send it to betas, which Google flaggged as spamming people with explicit content. And to anyone thinking it’s not possible because they don’t have permission to access our work-they do. You give them permission by putting your stuff on their servers at all. It’s just that their current ToS doesn’t let them remove it until you share it with someone, in which case it’s “distribution”. Also I’m going to address this is another post with more info and stuff because I want to give more basis: I see people framing it as impossible to do in “so short a time”, but this was built up for years. This personal information stockpiling has been around for a while. I’ll put more out there when I can, right now I have to get back to my job

EDIT: talked about this in another ask here for more links

[rafeslvbug]

TEASE

context: during your second wedding, you make things more fun with a series of boudoir polaroids

w/c: 1.8k

warnings: details of explicit photos, arousal and light smut

you had them tucked away in your friend’s clutch purse: ten boudoir polaroids you took before the wedding. you considered getting your friends to give them to him, but rafe never took much of a liking to anyone. and you figured it’s best to give it to him yourself, then make him suffer as you walk away. she discreetly handed you the first, something you held against your wedding dress, approaching rafe. your newly wedded husband– again. his eyes light up, turning away from his conversation with jj and pope to wrap his arm around your waist. “well hello to you, wife,” he mutters, kissing your cheek. “hi baby,” you smile. never had you expected to be called that again, and legally too.

“i’ve got a gift for you,” you whisper into his ear, and he turns his head down to you. “oh yeah?” you nod, teeth sinking into your lip. you press the polaroid to his suit jacket, and his hand finds it, slipping it out from underneath your fingers. he’s about to hold it up, but you push it back into him. getting the hint, he nods slowly, peeling the top edge of the polaroid up and peeking.

his jaw goes slack. eyes wide.

you laugh as his grip on your waist slackens, stumbling back, blowing out air like the photo’s knocked the air from his lungs. only except it really has. it’s a picture of you, a black lingerie set perhaps a size too small, his tie hanging loose between your tits and leaning against his desk. your face’s cut out, only your neck to your waist. he gapes at you, taking one last look before tucking it into his inner pocket. “when did you–“ he notices jj glancing over, and steps closer to you, lowering his voice. “when did you take that?” you shrug, coyly. “you were at work.” he blinks, eyes lingering shut for longer than needed, picturing the polaroid in his mind. you walk away with a smile, and he’s flushed, uncontrollable smile on his face.

what he doesn’t know, is there are nine more to go.

the second one comes during the photos, something neither of you wanted but both your parents insisted. and after you had excluded that from every other aspect of the wedding to avoid a repeat of your last marriage to rafe, you figured you’d satiate them with this. something to post on their socials and brag about. your bridesmaid stepped behind you to take her photo, and slid it into your hand. when rafe held your hand during the photo, you held it between your palms; the moment he felt it he had an ill-contained smile.

anticipating the end of the photo, he forgot to even thank the guests, leaving you to it, waiting for the man behind him to go back to his table. he glimpsed at it: face stuffed in the pillows, only the curve of your ass visible in a white thong. the camera snaps a picture of you two as his eyes widen, catching his shock and your amusement. closing the polaroid into his hand again, he leans over to you. “do you still have that set at home?” you link your arm through his, play the innocent happy couple for the guests. “i would..but i’m wearing it.”

rafe’s cock twitches there and then, praying he doesn’t get hard in front of a hundred wedding guests. and he’s not even halfway through.

you drop the third one into his back pocket while he’s drinking with a co-worker, and you watch him itch to reach into the back and just look at it. but he can’t. so he rushes conversation, subtly, nodding and saying yes until the guy runs out of conversation and is forced to move on. then rafe pulls it out, cups his hand around it protectively. shields his surprise by biting down on his lip and immediately stuffing it where the other two are. the same set as the second, only a shot of you fully lying down from the side.

you get more daring with the fourth. walking up to him while some guests are walking away from him outside, holding it up infront of you. flashing that same lacy, white set, only except it’s an aerial view. you on your side, one leg bent. the curve of your spine smooth amidst the ruffled sheets. he snatches it from your hand, hiding it and looking around in case someone might have seen. “you can’t do that!” he laughs between slight panic, eyes finally settling on you. “you didn’t want the photo?” you tease, letting him draw you closer into him, fingers wrapping around your arm. “of course i did,” he mumbles. “how many more of these guys are there?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. you press a finger to his lips, only for him to frown and lightly kiss your fingertip. “wait and find out.” and you’re gone, again, while rafe’s pants get tighter, and his heart erratic, polaroids right above it.

sitting at the table, your hand clutched in his, laughing with some joke your dad told; the fifth settles onto his lap. rafe discreetly looks down, then snaps his head back up, shook at the shot of your body hardly concealed in a dark red set. he covers the image with your joint hands, something his grip has become far more tighter on. he’s seen the set before, and remembers it clearly in his mind. the first set he saw you in after the divorce, against the fence in both of your backyards. that memory doesn’t help him get through this night any faster.

the sixth you tuck into his breast pocket and pat in passing. he grabs your arm and spins you back to him, holding you there as he checks it, then lets it fall back in. “are you trying to kill me?” he asks lowly, dipping his head closer to your ear. “no…” you say in that falsely sweet tone. “i’m making the wedding more enjoyable.” rafe lets out a groan, kissing the shell of your ear. “what you’re gonna do is make a scandal out of me,” he mutters, making an obvious implication as he glances down at his pants. “good, make this more interesting,” you grin, softly pressing your lips to his.

“six’s an even number..but it doesn’t feel complete,” rafe muses, slipping his arm around your waist and drawing you into his side. “doesn’t it?” you quirk your eyebrow at him, and lace your fingers with his. “no.” he looks down at you expectantly. giving in, you place the seventh polaroid into the pocket of his trousers. his arm unwinds from your waist, delves into his pocket and pulls the top out. he drops it back in, silent. he doesn’t show emotion, or betray his shock. he just pulls you back into him.

during your dance, you hold the eighth polaroid between both your hands, rafe immediately cursing because he can’t look. he has to wait for it to be over. his steps are practiced ease, but quicker than usual. eyes darting around to see how many people are actually watching, and if he could sneak a look. he can’t; everyone’s intently staring, just in case the marriage is fake and you’re both still divorced. they’re all quite worried about that. when it’s over, he slides off the dancefloor as covertly as he can, tugging you with him. “fuck me,” he swears, hiding the polaroid in his inner pocket, leaning his forehead against yours. “thank god we’re married again.”

the ninth comes with dinner. finally, plates are set in front of guests between entertainment, and you hand it to rafe before he takes his seat. there’s chicken, and food you spent forever to organise with the caterers, but in his hand, rafe has something he’d rather eat more. you. unfortunately, he can’t. he has to act like the little picture means nothing when friends and family raise their eyebrows at it, awaiting some sort of explanation as to what has him so flushed. he has to settle with his hand on your thigh while he eats, wishing for something else the whole time.

when the wedding party’s over, rafe’s itching to get home. he’s sober and serious, unwilling to get tipsy during the night and loosen his tongue, or his hands, spilling the secret polaroids out to the guests. he helps you out the car, minding the wedding dress you haven’t been able to take off, or change out of all day. but that won’t remain for much longer. he ushers you into his house, letting you in first to take your high heels off, and complain about the weight of your dress. “i can help with that,” he murmurs, slipping off his shoes and spinning you around to him.

your dress is bunched around your hips, lips tangled in a messy, desperate kiss as you haphazardly make your way backwards up the stairs. he uses his arm to take the impact of your collision with the bedroom door, swinging it open and pushing you back until your knees hit the mattress of your bed. his hands find your zipper, swiftly tug it down and drag the dress down your body until it’s a white heap on the ground, and you’re left standing there. white set you mentioned you had on, stretching over your curves.

“you’re a horrible tease,” he mumbles against your skin as he has you laid down on the bed, kissing his way up your body. “wait, wait, wait..” you halt his hands as they glide from your hips to your waist. rafe lets out a tortured moan against you. “wait for what? i haven’t been married to you for over two years, how much more waiting can i do?”

“you say it like we haven’t slept with each between then,” you chuckle, reaching towards the bedside table to pull out the draw. he moves so you can access it better, grumbling, “still, it’s not the same.” you pull out the final polaroid in between your fingers, lay back down and hold it out to him. “last one.” rafe’s eyes flick over it, then to you, in a similar position, sprawled out on the bed, amidsts pillows and sheets wearing only your lingerie. he takes it from your fingers, turns it over in his and sets it aside. “picture’s perfect baby, might put it in my wallet,” he grins, hand slipping underneath your back to unclasp your bra. “but i think i prefer this more.”

TAGLIST: @jeonjungkaka @angelicameron @yelqze @loverliner @tinythebunni @dollarbillsflying

[cuprohastes]

The reason is that "The Government" tends to be run by Appointment vs. Skill.

Long version under the cut. Short version: You cannot trust these people with your data because they're incompetent and malicious.

So they say "Hey we'd like to be able to track the online usage of all our citizens"

So they get some civil servant who's in line for a promotion and make them the new Head Of That Thing.

This person is usually screamingly incompetent but went to the right school and besides he's the PM's cousin. They have someone to print their emails out because htey don't use a computer because they're cosplaying their idea of an important person from 1950.

They put it to tender and look for the lowest bid, because it's public money and has to be accounted for.

Unless you're the brother in law of a cabinet member, spouse, gold buddy, showed up a lot of the right parties, wrote some nice election support cheques, or promised tehre'd be a seat on the board for retiring MPs. At that point it's amazing how little oversight there is for spending.

The usual suspects all pop up: Fujitsu (Were tweaking post office account payments, which the Post Office then jailed it's own staff over) Atos (Implicated in slavery, coercion, fraud, is currently imploding and going bankrupt. Once marked down a guy in a coma as healthy and able to work.) Siemens (Passport software. Went over budget an failed their deadline so hard the software was obsolete before it was implemented. And when it was implemented it didn't work and had to be replaced. Siemens bid for that contract too).

And despite their history of basically always being way more expensive, shady as fuck and almost never delivering... Because they have the lowest bid, they then get the job.

Great. Fab.

So the Government says "Let's see, the 'Monitor your Internet history so we can run censorship and use it in the future to crush people' act doesn't play well. So let's say it's to protect little children from accidentally typing in 'heaving pumping cock' and then disabling 'Safe Search' and then going to Images and clicking on 42 links' which is a problem I have constantly, and my wife is very annoyed about it but it's just a thing computers do."

So they roll it out: "It's to protect children".

Now they can slowly make visiting any site be logged against your ID: Search terms, links clicked, sites visited, videos watched, what IM services you have. Every AO3 fanfic, every meme you liked about anything... You can bet that they'll do a deal with Microsoft so when you buy a new computer and it fires up Co-Pilot, they get a transcript of every JPEG and file you own.

All under the pretence that it's to stop little Timmy seeing a titty, even if Timmy wants to see a titty. Because somehow that's bad and banning porn has always worked historically which is why there hasn't been any since the Victorian Era.

"Wait!" you say, "Isn't it just for porn?" - Aha, no. Wikipedia and any other site that the Government decides to stick a label on get logged.

Which is all bad enough.

But then you remember that this is one of those governmental minimum bid things, which is why it's being spoofed by using photos of fucking Death Stranding Photo Mode.

So... what's their back end like?

Well if it's anything like other projects like this it's an open forrmat database on a server with the password file in .txt on the server root directory and the access code is letmein123, and everyone is logged in as Root because "it makes it easier".

So there's probably already about 18 state sponsored hacking groups with full access watching people upload their full biometric ID, right now, and just wondering what they can do if they can steal the identities of an entire nation at once.

Or y'know. Blackmailing people for watching gay interracial butt bongo videos.

Worse, the current government are dickheads and cannot be trusted with this data. Day one and they already started using it to block reports of their jackboot squad beating civilians in Leeds.

And of course because they're all running around yipping "AI! AI!" they're definitely going to plug all this data they say they're not collecting into an AI which is just going to shit on everything.

Author's side note, has anyone tried to set up age verification and used the ol' JOHNNY DROP TABLES trick?

And when they inevitably fuck it all up enough that the Tories get back in (The guys who fucked the economy with Brexit, and blew the national budget on their mates get rich quick schemes.) they're all authoritarians.

They'll start using this data for whatever deranged shit they come up with, because they're authoritarian control freaks who rant about morals while being pegged with a dildo dipped in molly, between choke-wank sessions.

Looking at you, Stephen Milligan. And Les Winwood. Not even listing the Anti Gay politicians who got caught snorting coke of a rent boy's cock. Again, highly specific yet there's a weird number of them.

Which is their brand of stupid shit so yeah. I dunno man.

Use a VPN.

Except that's what people are doing and the current crop of illiterate pantysniffers found out that their brilliant plan to data scrape the entire population hadn't accounted for people just pretending to be American.

So they decided, "Hey well OK let's just ban VPNs, I dunno what they are but they're fucking with our terrible idea. And because I don't know what a VPN is, it can't be that important."

These are the guys who are always trying to make everyone turn off HTTPS and your phone's security in case they need to go through your shit.

Every couple of year they find out about TOR and have a collective aneurysm.

i feel like we as a digital society have forgotten the important rules of the internet

Don't feed the trolls

Never give out personal information

Anonymity is the best defense

Don't click suspicious links

Don't click popups and ads

Just because it's written doesn't mean it's true

You are responsible for your own experience

There is porn of everything, act accordingly

[cheshitora]

BUNNY WANTS A CHURCH GIRL

† WARNING : AFAB!READER, SACRILEGE, PIV, FINGERING, ORAL (F!RECEIVING), CORRUPTION KINK, LOSS OF VIRGINITY, PUBLIC SEX, UNPROTECTED SEX, CREAMPIE

† FINAL CALL : based off this post i made. if you're offended by sacrilegious/religious themes, pls don't interact.

"WOULD YOU JUDGE ME FOR MY PRAYERS, IF I SAID THEM ON MY KNEES?" ─ TONGUE, ETHEL CAIN

bunny likes church girls. one who stays true to her faith, recites her verses and ends her day in prayer. he finds nothing sweeter than a young lady that holds her religious faith close to her heart, but he finds even greater pleasure testing the strength of her unwavering loyalty.

he starts out small ─ grazing your thigh if you sit next to him during service, catching your lips in a soft kiss before you leave, tugging on the rosary that hangs from your neck in an attempt to rile you up. he loves to see how flustered and annoyed you get with him, and yet, your faith remains.

so he uses a stronger approach ─ he'll whisper dirty scenarios in your ear while the pastor leads the sermon, maybe even tug on your ear with his teeth if he's feeling extra brave, uncaring if people cast him sideways glances and glares. you'll find his hand snaking up your thigh and underneath your sundress, his thick fingers pressing against your clothed mound as you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

"pay attention, cariño," he'll whisper while he slips his hand into your panties, gliding his digits between your slippery folds. it's hard to pay attention to anything else when you have two fingers pushing in and out of you though. when you look over to bunny, his eyes are fixated on the pastor still delivering his sermon, as if he isn't fucking you with his fingers.

and that's not the worse he'll do to you. you begin having dreams of the boy torturing you and they're not good dreams. you've made it a point to remain pure until marriage, but once you've started having these pleasureable dreams, you become concerned, seeking aid from the priest at your church.

once you've stepped into confession, with a deep breath, you begin to relay to the priest on the other side about these dreams and strange feelings you're developing, hoping to find some answers. but what you don't know is that the priest wasn't at work today, but a very special friend saw you enter the church alone.

he was on the other side, even though you were unaware of his presence. bunny began to urge you to dig deeper and explain in detail the nature of your dreams, to which you do, still believing it to be the priest. your eyes are fixed on your lap, giving bunny to open the small window parting the booths, his crimson eyes focused on your flushed cheeks and shaking hands.

now that he has leverage over you, this makes it easier for him to corrupt you faster, knowing exactly what your fantasies are of him.

bunny wastes no time finding you at moments when you're most vulnerable. when he sneaks into your room and finds you praying at your bedside, he lifts you from the ground, slotting his lips with yours as he pins you to your bed. he'll slide down your body until his head fits between your plush thighs.

noticing the bible on your nightstand, bunny lifts the heavy book and hands it to you.

"read for me, cariño. and try not to stutter," he commands before dipping his head back in between your legs, tugging your panties to the side. he breathes in your sweet scent, feeling your body tremble underneath him as he sweeps his tongue across your puffy folds.

you almost dropped your bible on your face, holding it up steady as you read from it, your lips quivering and voice shaky as you try not to stumble on your words. but when he starts sucking on your sensitive clit, shoving two fingers in between your tight walls, creating a scissoring motion to spread you out, you nearly scream out, clenching your eyes shut and burying your face in the pages to keep yourself from crying out in pleasure.

and he just loves to see you fall apart. he can't help but enjoy the sight of someone so pure and faithful fall apart to the pleasure they swore they wouldn't allow themselves to feel. bunny takes pride in knowing he's the only one that's able to corrupt your faith, to open your eyes to a whole new world of sin you've barricaded yourself from.

which prompts him to take it to the next level.

after finding you alone at church again, bunny initially decides to join you in prayer, sitting in the pews with you. the church is void of people, giving him the perfect opportunity to ruin that "picture-perfect" image you carry so gracefully.

it's a tight fit, but you manage you fit his thick cock in your tight cunt, your back pressed against his chest as you holds you still on your lap, giving you time to adjust to his large size. he knows he probably should've put a condom on, but the idea of fucking you raw, of creampieing you on sacred ground makes his cock twitch inside of you.

you look so pretty on his lap, you always did. tears staining your cheeks, your dress bundled around your waist, legs quivering and nails digging into the sides of his thighs. he begins lifting you up before forcing you back down onto his dick, pitiful whimpers tumbling from your lips as he skillfully bounces you on his shaft, erotic sqeulching sounds echoing through the empty of halls of the church.

your moans progessively become louder, pathetic pleas and mewls escaping your lips.

"pray, cariño. that's what you came here for, right," he grunts, thrusting his hips up into you with no stops, his pace brutal and unrelenting.

you can barely breathe, much less speak properly, but you do your best to recite the prayer you had started when he came in, your vision blurred with the tears of pleasure you thought you'd never shed until you were married.

hell, if bunny has to marry you to see this sight everyday, so be it. after taking you like this, there's no way he'd let another man have you. your prayers were his. your faith and love for your god belonged to him. he'd make sure every sunday, after service, he would fuck you so good you'd see the god you delivered prayers to. bunny knew you'd see the pearly gates of heaven as long as he brought you there.

with a final thrust, your gummy walls tightened around him, the coil in your belly unwinding as your orgasm wracked through your body. bunny's own need for release followed shortly after, filling you to the brim until you were leaking all around him.

he kept you there on his lap for a little longer, his big arms wrapped securely around you as he delivered the last line of prayer you couldn't bring yourself to say.

"lead us not into tempation," he whispered, licking the shell of your ear. "but deliver us... from evil."

[devskindawritingblog]

Painting

Polytrix x reader

An: Hi again. I’ve had such inspiration again with writing and I think it's going to be a more regular thing… so I will be doing requests if anyone wants to request anything. If not I’m sure I’ll have my own ideas. This is like my ultimate hyper fixation right now. I've already gotten one and I'm gonna post it after this one. This fic is based on all the fanart ive seen of Mira and Zoey painting demon marks on themselves so shout out to all of that amazing fanart I love it!

Summary: Mira and Zoey think Rumi is still ashamed of her patterns, maybe so face paint can help fix that.

Word count rounded: 1.3k

“Hey Mir, hi Zo.” You greet them as you hear the elevator door open. “Hi babe,” Zoey answers back, rushing over to your side to show you the stuff she got. “Zoey, show them the thing we got,” Mira encourages, pointing to the plastic bag. “Ooh! Yes! Ta-da!” Zoey grins, pulling on a face painting kit with an array of colours. “What? You want me to paint you guys a tiger face?” You joke, laughing at your own joke. “No.” Zoey shakes her head. “We had a much better idea than that… But if you could figure out how to do a turtle, I might consider that for another day.”

“Mira should say it; it was her idea,” Zoey says, directing your attention to your other girlfriend. “Well... it's about Rumi. After everything that happened with the Honmoon and her patterns. I think that she’s still uncomfortable or maybe ashamed about her patterns. And well… we all love her; we want her to feel safe around us. So I was thinking, with the face paint. We could get some matching patterns with Rumi… who knows, maybe it will make her feel better.” Mira explains in her usual calm tone.

“That is a really sweet idea, and you want me to paint us?” You ask, already smiling at the image of that. “Well yeah, you’re the best at painting out of all of us.” Zoey interjects. “Skin is a little different than a canvas.” You counter. “But, that is a really good idea. Let’s do it.”

—

“Zoey... sit still,” you say softly, focusing intently on the purple line you are painting just under her ribcage. “It's so cold,” she shivers, trying to keep still despite it. “Can’t you, like, warm up the paint?” Zoey asks, looking down at you. “I don’t think it works like that Zo, but I'm so close to being done.” You say, finishing up a line that stretches from her hip near the center of her stomach. “There,” you declare, pulling away as Zoey pulls out her phone to check out the paint job. “Wow… it is so pretty!” Zoey exclaims, looking down at herself, turning her arms to look at all the winding lines.

“Okay, my turn,” Mira declares as she scoots close to you. Before you started, both of them put on shorts and a cropped shirt, so it was much easier. You dip the brush back into the purple, starting a line curling around Mira's forearm. Zoey settles next to both of you, watching as you work. “It does feel weird; I kinda like it,” Mira chuckles to herself. “I don’t know, it's like relaxing, like a weird spa treatment,” Mira sighs as you finish a pattern near her wrist. You continue moving down to her torso, focused on the direction of the brush strokes.

“Do you think Rumi will actually like this?”

Zoey asks, maybe second-guessing as she gestures to herself. You stop painting to look up at Mira. “I'm not sure, Zoey... I mean, I think she's going to be shocked to find all three of us covered in paint,” you say, turning over the paintbrush in your fingers. “I think that even if she finds it weird… She will still enjoy the sentiment,” you shrug. “If not, we're all going to have a shower,” Mira jokes, breaking the tension.

Zoey chimes in, “I have a perfect turtle video if this doesn't work.” All three of you giggle together. "What's this one about?” you ask, turning back to Mira to continue the pattern. “It's so cute! The turtle is eating a watermelon!” Zoey exclaims, pulling it up to show the both of you. It is rather adorable. After a few more minutes and a dozen more lines on Mira, she is done as well.

“Okay, perfect. Who wants to paint me?” You ask, holding out the paintbrush for either of them to take. “I have steadier hands,” Mira says as she takes the brush from your hand. She sits in front of you. You jump a little when she starts. “Oh! Yeah, you’re right, Zoey, it is cold.” You shiver slightly. “See! I told you. We should have used warm water.” Zoey says.

“Just sit still, please,” Mira says, her gaze focused on the brush. You relax, sitting back on your heels. Mira paints your arms and torso with a smooth precision. “It looks really good, Mir,” Zoey praises, peeking over her shoulder. “Thanks, pretty good for my first time, right?” Mira finishes her last stroke on the front of your calf.

You stand up, walking over to the mirror, both of them following behind you. “Honestly… I like it.” You say, turning around to look at all the markings. “I agree, purple is definitely not just Rumi’s colour.” The three of your eyes snap over to the sound of the elevator ding.

Rumi enters as the doors open, eyes not meeting you guys yet. “Hi guys, you won’t believe what I got—Oh?... What's going on… Why are you guys covered in paint?” Rumi questions, tilting her head as she steps further into the living room. “Surprise!” All three of you exclaim, standing a little awkwardly in front of the couch. “Is this what happens when I leave you three alone?” Rumi steps much closer, as she notices what the paint actually is. She goes a little silent, her expression unreadable.

It's you who first speaks up. “We just. We want you to know that we love you, Rumi. You’ve been hiding your patterns for so long, and we… Well actually it was Mira's idea. She thought if we all had some marks…you'd be less ashamed of yours.” You explain slowly. All three of you wait for some type of response before Rumi wipes her eyes, a little tear rolling down her cheek. The three of you instantly pull her into a hug. “Sorry, Rumi, we didn’t mean to make you cry.” Zoey coos, resting her head on her shoulder. Rumi sniffles, “No. No, it's okay… It's just so sweet… You guys would do this for me.” Rumi softens into your guys's embrace.

The four of you all stand in an embrace. After a few minutes of happy tears and soft giggles. Rumi finally wipes her final tears and smiles. “Thank you… I really love you guys…” Rumi sighs, pressing a little kiss to each of your temples. As the four of you pull out of the hug, Rumi's eyes wander over each of your arms and all the way down to your ankles. She reaches forward, grabbing Mira’s arm to turn it over in her grasp. “It does look pretty on you guys,” Rumi smiles. “Yours looks so pretty too.” Zoey grins, and Rumi blushes a little, suddenly embarrassed at the three pairs of eyes looking at her.

Rumi finally looks up before she quietly answers, “Thanks...” “Did you paint them?” Rumi asks, turning to look at yours as well. “Yeah, Zoey wouldn’t sit still,” you joke, shooting her a look. “You’re one to talk… You were complaining about the cold too,” Mira teases, poking you.

“Regardless... it’s a very nice sentiment." Rumi smiles fondly. “You guys are going to have to have a big shower later,” Rumi jokes, and her patterns glow a little pink, and Zoey coos, exclaiming, “Aww, I wish ours could do that too!” Rumi blushes, her eyes suddenly more interested in the floor. “That is really cute, Rumi.” You smile.

“Okay… okay, no more compliments…” Rumi shyly smiles as you all pull back into another hug. “So long as you know that we love you,” Mira adds. “I know… I love you guys too.” Rumi says, melting into the embrace.

[agustdsluv]

when it happened to me.

summary | you grew up next to him. you loved him before you knew what loving someone meant. and maybe that was the problem. there was no big fight. no betrayal. just distance. just time. now you see him in coffee shops, in dreams, in old texts you don’t open anymore. he hugs you now. he didn’t used to do that. and that’s what hurts the most.

“the world ended when it happened to me”

inspired by Sydney Rose’s “we hug now”

paring | jungkook x f!reader

genre/warnings | best friends to lovers to strangers (maybe back to lovers) (maybe second chance later on?) angst, soft heartbreak, emotional whiplash, themes of loss, unresolved feelings, nostalgic imagery, mention of drinking and smoking, quiet grief, they both need to figure they’re feelings out, time skip, distance, and just heartbreak

word count | 3.8K

notes: I love a good heartbreak song, especially when it gets me in my feelings and I just get so much nostalgia and it just puts me in that phase where I want to write something out of it and so that’s what I did here. I know this is technically a friendship break up song, but then I got an idea out of it and that’s why l made them friends first and then lovers to strangers just to see where that went. This was supposed to be a one shot, but then I started writing more and more and so then this turned into a three part one shot so I might post more of it later. There’s a Jungkook point of view that’s coming for the second part and then the third part is just something that I’m working on at the moment but you’ll see how it goes and I’ll definitely posted it today. I don’t want you guys to wait to read all three parts so I’m going to try to post all three parts tonight and try to edit them as fast as I can and then tomorrow I’ll post the first chapter of the grudge.

MAIN M.LIST

part 1. | part 2. | part 3.

You don’t see stars here—just city lights.

They blink in a thousand different colors: red and gold and neon blue, casting their flickering reflections across car hoods and high-rise windows. The night never fully darkens in Seoul—it just shifts from day-bright chaos to the soft, constant hum of artificial light. Even in the dead of night, the streets pulse with movement. There’s always a cab rushing somewhere. A group of college students laughing too loudly. A distant siren wailing like it’s calling for something it can’t quite reach.

The air in Seoul is always buzzing, glowing, alive with the energy of ten thousand people chasing something. Dreams. Deadlines. Connection. Escape.

Y/N used to love it. The noise, the motion, the promise tucked into every subway tunnel and corner café. She used to feel like she belonged to this current, like she was moving forward with everyone else.

Now she mostly walks with her head down, her AirPods in, blocking out the city with music that reminds her of somewhere else.

Somewhere quieter.

Somewhere like Busan.

Where the skies opened wide at night. Where the stars didn’t have to compete with street lamps. Where the ocean’s breath hummed against the sand, and nothing ever felt quite as urgent. Where her memories lived in weathered rooftops and cracked sidewalks and the slow rhythm of a neighborhood that knew her name.

Somewhere like home.

Somewhere like the night she was seventeen and fell in love with her best friend.

She can still feel it sometimes. Not the moment exactly, but the feeling—like something in her cracked open and filled with light. It hadn’t been sudden. It had been growing all along. In every lazy bike ride. Every shared soda. Every time their shoulders brushed and neither of them moved away.

And then one night, it bloomed.

And then one day, it ended.

She walks a little faster now. The crosswalk light blinks green. The buildings glow above her like constellations made of glass and steel, but she doesn’t look up.

There are no stars here.

And she doesn’t want to be reminded of the ones she used to wish on.

Jungkook had always lived four houses down. Always barefoot in the summer, shirtless, tossing water balloons and skateboarding down their street like it belonged to him. And maybe it did.

He was the kind of boy the neighborhood revolved around. The kind of boy who made even the hottest August days feel like an adventure. He climbed rooftops like they were jungle gyms. He knew every shortcut through the woods, every hiding spot during flashlight tag, every crack in the sidewalk that could trip you up if you weren’t careful.

He was loud laughter at golden hour. Sticky popsicle fingers. A flicked water bottle cap hitting her knee. He was home, in the most reckless, sun-drenched form.

Maybe that’s why it hurt so much when he left it behind without looking back.

Because the street never felt the same after him. Quieter. Smaller. Like someone turned the volume down on her whole world.

Back then, everything was infinite. The sidewalks. The sleepovers. The late-night texts about absolutely nothing. He was the one constant in a world that kept shifting beneath her feet.

And she had clung to that. To him. Even when everything else—college decisions, graduation parties, the ache of growing up too fast—started tugging them in opposite directions.

Until the kiss.

Until she kissed him, or he kissed her—maybe it was both—and everything that had felt so safe suddenly wasn’t.

It happened on his front porch. The paint was chipped on the railing, the porch light flickering, and the cicadas were screaming loud enough to feel eternal. They had just walked home from someone’s backyard party, giggling and stumbling slightly, the kind of drunk that makes you feel invincible and weightless.

They sat shoulder to shoulder on the steps, the warmth between them more electric than the humid air.

A silence settled.

Not uncomfortable—just charged.

She could feel her heartbeat in her throat. Could see the outline of his jaw in the yellow porch light. He was twirling the cap of his drink between his fingers, but his knee kept bouncing like he had something to say and didn’t know how.

So she said it with her eyes.

So did he.

They kissed on his front porch the night before graduation, half-drunk off convenience store soju and the kind of hope you only have when you’re seventeen. He tasted like salt and citrus. His hands shook. And when she pulled away, blinking against the blur of her own breathless thoughts, he said:

“What now?”

And she said, “I don’t know.”

And that was the beginning of the end.

Because no matter how long they sat there afterward—hands nearly touching again, cheeks flushed, trying to laugh it off like it didn’t change everything—they both knew it had.

There was a line now. A crack in the foundation.

Something delicate had been broken, even if neither of them wanted to admit it.

And by the time morning came, and the world was dressed up in caps and gowns and cheap leis and big, glittery dreams—

They were already drifting.

Y/N gets coffee in Canton.

The place hasn’t changed much—same chipped counter, same dusty chalkboard with outdated seasonal drinks. The peppermint mocha special is still written in faded red marker, even though it’s mid-July. The ceiling fans creak faintly, turning just enough to stir the warm air. The booth cushions are still lopsided, like someone sat in the same spot too many times and left a memory behind.

She orders her usual and takes a seat by the window because the barista said it’d be ten minutes, even though she could see they weren’t that busy.

Outside, the street is slow. A dog tied to a bike rack barks once, then settles. A mother pushes a stroller past the flower shop. It’s quiet in that small-town way—familiar, almost tender, like everything here still remembers her, even if she tried to forget it all.

She doesn’t realize she’s bouncing her leg until she sees it. She still does that when she’s nervous.

She’s wearing the jacket she always wears when she comes back here—light, soft, a little frayed at the sleeves. Her fingers toy with the hem. She checks her phone even though no one’s texting. It’s been years since they last saw each other, and now she’s trying to remember how she used to look at him without it showing on her face.

The door jingles.

Jungkook walks in wearing a black hoodie, hood up, like he could hide. But of course she notices him instantly. Her stomach drops. It’s like a time loop. Like no time has passed at all.

He looks older—but not in the obvious ways. There’s something quieter about him now. Less spark, more gravity. His jaw’s sharper, his hair a little longer than she remembers. There are shadows under his eyes that weren’t there before, or maybe she just didn’t notice them back then.

“Y/N,” he says with a half-smile.

“Jungkook.”

His name tastes like memory. Like bike rides and bonfires and bare feet on gravel.

He sits across from her. They don’t hug.

They never used to hug.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says.

“You’re only five minutes late.”

It’s small talk, but it lands heavy between them. He glances down at the table. She notices the ring of condensation his coffee leaves behind. He notices the way she avoids his eyes when she sips her drink.

“You look different.”

“So do you.”

There’s a silence then, taut and fragile. The kind of silence where everything unsaid waits just under the surface, ready to pull them under.

They talk. They pretend like it’s casual. Like they didn’t spend half their lives orbiting each other. He fidgets with the edge of his coffee sleeve and laughs too hard at things she says. She pretends it doesn’t feel like a funeral in her chest.

He tells her about his apartment in Seoul. She tells him about grad school. They nod in the right places. Smile at all the wrong times. Every word feels like it’s standing in for a hundred more they’re too afraid to say.

The barista calls out someone else’s name. A chair scrapes across the floor. A door slams outside. And through it all, she keeps glancing at the clock on the wall, wishing time would either stop or speed up—anything but this dragging in-between.

And when they leave, they hug.

A short, stiff hug that’s over before she can remember what it used to feel like.

And that’s what breaks her most.

Not the hug itself. Not even the silence afterward.

But the way it makes her realize—this is what they’ve become.

Two people who used to share everything. Now sharing a hug like strangers.

And neither of them says, Let’s not wait so long next time.

Because maybe they both know—

There won’t be a next time.

Sometimes she goes to sleep and she’s still seventeen.

Seventeen, when the world was golden and wide and full of promise. When time moved slower, like honey in the summer heat, and everything important could be carried in the back pocket of a pair of ripped jeans.

Still wearing that thrifted dress she wore to their last summer bonfire. The one with the fraying hem and tiny daisy print, clinging to her skin in the humid air. It smelled like sunscreen and smoke by the end of the night. She loved how he looked at her in it—not like she was someone he knew, but someone he was still learning how to love.

Still watching him dance with a sparkler in his hand like a firefly come to life. His laughter echoing under the stars. His silhouette framed by the glow of firelight and youth. The sparkler hissed and popped in his hand as he spun in loose circles, daring her to join him. He always did that—made life feel like a dare worth taking.

Still hearing the sound of his voice in the dark when he said, “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“That no matter what happens next, we’ll always be us.”

She promised.

They broke it.

And it hadn’t been a sharp, sudden break—it had been slow. Like a rope fraying thread by thread until there was nothing left to hold. She wonders sometimes if he remembers making that promise. If he ever thinks about how long she tried to keep it after he stopped trying.

Now he lives in another city. He models. He sings. He laughs in videos and flirts in comments and gets recognized in public.

He shines there.

Bigger. Brighter. Like he was always meant to leave this version of himself behind.

She stays small. Studies literature. Works part-time at a bookstore. Writes poems she never posts. Thinks of him when she sees the moon through cracks in the smog.

And sometimes when her apartment gets too quiet and the poems won’t come and the sky is too gray to pretend, she’ll open their old texts—not to read them, just to scroll. Just to feel the weight of his name in her hand again. Just to remember what it felt like to be seventeen and so sure that someone would never leave.

She closes her eyes.

And in the place where sleep and memory blur, she’s there again—on that beach, in that dress, chasing a boy with a sparkler and a heart she didn’t know she’d lose.

Every day after May felt like aftermath.

It was the kind of quiet grief no one prepared her for—drawn out and shapeless, like waking up in a house you no longer recognize. There was no date she could circle on a calendar, no moment she could point to and say, That’s when we ended. Just the slow, agonizing fade of something once electric, now flickering out in silence.

It wasn’t one big fight. No screaming. No cheating.

Just… distance.

A breath between them that kept stretching.

One skipped reply became two. One missed call became a habit. She started rereading old messages just to remember what it felt like when he used to call her first, when her name on his phone meant something more than obligation.

He got busy.

She got scared.

Too scared to ask if she was still important. Too proud to say, I miss you, in case he didn’t say it back. She told herself not to be needy. Not to take it personally. He had a new life now, and she was supposed to be happy for him. That’s what you do when you love someone—cheer from the sidelines even when you’re no longer in the game.

Texts slowed. Calls missed. “Sorry, I’ll call tomorrow” became “next week.” Until eventually, there was nothing at all.

No goodbye.

No closure.

Just the sound of the wind where his voice used to be.

And that silence? It screamed louder than anything ever could.

It filled the spaces where their inside jokes used to live. Where his hoodie still hung behind her bedroom door. Where her heart kept reaching for a version of him that stopped reaching back.

She never told him everything she wanted. How no one else has come close. How every guy she’s met since has only made her miss him more. How she still looks at old photos when she’s drunk, just to remember what it felt like to be loved without needing to ask for it.

Like that one picture of them on the pier—her leaning into his side, his sunglasses pushed up on his head, both of them laughing mid-blink. It wasn’t posed. It wasn’t perfect. But it felt like them.

And sometimes, that’s the one that ruins her the most.

But she doesn’t tell him that now.

Because they hug now.

And they don’t talk about the past.

They smile in the right places. Ask about work. Mention mutual friends like it doesn’t sting. They act like they don’t remember everything—the secrets, the softness, the promises they whispered in the dark.

And maybe he doesn’t.

But she does.

She always will.

In her dreams, he’s not mad at her.

He smiles like he used to. Calls her “bug,” the nickname he gave her after she cried about a spider in the shower freshman year. In the dream, they’re seventeen again—feet in the pool, grape soda between them, moonlight painting silver on their skin. Everything is soft in that space. Easy. Like they never broke. Like they never learned how love can curdle into silence.

In real life, she doesn’t know if he even remembers what they had. He’s always polite when she runs into him during visits home. Cordial. Friendly. Like someone she once sat next to on a plane, not someone she once planned a future with.

He’ll nod, ask how her parents are. Compliment her hair if it’s changed. Make small talk like they don’t both remember how her voice cracked the night she told him she didn’t want to lose him.

It’s mechanical, almost. A routine.

He’s good at moving on.

She’s still practicing.

She thinks of texting him sometimes.

When she hears their song on shuffle. When she walks past a boy wearing a hoodie just like his. When she orders two drinks out of habit and realizes the second one has no one to belong to.

To say: “Do you ever think about it?”

To ask: “Was I the only one who felt like it meant everything?”

She types it out once at 2:17 a.m. The message sits there, blinking on her screen like it’s daring her. She stares at it until the battery icon turns red, then presses delete like it’ll erase the ache too.

But she doesn’t.

Because she knows he probably thinks it was just a small thing that happened.

A blip. A phase. A chapter.

A teenage crush, easy to outgrow.

But for her?

The world ended when it happened.

It was the unraveling of something sacred. The moment time split into before and after. She didn’t just lose a boyfriend. She lost her favorite laugh. Her late-night ride home. Her forever.

And sometimes, in the quietest hours—when even the city noise goes still—she still mourns the version of her that only ever existed when she was loved by him.

It’s raining the last time she sees him.

It’s not dramatic. No lightning. No grand confrontation. Just a quiet drizzle and the smell of petrichor clinging to the sidewalk.

They run into each other outside a 7-Eleven.

She’s just come from the bookstore around the corner, carrying a paper bag with a half-eaten sandwich and a dog-eared paperback she didn’t technically need. Her hair is damp at the ends, frizzing the way it always does when the air is thick with rain. Her hoodie is too thin for this weather, but she hadn’t expected to be out this long.

“Hey,” he says, pushing his hair out of his face. His voice is a little hoarse. Maybe from the smoke. Maybe from everything else.

“Hey,” she replies, pulling her hoodie tighter. Her voice is steadier than she feels.

“You look good.”

She huffs a soft, breathy laugh “You too.”

It’s not a compliment, not really. It’s a placeholder. A safe thing to say. Like checking the weather or asking about traffic. And yet, it still makes something sharp twist behind her ribs.

There’s a pause. The kind that stretches too long and says too much.

The rain is light but constant, like a background track that drowns out everything else—the cars passing, the neon signs buzzing, the faint music spilling from the convenience store’s open door.

“I saw your poem in that magazine,” he says after a moment, tipping the cigarette ash onto the pavement. “The one about the porch light.”

She freezes just slightly, grip tightening around her bag.

“Oh.”

“I knew it was about me.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He’s not smiling when he says it, but he’s not smug either. Just matter-of-fact, like he’s always known, and maybe didn’t know what to do with that knowledge.

Her lips part like she might say something—deny it, explain it, apologize—but nothing comes out. The truth is, she doesn’t even remember submitting it. It had been late, some night in March, when the world felt especially quiet and she’d run out of things to hold onto.

Another pause.

He doesn’t fill it this time. He just looks at her. Really looks.

Her face has changed—he can tell. Not in any huge, obvious way. But her eyes are different. Tired, maybe. Guarded. There’s a maturity in the way she stands, in the way she doesn’t rush to speak just to fill the silence. She used to hate awkward pauses.

Now she seems to live inside one.

“You okay?” he asks.

And the question lands heavier than it should.

She almost says no. Almost says I’m still stuck here, Jungkook. Still seventeen when I dream. Still waiting for you to say it mattered. Still waking up with that ache in my chest that no one else has been able to reach. She almost tells him that she sometimes checks his Instagram just to hear his voice again, even if it’s through a screen. That she once walked past his old house and cried on the curb for twenty minutes because the porch light was off.

But she doesn’t.

Because what would that change?

Because time doesn’t rewind.

Because they’re strangers now who happen to share a handful of memories and one too-honest poem.

So she just smiles.

“I’m good.”

And they hug.

It’s the first real hug they’ve shared since it ended. The first one that isn’t born out of obligation or politeness or awkward nostalgia. It’s warm. It’s tentative. It lingers.

And this time, she lets herself hold on just a second longer.

Just enough to remember what it felt like to be sure of someone. To be known.

His hands rest on her back like he remembers the shape of her. And for one second—just one—he pulls her in like maybe he doesn’t want to let go either.

But then he does.

They both do.

And he steps back, clearing his throat. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“You too.”

He drops the cigarette. Crushes it under his shoe. Nods once.

And then he walks away.

She stands there for a long time, unmoving, the rain curling at the edges of her sleeves.

Because even if he forgot what it meant—

She didn’t.

Months later, someone asks her who her first love was.

It’s a quiet evening. One of those slow, stretched-out nights where conversations spill past midnight and everything feels softer, closer. There’s music playing low from someone’s speaker—some indie song she doesn’t recognize, but it sounds like something she would’ve loved back then.

She’s sitting cross-legged on a friend’s floor, a warm mug of tea in her hands, surrounded by people she’s grown to know in this newer chapter of her life. Friends who know the current version of her, the one who moved cities and got older and learned to carry her heartbreak with a kind of grace.

They’re trading stories. About exes. About first kisses. About the people who ruined them and the ones who shaped them.

And then someone turns to her.

“What about you?” they ask. “Who was your first?”

She doesn’t say his name.

She thinks it, though.

Feels it like muscle memory in her chest.

Like the ghost of a hand holding hers under a blanket fort. Like summer sweat and porch light moths and the thrum of his heartbeat in a quiet car. Like all the things that felt permanent until they weren’t.

She just says, “We grew up together. Fell in love. Grew apart. It’s the kind of thing that feels huge when you’re in it. Like the end of the world.”

The room gets quiet for a beat, like they can feel the weight of it. Like they can hear the part she’s not saying out loud—the way it didn’t just feel huge. It was.

“Was it?” they ask.

And she smiles, sad and sweet and soft.

“It was when it happened to me.”

She doesn’t elaborate. Doesn’t explain the ache that lingered in her for years. Doesn’t say how long she waited for closure that never came. Or how she still dreams about him sometimes—always seventeen, always that last night before it all unraveled.

She sips her tea. The room moves on. Laughter picks back up, the moment slipping gently back into the haze of the night.

But for just a second, she feels seventeen again.

And she lets herself miss him.

Just for a moment.

Just enough to remember he was real.

[deputy-videogamer]

Tricky as a Fox Pt 1

A/N: I'm not immune to the K-pop Demon Hunters hype. Who would've thought this is what would bring me back to writing? For those curious, More on reader and her backstory will be revealed in the next chapter. However, know that her past involves Gwi Ma.

Synopsis: While the Saja Boys are busy trying to steal souls and break the Honmon, and Huntr/x /x is busy trying to seal the Honmon and stop the Saja Boys' goals, unaware of the two groups, there is a new K-pop group that doesn't mind taking the spotlight from them.

Let's welcome the new girl group Ghulz!

Dividers belong to @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

For anyone who can't access the pics here, a separate post

"Okay, this is all the remaining fabric that I need, that Kali told me to pick up." You checked as you exited the fabric store.

Your group leader, Kali, wanted you to pick up some extra fabric after realizing she won't have enough to finish up your guys' debut costumes. Your other group mates, Noami and CJ, were discussing with your manager, Ji-ah, and Izumi would be helping Kali finalize the outfits, leaving you with the open spot.

After texting Kali about getting the supplies, you decide to go to the main square to treat the girls with some Boba and snacks. Turning around the corner, a pink fog appeared at the center of the street as upbeat music filled the plaza. Peaking your curiosity, you headed towards the center of the plaza, where a crowd was slowly forming.

Hey, hey

Hey, hey

Hey

5 handsome men emerged from the fog with the black hair man leading the chorus as his group mates followed.

Don't want you, need you

Yeah, I need you to fill me up

마시고 마셔 봐도

성에 차지 않아

Another boy band group? Strange you didn't hear about any new boy group that was debuting soon.

Got a feeling that, oh, yeah (Yeah)

You could be everything that

That I need (Need), taste so sweet (Sweet)

Every sip makes me want more, yeah

You watched as an Ajumma ran up to the main singer but was repelled by a hip thrust sending her back to two other Ajummas. You couldn't help but laugh at the scene wanting to see this new boy band next move.

Lookin' like snacks 'cause you got it like that (Woo)

Take a big bite, want another bite, yeah

너의 모든 걸 난 원해, 원해, 원해

너 말곤 모두 뻔해, 뻔해, 뻔해

The screen behind them aired a close up of the lead singer drinking from a pouch as the Ajummas admired the young man. You started to notice that the crowd was getting bigger the more the song continue.

When you're in my arms, I hold you so tight (So tight)

Can't let go, no, no, not tonight

지금 당장 날 봐 시간 없잖아

넌 내꺼야 이미 알고 있잖아

'Cause I need you to need me

I'm empty, you feed me so refreshing

My little soda pop

You were not immune to listening to the song as you started bobbing your shoulders to the beat. After this, you should introduce the song to the girls you were sure you would enjoy this new song.

Two of the boys blew literally hearts into the crowd hitting right in the face of two women. You winced when you heard how loud the smack was. Watching the group perform you caught a glimpse of patterns and golden eyes appeared, then disappeared.

Oh, well, that explains that. It was a demon boy band.

You take back what you said earlier you AREN'T going to share the song with the girls

This Demon Boy Band was NOT going to outshine your group's work; their performance alone has already gained this much attention. It's only a matter of time before they go viral.

Stepping away from the crowd. You headed back to your guys' shared home.

"Welcome back! You got the materials like Kali asked?" Naomi greeted you as she fried some Lumpia.

"Yep. All here." You set down fabrics the table, grabbing a freshly fried Lumpia from the bowl and joined the conch with the other girlies.

CJ and Izumi were playing Mario Cart against each other while Kali watched and munch on the snacks on the table.

"Scorekeeper. Who is leading?" You asked Kali.

"CJ is in the lead by one point. If Izumi wins this round the score will be tied and we will have to go to overtime." Kali explained in a sport announcer voice before returning to normal. "I'm betting CJ. She's dangerous with those Blue Shell."

"Speaking of Blue Shell. There's one honing onto Izumi now."

True to your word, CJ launched a Blue Shell towards Izumi's avatar, causing the avatar to stop midway in the race, then continuing. True to Kali's prediction, CJ ended up winning the race, leaving Izumi pouting at her loss as the winner does her little victory dance.

This would've been a good way to end the day if it wasn't for want you saw earlier.

"If I asked you guys to move the debut date later, will you guys be mad?"

CJ victory dance was cut short as the three girls looked at you like you have grown a second head.

"You're joking, right?" CJ spoke.

"You better have a good reason why." Izumi glared at you.

Pulling up your phone, you searched for the song from the Demon boy band and handed your phone to the trio. The song from earlier filled the entire room, and from the corner of your eyes, you could see Naomi bobbing her shoulders to the beat.

"Oh, they are good. I can see this becoming viral." Kali praised, looking up from the screen, she looked back at you. "Is this why you want the debut late?"

You nodded. As much as it would be more work on everyone's end to change schedules and switch everything tonight, with a song like this and a boy band being revealed, they will only outshine your group debut tomorrow.

"She's got a point, the song is already rising in popularity. There is no way we can outshine their song." Kali agreed as she gave back your phone.

"Then what? Are we just gonna wait for months until their hype dies down?" Izumi argued. A valid point she made.

Your group trained for almost 3 years before Selena gave your group the green light to debut. Now, with the Saja Boys' appearance, it could be months before you guys can debut again. An unfair outcome, but expected.

"But maybe we don't have to wait for months." CJ pointed out. "Saja Boys' main competition is Huntr/x, right? While these groups are battling each other for the top, we'll debut when they least expect."

CJ's has a point Huntr/x is still the most popular group, towering over Twice's popularity. If Saja Boys' popularity keeps growing as expected, that means Huntr/x will be so focused on trying to get the fans back.

"That's a good suggestion, but we are up against Golden and Soda Pop. What song could beat those two?" Naomi joined the four of you as she placed down the bowl of Lumpia.

There was a moment of reconsideration. It was no lie that Golden and now Soda Pop will be the biggest hits, and your guys' debut song is nowhere near that level of recognition. A wave of doubt developed between the four of you guys except for Kai

"CJ, how's that other song you wrote?"

CJ looked at her in confusion. "Almost done. I should be done in a day or two. Why you asked- Oh, I see where you are going with."

You and the other girls realized what Kali was playing at.

"Are you serious!?/Kali, really?!/No way!"

"C'mon, girls. The debut song is good, but it won't be as popular as the others. We can perform it some other day."

The song that Kali was referring to was a side project that CJ has been working on. All of you agreed that this should be the 2nd song to perform after the debut song. However, that was no longer an option.

"We are talking about choreography, instrumental, and new outfits! We won't have enough time," Izumi argued.

"We can just use the outfits that I've been making."

"What about the instrumental? There is no way we can have a new instrumental!" Naomi counterargue.

"Are you really doubting CJ's skills? Has she ever let you down on making an instrumental, especially on short notice?"

"No."

"And the choreography?" You eyed Kali. You never doubt your leader's judgment. What she has is a good plan, but on such short notice, there will be problems and setbacks.

"How have you ever not come up with a new choreography?" Kali challenges you.

The other girls knew what that meant. A stare down. As much as Kali plans everything, you were always the final hurdle if she wanted her plans to move forward, and that's usually a 50/50 chance, which the girls knew better than to interfere.

The stare down lasted for about 25 minutes until you finally spoke up.

"Are you sure we can pull this off? We never done something so fast and soon."

Kali only smiled and got up from her place to your side. "Hey, we made it this far. There's no way we are going to sit back and watch the fans us."

"She's not wrong." Izumi agreed as she and the other girls followed Kali's actions. "As much as it pains me to do something so quick. Are we really going to watch these guys beat us?"

"I rather hear my mom's lectures than being the group who got outshine by another group." Naomi added.

The reassurance of the other girls made you believe you guys can actually pull it off on such short notice....by a little bit. The real challenges have not yet started, but here you guys are now ready to face what this challenge will throw at you.

"Naomi, see what you can do with Ji-ah about changing the debut song and the date."

The girls cheered as soon as they heard the words that they wanted to hear from your mouth.

"Great! Let's make this a performance that no one will forget about us!"

Reaching down for the bowl, Kali didn't feel any of the fried treats; she only grasped the air. "You guys ate all the Lumpia?!"

"You guys stared at each other for 25 minutes! We're hungry!"

The discussion of the group's debut was no longer the topic and has now been replaced with lighthearted aggression. Right now is a time for a playful atmosphere where you and the girls will have no cares in the world.

"Okay, you girls are ready? Need any drinks, snacks, or gum? No one will hate you if you decide to ditch. We can always due this on a later date." The group's manager, Ji-ah, rambled, acting like a frantic mother hen.

"We're fine, Selena. We got this." Kali reassured her that she was all dressed in her debut outfit

It's been a week since the discussions. Selena was hesitant at first to push your debut on a later date, but after a long discussion and tons of convincing, she agreed; only if she could pick the spot to perform.

Which is where everyone was right now. A small, busy metropolitan street. Not the most interesting place to perform, but Selena said that it would fit the vibes of the song, and in her words, 'the best performances are the ones the audience least expects.'

'The rest of the girls are in their designated areas like we planned. No one will expect a thing!"

"Great! Once I give out the signal, we'll start the performance." Kali gave Selena a quick hug. "Thanks a bunch, Ji-ah."

"Anything for my girls. Now go, everyone, what you girls are made of!"

While Kali and Ji-ah parted ways amidst the crowd, elsewhere in a dark alleyway hidden among the bright lights, two groups were battling each other. Literally.

Whether it was unfortunate timing or bad luck, the most popular girl group was in combat with the rising boy band in a cramped alleyway.

"Don't you girls have something better to do?" Abby asked in a bored tone, barely putting an effort into his dodges.

"This is us doing something better," Mira growled, swinging her spear.

"No." Baby groaned, dodging Zoey's knives. "This is stalking."

"Same thing!" Zoey yelled.

Before either group could make their next moves, the sounds of music were heard. Huntr/x hiding their weapons and the Saja Boys hiding their claws and patterns, both putting on their best idol-ready faces.

You know who it is

Coming ’round again

You want a dose of this right now it’s Ghulz uh!

Exiting out of the alleyway, the groups notice bystanders who were confused by the sudden music when a girl wearing a red and black outfit started rapping amidst the crowd.

Note: All outfits except for Kali, which I used for the girls, are what they are WEARING. The avatar I used is NOT what the girls look like. The picrews that I made are what the girls look like. The picrew I used is from Djarn picrew, this and this

I’m a goddess with a blade

소리쳐봐 내 이름 잊지 못하게

Loud loud loud loud

I could take it to the top

절대 멈추지 못해

내가 끝내주는

Bad gal gal gal

As she rapped, she started to walk toward the middle of the crowd as they parted for this rapper. As she finished her verse, another singer was heard not too far from Kali. It was you wearing a black outfit

And when I start to talk like that (like that)

Oh you won’t know how to react

I’m a picture perfect face

With that wild in my veins

You can hear it in my growl, growl, growl, growl

You appeared leaning next to the alley where Huntr/x and Saja Boys were fighting, then pushing yourself off and walking just ahead of them before turning to face them to put on your glasses. Towards the end of your verse, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand before disappearing into red smoke.

"Another demon group?" Rumi groaned with Zoey and Mira.

"One's already bad enough." Mira facepalmed as her hand slid down from her face.

Believing the group was part of Gwi-Ma's plan, the girls glared at the boys, only to meet with the boys being just as confused as they were.

A third singer could be heard near a shopping store. It was Izumi wearing a purple dress as she looked at her reflection, touching up her makeup.

So keep your eyes on me now

무엇을 보든 좋아할 거야

닿을 수 없는 level

나와 대결 원한 널 확신해

We gotta it all in our hands now

Turning around, she walked into the crowd. Right before she could get into the middle, she linked arms with CJ, who was hiding in the crowd wearing a mostly red outfit.

So can you handle what we’re all about

We’re so tough

Not scared to show you up

Can you feel the rush now?

The two girls laughed before heading right to the middle of the crowd, where Kali was waiting for them, then taking her side and starting to dance with CJ leading the chorus as the two girls followed.

Around everyone, the buildings and screens were filming every little move that the girls performed, showing everyone their performance, while in the shadows, Ji-ah was streaming the performance everywhere.

"This is new," Jinu commented, watching the trio perform.

"Are they another existing group, hyung?" Baby asked, intrigued by the girl's performance. "How come we never heard of them?"

"They must be new. We would've heard about them before..." Romance suggested. "But all of you feel that too, right? Something is off about them."

While Huntr/x couldn't determine whether the girls were demons or not, the Saja Boys had already caught onto what these girls were, but at the same time, they were used to the usual demon presence; the girls' presence was different.

(CJ) Ain't nobody bringing us

(Kali & Izumi) Down down down down down down

They could try but we’re gonna wear the crown

(CJ) You could go another round

(Kali & Izumi) Round round round round round round

Wish you luck but you’re not bringing us down

(CJ)We go hard till we get it get it

We go hard

We so in it in it

We POP/STARS

Only winning winning now

Ain’t nobody bringing us

(Kali & Izumi) Down down down down

Just then, all the lights were turned off, and they were replaced by neon-colored graffiti on the shops and billboards, as a voice echoed through the darkness.

Hey!

You ready for this?

(Let's go!)

On top of one of the stores, a bright neon person jumped down and started her form. The final member of Naomi.

In the dark, her once white and gray outfit became a bright neon outfit displaying hidden patterns and doodles. Right next to her, a red smoke appeared, revealing you with your glasses, glowing a bright red to match the scenery.

As Naomi rapped, you echoed the last words of her verse, striking a pose each time.

See 언제든지 내 모습 magic

단 한 번에 내가 잡어, 절대 기죽지 않지 uh!

Pow, pow 니가 뭘 알어? (알아)

견딜 수 없어, 원해도 (해도)

원하는 게 얼굴에 보여

I'm trouble and you're wanting it

I'm so cold (so cold)

When I move that way, you gon' be so blown (so blown)

I'm the realest in the game, uh!

Finishing her rap, it transitions back to you as you came up behind her and wrapped one arm around her while the other arm slowly caressed Naomi's head, then using one finger to tilt her head at the sentence.

Say I’m on fire with a blade

You’re about to hear my name

Ringing in your head like ohh

The two of you disappeared once again into the red smoke and appeared again right behind the rest of the girls as the song transitioned back to Izumi.

So keep your eyes on me now

무엇을 보든 좋아할 거야

We’re so tough

Not scared to show you up

Can you feel the rush now?

Towards the end, the girls went into position and started to do their choreography once again. Meanwhile, the two groups were eyeing the girls very closely for any patterns but found none.

"Are they just a regular girl group?" Zoey asked. "They look clean."

"That's impossible, one of them just teleported. She has to be a demon." Mira argued.

"Yet the way the Saja Boys reacted means she isn't with Gwi-Ma or with them." Rumi pointed out. "Who is she?"

Izumi led the pre-chorus, just as a thick fog had engulfed the entire area, blinding everyone's vision with only Izumi's voice as their source.

Ooh, mm, oh 난 멈추지 않아

Oh oh we go hard

Oh oh we POP/STARS, stars

Just as Izumi finished her verse, she stomped her foot, causing all the fog to disperse, replacing the area with the colors and tones of the girls' outfits.

(CJ) Ain't nobody bringing us

(ALL)Down down down down down down

They could try but we’re gonna wear the crown

(CJ) You could go another round

(ALL) Round round round round round round

Wish you luck but you’re not bringing us down

(CJ)We go hard till we get it get it

We go hard

We so in it in it

We POP/STARS

Only winning winning now

Ain’t nobody bringing us

(ALL) Down down down down

The girls finished their song as they each struck a pose; each girl held their hands up with their fingers clawed, with their poses matching their personality.

"Another girl group?"

"They're so good! Who are they?"

"Look, their outfits are so unique and gorgeous."

"Huntr/x, Saja Boys, and now this new girl group. It's a good day to be a fan."

The girls reverted to normal as they waved to their fans before Kali announced their group's presence.

"Hey, everyone! Sorry for this random but exciting interruption, but with two brand new songs and one of them is a bute song, we just had to jump in on the fun."

"That's right!" Izumi added as she hugged Kali from behind. "Huntr/x and Saja Boys are setting the bar high for new idol groups to debut, so we just HAD to debut as soon as possible to match their expectations."

"Hope this performance met everyone's expectations," CJ said, pleased.

"And if it doesn't, don't worry, there is more to come," Naomi added as you finish off

"Because Ghulz are here to stay~"

Emphasizing the last word, the groups noticed how the shadows were different from what was being projected that only they could see.

Behind your group were shadows displaying a mermaid, a winged creature that had its upper half separated lower half, and a bipedal fox creature with nine tails. The final two shadows were two humanoid figures: a humanoid figure that had its bones showing, and another humanoid figure that had pointed ears, wearing a pointed headpiece and armor.

'Who are these girls exactly?'

A/N: And that's the first chapter! Hope you guys enjoyed it, the next chapter will reveal what exactly the girls are if you haven't figured it out, but if you have any guesses, feel free to put down what you think which girl is what monster/creature.

[keeryhours]

we are never getting back together - chapter one

Masterlist Series Masterlist Tag Lists

Eddie Munson x ex wife!reader

Summary:

You drop your kids off with your ex husband, and think back on your life together.

Warnings:

Pregnancy, birth, drinking, drug use (weed), suggestive content, divorce

Word Count: 7k

A/N:

I’m so happy to be back and posting the first chapter of this series! I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much @feral4youu for all your help, ily ❤️

“It’s my weekend.”

You rolled your eyes over the phone. “I understand that, Eddie. Believe me, you’ve said it enough times. I’m just saying-“

“You’re trying to take 3 hours away from me.”

You had a headache coming on. You pressed your manicured fingers against your temple. “I’m not trying to take anything from you. You’re being difficult on purpose.”

“Then you should schedule your shit for your own time!”

“It’s a dentist appointment, and it’s the earliest day they had!” You threw your arm up in the air as you spoke, as if he could see you. “Do you even hear yourself right now? I’m not asking for fun, she needs to go to the dentist.”

“Why can’t I take her?”

“Uh, would you remember?” you scoffed.

“That was one time.”

“Sure,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Look, Ed. It’s kinda non-negotiable. She has to go. We can meet at 6 instead of 3.”

“Whatever.” Silence, nothing but the crackling of the phone line. “Okay. Whatever. I’ll see you at 6.”

Click.

You sighed, putting the phone back down on the receiver. Eddie could seriously be such a pain in the ass. No, scratch that, not could be - he was.

You didn’t always fight like this. At one point, you were just two high school students in love - puppy love, maybe. First love, lust at first sight, whatever you wanted to call it, you were head over heels for each other.

A positive pregnancy test at the beginning of your senior year, when you were 17 and Eddie was 19, threw everything off balance. Before, everyone knew you and Eddie would graduate and get married. They knew you were the kind of high school sweethearts that would lead to marriage - even if you didn’t make it in the end. But a pregnancy sped everything up - way too fast.

Your parents had been furious, of course. They never approved of Eddie in the first place, thinking he was beneath you. He lived in a trailer park, he wore thrifted clothes, he repeated his senior year twice and sold drugs in the clearing behind the school. You’d heard it all before.

It didn’t stop you from loving Eddie.

You found out you were pregnant on your own. By yourself, in the silence of your bathroom while home alone, you took the test, saw the results, and cried yourself to sleep on the tile floor. You just knew Eddie was gonna run. Your parents were gonna kick you out and Eddie was gonna run and your friends were gonna abandon you, you’d be having a baby all on your own, being a single mom, working to take care of a baby-

Your spiraling turned out to all be for nothing, because your parents didn’t kick you out and Eddie didn’t leave you. That didn’t mean the news was taken well, however.

You told Eddie after school, in the theater room before Hellfire. Eddie was surprised when he looked up at the sound of the door opening and saw you walking in. You weren’t usually interested in D&D, you thought Hellfire Club meetings were boring and hated having to wait for Eddie when campaign days and date nights lined up.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, a hint of confusion in his voice. “What’s up?”

“Can I talk to you?” You were getting straight to the point, wringing your hands together and avoiding eye contact. You crossed your arms, uncrossed them, then crossed them again.

“Now?” Eddie asked, looking around the room, at the table completely set up for the campaign. “The guys are gonna be here any second-“

“I know,” you said, looking down at your feet. You were losing your resolve. “I just- it needs to be now. I need to talk to you now.”

“Is everything okay?” He pulled out a chair for you, then sat on the edge of his throne, leaning forward on his knees. “You’re freaking me out.”

“Yeah, well.” You let out a long breath. “Not really. I, uh…I have something I need to tell you.”

“Okay, now you’re really freaking me out,” he said. His eyebrows drew together, looking at you with obvious concern.

“It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” you said, looking around. “Why are there no windows in here?”

Eddie looked around, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s just…” You were sweating, avoiding eye contact. “It’s hot in here, is all.”

“I…feel like you’re stalling,” Eddie said, focusing back on you. You couldn’t escape his attention now. “Just tell me what’s going on, please.”

You looked down at your trembling hands. “Eddie, I…” It felt like you were trying to make yourself as small as possible, shrinking under Eddie’s gaze. You knew nothing would be the same after you said your next words. “I’m pregnant.”

It felt like time had stopped. Eddie’s throat closed up as panic set in - his skin felt ice cold. Then, he let out a heavy sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I- how? How could this fucking happen?” he asked. He rubbed his palm over his chest, as if he were physically pained. “How- when?”

“I just found out a couple days ago,” you said. You wanted to run, hide, as far away from this conversation and reality as possible. This wasn’t going well, you could already feel it. “I think I’m like- like 6 weeks, or something. I think it was…that night in your van.”

You could see Eddie mentally going back, thinking back to that night, replaying every second of it in his head. When the sickening realization passed over his face, you could see it. “We didn’t use a condom.”

“Yeah.” You couldn’t hold eye contact with him, not even for a second. Pushing some of your hair behind your ear, you continued. “I don’t…I don’t know what to do, Eddie.”

“Yeah, me fucking either,” he scoffed. He crossed his arms over his stomach, hunching over, like he might be sick. You knew what was running through his head, because it was the same thing that had been in yours. I’m a fucking idiot. I’ve ruined my life. I’ve ruined both of our lives. I’ve ruined everything. His body felt heavy.

“Are you…” You swallowed. “Are you going to stick around?”

Eddie’s eyes snapped up to your face. “Of course I am. I’m not gonna leave you on your own.”

You nodded. That was good. This wasn’t going quite as badly as you’d feared. “What are we going to do?”

“I just said I don’t fucking know!” Eddie snapped, throwing his arms out wide. He slammed his fist on the table, knocking over a bunch of figurines, and you flinched - you hadn’t been expecting it. You could see the instant regret on his face. 

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I didn’t mean to lose control like that,” he said. He tried to rein in his emotions, desperately trying not to take out his fear and anger on you. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said quietly.

“It’s not,” he said. “You’re going through this too. How…how do you feel?”

A strangled sounding laugh tumbled from your lips. “Just great.”

“I’m being serious,” Eddie said. “I mean, this is…this is…”

“A total disaster?” you supplied. Eddie nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. I know.”

“Have you thought about it?” he asked. “What you want to do?”

“Like if I want to…keep it?”

Eddie nodded. He clenched his jaw, preparing for your response.

You nodded your head quickly. “Yeah. I mean, that’s the only thing I do know. I don’t think I can get rid of it. I mean…it’s ours.”

He dropped his head forward. He was hunched over, buried into himself. He cursed under his breath - he knew you and he knew you’d say that, but he had still been hoping for something different. For you to say you wanted an abortion - that’s what Eddie would have chosen. He felt like he couldn’t draw enough air into his lungs.

His mind immediately jumped to the future - what that would look like. He pictured his life over, no more fun, no more D&D or Corroded Coffin or weed or anything. Dead end job he hates just to take care of the baby. His relationship with you taking a nosedive. He stretched his hands out wide and balled them into fists, over and over.

“It’s fine, it’s gonna be fine,” you said, mostly to yourself. “We’re gonna be okay. Everything is gonna be alright.”

“Should we…” he began, but startled you when he abruptly stood, the throne scraping loudly against the floor as it was pushed back. He started pacing, back and forth in front of you as he raked his hands through his curls. “I don’t know, do we have to…should we get married?”

Your mouth fell open, staring at Eddie incredulously. Had he really just suggested you get married? “Do you…want to marry me?”

“Of course I do,” he said easily. “I just…I imagined it being in the future, y’know? Not right now. It’s not…we’re not ready. We haven’t even lived yet, you know?”

“I know.”

“But…the, uh…” Eddie stopped moving, cleared his throat. “The baby. Should we get married for the baby?”

You turned his words over in your mind. You knew it would be best for the baby if you were together. But did you really want Eddie to marry you only because he felt like he had to? “I mean,” you started, “we could. But we don’t…if you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”

“Yeah, but baby,” he said, coming back over to sit in front of you again. “You know how people are gonna talk. I don’t care, I’m used to it. But I know you care.”

It was true. You weren’t particularly concerned with popularity and social hierarchy, but you did care what people said about you. You didn’t want to be talked about like trash all over town. And that’s exactly what would happen. “People are gonna say all kinds of shit.”

“Yeah. They are.” Eddie looked at you. “But that’s why we’re gonna go to the courthouse and get married. Like, this weekend.”

“Eddie- what?” Your lips parted, drawing in a quick gasp. “Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious,” he said. He grasped your hands in his larger ones. “That’s the only way. We have to get married so people don’t know you were pregnant first. Or everyone’s going to…they’re gonna call you a whore, they’re gonna say you’re easy. I’m not gonna let anyone talk about you that way.”

“Eddie…” Tears brimmed in your eyes, your lower lip wobbling as you tried to find the words. “How would we- how do we explain why we got married so suddenly?”

“Just couldn’t wait anymore,” Eddie said, grinning. “Too in love. Had to get married immediately, couldn’t be put off for another second.”

Soft laughter bubbled up from deep inside, pulled from you unwillingly by Eddie’s words. “Really? You want to elope?”

“Fuck yeah,” he said. “Let’s do it. Let’s fuckin’ elope.”

You told your parents the next day. That went…worse. A good hour of lectures, yelling, and crying later, they agreed it was best for you and Eddie to get married. They didn’t approve of him, not by a long shot, but having you single and pregnant at 17 was worse.

Eddie was the most scared to tell Wayne. He knew his uncle was going to be disappointed in him, and that was the worst thing he could think of. He cared so much about Wayne, the idea of letting him down made his stomach sink.

You had cooked a dinner for Wayne and Eddie, something to sit down and eat together before Wayne went to work so you could break the news. One delicious lasagna later and you were sitting the dish down in front of a confused Wayne and a terrified Eddie.

“So…” Eddie started about halfway through an awkwardly silent dinner - you were letting him take the lead and he was just now working up the courage to speak. Wayne looked up at him, his mouth full of lasagna. “There was something I…we…wanted to talk to you about.”

Wayne swallowed, wiping his mouth with his napkin. He was scared of whatever Eddie was about to say, it was written across his face. “Yeah? What’s goin’ on?”

“We, uh,” Eddie cleared his throat, looking at you then back at Wayne. “We just, uh, have some news.”

You were pretty sure Wayne knew what you were about to say from that moment, from the sick feeling that crossed his face. “What is it?”

Silence. Eddie pushed his food around his plate. “We…so, we’re…” A heavy sigh. “We’re…having a baby.”

Wayne just stared at the two of you. Then, he let out a long, weary sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Ed…”

“I know,” Eddie said. “I know.” He had promised not to end up this way. He had promised not to throw his life away. He had promised to live a life that put respect on the Munson name. He didn’t do any of those things.

“What the hell are you gonna do?” Wayne asked. He didn’t say it like he was mad. He wasn’t mad - not really. Just disappointed, and scared shitless for his nephew.

You and Eddie glanced at each other. “We’re, ah, gonna get married. This weekend.”

“Getting married?” Wayne practically choked. “Ed, are you sure-“

“Yeah.” Eddie squeezed your hand under the table. “I’m sure. This is what I want, what’s best for us.”

Wayne took a long sip of his beer. “God, Ed,” he said, once he’d sat the bottle back down on the kitchen table. “How did you let this happen?”

That weekend, December 1985, you wore a thrifted lacy white dress to the courthouse. Eddie dressed in a black button up shirt, tucked into his only pair of not-ripped jeans. His hair was combed and neat, and he was freshly shaven. You held a small cheap bouquet as you said your vows in front of the justice of the peace, then held Eddie’s hands and looked into his eyes as you declared your love for him. You cried. Eddie almost did.

Your parents and Wayne watched on - it was a bittersweet moment for them. They could see the love between you, but the circumstances weren’t ideal.

You graduated 5 months pregnant, but the pride you felt at finishing school was nothing compared to how proud you were to see Eddie walk the stage. Wayne teared up as Eddie was handed his diploma. Your two families took photos together outside after the ceremony, Eddie’s hand possessively on your belly.

Your daughter, Caroline Roxanne Munson, was born September 1986. Your pregnancy was blessedly easy, your birth simple and quick. Eddie held his baby girl like she was made of glass, like she held the secrets of the universe.

“Hi, baby girl,” he mumbled to her as he rocked her in his arms, you asleep in the hospital bed behind him. The tiny baby opened her eyes, peeking around the room but focusing as much as she could on Eddie’s face. Eddie trailed his finger lightly over her chubby cheek, her small nose - his nose. Your lips. His eyes. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I love you and your mama more than I’ve ever loved anything.”

Eddie got a job as a mechanic right out of high school, at the shop down the road from Forest Hills. He was determined - it didn’t take long before he was buying a trailer and having it put in next door to Wayne’s. A new double wide, with three bedrooms.

The front door led into a large open living room with a kitchen to the right. Past the kitchen was the door to the master bedroom with a bathroom attached. Down the hall to the left was a bathroom, and two smaller bedrooms.

Caroline spent the first couple months of her life sleeping in the room with you and Eddie, but when she was six months old, you moved her into her own room.

You were happy.

When Caroline was old enough, you got a job as a receptionist for a local doctor’s office. You and Eddie were doing well - you had pulled yourselves out of a bad situation and made the best of it, and made yourselves a nice life. Wayne and your parents were proud of you both.

January 1988 - it occurred to you that you hadn’t gotten your period in three months. You’d been so busy you hadn’t even noticed - you didn’t exactly track it, it came when it came. But when you noticed it had been months? Panic set in. Caroline was only 16 months old, it felt like you’d just had her first birthday party.

You kissed Eddie at the door, took Caroline to daycare, and bought a pregnancy test on the way to work. It sat in its bag in your car all day, weighing heavily on your mind during work. 

When you got off you went straight home - usually you got off work at 4, picked up Caroline, and started dinner in time for Eddie to get home at 6:30. But today, you had something to do before you could pick up your daughter.

At the house, you tossed your car keys on the hall table and headed straight for the master bathroom, bag clutched in your hand. 30 minutes later, and you were staring at a familiar sight - a positive pregnancy test.

You had no idea how Eddie was going to take the news. Sure, it was better to get pregnant now than when you were 17. But was it the right time? You and Eddie hadn’t even talked about more kids - you figured he didn’t want more. One was enough for both of you.

You picked up Caroline and got home, starting the meatloaf and mashed potato dinner. At 6:30, Caroline was sitting on the floor, playing with her toys with the Care Bears on the TV while you finished up the last of dinner. You were placing the steaming dishes on the kitchen table when the front door opened and Eddie walked in, oil splattered coveralls unzipped.

“Hey baby,” he greeted you. “Smells great. Is it ready?”

“Yep,” you said, maybe too casually. Eddie gave you a look, but shrugged it off, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips.

“And how’s my other best girl?” he asked, lifting Caroline into his arms. “What did you learn at school today?”

Caroline babbled to him about Care Bears. Eddie smiled at his daughter - he adored her like he’d never adored anything else. Not even his first sweetheart - the guitar currently hanging in your bedroom that still got plenty of love.

“That’s great, baby girl,” he said. He kissed her on the top of her head and sat her back down, where she took off running into the kitchen and straight into your legs. You picked her up, sitting her on your hip.

“How was your day?” Eddie asked you. He grabbed a bite of meatloaf and popped it into his mouth.

“It was…it was good,” you said. “Uh, boring.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Hey, I’m gonna go take a quick shower. I’ll be right back and we can eat.”

“Okay,” you said, watching his form already retreating into the bedroom. The door closed behind him, leaving you alone with Caroline. You sat her in her high chair and cut up her meatloaf, making her plate.

You were helping her eat when Eddie came back out, hair wet and dressed in a white tank top and his plaid pajama pants. He took his usual seat and began piling his plate high with food.

You’d changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants since getting off work. You sat down in your seat across the table, Caroline between the two of you. You pushed your food around your plate.

“So,” you began, after a few minutes of idle conversation. “I, uh. Something happened today.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asked, looking up at you as he chewed his food. “What?”

You bit your lip. Caroline shoved a whole handful of mashed potatoes into her mouth. “My period is three months late.”

Silence. Eddie stopped eating, just staring at you. The only sound was Caroline, oblivious as she squealed and continued eating her dinner.

“…Oh?” he said finally. You couldn’t read him - you had no idea what he was thinking.

“Yeah,” you said. This was incredibly awkward. Things between you and Eddie were never this stilted. “So I got a test today.”

Eddie had lost his appetite, at least for right now. His food sat untouched in front of him while he stared at you. “Did you take it?”

“Yeah.”

“And?” He was getting impatient. “Please just tell me.”

You looked down at your plate. “It was positive.”

A long rush of air. Eddie running a hand through his wet curls, pushing them back out of his face. He rubbed his hand over his mouth, staring at some point on the wall behind you now instead of at you.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Okay. This is…it’s okay. We’re okay.”

“You think so?” Your brow was furrowed in concern. “Can we afford it? Are we ready? Is Caroline ready?”

“We’ll just…have to get ready,” Eddie said. “I mean, financially I think we’ll be okay. We’re alright. But are you…are you ready for another baby?” He was looking at you again. He reached across the table and took your hand, Caroline obliviously blowing raspberries and getting food everywhere. “This is mostly a big change for you.”

It was true. You were the one who’d have to go through another pregnancy and birth, you were the one who’d be at home with a newborn while Eddie only got one week of parental leave. You were the primary parent while Eddie worked longer hours.

“We don’t really have a choice,” you said. “I’ve got to be like, 10 weeks pregnant at least.” Eddie rubbed his hand over his chest. “But…yeah. I think I can do it.”

You were 11 weeks pregnant, it turned out, with a healthy little baby. Eddie smiled at you so big his face hurt at the first ultrasound. At home or out in public, he kept his hand on your belly most of the time, protectively.

This pregnancy was already such a different experience. Eddie was excited. He was extremely involved, stayed by your side every second, constantly had to be touching you and the bump, talked about baby stuff, wished for a son. Of course he’d be happy with another daughter too, but - a son would be cool, he thought.

You decided not to find out the gender. It was going to be a surprise - you decorated the third bedroom in gender neutral colors, a yellow Winnie the Pooh theme. Eddie made a little Hellfire shirt, just like he had for Caroline when you were still in high school.

You went into labor in the middle of the night. It was right on time, and your bag had been packed for weeks by the door. You dropped Caroline off with Wayne next door, and headed to the hospital to have a baby.

The birth was a little more complicated this time. There was some hemorrhaging, so they wouldn’t let you hold the baby right away. But in June 1988, you gave birth to another beautiful baby girl - Janis “Janie” Nicole Munson.

Wayne brought Caroline, who was 1 year and 9 months old, to the hospital to visit. She clung to Wayne tightly until he entered the room and she recognized you and Eddie - she reached for her father, whining for him. He laughed, lifting her from his uncle’s arms.

“Hey, angel,” he said to her. “Are you ready to meet your baby sister?”

Caroline wasn’t sure about Janie at first. She just stared at her like she was scared to touch her. Janie was sound asleep in your arms, wrapped in her hospital blanket with her little hat on her head full of dark brown hair. Finally, Caroline reached out, poking her cheek. That was as much as you were getting from her.

The sisters warmed up to each other quickly. Caroline was so fussy with noises as a baby, but Janie could sleep through the loudest of her sister’s screeches - maybe she’d gotten used to them in the womb. 

After his week of parental leave, when you all stayed home together, Eddie took Caroline to daycare every morning while you stayed home for 6 weeks with Janie. You spent most of your days on the couch, cuddled together and watching old sitcom reruns. You were happy and content.

Janie hardly ever cried. She was so different from her sister - quiet and reserved, even as she grew. She was well behaved and kind, while Caroline was loud and in charge (but still a sweet girl).

Eddie adjusted to life as a dad of two easily. He really was a natural at being a father. He’d walk around the house with Janie in his arms, a giggling Caroline hanging on his back with her arms around his neck.

“Did you get her to sleep?” you asked Eddie one night, bleary eyed as you breastfed Janie in bed. He was shutting the bedroom door softly behind him.

“Yeah,” he said. “She went down easy tonight. She’s out.” He laid on the bed next to you with a groan - he’d had a long day at work. “How are my other two girls?”

“Tired,” you said. “She’s almost done eating. She should be ready to lay down in a few minutes.”

“Good,” Eddie said. “You need the rest.”

You did. It was hard to find time to sleep between taking care of a 3 month old and a newly 2 year old. “I’m exhausted,” you admitted.

“You want me to take her?” he asked. “I can finish feeding her with the bottle.”

“No, it’s okay. She hates the bottle.” You smiled down at your baby daughter. “I think she might already be asleep.”

Eddie leaned over. “She’s eating in her sleep?”

“Yeah. She does that.”

Janie finished eating about 10 minutes later, just letting go and turning her sleepy head. She was out. Eddie took her from your arms and down the hall to her bedroom.

When he came back, he crawled back into bed next to you. “Finally alone,” he teased, kissing your shoulder.

You knew he was just messing around - you hadn’t been in the mood for sex since Janie was born, even though you’d been cleared for 6 weeks - Eddie had been patient. But you wanted him - finally, something was coming alive inside you as Eddie kissed across your skin.

“Yeah,” you said. “Finally.” You met each other’s eyes - then your lips crashed together, meeting in a heated kiss. Eddie’s tongue slid into your mouth, pressing against yours, exploring you. He moaned, he was already hard - it had been months, after all.

“God, I need you,” he groaned as your hand brushed over the rock hard erection in his pajama pants. “I want you so bad.”

“I want you too,” you whispered back. You pulled him tighter into you, your sensitive breasts pressed against his bare chest.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t want to rush you. We really- we really don’t have to.”

“I want to, Eddie,” you told him, grinding your hips against his cock, making him moan pathetically.

Then you showed him just how much.

February 1990, when Caroline was 3 ½ years old and Janie was nearing 2, Eddie came to you with a proposition.

“Let’s have another baby,” he said.

“What?” You nearly spit out your coffee. “Eddie- what?”

“I know, it’s completely out of nowhere,” he said. “But hear me out. The girls are older, a little more independent. We’re financially stable. And I want another baby.”

“You want another baby?” Somehow, you’d still never discussed it. “I didn’t think you’d even be happy about two kids.”

“Are you kidding?” he said. “With you? I’ll have ten.” He brushed his thumb over your cheek. “We aren’t kids ourselves anymore. We’re 23 and 21. We have stable jobs, we’re great parents. We can do this.”

With two accidental pregnancies under your belt, you and Eddie felt like getting pregnant on purpose would be a breeze. You were experts at this point, after all. And the act that led to the making of babies was one you two had plenty of practice at.

But it didn’t happen. You fully expected to get pregnant right away, so when your period showed up the next month, you had been borderline confused.

“I don’t get it,” you said, sitting down on the side of the bed next to Eddie, feeling dejected and sad. “We- I mean, we had sex plenty of times without protection. Why didn’t it work?”

“I don’t know, baby,” Eddie said gently. “Maybe it can take time? I’m sure it’ll happen next month.”

But in April, your period showed up again. And again in May and June. By the time July rolled around, you were scared and discouraged.

“We did this by accident twice,” you said, tossing a negative pregnancy test in the trash can and wiping tears from your eyes. “How can it be so hard to do on purpose?”

“Maybe we should go to the doctor?” Eddie offered. He was leaning against the doorway of the master bathroom, shirtless with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m sure there’s…an explanation.”

“But probably not a good one,” you sniffled. “But…I’ll think about it.”

August came, and with it came an increase in appointments at the pediatrician office you worked at in preparation for school. Between work and the kids, you were kept so busy you completely forgot about taking a test.

When you remembered, you were 2 weeks late.

“Eddie?” you crept into the bedroom after laying down Janie. Eddie had just gotten Caroline bathed and in bed, and was lying in the bed you shared, shirtless, flipping through his D&D notebook with a cigarette between his lips. He had feared his days of gaming were over, but he still found time for Hellfire every other week. He was still the only one of his friends to get married or have kids. You wondered sometimes if that bothered him.

“What’s up?” he asked, looking up from his notebook. He put out the cigarette in the ashtray next to the bed and closed the book, dropping it in the drawer.

“So…” you said, climbing in bed. “I took…a test.”

Eddie’s eyes scanned your face for any hint at how you were feeling. When he didn’t see sadness, a grin slowly spread across his lips. “Did you?”

“Yeah, I did,” you said. You were trying your best to hold your own smile back. You placed the test in Eddie’s hand - he turned it over to reveal the result. Positive.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug while you giggled. “This is the best news. I’m so fuckin’ happy. Another baby.”

Eddie was a little more open with his hope for a son this time around. He reassured you every time that he’d be happy with a third daughter, but - he had his hopes. You didn’t mind either way - you loved being a girl mom, but a son would be amazing, too.

This pregnancy was rougher than the first two. You stayed sick, often ending up in the hospital for fluids after being unable to keep anything down. You were in a lot of pain, under a lot of stress, and were exhausted at all hours of the day. Eddie stepped up a lot, coming home from work as early as he was able and cooking dinner some nights, helping with the girls and their bedtime routine.

Your doctor was concerned, but the baby made it until their due date, April 1991. You were induced, however, because they didn’t want to chance leaving things any longer. The birth went well, and your third daughter was born - Melissa ‘Missy’ Joan Munson.

Having a third child turned out to be a much bigger adjustment than one to two, or even none to one. Everything changed after Missy’s birth. Eddie never said it, but it was clear he felt some regret for suggesting a third child, despite the love he felt for her.

You and Eddie were both exhausted, between work and home, it felt like it never stopped. By the time the girls were in bed - Caroline and Janie sharing, Missy in her own nursery - you were too tired to do anything, both just passing out in your own bed. Your sex life was nonexistent, and you hardly had the chance to say a passing word to one another.

Over the next four years, things were strained. You were struggling more financially than you had expected. The stress over bills was constant, one or both of you sitting hunched over the kitchen table with the mail spread out and your head in your hands.

When Missy was three, she started preschool and you picked up a second job waitressing. You had never been at that level of exhausted before.

It strained your relationship more than anything. Eddie was withdrawing, spending more time at work (which you couldn’t complain about because you needed the money), going out with the guys, and burying his stresses in beer and weed after the girls were in bed. Many nights, you went to sleep alone.

Fights became a regular thing. Whether it be about finances, chores, parenting, whatever - it was always something. It felt like you couldn’t have a civilized conversation with each other anymore.

“You promised you would do the dishes,” you said, dropping the laundry basket full of the girl’s clothes in front of the washing machine. You opened it, poured in the detergent, and angrily started throwing clothes inside. “But they were still there when I got home today.”

“I forgot,” Eddie mumbled. He was drinking a beer in the recliner by the TV. The girls were in bed, and Eddie was distracted by whatever rerun was currently playing.

“You always forget.” The last of the clothes were put inside and you slammed the lid shut. Turning the dial, you started the wash cycle. “Then I have to end up doing it myself.”

“Well, it’s kind of your job,” he muttered.

“Are you fucking serious?” You walked into the living room and stepped in front of the TV, hand on your hip. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Here we fuckin’ go,” he groaned.

“You are such an asshole,” you spat. “What’s your problem? It’s impossible to get you to do anything around here anymore. You just get home from work and sit on your ass and let me do everything!”

“I’m tired!” he exclaimed. “I’m fucking exhausted! I just want to sit down with a fuckin’ beer when I get off work and not get bitched at by my wife for once.”

“Oh, I’m bitching?” you scoffed. “I’m fucking tired too, Eddie! I work two jobs then come home and take care of the house and my apparently four children.”

“Real mature,” Eddie said. He took another swig of his beer then pushed closed the leg rest of the recliner. “Fuck this. I’m going to bed.”

“This is why we can never get through anything,” you threw your hands in the air. “You run away. You’re not willing to listen to anything I have to say. You have no respect for me. You don’t care about making anything better.”

“There is no ‘making things better’ when it comes to you.” He threw his beer bottle into the trash can with a loud clatter. “You’re never happy. Nothing I do makes you happy.”

“You used to make me happy.”

Silence. Eddie stopped, but didn’t turn around. Finally, he shook his head. “Goodnight.” And he disappeared into the bedroom.

This wasn’t new, either. You’d end up waiting until you knew Eddie was asleep before you came to bed yourself, even if you were tired. Or maybe you’d just sleep on the couch. Either way, it felt like things between you and Eddie were doomed.

It was March 1995  when you called it quits for good.

The fighting, the resentment, the drama - it had all gotten to be too much. You and Eddie didn’t even seem to like each other anymore. You didn’t know how Eddie felt deep down, but you knew you’d always love him - even if you felt like you hated him right now.

You moved out and into a three bedroom apartment. Eddie helped you move while the girls were with your parents, but it was extremely awkward. Steve, Robin, and Nancy came over and helped, too, which made it a little less uncomfortable. 

It was a bittersweet moment for you - you were happy to be getting out of that house full of painful memories and starting a new life on your own, but watching Eddie walk out the door and leave you standing there alone - it crushed you. It hurt more than you ever anticipated it would. You almost went after him. Almost.

The divorce was finalized five months later.

You and Eddie barely even looked at each other as you signed the papers. There was a custody hearing, mercifully brief since you and Eddie were able to come to an agreement easily. You would keep the girls during the week while Eddie got them every other weekend. He would have liked more time, but he knew with the divorce would come sacrifice.

The girls didn’t take it well. They were 9, 7, and 4 at the time, old enough to understand what was happening and what it meant for their life as a family. For the first few months, they would cry their eyes out at every custody drop off, which made both you and Eddie feel like the worst people on the planet. But with time, everyone settled into the new normal.

You dated a few guys on and off, but never got into a serious relationship. More hookups than anything. It’s like you looked for Eddie in every guy you met, whether you could admit that to yourself or not.

Eddie was a different story. It seemed like he had a new girl on his arm every time you turned around. And it pissed you off. It’s not like you couldn’t get a boyfriend - you had plenty of opportunity to. You just didn’t like anyone. Eddie didn’t care. He didn’t have any serious girlfriends, but he didn’t mind sleeping around. He was single for the first time since he was 17, and he was living it up. It made you sick.

But you were better off apart.

October 1997

Your car pulled into the parking lot of the abandoned Shell station, the designated meeting place since the separation. It was run down, weeds peeking through the cracks in the asphalt. Eddie’s truck wasn’t there yet.

You checked your beeper to see if you had any missed messages from Eddie - nothing.

You sighed. He was always late. The girls were in the backseat fighting over a toy, not bothered at all.

Finally, his truck rumbled into the parking lot. You could hear the music before you saw the vehicle - metal blasting so loud the whole street probably heard. You rolled your eyes, preparing to deal with him.

“Daddy’s here!” Missy yelled, unhooking herself from her car seat and reaching for the door. Caroline and Janie lit up too, grabbing their weekend bags.

Eddie’s truck skidded to a stop in the parking spot one over from yours. You slid your sunglasses on, then opened the door, stepping out just as Eddie hopped down from his side. You could see her sitting in the passenger seat, not even bothering to look at you.

“Daddy!” the girls all yelled, jumping out of the SUV and running to Eddie. He laughed as he hugged them all, tossing Missy in the air.

“How are my favorite girls?” he asked, ruffling Janie’s hair. She pushed him off with a giggle, fixing her braid.

“I thought I was your favorite girl?” Stacy called from the passenger seat. She was joking, but it still made you want to punch her.

“We’re good,” Caroline said. “Can we see Laura this weekend?”

Laura was Jeff’s 6 year old. Jeff was the only one of Eddie’s friends who’d had a kid, too, and she was close with the girls.

“I’m sure we can,” he said. Missy was latched onto his leg, as if she hadn’t seen him in years. He lifted her, placing a kiss on her head. “Okay, girls, go ahead and get in the truck. We gotta go, and I need to talk to your mom before we leave.”

“Bye, mommy!” The girls called, each giving you a tight hug. You waved and watched them climb into the tall truck, closing the door hard behind them. No one in the truck could hear you now.

Eddie took a step closer to you. “You look nice,” he said, his voice low. “You gotta date or something?”

“Or something,” you said. “Not that it’s any of your business. Don’t you have your skank to get back to?”

Eddie nearly cackled, throwing his head back and laughing hard. “You always were so feisty,” he said.

You couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Take good care of my girls.”

“You know I will,” he said seriously. “You can call any time. If you wanna talk to them.”

You glanced towards the tinted truck window. “I don’t think she would like that too much.”

“She’ll get over it,” he shrugged. “You’re their mom. You can talk to them whenever.” He scuffed his boot against the ground. “How…have you been?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but jumped when the truck’s car horn blared. You and Eddie both looked over his shoulder to see Stacy leaning on the horn, looking out the window and gesturing for Eddie to hurry up.

“Guess you have to go,” you said. “Your girl is calling you.”

Eddie looked sheepish. “I’ll see you Sunday,” he said. He looked like he wanted to say something else maybe, but instead he turned, walking back around the truck to the driver’s side door. You climbed back into your own car, the silence heavy with the kids gone.

You started the car and drove back home.

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[tchiyya]

Before I continue, I want to preface this by saying that I am not only not any kind of radfem, but have very strong ideological opposition to them and think they are setting liberation on the axis of gender back decades with their bullshit.

That said, I think this post is wrong: radfems are an inherently leftist movement; they're just an authoritarian leftist movement. Being on the left does not make any given movement truly a movement of freedom, but rather a change from the ruling status quo. Some leftist movements seek freedom for all as part of their goals (and some even mean it! lol) but there are a number of leftist movements that oppose the "traditional" (or status quo) structural hierarchy and seek to overthrow it with a radical alternative. It's just that sometimes that alternative is rooted in personal liberty and sometimes that alternative would simply impose different standards of behavior and exercise different forms of control. This is true regardless of the rhetoric, which nearly universally (on left and right!) proclaims to be seeking liberty — it's just a question of liberty for whom and from what.

Communism is a great example of this phenomenon because it ostensibly seeks to level the power structures created by class, but without a large surplus of resources and a population-level commitment to altruism quickly devolves into oligarchical authoritarianism that seizes property from individuals and distributes it according to whatever the oligarchs have decided you need. There's no dispute that communism is a leftist movement, but that does not necessarily mean that it is a social justice movement and/or that it isn't authoritarian.

Radical feminism similarly seeks to topple patriarchy, specifically where patriarchy is defined as the sexual and reproductive exploitation of those who can become pregnant. Throughout human history, people who were capable of being impregnated have been ruthlessly subjugated and exploited for their reproductive labor and associated domestic labor. Since it is not only possible but relatively easy to physically force someone fertile to give birth if you are physically capable of impregnating them, this has been a constant problem for which there has yet to be any meaningful justice in nearly any human society. Birth control and abortion access are powerful tools in seizing control of the means of [re]production, but are only a partial solution in that access to them has been under attack since day 1 and can be denied. Therefore, a more transformative — radical, even — solution is required to truly liberate half of humanity from subjugation.

However, the actual radical feminist answers to this are where the authoritarianism comes in. See the true problem is that the physical, material reality is that human reproduction relies on a huge investment of time, energy, physical hardship, immense physical pain, and personal risk of disability and/or death on the part of the parent actually carrying the pregnancy, compared to an extremely short and typically pleasurable experience for the other parent. Unless and until human reproduction just simply works differently biologically, there is going to continue to be this massive gap in power and opportunity. Similarly, unless and until human nature changes such that all (or virtually all) people voluntarily choose to do the right thing and forgo opportunities to exploit others for personal gain, pregnancy capable people are going to be at a severe disadvantage that cannot easily be corrected. So how does this get solved, if we can't physically level the playing field and no one has found the magic solution to human selfishness? Well, the next best thing is to leverage the power that one does have — which is how you wind up with radical feminist answers like "women should stay separate from men for protection from sexual violence, have primary relationships with other women only, and not volunteer their sexual/reproductive labor to men." These answers in turn generate a new norm of coercion and authoritarianism to enforce, because they require massive collective action/population-level consensus to accomplish and new norms and restrictions on female behavior in order to be effective. To rephrase: this only works if most women actually stay away from men and don't provide sexual/reproductive labor to them, including women who would otherwise actually prefer to partner with a man and biologically reproduce with him.

Which would indeed be a radical change to human society against traditional norms of gender and sexuality, while still being authoritarian.

[Note: There are a ton of other issues with radical feminism, most infamously with regards to their crusade against the trans community. But honestly the recent fixation on the "Transgender Question" as it were, actually represents a derailment of radical feminism by conservatives who have freely appropriated and piggybacked onto radical feminist discourse about trans people for the purposes of pushing a conservative transphobic agenda. Unfortunately, trans people's sex-based liminality threatens both worldviews (albeit for different reasons) and thus there is a seemingly nonsensical alliance between them that on the surface lead to views like those of the original post. But make no mistake: that alliance is extremely mercenary and limited. However we don't even need to reach the trans question to see the inherent problems of authoritarianism that undercut radical feminist thought; that can be seen just by looking at the fact that it inherently prioritizes wrestling patriarchal control of reproductive labor away from [cis] men over fighting for every individual's full bodily autonomy, regardless of their sex assigned at birth, current physical bodily structures and reproductive capabilities, or gender identity.

Additionally there is a lot more I can say about this and what I believe instead, but that's a whole nother post.]

Radfems and TERFs are always like "I'm a feminist!! That's why I think women are weaker than men and also should never express sexual desire I disagree with and also I hate any expression of femininity in men and masculinity in women and think all men(and anyone I think is a man) are violent monstrous predators that women need to be separated from for their own protection." and it's like. You are a conservative. You are a fucking republican. Oh my god. You wouldn't know feminist if it walked up and punched you right in the face.

[ladybl4ckbird]

Why I think Mike realized the truth about the painting in the van scene

This probably isn't a new or revealing topic, but I want to give my opinion anyway. So, let's get to it. First of all, we need to keep in mind that Mike Wheeler is one of the smartest people on the show, and he's always been the leader for some reason, right? And one of them is that Mike is the kind of guy who acts on situations. He was the one who acted when Will disappeared; he literally put himself in danger multiple times; he jumped off a fucking cliff. He devised plans to defeat the monsters of the Upside Down and made them happen. He's not the kind of guy who sits around and waits for things to work themselves out. No. Mike Wheeler is a problem-solver.

We also need to remember that he realized the difference in his feelings for Will and El at the end of season 3. This is very clear in the way each goodbye unfolds.

Here we have Mike happy that his best friend says he can never "replace" him.

And here we have a Mike who is supposed to BE HAPPY because his girlfriend just said she loves him back.

That said, let's get to it.

Season four begins with a different version of Mike; he's aware of his feelings for Will. He's already a teenager, and he knows what he wants and doesn't want in terms of sexuality. He literally has a folder with Will's drawings under his bed, which is a not-so-subtle parallel to what Erica says about Lucas hiding his things under his bed too (something we can get a sense of, lol).

We all know Mike knows about the painting because El told him in the letter, about how Will was working on a painting in secret and how she thinks Will is painting it for someone he likes. So when he goes to California, Mike already knows about it. And (in my opinion) he HOPES it's for him.

We have the first Byler scene of the season, and it's that extremely awkward hug that screams "gay panic," right? But what about the FIRST WORDS Byler? There's a subtle greeting, and then Mike asks about the painting. Mike is anxious, nervous, and curious about the painting Will made for someone he likes. Someone Mike hopes is himself. But then Will "denies" it, and Mike literally wilts before our eyes. And then there's the whole thing about him being hyperaware of Will's actions and reactions while his girlfriend is clearly uncomfortable and about to be bullied, and all that stuff we already know.

In my opinion, Mike is upset beyond jealous. He's also desperate for the slightest sign that Will feels the same way. And that's why we have this scene here:

Like I said, Mike Wheeler is the kind of guy who acts. And so he's desperate for the slightest sign of reciprocity from Will. So when Will drops a suspicious "what about us," Mike looks not only devastated but also fucking HOPEFUL. I can literally hear his heart beating like crazy from here.

And when I say Mike needs a sign of reciprocity to act, I'm not saying he's going to kiss Will or anything like that. But I believe he was waiting for a sign so he could resolve his issues with El and then make amends with Will. But why? Well, it's the '80s and they're two boys; the social issues surrounding this type of relationship should speak for themselves. He needs the security of reciprocity to act because Will is his best friend above all else, and one wrong move and boom, it's all over. I mean, that's basically what Robin already made clear, right, about asking the wrong girl out.

Anyway, Will "denies" it again. And then things start happening with El, and Mike cares (and loves, even if platonically) enough for her to put her first in that moment. There are all the subtle "flirting" scenes initiated by Mike, but I'll refrain from that because otherwise this whole post will get too long. So let's skip ahead to the van scene and why I think (I'm 99.9% sure) Mike understood Will was talking about himself, not El.

When Will hands over the painting, we see Mike literally break into a firecracker of a smile because the painting was meant for him all along, like, "Hey, I was right, Will likes me too."

And then there's the whole speech and Will projecting his feelings as if they were El's. But Mike's not an idiot, you know? He's one of the smartest people in the group, and besides, HE KNOWS El didn't ask for the painting. Oh, but why didn't he say anything? You might be wondering. And I'll answer. 1) They weren't alone, it wasn't a private conversation, and even though it was Jonathan and Argyle with them in the van, it's still the 80s and being gay isn't "cool." 2) Just before, they had that whole thing about being afraid to tell the truth and the other person not liking it, so I assume Mike didn't want Will to back down and "deny" it again. He wanted to hear. He wanted to know. 3) He is still El's official boyfriend and although he is the type of person who acts, he would NEVER act with Will without first resolving his situation with El.

There, in the van, Mike knew his feelings were mutual and THAT'S WHY he made that expression when he realized it was time to work things out with El.

Mike is happy to find El; he loves and cares for her. But he knows he'll probably break her heart. He knows he'll hurt her with the truth, and that makes him sad. But he's willing to do it because "friends don't lie," and he doesn't want to repeat the mistakes of the summer. He doesn't want to prolong this relationship when he knows Will is there too and loves him. And that's what Mike was going to talk to El about before Argyle interrupted them. Mike would probably tell her he loves her, but not the way he should, or something like that. That would be a breakup scene.

And again, that's why Mike looks so incredibly devastated when Will encourages him to confess his love for El.

Is Mike scared for El? Definitely. Afraid of losing her? Definitely. Does he want to help her gain strength against Vecna? Of course. But he's not about to confess his love for her. I've watched and rewatched the scene several times, and each time the conclusion is the same: if Will hadn't encouraged him, Mike wouldn't have told El he loves her.

Once again, from the beginning of the season, Mike has been incredibly aware of Will's presence in a way he never was with El. He knows what he feels and needs a sign of reciprocity from Will. And the painting is that sign; it's what Mike needs to be certain that Will loves him back. But then why is Will telling Mike to confess his love romantically to El? Mike is confused and deeply devastated here because he thinks he misread the signals.

He doesn't understand why Will would say something like that after the van speech, not if Will truly loves him. So I suppose he concludes he's got it all wrong. He probably thinks the painting El mentioned in the letter was a different one, and that everything Will said in the van was really about El.

I have some theories about the continuation of Byler's romantic development and how the painting issue will be addressed in season five (but that's a topic for another post). However, everything is connected, from the fact that I think Mike will be the first to initiate any romantic interaction and how/when he will do.

In conclusion: Byler is endgame.

[maxinehufflepuffprincess]

More Than Five Minutes

BangChan x fem! reader. 9th member.

(This was requested. I should have waited before writing or even posting this one. Since I have a list of requests that need either finishing it starting. But idk, I'vehad this in my drafts for a hot minute, waiting to but published. Anyway, I hope this is what you had in mind. Please enjoy.)

Words: 4949.

Characters: 25921.

Characters excluding spaces: 21051.

Taglist.

Masterlist.

Progress Update.

MamaBear Collection.

Summary: Chan wants to spend time with you, but the boys keep interrupting.

Today you all had the day off, which was very needed. It meant you could all relax and just do whatever you wanted. You and Chan had planned to stay in bed all day, watching YouTube and being wrapped up in each other’s arms.  You had both agreed not to even think of work. No dances, no making music. Chan wasn’t allowed to touch his laptop. So that’s where you both were. In bed watching Ben Kim on the TV in your room. You were snuggled up until one of your boys popped Chan’s perfect bubble.

A knock came at the door of your bedroom, causing Chan to sigh. “Come in!” He called out.

—----------

The door opened, and a happy face peeked from behind the door. Felix walked into the room and shut the door behind him.

“Good morning.” He said as he made his way to the bed. His phone was in his hand. 

“Good morning, baby.” You said cheerfully. 

Chris couldn’t help but smile. “Morning, Lixie-ah.”

Felix walked to your side of the bed. He still had his pyjamas on. He lifted the covers and crawled into bed beside you. He immediately lay his head on your chest and wrapped his arms around your stomach. 

You and Chris were used to this. To Felix, just coming into your room at all hours to cuddle. Most of the time, he was snuggled on your side. Sometimes he would crawl his way in the middle of you and Chris. There were times when he would get into bed beside Chris. Sometimes he would fall asleep. Sometimes he was there, happy to cuddle before leaving to go about his day. You were both always happy to let Felix snuggle with you both. 

To be fair, you were used to having all the boys in your bed. Sometimes just to chill, sometimes to help them sleep, sometimes you shared a bed with them because of a SKZ Code. But it was something you were both used to. Especially when it came to Felix.

“I thought you might want to watch this TikTok video of you and Channie.” He said, handing you his phone before snuggling into you.

Chan sighed softly. “Lix, we’re watching something.” 

Felix looked up at you both with big, pleading eyes. Your heart melted at the sight. “Please? It won’t take long. It’s really cool. Stay really picked up on some of your small moments, and it’s beautiful.” The blonde was pouting. 

You and Chan looked at each other and then at Felix. You never could say no to your sunshine. 

“Alright.” Chan picked up the remote and paused the YouTube video on the TV. 

You held Felix’s phone so that the three of you could see the screen. Both males held onto you as you lay your head on Chan’s shoulder, your fingers running through Felix’s long hair. The three of you watched the TikTok. You smiled because it was a compilation of little quiet moments between you and Chan. Little finger brushes in interviews. The times you hold hands or sing to each other on stage. The moments where you’d randomly just hug each other or whisper to each other. 

About an hour later, Felix had fallen asleep on your chest whilst you and Chan talked quietly. Felix’s phone was on charge on Chan’s nightstand. A knock came at the door. 

Then you found yourselves watching more TikToks. Some Stray Kids stuff. Minsung moments, or videos of you and Chan acting like parents, or thirst traps. You watched random dance clips and some cute animal videos. The three of you had fun, just cuddling together, watching silly little videos on Felix’s phone.

—----------

Chan raised an eyebrow and looked at you. 

“Come in.” You called out softly, careful not to wake Felix. 

Jeongin opened the door and stepped into the room. “Good morning.” He said happily as he walked over to your side of the bed with a travel cup of your favourite hot beverage. 

“Good morning, Sweetheart.” You spoke softly as you sat up a little. 

“Morning, Innie.” Chan spoke, watching the male for a moment.

Jeongin looked between you and Chan, then at Felix, who was fast asleep. He looked back at you. “Mama Bear. Would it be okay if you came shopping with me, please?” 

You melted seeing him look at you with those big, sweet eyes and that smile on his face. You looked at Chan for a moment, and he gave you a nod. You looked back at your youngest and smiled. “Okay. We can go shopping. Let me get dressed. Then we can go.” You told him with a bright smile.

Jeongin grinned happily. “Thank you. Take all the time you need. I’ll meet you in the living room.” He was practically bouncing with excitement. The Makenae left the room, excited to go shopping with you.

You looked at Chan and smiled. “We'll cuddle later. But whilst I'm out, I think you should get some more sleep, my love.” You told him softly. You pecked his lips.

You gently began to untangle yourself from Felix and got out of bed. Felix looked up, feeling that you were gone. 

“Where are you going?” He spoke, tiredly. 

You grabbed your big Mama Bear plush and placed her in his arms to cuddle with. You gently guided his head to the pillow and stroked his hair. “Go back to sleep, angel. I’m just gonna nip out with In-ah.” Felix quickly fell back asleep and cuddled with your plush.

Chan watched you for a moment. He didn't sleep right away. He watched you enter the bathroom. He watched you leave the bathroom and get changed. He watched you do your hair. He even helped you pick what rings to wear today. You had on your necklace from the boys. At this point, it was your signature piece. You rarely didn't wear it. 

You walked over to Chan and smiled. “I'll see you soon.” You both shared a kiss. 

Chan held your hand and gave you his card. “Go spoil yourself.”

You shook your head. “Chris.” You started.

Chan sat up. “No. Don't even say it. I want you to use my card and go spoil yourself. I know you'll put all of Jeongin's purchases on your card. You'll come home with bags for me and the boys. So take my card and spoil yourself, just this once.” 

You smiled softly and took the card. “I love you.” You kissed him gently and pulled away.

“I love you too,” Chan replied with a bright smile.

You walked over to Felix and kissed his forehead. You walked back to Chris and pecked his lips. You gave him a wave and left the room with your travel cup and your bag that Hyunjin got for you. It had a mini Jiniret keyring plushie on it. You found I.N. at the front door. He was putting his shoes on. You walked over and put your shoes on.

“Ready to go?” You are the male. You smiled at him as you put on your shoes. You then grabbed your car keys from the key hook. 

“Yeah, I'm ready.” I.N. grinned at you. You smiled, and you both left your home and headed to your car. You drove, and Jeongin picked the music. The car ride was filled with laughter and singing. I.N. rambled about this new hoodie he had seen; he was excited to get it. 

So when you parked the car and you both got out, there was the first place you went to. You both went to the store, and you watched as I.N. went around the store, picking out exactly what he wanted. Whilst you paid for his new clothes, I.N. surprised you by getting you a matching hoodie to match him. 

“So, where to next?” You asked him curiously. 

By the time you and I.N. got back to the dorm, it was hours later, and you both were carrying way too many bags. You actually had to call Chan down to help take all the bags in from the car. The three of you grabbed the bags and made your way inside. Everything was set down in the living room so you could organise what belonged to whom. 

I.N. looked around for a moment before grabbing your hand and dragging you to a shoe store like an excited child who saw his favourite toy store. “This one.”

—----------

Jeongin kissed your cheek. “Thank you for taking me shopping.” He said, a bright smile on his face, before taking his bags and heading to his room to put his stuff away.

Chan shook his head and looked at you. “I’m glad you're back.” He said, placing his hands on your hips as you turned to face him.

“Did you sleep all right?” You asked him curiously.

Chan nodded. “I woke up to Felix cuddling me.” He told you with a small shrug.  

You smiled as you looked through one of the bags, organising things so each of the guys had their own bag(s) filled with gifts. “Is he still sleeping?” You asked curiously. 

“No, he woke up not too long ago. He and Minho went food shopping. I think Han went with them as well.” You nodded at Chan’s words as he helped you organise some things. 

He pulled out some LEGO and looked at you. “Han?” He asked you.

You nodded and pointed to the bag you were using for Han’s gifts. He chuckled at you and put it into the bag. You picked up a bag and handed it to him. “This is one of your gifts.” 

Chan smiled gratefully and opened the bag. He looked inside and pulled out a box. It was the headphones he had been thinking of getting. That he had been meaning to get, and they were in his favourite colour too. 

“Thank you, baby.” He gently kissed you. “I love them. Tell me you got something for yourself.” 

You nodded. “I did. I got myself a few things. Well I suppose you got them for me since I got them on your card like you wanted me to. I.N. bought me a hoodie. You know, that one he’s been raving about wanting for like a month since he heard about it? Yeah, he got me one so we could match.” 

Chan couldn’t help but smile at your excitement. He was glad that not only had he gotten to spoil you with his money today, but so had their Maknae. 

Once the two of you had the bags sorted, you both took your bags and his bags to your room. You organised some stuff. Chan couldn’t help but peek into one of your bags, noticing a new bra. 

“Please tell me you got this with my money? Tell me I bought this for you. I have great taste.” He said, pulling it out of the bag. You flushed and shook your head. 

“Maybe I can show it off for you later?” You told him with a cheeky wink.

Chan let out a small groan. “Sweetheart, don’t tease me. I’m just a man. Don’t put images in my head.” He shook his head dramatically, causing you to laugh.

Your bedroom door opened, and there stood Changbin. The male looked between you both and then at the bra in Chan’s hands. 

“Wow, Chan, I think that will really bring out your eyes.” He spoke teasingly. Chan picked up a shirt and threw it at Changbin, who just laughed loudly. 

You took the bra and put it into your drawer. “What brings you here, Boo?” You asked curiously.

“I have a new workout routine and I was hoping I could show you, get your thoughts.” He spoke, hopefully. 

Chan sighed. “Bin, can’t you show her tomorrow?”

Changbin shrugged. “Well, I was going to head to work out now, so I thought it would be good to show, Honey, now. You don’t have to work out with me. Just watch and be my cheerleader.”

You let out a small giggle. “I suppose I could. But just for an hour or two, then Channie and I are cuddling for the rest of the day. Okay?” 

Changbin nodded. In his eyes, that was fair. It meant you’d get to see what he wanted to show you, then you and Chan could spend the rest of the day being disgustingly in love. 

Chan nodded. That sounded fair. “Alright. But when you get back, it’s pyjamas on and we’re spending the rest of the day in bed.” 

You nodded happily, and the two of you shared a kiss. You walked into the living room, grabbing your bag as well as Changbin’s and Hyunjin’s gift bags. He took them to his room and thanked you before the two of you left.

Seungmin had been waiting for you patiently to come back from the gym with Changbin. He was outside, watching Changbin’s car pull up. You were driving, though. You got out of the car. 

—----------

“No, seriously, I think it’ll be much better than your left routine. You’re paying attention to the things you need right now.” He heard from Changbin, who beamed at you.

“This is why I wanted to show you. You're always honest with me. And you appreciate my muscles.” Changbin chuckled as the two of you walked away from the car.

Seungmin jogged over to you. “Bye, Changbin. Hi, Mama Bear. Can we play baseball?” He asked you as he held up his bat, ball and catching mitt. 

“I’m supposed to be seeing Chan, baby boy.” You told him softly. 

His smile dropped, and you immediately felt guilty. You hated upsetting and disappointing any of the boys. You bit your bottom lip. 

Changbin looked between the two of you; he could see the guilty look on your face. “I’ll let Chan know that you’re playing with Seungmin. Go, have fun. It’ll give Chan time to run you a bath.” A bath sounded nice. 

You nodded. “Thank you, Binnie.” 

Seungmin grinned and grabbed your hand, dragging you off to an open space where you could play.

You started with playing catch. Just throwing the ball to each other. Then you included the bat. You both had fun running around and letting loose. The best part was the joyful laugh that escaped Seungmin as he had fun. 

You and Seungmin had come back to the dorm together. You opened the door, and Chan immediately stood up, hearing your giggle. 

—----------

“Seriously, thank you for playing with me. I had a lot of fun.” Seugmin spoke with a grateful smile.

You nodded softly. “No need to thank me, Puppy. I had a lot of fun. Now, let’s get you your gifts and then you can go to your room and chill.” 

You looked away from him to see Chan excitedly waving at you from the end of the hallway. “Channie!” You began to make your way to him, only to feel a hand on your biceps. You were suddenly pulled into the kitchen. 

You looked up to see Minho. The male let you go and walked over to the stove. He came back over to you with a soup of soup. “Try this.” He said to you. 

“Hello to you, too, Kitten.” You said in amusement. 

Minho scoffed at you. “We’ve been over this. I’m a cat. Felix is the kitten. Get it right.” He held the spoon to your lips. 

You shook your head and tried the soup. Your eyes lit up. “That’s so good.” You told him as Chan walked into the room. 

“Seriously, Minho?” He asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

Minho just smirked at the male. “You snooze, you lose, Channie-hyung.” 

Chan rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around your waist. “I gave Seungmin his bag. He took his and Lix’s with him.”

You nodded with an appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

Minho cleared his throat. “Yah! We’re supposed to be talking about the soup. Mother, pay attention to me.” His voice was slightly whiny. It was something he did playfully whenever he wanted your attention.

You let out a small laugh. “Right, I’m sorry, my darling. It tastes really good. I think maybe add a little more sesame seed oil. I think it’ll add to the overall flavour of it. But other than that, it’s perfect.”

Minho clicked his fingers. “Yes. You're so smart. Thank you for helping, and thank you for the gifts. I already took mine to my room. Han is building his LEGO as we speak.” 

“You’re welcome, Min.” Once you stopped speaking, Chan began to guide you out of the room. “Bye, Minho.” The male called out, causing Minho to roll his eyes.

Chan guided you to the bathroom, where a bubble bath was ready for you. It was the perfect temperature, and he had used your favourite scent. 

“You jump in, relax. I’ll get you a hot chocolate, and you can just relax.” He placed a kiss on the crown of your head.

“I love you, Chris.” The two of you shared a soft kiss.

“I love you too.” As he left the room, you stripped and got into the bath. Chris joined you again, sitting on the floor. The two of you talked as you soaked.

—----------

He was happy. No one would interrupt you in the bath. However, ten minutes later, he had to leave the room to help I.N. fix something in his room.

You were dried and dressed in your pyjamas. You were comfy, wearing shorts and a cute top that had Scooby-Doo on it. You and Chan walked into the living room to see Hyunjin sitting on the couch. 

“Jinnie.” You spoke softly. “What are you doing here, my Prince?” You stroked his hair for a moment. 

Hyunjin looked at you and Chan, a clear excitement on his face. “They came. The new drawing pencils I told you about. They finally came with the charcoal. I was thinking we could draw together.” He looked so excited. 

Chan held back a huff. Seriously? He had barely gotten to spend time with you today. It was getting later and later. All the boys had pulled you away from him today. Sure, he was fine with it at first. But this was getting ridiculous. He should have locked your bedroom door this morning

Hyunjin pulled out his new pencils. The excitement on his face was making Chan feel a little guilty for feeling angry. Chan knew that Hyunjin had been giving you drawing lessons. And whilst you weren’t the best of the best. You were getting better over time. He loved watching you look at Hyunjin’s art like a proud mother. Some of his work hung proudly in the living room, the kitchen and in your and Chan’s room. Hell, he even knew about how you and Hyunjin’s mum often send each other pictures of Hyunjin’s work he had sent you both. Both of you are just praising him to each other. Chan thought it was incredibly sweet and cute. 

Chan shook his head and ran his tongue over his teeth. Why bother? “Have fun. I’m gonna go for a run.” He said, pulling out his phone and texting Changbin.

You looked up at Chan. “Are you sure? Jinnie and I can draw another time.” You said, placing a hand on his bicep. It took everything in you not to squeeze.

Chan nodded. “Yeah. Go ahead. It would be nice to spend more than five more minutes with my girlfriend today,” He let out a sigh and shook his head. “I need to get some fresh air. I won’t be long.” He made his way back to your shared room. 

Hyunjin looked up at you from where he was sitting on the couch. “Should I go? He seems angry.”

You shook your head. “No, he’s just-” You sucked in a breath. “He’s upset. We haven’t gotten to spend much time with each other today. But hopefully, we can just have a quiet night.” You said from your spot.

Hyunjin nodded. “I understand that. We all get a little jealous when we don’t have your attention. Chan feels stronger since you two are dating and you’ve both been a duo longer than we’ve known you both.”

Trust Hyunjin to be the most understanding soul. 

“Really? I didn’t know you all got jealous.” You spoke in surprise at the new information.

Hyujjin shrugged as he pulled out the two sketch books. “I’m not sure if jealous is the right word.” He started as Chan entered the room, now changed. 

Chan walked over to you both. He kissed you deeply before pulling away. “I’ll be back soon. Binnie and I are gonna go on our usual route. When I get back, I wanna see a new picture that I can put on my desk, okay?” He told you as he placed his hands on your hips. He looked at Hyunjin. He placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. It was a small sign to show Hyunjin that he wasn’t mad at him. 

“I’ll see you both later. I love you.” He said before leaving, though he did hear you call out to him that you love him too, and Hyunjin shouting for him to have fun. 

You sighed and sat down on the couch. Hyunjin passed you a sketch book and one of his new pencils. “Oh, I like this. Feels nice in my hand.” You told him. 

Hyunjin smiled. “That’s why I got them. I can’t wait to try them out.” He told you before, leaning back and beginning to draw.

You thought for a moment before deciding to draw a wolf and a bear. “What were you saying before?”

Hyunjin looked at you, then at the paper. “It’s just. You’re a huge part of our lives. We’ve all lived with you. We’ve all created our own bonds with you. You’re a mother and mentor to the four younger ones and me. You're a sister to me, Binnie and Minho. You’re Minho’s best friend. You’ve always given all eight of us your attention, and we don’t make it easy. We pull you in all directions, and you never really say no. If you have to, you always reschedule to a later day or time so as not to disappoint or upset us. Sometimes we just want some one-on-one time with you. But sometimes we don’t think about how we cut into your time with Channie-hyung. Especially some of the younger ones. Felix clings to you like a kitten. Han will sleep on you every chance he gets. I.N. and Seungmin always seem to be trying to stay by your side and show off just to hear you praise them. They ask you to teach them the dances, so it means one-on-one time with you. I know I do it too. I draw your attention to me. I know sometimes I don’t think. But you and Chan need your time together. You deserve your time together. I think you need a day without us all. Just the two of you.”

You nodded your head as you listened to him. “I think you're right.” You spoke softly. “We only have an interview tomorrow, and it’s just in the morning. I think I have an idea. Would you help me?” You looked at the man who gave you a relaxed smile. 

You and Chan were cuddling in bed. The two of you were just talking. It was just the two of you. Until it wasn’t. Jisung walked into your room with a blanket and a grin on his face. 

“I’d help you with anything.” And he meant it. 

—----------

“We’re watching anime. It’s a new one. You two have to watch it with me.” He said as he climbed onto the bed on your side. He grabbed the TV remote and turned on the TV, looking for the anime he wanted. 

“Oh, hi there, my lovely. Nice to see you, please come in. Oh, I’m doing fine. Thanks for asking.” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I thought you were helping Minho in the kitchen?” Chan asked.

Jisung shook his head. “I was banished.” He pouted. “He hasn’t even started yet, and he banished me from the kitchen.” He crossed his arms over his chest and got comfortable. “So we’re gonna watch anime.”

“Why were you banished from the kitchen?” You asked in confusion.

Jisung blushed. “I may have been acting a little silly. Minho said I can’t be trusted around knives with how hyper I got. So I was banished.”

“Ji, isn’t there anyone else who can watch with you?” Chan asked curiously. 

Han shook his head. “No. Changbin and Hyunjin are at their place, organising their gifts from you. Felix, I.N. and Seungmin are all playing games. So you two are going to be my emotional support parents whilst I pout.” He told the two of you.

Chan let out a groan. “Fine, but just until food is ready.”

Jisung nodded in agreement as he latched onto you. His head on your shoulder as he turned on the anime. The three of you sat there watching it comfortably.

—----------

You ended up in the kitchen with Minho, helping him finish up the food. He had wanted your opinion on the food. All the guys were back in the dorm, ready for a family dinner. Changbin walked into the kitchen, looking for a drink.

“Hyunjinnie told us about what you talked about with him.” Minho told you softly. 

This got Changbin’s attention. He came to stand at your other side. “We both agree with him. You and Chan deserve a day together.” He told you as he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

Minho turned off the stove. “I’m going to occupy Ji tomorrow. Hyunjin-ah said he’s going to spend the day with Felix and I.N., probably go shopping or something.” 

“And I’m going to take Seungmin out to play baseball for a few hours.” Changbin said reassuringly. 

“Plus, I can have I.N. spend the night at mine and Han’s dorm for the night.” Minho bumped your hip with his. You giggled. 

“I’d love that. Thank you.” You teared up a little. “I’ll tell Chan tonight. Seriously, thank you.” 

The two men brought you into a hug. “We just want to see you both smile.”

Somehow, the guys had all ended up in your bed after you had all eaten. You’d been watching YouTube when Felix fell asleep on you. Seungmin was asleep on Chan. The guys were all fast asleep, all snuggled up and looking cute and cosy.

—----------

You couldn’t sleep, nor could Chris. The two of you looked at each other. “Kitchen?” You whispered to him. The male nodded, and the two of you untangled yourselves from the other boys. Both of you quietly slipped out of the room and closed the door behind you. 

You gently took hold of his hand and walked with him to the kitchen. You turned on the kettle, ready to make you both a cup of tea. 

“I was thinking.” You started. 

Chan smirked at you. “That’s dangerous.”

You let out a dramatic gasp. “Rude.” You said lightly, smacking his arm. “Anyway, I’m sorry that we haven’t spent much time together today. But, I wanna make it up to you.” 

Chan shook his head. “Honey, you have nothing to apologise for.”

You shook your head. “No, I do. All day I’ve been giving my attention to the guys. But I didn’t give you the attention you deserve. You deserve all my attention.” You told him as you took both of his hands in yours. You gently squeezed his hands. 

Chan squeezed your hands back. “This isn’t all on you. I could have said no, but I let the guys drag you off to do whatever they wanted with you.”

You shook your head. “I was talking to Jinnie, Min and Binnie. The three wanna give us a day for ourselves. All we have is an interview in the morning. Then we have the rest of the day. It’ll be a us day. Just the two of us. We can stay in bed all day, watching Nigel Baker, or we can watch Ben Kim boasting about how you know who he is.  Or we can watch a movie, or we can just cuddle and do nothing. We can sleep or have a bath together. Whatever you want. Minho even said he’d offer to have Innie spend the night at his and Han’s place.”

Chan smiled softly. You could see how much he liked the idea. “I would love that. My favourite girl in my arms all day. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend the day. Thank you.”

You smiled up at him. “You deserve the world, Chris.” 

“You are my world.” He held you in his arms, your head on his chest, hugging each other.

The promise was kept the following day. After the interview, Hyunjin had taken Felix and I.N. out to do something fun. Changbin had kept Seungmin busy all day. Minho and Han had spent the day together. The boys all met up again at some point, happy to give you both the time you needed together. 

You and Chan had spent the day in bed doing nothing. Sure, you cooked together, had a bath and watched YouTube. But you also were wrapped up in each other’s arms. Having the best time. Enjoying the quiet and each other’s company. Sharing kisses and teasing words.

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

Requested by: @geekqueensworld

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[scarlet-streak-fanfics]

Date Everything Headcanon: A New House

Hello! Last night I was thinking about Eddie and Volt’s Realization ending and some posts about the player moving out of the house after everyone leaves and my brain spit this out. The focus is on Eddie and Volt, but I’ll have as many characters joining in as possible. For now, it’s only a set of headcanons, but if people are interested in oneshots or even a fic I’d be happy to write it! Just let me know. My ask box is open for requests!

Before you read, this will have spoilers for Realization endings and I want to tack on a content warning just in case. There will be some themes of loneliness and OCD/Hoarding, but I won’t be going too into depth. If you want a scale, it’ll be much less intense than Jerry–maybe closer to Hoove’s thing.

The Discovery

Eddie and Volt are very much caught up in their own lives and business for a while–after all, starting a Real Estate business is no easy task. You’re there to cheer them on from the sidelines, and they visit when they can. It’s just almost always meeting up at a bar or club for a quick drink, dance, or chat.

Once they settle in a bit better, however, the two start visiting you at home. Eddie’s mostly focused on making sure the electrical panel and the house’s wiring is in working order (and not going to burn the place down), so it’s Volt who spends time with you. Over the course of their visits, he notices that something seems to have changed.

It’s little things at first. You’re quieter, more subdued, and the hugs you give them before they leave feel just a little bit tighter. Then one day he comments on how the wall paper upstairs might need replacing–the corner’s been peeling for years, after all–and you immediately shut it down. When he tries to have a discussion about it, you accidentally refer to the wall as ‘him’ before shutting down completely.

That’s when Volt notices something–the house has not changed since the day the last object-turned-human left for their new lives. Koa had sent you new furniture pieces, he knows, but none can be found anywhere in the house. There’s a fine layer of dust on most surfaces, and every object he lifts leaves behind a perfect indentation to mark where it “should” be.

It takes a few more visits for the two of them to finally bring it up to you, and the reason you give them is heartbreaking: not only do you miss your friends and lovers, but a part of you is afraid they’re still somehow connected to their original objects. What if you vacuum up all the dust bunnies and something happens to Dolly? Would accidentally knocking over the ship-in-a-bottle that was once Jacques be breaking him?

Eddie and Volt’s hearts break as they realize the accidental hell you’ve trapped yourself into, and sure, maybe Eddie is supposed to be working on not carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but they decide they can make an exception just this once for their Live Wire. They know they can’t leave you alone in this empty house terrified that any change will ruin the lives you’d worked so hard to give to the dozens of people you’d grown to love.

The Intervention

The first step is a lot of phone calls, starting with Teddy, Jerry, Chance, and Lady Memoria. Chance’s certifications in Psychology come in handy for talking you through your fears, especially with Jerry there to remind you of how you helped him. Sure, his junk wasn’t exactly alive in the same way these objects had been, but it’s nice to not feel alone. When things get to be too much, Teddy is there for a comforting hug and encouragement. That’s when their fifth guest arrives: Beau.

When they first propose the plan to you, you’re absolutely against it. However, Beau reasons, she was the embodiment of every cardboard box in the house, not just a single object. It wouldn’t kill her to lose just one. Besides, if it will help you, she’d gladly embark on such a treacherous adventure–what’s one hand or ear in the grand scheme of things? If anything, she’ll have an incredible story to tell her campers.

Once that first box is carefully cut down to a more manageable size with a box cutter and placed in the trash without any harm to Beau, that’s when you break down with relief. From that point on, it’s time for Memoria to take over–with some help, of course.

Objects are sorted into three categories: Functioning, Non-Functioning, and Fixed. One by one, the people that represent the parts of the house you absolutely can’t take with you visit to reassure you that they won’t be hurt by being left behind. By the time Jean-Loo is dragged in both to apologize for his silence and tell you that it’s alright to not take actual toilets with you, you’re feeling rather silly about the whole thing. Most of their visits are, of course, spent reminiscing and enjoying each other’s company, beginning to fill the void you didn’t even know existed.

For the non-functioning category, Hoove and Freddy actually encourage you to buy replacements for the objects they used to be. All the major appliances in the house that you could take with you are either past the end of their warranty or just about at the end, and they all agree they’d rather you have safer, better functioning ones than get caught up on sentimentality. Again, each of them gets a tight hug upon departure, leaving behind a promise to visit or at least communicate a bit more often.

Finally, the functioning category. Memoria gives you four options: keep, storage, trash, or offer it to the person themselves so they can decide. You and Lyric split your book collection, well-read copies full of sentimental value that even a first edition couldn’t replace, Diana encourages you to keep using your diary, and Barry is delighted to take you to replace your old cosmetics with new ones.

Weeks of work pass, and once it’s just you, Jerry, Teddy, Chance, and Lady Memoria left, the house is emptier, sure, but much lighter. You thank them with tearful hugs and whispers of love and support. Then, finally, you’re alone–that is, until Volt and Eddie arrive and ask you to come with them.

The Surprise

It’s a short drive to their newest property acquisition, one spent with quiet conversation about how you’re feeling. You thank them for caring enough to help pull you out of that hole you were in, and Eddie simply smiles while Volt tells you not to thank them just yet.

The house they lead you into is quite a bit bigger than your old place. Eddie talks about the work he’s put into redoing the ventilation, electrical, and plumbing while Volt paints a picture of what each room could be–a gym and an office, of course, but also plenty of guest rooms, a library, a music room, and even a game room. Finally, at the end of the tour, they make you an offer: your old house for this one. A fresh start, one where you’ll have room for the friends and lovers that you now know miss you just as much as you miss them will be able to come and visit–or even stay with you fully with their own spaces–to spend time with you and engage in the activities that you’d bonded over. 

When asked about the price difference between the two properties, they simply wave it off, telling you not to worry. The secret? Several of your more successful object-turned-human loved ones decided to chip in to cover the cost. It’s a gift made with love and care–after all, none of them want their beloved human to be alone. That house had, for many of them, been a veritable prison. They can’t stand to leave you to that same fate.

Koa was overjoyed when you finally accepted his gifts of new furniture, with each and every couch and bed that passed through your door stamped with his utmost seal of approval. Washford and Drysdale insisted upon handling the landscaping themselves, and both your front and back yards became the envy of all your new neighbors. Artt, Daisuke, and Hector took it upon themselves to ensure artworks of every kind had a place on the walls and surfaces. By the time everyone who wanted to had left some sort of personal touch on your new abode and you and those who had chosen to take up a more permanent residence had finished settling in, the place was bursting with the life and love that you hadn’t even known you’d been missing.

[enjakey]

One Life

PAIRING: Jake x Fem!Reader

TW/N | (6.3k) AFTER POPULAR DEMAND, this is a sequel to ONE NIGHT so please go read that. this part is very different ofc it’s a lot of missing each other and yearning. Please enjoy! This fic is long overdue it’s been sitting in my drafts and I keep hesitating to post it but it’s finally here! Enjoy! Please live and reblog and comment and tell me your reactions it makes my day!!

SMUT TAGS: oral (fem receiving), fingering, p in v (protected sex), yearning, lots of talking (communication in general is great guys)

SUMMARY: after spending the night with Jake, an idol you’d been keeping up with since his debut, you realise that you now have to face the consequences of it. The netizens never found out, sure, but you also didn’t see him after that night. He’d left before you had woken up. What else were you expecting? But Jake had a way of coming back- he always did, and he would always stay.

Part 1: ONE NIGHT

You sat at the edge of your desk, a cubicle at a marketing firm you hated working for. But they paid well and sponsored travel expenses- you feigned loyalty. 

An excel sheet sat open in front of you, a full mug of coffee cooling beside you. Employees walked up and down the office isles, greeting you; greeting them. Even the manager waved at you and you waved back- then immediately went back to biting the cuticles of your nails.

You were on the verge of combusting.

It didn’t matter how many times you’d tried distracting yourself- loud music, reminding yourself of the list of piling chores you had to complete, deadlines looming closer- nothing seemed to work. It was eating away at your time, at your goddamn sanity.

Jake- his lips, the way he looked at you, the way his hair fell as soft curtains, the way he whispered your name like you were the only thing that mattered to him, the way he held you like he wanted you to stay- kept you awake and distracted from the reality of your life for two weeks now.

It’d been two weeks since you’d come home from that business trip, two weeks since you’d met him in that fated elevator, two weeks since you walked around the neighbourhood with him in the dead of the night, two weeks since you let him into your bed, two weeks since he kissed you and had his hands roam your skin in heat- two weeks since you gave him your hair tie.

That damn hair tie.

You didn’t mean to, it just sort of happened- falling down the rabbit hole of ENHYPEN, of Jake.

It started with an innocent edit that showed up on your recommended- that cowboy edit the internet went crazy for. And then, it was watching edit after edit- the old ones, the new ones and everything else in between.

Fan signs, performances, interviews, promotional content.

His smile, his laugh, the way he spoke, his hands, the way he made fun of his band members- everything ingrained into your head like an ache, like a bruise that’d never heal.

In everything that you watched- everything that was recent, at least- he had that damn hair tie on his wrist. Your hair tie. 

And when it wasn’t on his wrist, it was in his hair, pulling the strands back into a half up-do. Exactly the way he did that night with you, sitting at the edge of a bridge. Your idea. 

So what? What could you possibly do? Even if you knew they were coming to your city as their next destination of their tour, even if you could buy tickets to their next show, even if you wanted to desperately see them- him. 

Jake- despite that mundane night, where he just felt like a normal human being, where he felt like he could be more than just a person on your phone screen- was famous. 

There was nothing you could do about it.

Jake leaned back on the green-room couch, phone dangling loosely between his fingers, leg bouncing up and down like it had a motor of its own.

He was tired. He was always tired these days. Tour life was a relentless carousel of soundchecks, interviews, screaming crowds, and hotel rooms that all smelled faintly of stale air freshener. But beneath the exhaustion, something else had been simmering for weeks- a quiet, gnawing ache that he couldn’t seem to shake.

You.

He hadn’t been able to get you out of his head. Your laugh, your nervous little smiles, the way your eyes had softened when he’d handed you his jacket that night. The way you’d touched his hair. The way you’d touched him. 

He could still feel your fingers threading through his hair. He could still taste your skin on his tongue. He could still feel the weight of your body under him.

Jake squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a breath through his nose. God. It was driving him insane.

He’d thought time would blur the edges of that night, but instead, it burned sharper with every day.

He saw you everywhere- when Jungwon bought ice cream at a convenience store, the same one you got that night; when Jay sprayed his perfume and it somehow held scents of you; when Niki mentioned a movie he wanted to watch and he was sure that you’d mentioned it that night too.

A burst of laughter erupted across the room. The members were goofing off, half-dressed in stage outfits, hair still damp from rehearsal. Staff bustled around, prepping makeup tables, zipping and unzipping wardrobe bags. Amid the chaos, one of the stylists dropped a stack of clipboards on the coffee table, paper spilling everywhere.

“Ah, shit, sorry,” she called, scooping up the documents.

“It’s fine,” he murmured, eyes glancing down.

A logo on one of the sheets caught his eye. Bold, crisp letters. He blinked, brain lagging for a moment, then he leaned forward and tugged the clipboard gently from the pile.

He stared at the name. It poked at something inside his brain like a paperclip jamming a lock.

It sounded too familiar- he just couldn’t figure out why.

He looked down at his wrist. The hair tie was there- black, simple, delicate. Yours. The one you’d slipped off your wrist and handed to him that night under the stars. The one he hadn’t taken off since.

Suddenly, everything clicked- the name of your company, your job in marketing, the meeting you’d told him about, the business trip you’d been on.

His pulse skyrocketed. He could practically feel the blood roaring through his ears.

They were in your city- he realised. You were here.

His focus for the rest of the day had slipped past him. His mind, everything that he was- his energy, his conscience, his attention- was with you.

He kept losing his place in practice, stumbling over lyrics, forgetting his marks on stage. At one point, someone joked that he and Jay must have swapped bodies, because it was usually Jay who messed up, not him.

Jake barely laughed. He just dragged trembling fingers through his hair and tied it back with your hair tie, pulling it tight enough to hurt.

He kept asking for the time- 3pm, 4pm, 5pm, 6pm… 6:10… 6:15.

What time did people usually get off work?

He tried recalling if you’d mentioned anything about your work timings that night- eyes squeezing shut, trying to relive that conversation.

Nothing.

His breath turned ragged. 

They’d moved into a break. Everyone else had collapsed onto the studio floor, breathless and trembling, wet towels thrown over their foreheads as sweat dripped onto the polished wood.

Jake couldn’t join them.

While the others lay sprawled in exhaustion, he slipped away, his steps quiet, shoulders sagging under a weight no one else could see. He approached their manager, head hung low, every part of him radiating defeat.

Moments later, the manager signaled for the driver to take him back to the hotel, offering him a soft pat on the back and an understanding smile.

He slid into the van, pulse rattling like a trapped bird. His eyes stayed fixed on the darkened city as neon lights streaked past the window.

Instead of the hotel address, he gave the driver another one- the address he’d memorised in the green room earlier that day. The one he’d repeated in his mind during dance runs, between song verses, as though reciting it might magically pull you closer.

Your office address.

You were tidying up your desk, trying to pretend your day hadn’t felt a million hours long. You slipped stray pens into a mug, stacked your papers into a neat pile, and checked that your laptop was tucked safely into your bag. Outside the office windows, the sky was already slipping into dusk, a soft wash of orange and purple.

You glanced at the time and let out a groan, dropping your head forward for a second.

“I was just about to go home,” you muttered to yourself. “Please don’t let there be more work.”

You were reaching for your coat when you noticed Mia, the front desk receptionist, weaving through the rows of cubicles toward you. She looked flustered, like someone had asked her to explain quantum physics with zero preparation.

She stopped in front of your desk, clutching a small notepad in her hand. “No, it’s not work,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “There’s… a visitor here for you.”

You blinked at her, thrown off. 

“That has to be a mistake,” you said, squinting at her.

Mia lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Well, he says he’s here for you. He wouldn’t leave until I checked.”

“Who is it?” You demanded, your pulse already picking up speed for reasons you couldn’t quite name.

She glanced down at her notepad again, like she still didn’t quite believe what she was about to say. “He said his name is Jake? Didn't give me a last name.”

Your heart practically stopped.

The name hit you like a punch to the chest.

Jake.

There was only one Jake your brain could conjure. The same Jake whose hair tie was probably still around his wrist. The same Jake whose lips you still felt on your skin, whose voice haunted your thoughts every night.

Your eyes widened, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe. Your mind whirred through a dozen explanations- maybe it was Jake from Accounting, or Jake from Legal, or literally any other Jake on planet earth- but you knew. 

Deep down, you knew.

Mia was still watching you, eyebrows lifted. “Should I… send him away?”

You swallowed hard, your voice caught somewhere in your chest.

You didn’t bother saying anything to Mia.

Your heart was thundering so hard you thought you might be sick. Clutching your bag and the stack of loose files you’d just gathered, you pushed past her, your steps brisk and uneven as you made your way out of the cubicle maze and through the glass doors of the office.

And there he was.

Sitting on one of the waiting room couches, hunched forward, elbows balanced on his knees as his fingers twisted and fidgeted in his lap.

Jake.

He looked almost exactly as he had that night, two weeks ago- the night he had unraveled you entirely.

He was wearing a black cap pulled low, a mask covering half his face, drowning in a baggy outfit with the same puffy jacket he’d draped over your shoulders in the cold. Only his eyes were visible, and even those were half hidden under the shadow of his cap. But there was no mistaking him.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Jake was almost convinced you weren’t going to show.

He kept glancing at the glass doors, willing you to appear, but as the minutes dragged on, the weight in his chest only grew heavier. It was past 8 p.m. Most sane human beings would have been home by now, curled up on the couch, maybe halfway through dinner or an episode of some drama.

But Jake couldn’t tell what counted as normal anymore.

The receptionist had fought him for a good ten minutes, insisting he couldn’t just barge into an office building unannounced, especially looking the way he did- hood pulled up, mask tight across his face, hands shoved into the pockets of his oversized jacket. He could practically see the questions in her eyes. Either he was a celebrity… or someone seconds away from robbing a bank. There was no in-between.

In the end, all he could do was lean forward, voice low and desperate.

“Just… get Y/N. Tell her Jake is here. She’ll know who I am. Please.”

And now he was here, sitting on the lobby couch, hands twisting over each other until his knuckles went pale, his heart beating so hard he felt it in his ears and throat. He thought he might actually combust.

But then-

He saw you.

You came through the office doors, arms full of your things, eyes wide as they landed on him.

For a second, Jake forgot how to breathe.

You looked almost exactly the way you had that night in the elevator. Except now, your expression was taut with confusion and shock, and your outfit was pure corporate polish- a fitted shirt tucked into a black skirt, heels clicking softly against the tile floor, your hair swept up off your neck.

Beautiful. God, you were beautiful. Just a little more tired around the eyes than two weeks ago.

And then he heard it. Your voice, small and incredulous. “You can’t be real.”

Jake pushed himself to his feet, each step careful, as though afraid he might scare you off if he moved too fast.

“Hey,” he said softly. His eyes squinted into that familiar smile, even if half his face was still hidden beneath his mask and cap.

“How are you here?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I, uh… remembered the company you work for. Realized I was in your city.”

Your eyes darted around the room, a faint panic shimmering in them. “How are you- you’re not gonna get in trouble for this?”

Jake let out a breathless laugh, lifting his hand to scratch the corner of his eye with his pinky. Even though you couldn’t see his grin beneath the mask, you saw it shining in his eyes.

As his sleeve shifted, the cuff rode up just enough to reveal his wrist- and there it was.

Your hair tie. Still looped snug around his skin like a secret. Like a silent brand that marked him as yours.

And he allowed it- he wanted it that way.

Jake swallowed, his voice softening. “I… I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Y/N.”

You blinked at him, trying to process everything all at once. “We… we can’t talk here.”

Jake didn’t even hesitate. “Then take me back to your place.”

He said it so smoothly, so casually, like there was no other option in the world. Like it was the most obvious answer.

You stared at him, lips parting, but no words came out.

For a moment, you could only hear the dull thud of your heartbeat and the faint hum of the office lights overhead.

Then you sighed, defeated, and pulled out your phone to book a cab.

The ride back to your apartment was quiet.

Outside, the city blurred past in streaks of neon and headlights, but inside the car, the silence pressed down on both of you.

You sat rigid, your bag clutched in your lap, your mind racing with confusion and shock. Every so often, you’d glance at him, your brows pulled together, your chest aching with something you couldn’t name.

Jake, for his part, seemed perfectly content just to be there beside you. He leaned into the corner of the backseat, watching the passing streets, though his knee wouldn’t stop bouncing up and down.

Your hands itched- the phantom memory of his skin against your fingertips tormenting you. You wanted to touch him, to feel the heat of him again, to confirm that he was real and not just another sleepless fantasy replaying in your head.

When the cab finally pulled up outside your building, you climbed out in a daze, barely remembering to thank the driver. Jake followed close behind, his eyes scanning the quiet street, the glow of streetlamps catching on the edges of his cap.

You fumbled with your keys at the l door, your hands trembling so hard you nearly dropped them twice. Jake just stood there behind you, saying nothing, waiting.

The moment you stepped into the apartment, he reached out and curled his fingers around your wrist.

You turned toward him, startled, and before you could even ask what he was doing, he tugged you forward- hard enough that you stumbled right into his chest.

His arms closed around you instantly, wrapping you in the thick fabric of his jacket. His hands splayed across your back, pressing you close, his head dipping down so his face was buried in your shoulder.

You stiffened at first, shocked by the sudden contact, your bag hanging awkwardly from your arm. But his warmth seeped into your skin, his scent- clean soap, a faint trace of cologne- flooding your senses.

Your body went slack against him.

Jake let out a shuddering breath, his voice muffled against your hair. “I’ve been wanting to do that for two weeks.”

“Jake…” you whispered, your voice small against the echoing quiet of your apartment.

He didn’t let you finish. He pulled back just far enough to look at you, his breath brushing across your cheek.

“You don’t understand what you do to me, Y/N,” he breathed. His voice was raw, almost ragged, like he was confessing something dangerous.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he began peeling away his layers.

First came his cap, tossed carelessly onto your entryway table. Then the mask, pulled down to reveal his lips, the familiar curve of his mouth that had haunted your dreams for weeks. And finally, the jacket- your jacket, the one he’d given you that night- slipped off his shoulders and laid over a chair.

And just like that, he was Jake again.

No disguise. No barrier between the idol and the man.

Your breath caught in your chest as you looked at him- the carve of his jaw, the elegant lines of his cheekbones, the deep brown of his eyes shining under your apartment’s soft yellow light. His hair was slightly messy, long enough to brush over his lashes. God, you’d missed him.

Jake glanced around your space, curiosity flickering across his face.

Your apartment was small, but cozy. A single bedroom, pale walls, warm lamps. Trinkets littered the corners- little souvenirs from places you’d visited, a collection of shark figurines on a shelf, a messy pile of books on the coffee table. The hallway led straight into your tiny kitchen, right beside the front door.

He set his things carefully on your table, as though he’d been here a hundred times before. He moved so naturally in your space that it made your head spin.

You could only stare at him, half in shock, half afraid that if you blinked, he’d vanish again. Like a ghost that somehow knew its way around your home.

“Jake?” You managed, voice catching.

He turned to look at you over his shoulder, a soft grin tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“Yeah?”

“What happens now?” You asked him, your voice trembling despite how hard you tried to steady it.

Jake’s eyes softened as he looked at you. “Anything you want, baby.”

The way he said it- low, certain, like it was the easiest answer in the world- made your entire body feel like it might liquefy. You wanted to melt. Onto the floor, into his arms, into the memory of that night two weeks ago. 

Your head was spinning.

Jake stepped closer again, closing the space between you, his hands finding your waist as he gently pulled you further into your apartment. It was like he’d claimed both your space and you in the same breath. Like this was his place, and you were his.

“I don’t know if I can handle it,” you whispered, the words trembling out of you before you could stop them.

Jake tilted his head, brows drawing together just slightly. “Handle what?”

His breath mingled with yours, warm and sweet, filling the inch of air between your lips. Your eyes fluttered shut, and your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, desperate for something to anchor you.

“You leaving again,” you managed, voice barely a whisper.

Jake let out a soft, shaky laugh, one hand coming up to cradle your cheek.

“Who said anything about leaving?” He murmured, leaning closer until his lips just barely brushed yours.

Your heart stuttered. That barely-there touch sent a jolt straight through your spine. Jake’s thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone, and the other hand tightened slightly at your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You felt him everywhere- his warmth, his scent, the slow, heavy thud of his heart syncing with yours.

Your grip on his shirt tightened. Your knees weakened. You didn’t trust your own body.

His lips brushed yours again, softer this time, then firmer- pressing, parting, testing. You gasped softly against his mouth, and Jake took it as permission.

Suddenly, the kiss deepened- no hesitation, no nerves; just heat. His mouth slanted against yours with purpose, with hunger, like he’d been starved of you for weeks- and he was. His hands slid down your back, anchoring you in place as his body pressed into yours.

Your fingers were in his hair before you even realised, tugging gently, just enough to make him groan into your mouth.

“God, I missed this,” he whispered, breath hot against your lips as he broke the kiss just long enough to catch his breath. “Missed you.”

You didn’t answer. You just kissed him harder.

Jake walked you backward, blind and instinctive, until the backs of your knees hit the edge of your couch. He broke the kiss only to let his mouth trail along your jaw, down your neck, teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver.

“I thought about you every night,” he murmured against your throat. “I almost lost my mind wondering if you were thinking about me too.”

“I was,” you breathed, head tilted back, voice shaky. “I never stopped.”

Jake’s hands moved- confident now, exploring. One rested at your hip, the other sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers grazing your skin like he’d earned the right to touch you again.

You let him- you wanted him.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark, chest rising with heavy breaths.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice low, hoarse. “And I will.”

But you didn’t. You reached for him again, pulled him back in like you were done pretending you could forget him.

Jake kissed you again, slower this time but deeper, his tongue brushing yours, tasting, teasing. You felt dizzy, drunk on the heat rolling off his body.

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, breathing hard.

“Bedroom?” He rasped, voice low and edged with a plea.

You could only nod.

Jake didn’t wait for you to lead him. He caught your hand in his and gently tugged you past the couch, through the short hallway, until you reached your bedroom door. You fumbled the handle open, pulse hammering so loud you thought he could hear it.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Jake pushed you gently against it, pressing his body flush to yours. His mouth was on yours again, more urgent, hands sliding up under your shirt, fingers splaying over your bare waist like he needed to feel every inch of you.

He pulled back just long enough to unbutton your shirt, slipping it off your shoulders and letting it pool at your legs. His eyes roamed over you, dark and hungry, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run miles.

“Fuck,” he breathed, fingers brushing lightly over the swell of your breasts still hidden by your bra. “I missed you so much.”

You reached for his shirt, tugging it up, and he lifted his arms to let you pull it off. The soft glow of your bedside lamp caught on the lines of muscle along his chest and arms, the familiar warmth of his skin drawing you closer.

Jake dipped his head, kissing a slow trail from your jaw down your throat. He mouthed at the spot where your neck met your shoulder, biting gently before soothing the sting with his tongue. You gasped, gripping his shoulders for balance.

“You’re real,” you whispered, half dazed, fingers threading into his hair. “You’re actually here.”

Jake pulled back just enough to look at you, hair falling over his forehead, eyes blazing. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, voice rough as gravel. “Not unless you make me.”

Then his hands were on the waistband of your skirt, fumbling just slightly in his rush. You let out a shaky laugh, helping him push it down and you stepped out of the mess. You caught a glimpse of your hair tie on his wrist and it just made you more impatient, whining and writhing.

Jake dropped to his knees in front of you, pressing hot kisses along your stomach, his hands skimming over your thighs. You felt yourself tremble under his touch.

“Jake…” you murmured, voice trembling as you carded your fingers through his hair.

He looked up at you from under his lashes, pupils blown wide.

“Let me take my time with you,” he said, voice thick, breathless. “I’ve been thinking about this every night.”

He pressed another soft kiss just above your hipbone, his breath warm against your skin. Then his fingers slipped under the waistband of your panties, thumbs brushing your hips as he slowly tugged them downward.

You shivered as the cool air hit your newly exposed skin. Your panties dropped to the floor, joining your skirt, leaving you bare from the waist down.

Jake’s eyes flickered over you, heat blazing in his gaze.

“Fuck… you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing gentle circles over your hips as he leaned in and kissed the inside of your thigh.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, a small gasp escaping you as his mouth trailed higher.

He paused just shy of where you were aching for him, looking up at you from his knees.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, voice a husky rasp. “Or if you want me to keep going.”

Your chest heaved as you tried to find your voice. “Don’t stop.”

A slow, wicked smile curved his lips. “Good.”

Jake leaned in and pressed a soft, teasing kiss over your clit. The gentle contact made your hips jolt, a sharp breath tearing from your throat. He chuckled softly, the vibration sending another shiver up your spine.

Then he flattened his tongue and licked you firmly, from the bottom of your slit up to your clit, lingering there to circle it slowly.

“Ah- Jake…”

Your head fell back against the door, eyes squeezing shut. You felt him smile against you. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he did it again- long, deliberate strokes that grew wetter, deeper, each one dragging a soft moan from your lips.

He slipped one arm around your waist, tugging you closer so your legs were bracketing his shoulders. His tongue flicked faster, alternating between soft laps and firmer pressure, as he hummed low in his throat.

Your hips rocked forward helplessly.

Jake pulled back just enough to murmur, “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.”

Then he sucked your clit into his mouth, gently at first, then with more pressure, his tongue flicking rapidly as he kept you pinned in place.

Your entire body shuddered. Heat coiled low in your belly, winding tighter with each stroke of his mouth. You buried your fingers in his hair, clutching him closer, unable to stop the ragged gasps spilling from your lips.

“Jake- fuck, Jake- ”

He groaned against you, the sound vibrating right through your core. One of his hands slid up between your thighs, and he slipped a finger inside you, slow and careful at first. You clenched around him, your breath stuttering.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses to your inner thigh as he moved his finger gently in and out. “God, I missed your voice.”

Your knees nearly buckled. He slid in a second finger, scissoring them gently as his mouth returned to your clit, licking you in rhythm with each thrust of his fingers.

You cried out, hips jerking as the heat in your belly exploded outward.

“Come for me, baby,” Jake whispered. “Come on. I need it.”

A broken moan ripped from your throat as your orgasm crashed through you, white-hot and overwhelming. Your body seized, trembling violently as waves of pleasure rolled over you.

Jake didn’t stop until your thighs were shaking and you were gasping for breath, his tongue and fingers drawing every last ripple of pleasure from your body.

Finally, he pulled back, pressing one last gentle kiss to your sensitive skin before rising to his feet. His lips were wet, his pupils blown wide as he looked down at you, his chest heaving.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his voice hoarse. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Your legs felt boneless beneath you. He scooped you up without warning, one arm around your back and the other under your knees. You let out a soft gasp as he carried you across the room.

He set you gently on the bed, following you down immediately, bracing himself over you with a knee pressed between your thighs. His hands roamed over your bare skin like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch first.

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this every night,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours as he kissed you hard.

You tasted yourself on his lips, and the realization made heat spark low in your belly all over again.

Your hands fumbled at the zipper on his jeans, fingers trembling as you tugged them down over his hips. He hissed softly as your knuckles brushed against him, already hard and straining against the fabric.

Jake pulled back just long enough to shove the rest of his clothes off, tossing them aside carelessly. The soft lamplight spilled over him, highlighting every sharp line of muscle, the smooth golden skin of his chest, the trail of veins disappearing lower-

You sucked in a shaky breath.

He caught the look in your eyes and grinned, a flush creeping up his neck. “Don’t stare at me like that.”

“Jake…” you breathed, reaching for him, your voice trembling. “I want you.”

He exhaled sharply, as if those words had physically knocked the air out of him.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Okay. Okay.”

He leaned down to kiss you again, slower this time, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he pressed closer. His body was warm, solid, the weight of him pinning you deliciously against the mattress.

One of his hands slid between your legs, fingers teasing gently through your folds. You moaned, hips arching into his touch.

“You’re still so wet,” he whispered, lips brushing yours as he spoke. “God, you feel like heaven.”

You reached between your bodies, wrapping your hand around him. He groaned into your mouth, his hips stuttering forward as you stroked him, feeling the silky heat of him pulse under your palm.

“Condom,” you gasped out, your mind barely clinging to reason.

Jake nodded quickly, breathless, leaning off the bed just far enough to grab his wallet from his discarded jacket. His hands were shaking slightly as he tore the wrapper open.

You watched him roll it on, the muscles in his forearms flexing, his jaw clenched as he tried to keep himself under control.

Then he was back over you, positioning himself between your thighs. He paused, one hand cupping your cheek as he searched your eyes.

“Are you sure?” He murmured, voice rough, eyes blazing with both heat and something impossibly tender.

You nodded, voice trembling. “Please, Jake.”

He let out a ragged breath and guided himself to your entrance, the thick head of him nudging against your slick folds.

Slowly- agonizingly slowly- he pushed in.

Your back arched, a soft cry tearing from your lips as he filled you, stretching you open inch by inch. Jake dropped his forehead to yours, breathing harshly, his hands framing your face.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” he rasped, his voice shaking as he bottomed out inside you.

He held still for a moment, letting you adjust, pressing kisses to your cheek, your temple, your jaw.

“Jake,” you whimpered, rolling your hips up into his. “Move. Please.”

A broken groan ripped from his chest.

And then he did.

Jake pulled back and thrust into you again, slow at first, savoring every drag of his length inside you. But soon his rhythm grew faster, harder, each stroke hitting deeper.

The headboard began to thump softly against the wall, the sound mingling with your gasps and the low, guttural curses spilling from Jake’s lips.

“God, baby… I can’t believe I’m inside you again,” he groaned. “I fucking missed you… missed this so much.”

Your nails raked lightly down his back, hips lifting to meet his thrusts. Stars danced behind your eyes as pleasure coiled tighter with each movement.

“Jake- oh God-”

He caught your mouth in a messy, breathless kiss, swallowing your moans as he drove into you, relentless and desperate. His hips snapped forward, deeper, faster, until all you could do was cling to him and let the sensation crash over you.

“I’m so close,” you choked out, your voice trembling.

“Come with me,” he panted, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead. “Please, baby… come with me.”

And when he reached down between your bodies to circle your clit with his thumb, it sent you flying over the edge.

Your vision went white as your orgasm hit, pulsing through your body like a shockwave. You cried out his name, body trembling, clutching at his shoulders as the pleasure tore through you.

Jake followed a heartbeat later, groaning your name into your neck as he buried himself deep, hips stuttering as he spilled into the condom.

He held you tight through the aftershocks, both of you shaking, breathing hard, your limbs tangled together.

When he finally pulled back to look at you, there was a soft, disbelieving smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Hi,” he whispered, voice hoarse and tender.

You let out a breathless laugh, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Hi.”

You hadn’t expected to see him the next morning.

You’d braced yourself for the usual aftermath- a cold, empty bed, the faint imprint of his weight on the sheets, all his things gone as though he’d never been there. No trace of him left except the ghost of his touch lingering on your skin- your mouth, your chest, your thighs, your legs.

But then you woke up, and he was still there.

Jake lay curled against your side, his head tucked into the curve of your shoulder, one arm locked firmly around your waist like he was reminding you of who you belonged to. His breath was warm against your skin, slow and even.

For a moment, you just stared at him, hardly daring to move.

Then you shifted to face him, and he stirred, brow crinkling as his eyes fluttered open. A sleepy grin spread across his face, soft and boyish, like he’d been caught doing something mischievous.

“Good morning,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

You blinked at him, your voice coming out small and disbelieving. “You’re still here?”

Jake’s grin widened, his hair falling messily over his forehead. “I’m not leaving until I get your number this time, Y/N.”

A soft laugh slipped out of you, despite the swirl of emotions tightening your chest. You looked at him, truly looked at him- his hair a rumpled mess, his lips pink and swollen from sleep (and from you), his eyes crinkling in that way that made your stomach flip.

You reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair off his forehead. “You make it sound like I purposely didn’t give it to you.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “I… didn’t know if you’d want it.”

A crease formed between his brows, and he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. His arm stayed snug around your waist, fingers splayed across your hip.

“Y/N… I’ve thought about you every single day since that night,” his voice dropped lower, roughened by sleep and emotion. “I didn’t come all this way to disappear again.”

Your heart twisted, caught between hope and fear. “I don’t know how this… works. With you. With your life.”

Jake exhaled slowly, brushing his thumb over your side, tracing gentle circles into your skin. “I don’t either,” he admitted. “But… I want to try. I don’t care how messy or complicated it is. I just want to be around you.”

You swallowed, your voice barely a whisper. “Even if it’s long distance? Even if people find out?”

He smiled- a softer, almost shy smile- and dipped his head to kiss your temple.

“Even then,” he murmured. “I’m pretty stubborn, you know?”

Your chest ached at how warm he felt pressed against you.

“So…” Jake continued, eyes flicking back to yours. “Maybe… we take it one step at a time? I give you my number. You give me yours. We figure out how to see each other again. And we just… go from there.”

Your lips curved, slow and hesitant, but genuine. “One step at a time?” You repeated.

Jake nodded. “One step at a time,” he nudged his nose against yours. “And right now, step one is breakfast. Preferably with you wearing my shirt and nothing else.”

You let out a startled laugh, swatting at his chest. “Jake!”

“What?” He said, feigning innocence as he pulled you closer, rolling you gently beneath him. “Gotta make the most of my time here, right?”

Your laughter dissolved into soft giggles as he kissed you again, the morning sun streaming through your window, catching in his hair like gold.

And for the first time in two weeks, you let yourself believe that maybe… this could be real.

[sweetlikelace]

JUST BREATHE THAT MOMENT DOWN

PART ONE | sugarmommy!wanda maximoff x reader

pairing(s): wanda maximoff x reader

content warning: broke college student ig, men

word count: 1.7k

A/N: hey guyssss it’s been a while i’m so sorry for going awol. i’m working on part five of mhatmsat and i’ll post it soon i promise. in the meantime, here’s a little something i’ve been working on for a while! mwah love yous. not proofread

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

the decision to go back to school was not an easy one. it had taken months of back and forth before you finally decided it was the right choice for you. after you graduated high school, you started working right away, you didn't think post-secondary was apart of your future until now. but after bouncing between minimum wage jobs, constantly stressing about how you were going to pay rent or afford groceries, something shifted. you realized you had no real safety net, nothing solid to fall back on. every dead-end job just reinforced that unless something changed, this cycle wasn’t going to stop. 

 you had been excited to return to school, ready to chase down long-held goals and invest in a better future. but reality hit hard and fast. the academic rigor, far more intense than you remembered or expected, quickly turning your enthusiasm into a kind of quiet dread. each lecture felt like a wave crashing down, and assignments piled up faster than you could get a handle on them. what began as excitement for a new chapter turned into a daily struggle to keep up with lectures, readings, papers, and exams all demanding more energy than you had 

on top of your coursework, the pressure to find a job weighed heavily. tuition, rent, books—none of it was cheap, and working a part-time job became a necessity. But this meant long hours, late-night shifts, and early morning classes with barely enough sleep in between. the constant push and pull between earning money and keeping up with academics left you overwhelmed and exhausted. to cope, you started putting things off, but procrastination only made things worse. deadlines loomed, anxiety grew, and guilt sank deeper each time she fell behind.

financial stress added another layer of emotional weight. there were days when she skipped meals to stretch her grocery budget or turned down invitations simply because you couldn’t afford to go out. you stopped seeing your friends as often, even your roommate, kate was fed up with having to pay for you every time you went out, but you couldn't blame her. 

one evening, as you were slumped on the couch with your laptop open but untouched, half-heartedly pretending to study, kate burst through the door with her usual energy. she tossed her bag down, kicked off her boots, and flopped next to you like she had some world-shattering news. “okay,” she said, eyes lit up, “don’t judge me—but have you heard of sugarkiss?”

you gave her a side glance. “is that some new drug?”

she laughed. “close. it’s a dating app. but like, not your usual swipe-left-swipe-right crap. it’s more... curated. think of it like tinder but with actual perks.” she wiggled her eyebrows. “some of them are looking to ‘support’ students. you know, dinners, gifts, help with tuition, that kind of thing.”

you blink at her, not sure whether to laugh or roll your eyes. “you’re talking about sugar dating?”

kate shrugged, unapologetic. “kind of. but it’s not what people think. it’s not sketchy or anything. it’s more like mutual agreements, expectations laid out from the beginning. and honestly? some of these girls are getting their rent paid or walking around with designer bags just for going on dinner dates. no pressure, no strings, unless you want that.”

you didn’t say anything at first. you weren't judging her, not really. but you couldn’t help but think about your maxed-out credit card, the growing pile of overdue readings, and how exhausting it all was. the idea sounded wild... but also, weirdly tempting.

kate must have seen the wheels turning in your head because she leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping like you were sharing a secret. “look, i’m not saying you have to do anything,” she said. “but you’re killing yourself trying to juggle school and work, and I miss when you used to come out with me and the girls."

"sugarkiss isn’t some scam. I’ve been on it for a few weeks just browsing, chatting. there are real people on there. professionals. some of them are just lonely, divorced, want someone to talk to over dinner. others are more upfront about what they want, sure. but it’s all laid out clearly. you’re in control.”

“I don’t know,” you say slowly, still unsure. “feels like one of those things that sounds too good to be true.”

kate nodded. “I get it. but just check it out. no harm in looking. make a profile, see who’s out there. you’re not signing your soul away.”

she grabbed her phone, already pulling up the app to show you the layout. polished profiles. clean interface. women who looked confident, composed. you still weren't sure. but part of you was curious. desperate enough to consider a different kind of lifeline. and maybe, just maybe, brave enough to reach for it.

kate handed you her phone, and you scrolled through the app cautiously, expecting something sketchy or cringey, but it wasn’t. the layout was sleek, almost professional, like a cross between a luxury dating service and LinkedIn. profiles weren’t flooded with bathroom selfies or cringey bios. these were men and women in suits, who traveled for work, men and women who described themselves with words like established, discreet, and generous. 

“this one,” kate saya, tapping a profile near the top of her inbox, “is a tech consultant in his forties. we’ve just been messaging so far, but he offered to cover my books for next semester if I join him for dinner when he’s in town next week.”

you raise your eyebrows. “just like that?”

she shrugged, casual, but you could tell she was proud. “I set my boundaries. we talked about what I’m comfortable with."

you stare at the screen, your stomach tight with uncertainty and something else you couldn’t quite name. “I don’t know if I could ever actually go through with it,” you admitted, handing the phone back.

kate nodded, not pushing. “totally fair. just… think about it. you’re already doing everything on your own, there’s nothing wrong with asking yourself if there’s an easier way."

later that night, you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her words echoing in your head. you kept thinking about the overdue tuition payment, the unread textbook chapters, the missed invitations, the way you turned down a coffee date with classmates because you couldn’t spare the seven dollars on some overpriced latte. you weren't sure if sugarkiss was the answer, but for the first time in a while, the idea of having options felt like a tiny flicker of power. you tried to brush it off the next morning, blame it on exhaustion, stress, maybe even desperation, but the thought stuck. kate's words kept replaying in your head, especially that part about control. control was something you hadn’t felt since you stepped back onto campus. every day felt like you were barely keeping it together, and it was starting to show. 

you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at the cracked phone screen you couldn't afford to fix. the balance in your banking app no more than $13.89. rent was due in four days. your shift at the bakery had been cut again, and you couldn't ask kate to cover your portion for a second time this semester. 

that night, while your roommate was out and the apartment was quiet, you downloaded sugarkiss. your heart was pounding like you were doing something illegal, even though all you were doing was opening an app. the setup was surprisingly thoughtful. you could filter your preferences, set expectations, write a bio that actually reflected your personality. 

when you hit “save” on your profile and watched it go live, you didn’t feel shame. you felt scared, sure. nervous, definitely. but also curious. and a little bit excited. 

once the profile was live, you closed the app immediately. your heart was still racing, palms a little sweaty. you told yourself you were just trying it out, just looking. but the truth was, putting yourself out there like that felt terrifying and strangely liberating. 

you didn’t check the app for a full day. convincing yourself you were not that kind of person. but when you finally gave in and opened it again, three notifications sat in your inbox. they weren’t gross or pushy like you feared. they were polite, even respectful. one guy introduced himself with a short paragraph about his work in real estate, asked about your field of study, and told you he admired students who worked hard to fund their education. another offered to take you out to a restaurant you couldn’t even pronounce, saying he was visiting town next weekend and looking for “good conversation and company.”

you read the messages slowly, unsure how to feel. you weren't just another broke student to them. you were interesting. worth compensating. that idea made something tighten in your chest.

the last message caught you completely off guard, not because of what it said, but because of who it was from. sandwiched between neatly-worded intros from sharply dressed businessmen was a message from a woman named wanda. her profile picture showed her seated at a rooftop bar, cocktail in hand, sun catching the copper tones in her hair. she looked confident, elegant, mid-thirties maybe, and nothing about her presence screamed typical sugarkiss user. 

it had never occurred to you that you might find a woman on sugarkiss. you pictured the usual setup: older men with expensive watches and well-trimmed beards, offering generous allowances in exchange for companionship, discretion, and maybe something resembling a genuine connection. you thought you knew the rules of the game: they wanted youth, charm, attention. you wanted stability. you understood the logic, it made sense in a transactional kind of way.

all the messages you had gotten so far felt more or less the same. the names changed, the faces blurred together, but the tone was always familiar. 

i’ll give you this, if you give me that.

but wanda’s message landed differently. on the surface it wasn’t so far off, still kind, still expressing interest. but there was something else flowing beneath her words. the kind of comfort that you hadn’t realized you were aching for. there was no pressure in her tone, just warmth.

she didn’t reveal much in her short introduction, just that she was a corporate lawyer and she just so happened to be interested in you. she threw out a few dates and times for a potential meet up, nothing too serious, just a casual chat if it was something you’d be open to. it didn’t take long for you to say yes, then almost instinctively, you toss your phone across the room, flustered and overcome with awkward hesitation.

tags: @ciaoooooo111 @htinha157 @milflovers4 @artemisarroxvolkov @ssasa-romanoff @angelicbrats @vyvvycg