#‘’​they were so infatuated by each other that the considered living together’’

[ghoulfool]

Thinking about how the very bisexual Gösta Ekman got portrayed by the very bisexual Einar Nerman

[f0point5]

would you consider writing the time when max realized that he loved yn?

i remember that he was like in a mindset of idgaf what happens with her im js happy being best friends and having her in my life but i wonder how he got to that point

The way this came out…idk I hope you like it 😂 I really wish I’d retconned this whole situation but I stayed true to the fic timeline.

I just…I really hope you don’t hate it 🫠

✨Set after Max wins his 3rd championship in Qatar✨

Honestly, who (is he) to fight the alchemy?

Max has been in love before. He knows what it feels like. It felt like winning a race. The adrenaline, the elation, the satisfaction, the sliver of relief. He didn’t think there was a better feeling, and if you feel that when you’re with someone, then that must be love.

He never felt like that with you. So he wasn’t in love. He loved you, but he wasn’t in love. Thank God for that, he’d always thought to himself. Max didn’t put effort into games he wouldn’t win and the games you played with men didn’t have a rule book. He was just so lucky, to have you as a friend, and a roommate, and a feline co-parent, and that’s how it would stay.

Except, when the journalist had asked him if you were going to live with him after he retired, he didn’t know what to say. Of course you would, except, how would your boyfriend feel about that? And of course he wanted you to, but he wanted a family, too. But you were family, in some complicated way that he’d never realised before that moment might mean that you wouldn’t always be…with him.

And he didn’t have the desire or the language skills to explain that to a random German journalist. He’d rattled off some answer about how he never knew what the future would bring. It was true, he didn’t think much about the future. But he should have, because when he did it always had you in it.

He wanted a house, and a wife, and kids. It wasn’t like he envisaged doing all that with you. Except, he hadn’t envisaged doing any of it without you, either. It was always you imagined having breakfast with, you he imagined would teach his kids to ski, you he thought about when he thought about buying one of those mansions in the hills above Monaco. Naively, he hadn’t imagined either of you with partners that would mind you and Max living your lives together. It sounded fucking stupid when he thought about it. But, it’s not like he was going to marry you, because he’s not in love with you.

It’s not like I’m in love with her. He’d said that before.

Aren’t you, Max?

Isn’t he?

Is he?

So now here he is, at this totally-not-a-party party, celebrating his this third world championship, wondering if he’s in love. Wondering if that even matters. The music is loud, not enough to drown out his thoughts. He can’t even drink too much because he still has a race tomorrow. He feels lightheaded enough.

He doesn’t know why he’s questioning himself. He has an answer. He knows what being in love feels like, and he doesn’t feel that about you. How he does feel about you, is…not quantifiable. Except he’d really like a name for it right about now. One that’s not going to spin his whole world off its axis. But then, he’s not exactly the axis, is he? Not really.

He should feel like the centre of the universe tonight. He’s lost count of how many times he’s received praise and congratulations, plaudits, and pictures, even gifts. Everyone wants to be in his orbit, everyone wants to talk to him, everyone except you.

You’re leaning against the balcony, bopping along to the music, talking to his dad of all people, your flushed face and lazy grin telltale signs you’ve had too much to drink. Jos is as close as he ever gets to smiling, a telltale sign he’s had too much to drink, and the two of you are, as usual, talking over each other. His eyes linger on your long legs and gentle curves. It would be cutting a corner, to say he’s in love with you, because how can you not be at least a little bit infatuated with the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen? But that’s not love, exactly. Even half drunk, with all this talk of spinning and the party beginning to blur at its edges, the only thing he can see clearly is you. You don’t even notice him looking, because you’re so used to feeling eyes on you.

No, being around you has never felt like winning much of anything. It actually feels a bit like he’s fighting for his life. It feels like…driving, he realises, as the gin starts to hit.

Being around you was like being in the RB19. Like being behind the wheel of something that could kill you, but fits you like a second skin. Like the illusion of having control of a force of nature. It was like living on a knife edge, but building a home there. Comfortable with the uncomfortable, they’d called him, and nothing had ever made him as uncomfortable as you.

If that was being in love, he’d probably been in love with you for as long as his dad said he was.

You don’t notice him looking, but Jos does. He waves Max over, and Max is glad for an excuse. His body gets up before he’s decided to, and he blinks furiously as he walks, trying to focus his thoughts enough to hold a conversation with you when he’s beginning to think he might-

“Maxy,” you say, grinning like it’s the first time you’ve seen him all night.

Fuck. Fuck.

Oh, fuck. The gin’s coming back. For a second he feels like he’s either going to ask you to marry him or vomit all over you.

“I’m leaving. She’s all yours,” Jos says, and Max steadies himself. His dad leans over and gives him one last hug before switching to Dutch. “Get her to bed. And yourself, also. You’ve still got to race tomorrow,”

Max nods and waves him off, closing his arms around you when you wobble, leaning into him for stability. Jos gives you a pat on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd, and you teeter again, pushing you further into Max. The extra weight is like a balm on what is now a gaping, raw wound, with the nerves exposed. He will never recover from this.

You turn in his arms, scrunching your nose in displeasure as you look up at him. “I hate this hat,” you flick the brim of his World Champion cap. “Worst hat they ever made you. Next year, we do a better one,”

“Okay,” he says, chuckling as the hat leaves his head.

“Can I have this?” You’ve already put it on.

“Sure,”

Take it. Take my Valkyrie. Take the trophy. Take my last name.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He doesn’t know how he’s looking at you. Is it different than he looked at you two hours ago? Different then when you were 19?

He just shrugs, tipping the hat back for you, since it’s so big. “You’re drunk,” he yells over the music.

You lean in, so close that he’s intoxicated by the scent of your perfume, champagne, and Red Bull. He turns away from you slightly, because he’s had too much to drink to be this close to you.

“I know,” you whisper to him, your lips grazing his cheek as you talk. That’s not helping. He turns back to you, finding your eyes searching his. For the first time, he’s worried what you might see. Because you’ve always seen him too clearly. It was awful, then exhilarating, now it’s just fucking terrifying. Your eyes narrow and Max thinks you’re about to outright accuse him of wanting- “You’re supposed to be drunk, too,”

He laughs. He laughs at your pout, at getting away with it, for a little while longer, at least, and he laughs because on the night he’s won a world championship he realises he lost his heart a long time ago.

Loving you didn’t feel like a winning a race, it felt like driving in one. And after all, isn’t driving all he ever wanted to do?

“I am, Engel,” he says, “trust me, I am.”

[chlorinecake]

HELLO

Please PLEASE make a fic about the songs church- chase Atlantic!!

It's my latest obsession, next to enha ofc

leading you on | l.hs

♱ plot: from the shy boy you first met at church camp who your parents once adored to their biggest fuckboy nightmare, you and heeseung reconnect on an online platform where you became a popular streaming duo together, leading to some steamy (and eventually forbidden) connections between you two…

loser!streamer!heeseung x fem!streamer!reader

♱ contains: SLOW BURN, swearing, sneaking out, mentions of bulges (multiple times), oral and fingering (f. r.), slight corruption kink, y/n stripping in front of a large audience (on camera), unprotected sex + virginity loss, y/n deliberately disobeying her parents, angst-ish, ft. other kpop idols, roughly 7k words

a/n: this is my first time writing a one shot all about Heeseung so hopefully I did our favorite loser boy some justice in this fic... have fun reading!

Heeseung. He was always just so... flirty with you.

Not emotionally, that is, but physically.

Leaving lingering touches on your thigh during Bible study, whispering dangerously close to your ear in that bedroom voice of his, or texting you random pictures during the day with his bulge obvious in almost every single one.

Two little voices battled in the back of your mind whenever you were around him, one voice wanting him to take things further while the other found it strange how he did such things so shamelessly.

The boy's got sex written all over him, your friends would warn alongside your Christ-converted step-sister Giselle who'd had her fair share of 'guys like Heeseung' in the past.

But you didn't see him that way. Despite his flirty tendencies, you figured those were just attributes that made him who he is.

Who you've always loved him to be.

However, those Holy, Holy, God Almighty church days were long gone by now, being no more than a distant ninth grade memory to you and most of everyone else who attended back then.

Everyone except Lee Heeseung, who could never shake his adolescent infatuation with you... ____, the girl who accepted his flaws and eventually stole his heart.

You and Heeseung reconnected a few years later by chance, the same day of your one year anniversary on your streaming channel.

Initially, your content consisted of one-hour long broadcasts where you'd just talk with random strangers, hearing out their problems and giving righteous advice.

However, Heeseung became a recurrent visitor on your streams, coaxing you to speak on topics more interesting than whether its modest to wear glam makeup or if kissing should be saved for marriage.

Your channel amassed a whopping 20,000 new followers in the first month of Heesung partnering with you, and its part of what led him to becoming an anticipated guest to your growing fanbase.

A dynamic duo, some commenters would call you two... and much to your parents chagrin, at that.

Off camera, things were the same.

You and Heeseung had grown closer than ever, sacrificing sleep to text each other all night, doing fuck-all on your web streams for hours, and even considering meeting up in person for a broadcast after he shared with you that he still lived in the city.

But then... something changed.

Or more accurately, your overly controlling mother put her foot down.

|Messaging| 💬

Heeseung: So we're not allowed to hang out together this Friday ?

You: Not alone... and honestly, not on the streams anymore, either...

Heeseung: Don't tell me its bc ur shyyyy

You: Nope… pArEnTs ^^

You'd say your mom had it out to get Heeseung more than your dad ever did, resenting the mere mentioning of his name at weekly church gatherings.

"That daughter of yours has gained quite the audience on social media," one womann would say, "too bad she seems to be losing her Faith to that poor Heeseung boy..."

"Such a shame," another would agree, adding to the heat-bubbles boiling in your mother's blood-

"Our faith teaches forgiveness and kindness," you defended yourself, just as your mom gave you maybe her third lecture this week on why you should cut ties with him.

"It also advises caution and wisdom when it comes to who we allow into our social circles," she hummed back, taking a sip of her morning coffee, red lipstick staining the rim of the white mug, "I'd be no better than a fool to sit here and support this meaningless friendship between you and that... man."

You internally rolled your eyes at her words, thinking of something, anything to say in order to change the subject right now.

"Well, I have plans with some friends from church tonight, if you don't mind-"

"Will Heeseung be there?"

"What? No," you lied, and not for the first time, either.

It helped you to feel less guilt whenever you blamed it on the little voice in your head, "Just me and the girls," you clarified.

"Mhm," she smiled facetiously before continuing, "I'm afraid I still can't trust you to go, though... especially not after that little stunt you pulled online..."

Your hand halted at the kitchen countertop as her words settled in your mind, "What stunt?"

FLASHBACK

It all started with a picture.

A stupid picture you got dared to leak by an anonymous tipper who offered a $1,000 donation in exchange for a steamy photo of Heeseung.

Chelbear03: God, he looks so THICK

Chelsea, one of your viewers said in the streaming chat, practically moaning at the photo of Heeseung, biting her lip as if she could feel him inside her just by looking at the screen.

Chelbear03: PAINFUL 😩

pucca_princxss: Need a tissue for your drool, Sea-Sea? 🧻

Danielle, another fan joked.

Chelbear03: Okay, FIRST of all, I have drool coming from TWO holes rn- Secondly, I'd rather just have him lick it up 😔

Chelsea typed back, a nuance to her words that you couldn't tell was meant to be either comical or serious.

"Lick up what?" a curious voice asked from the screen.

That's when your hand flew to cover your mouth, eyes going wide at the sight of Heeseung coming back into frame after saying he'd be "afk for a bit while showering."

His hair was still a bit damp from what you could tell, a towel draped lazily around his neck as your eyes unfortunately fell to the lump hiding behind his pants.

Oh God-

"N-nothing! Uhm... it's not important," you chuckled dryly, only adding to the awkwardness everyone was starting to feel from behind their screens.

pucca_princxss: OOP speak of the papi-

Chelbear03: Please forgive me, Hee-man 🧎‍♀️ ... bc I am disrespectfully foaming at the mouth as we speak-

Chelbear03 has left the stream

A notification of Chelsea having left the stream popped up in the chat almost immediately after she sent that message.

"What was that all about?," Heeseung smirked with confusion, looking between both you and the server comments displayed on his screen for an answer that never came.

"Fine then, keep your secrets... its not like I can't just rewind the stream highlights anyway," he added, just as you felt frantic emotions overcome you.

"Heeseung, you really don't wanna do that, just let me explain-"

His jaw dropped, not necessarily in shock, but with intrigue, the raunchy photo of his semi-hard cock through his sweatpants being displayed on the screen, right before his glossy deer-like eyes.

The same picture he'd only ever sent to you.

"I guess this is my mini Drake moment then," Heeseung chuckled to himself, a heavy sigh escaping your lips at his fortunately chill reaction.

"I did it for 1k, Heeseung, I'm sorry," you whined, pulling your knees up in your chair before burying your face behind them.

"Don't be... everyone already knows I'm your slut at this point," he said in a deeper voice, making you freeze once again as your eyes shot up to view the screen, almost in denial that such words even left his mouth.

anonymous tipper: worst thousand $$$ I ever spent... how abt I multiply the price by two for a sexy picture of the lady ?

yxstar3ject: ooo, but i was thinking maybe a double feature instead ? would luvvv to see how she treats this little slut of hers 🤭

Heeseung snickered so loud, you almost felt it on your skin, watching his facial expressions change with each suspicious message that filled the chat box, throughly entertaining him

"Guys, cut it out before I end the stream," you giggled shyly, revealing your full face that looked a little less flustered than earlier, "Heeseung isn't my slut either, okay? Just a good friend, I swear..."

pucca_princxss: you two need to stream in the same room one day bc this long distance sexual tension thing is so not the vibe :|

"Maybe one day..." Heeseung's voice faded off as he turned off the lights in his room, getting ready for bed...

"Maybe~~," your mother repeated in a mocking tone at the memory of your "filthy fest" of a stream that day, disgust displayed all over her before she took the last sip of her coffee as if it'd soothe her.

"Hope that refreshed your memory sweetie, but either way, my answer's no. Not with that slut on the streets and especially not without my supervision..."

“If you’re referring to Heeseung with that vulgar comment, I’m sorry to correct you, but it’s not right to just bash him with words like that,” you went on, leaning your elbows over the counter.

“Please, any guy who sends raunchy dick pics, let alone to a girl he’s not even dating, is a slut, ____,” your step-sister Giselle voiced while walking into the kitchen, dressed in athletic wear as she filled up her water canteen with a lemon flavored electrolyte packet, “not to mention those other weird things he says about your relationship on the stream.”

Despite how much your family claimed to dislike Heeseung, they had no problem with bringing him up every five seconds in a conversation.

You glanced at her through a side eye, shaking your head at the fact that she was just eavesdropping on your conversation, “That was hardly a dick pic, and you should know that better than me, Jizz-elle,” you retorted, putting extra emphasis on the first syllable of her old nickname.

“Yeah, real mature, ____… you can slut shame me but not your little online boyfriend?”

“Ladies!,” your mother raised her voice slightly, pursing her lips at the tension built up between you two, “that’s enough of this discussion…”

You noticed the way your mother’s eyes lingered on your step sister for a moment, “And where do you think you’re going?”

“To the gym,” she answered shortly, walking past your mom and out of the kitchen with haste.

You scoffed out loud, “Not gonna interrogate her like you did to me?,” you said, laughing as if humored when it was really just a way to mask how irritated you were.

“No,” your mom said with a delayed reply, “Giselle is not my blood… I must take her word for what she says to avoid conflict with your step-father… you, on the other hand, will—”

“—abide by your rules… got it,” you finished for her, knowing better than to continue going back and forth with her in this matter.

You left the kitchen, going up to your room and plopping yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling as you entered into a deep thinking space.

One in which you'd strategize on how to successfully sneak out of the house to hang out with Heeseung tonight.

|Messaging| 💬

You: So, you want me to meet you where again ?

Heeseung: Just take a hard right past the first stop sign from your place and a few steps past that one brown house (pls ignore my Dora ass instructions rn 🗿)

You: ok ok 😭, smart tho !! … that way, none of my neighbors will see your car :D

Heeseung: Exactly. U sure u still wanna do this, tho ?

You: Yeah, ofc ! Had enough of my mom nagging me all day ☝️ I need a release BIG time

Heeseung: Haha, okay then ! I’ll see you at 10:30pm

You: Cya ! 🐒

THE LAST TIME you and Heeseung met in person was back when you were both young teenagers, navigating hormones and puberty while aiming to keep God at the center of it all, so to speak.

You didn’t know what to expect from meeting up with him, and especially not under such circumstances.

Still, you had a pretty good feeling that all this trouble wouldn’t be for nothing.

It was currently 10:34pm as you turned off all the lights in your bedroom, wearing an all black outfit to ensure you weren’t seen.

You double checked to see if you had everything with you before leaving: phone, spare cash, and a well-rehearsed story in case you got caught.

Opening your bedroom window, you stuck out a leg, suddenly feeling thankful for your step-dad giving you the bedroom on the first story of his home.

Both your feet were on the floor now, your hands finding the window sill as you closed the window back, careful not to accidentally lock it back so you would be able to get back in later.

You then followed the instructions Heeseung outlined in your texts, walking a few blocks down and taking a right turn once you reached the stop sign.

That’s when you caught sight of his dimly lit side profile under the lights of his car and through the tinted windows.

His eyes were on his phone until your figure blocked the streetlight that shined in his car, drawing his attention to your face as a smile spread over his own.

His eyes lit up like you were the candle to his soul, stepping out of the sleek black car to come around and give you a hug.

“Oh- hi,” you chuckled shyly, hands hesitating to wrap around him before he pulled away, looking you up and down while bracing your shoulders.

“Hi,” he smiled back, “I was just about to text you when you showed up at my window… nice black fit, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you said in a playful voice, watching as he opened the car door for you to get in.

“Would it be wrong of me to assume your panties match, too?,” he asked teasingly, joining you in the vehicle before pulling out of his parked position and cruising out of the neighborhood.

“Wow, you’re really representing this slut persona of yours, huh?” You teased back, putting on your seatbelt.

“Mostly because I can’t help it,” he shrugged, flashing you a smile before looking back at the road, “the fans ship us anyway, so we might as well commit to it, right?”

“Righttt,” you answered suspiciously, poking his thigh before looking back out the window, “gosh, this is crazy…”

“What is?”

“How long we’ve known each other and still happened to maintain a solid friendship despite the distance.”

“Yea,” he agreed, turning down a lane decorated with flowers that somehow still shined in the dark of the night, “We’d be fools to give up this bond we share, though… fools not to explore it further.”

He pulled into his driveway a few minutes later, showing you around his place before leading you to his bedroom, a familiar sight to you thanks to the streams.

“Oh- you’ve still got your monitors and mic set up?,” you asked curiously, noticing how the screen of his computer was on the streaming website.

“You remember what Danielle said on our last live? About us broadcasting in the same room together sometime…” he started shyly, pushing out another gaming chair for you to sit in.

“You really think it’s a good idea to stream right now?,” you rationalized, watching as he joined you in the nearby seat, “I mean, I’m obviously down for it, but what if my mom sees it again? Or Gisel—”

“I’ve already blocked your mom's account, ____, we should be fine,” he smiled, “and… if not… I’ll exchange another photo with your anonymous tipper for some forgiveness cash,” he shrugged, pouty lips making you melt a little inside. "Deal?"

You always knew that Heeseung was cute, but you didn’t think it was possible for him to get any better looking from behind the screen.

“Okay then,” you agreed with a sigh, hoping that your nerves would calm down once the broadcast started.

Almost instantly, 100 viewers joined when Heeseung pressed the “stream” button.

You both began with greeting everyone, trying to get past the chat’s excitement about finally getting to see you two in the same room together.

yxstar3ject: OMFG YALL ACTUALLY DID IT ❗️ this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for 🤧

Chelbear03: holy fucking fuck, how is she so CALM NEXT TO HIM 😩

mrloverl0ver: everyone in favor of them playing truth or strip for us, spam the chat with W’s

pucca_princxss: hoon, you raging perv- WWWWWWWWWW XD

Chelbear03: ✨ W ✨

laylaspapi: W no homo wait, why's my name pink now ;-;

yxstar3ject: I took orange the other day ~ sawwy Jakey W <3

You watched as the chat box started to flood with W's and other random comments, feeling Heeseung sat a hand on your thigh as if to make you feel more comfortable.

"Alright peeps, chill out with the chat spamming, we see it," Heeseung said, laughing off some of the tension, "It's not like you guys didn't get a free show the other day, anyways," he added.

"I don't know..." you started, voice and logic trailing off as more letter W's filled the screen, "it might be fun?"

"____," Heeseung said more seriously this time, "it's a pointless game, y'know? We're honest with the fans... they already know most of secrets, so its silly to do truth or strip..."

"Great. That'll only make it more challenging for them to get our clothes off then," you smiled, suddenly feeling excited about playing, a bit of your competitiveness rubbing off on the initially cautious boy.

"Fine then... we'll do it," Heeseund said, eliciting a few viewers to send gifts to your broadcast, "I'm gonna need a drink for this first, though."

Heeseung was doing a good job of making it seem like he wasn't totally down for this, even though on the inside, he was mostly concerned with making sure you felt comfortable, too.

He left the room for a moment before coming back with two canned cocktails in his grip, placing them on his desk in front of you two.

"I'm guessing you don't drink much," he said, popping open a can of sugary fizz with his teeth while making eye contact with you, "so take it slow with this, yeah?"

"Sure, dad," you joked, taking a sip from the can, hoping that the alcohol would maintain your fleeting confidence, considering that you'd just agreed to strip in front of hundreds of people online.

Chelbear03: alr, first question heheh, starting easy !! :))) when was the last time you got upset and why

Chelsea was the first to initiate this little "truth or strip" questionnaire. Heeseung read the question out loud before humming to himself in thought.

“Hmm... maybe when I overcooked my ramen this morning?”

"Who eats ramen for breakfast?" You asked with a dry laugh.

"Don't judge me because I have good taste, ____," he replied, shoving your thigh with his knee a bit, "and you're dodging the question..."

"Oh- right," you chuckled shyly, thinking of what to say and whether to be honest, until you remembered the consequence would be to remove a piece of clothing.

“It was um... over some stupid things my stepsister was saying about a friend of mine… also this morning...”

"Does that friend so happen to be me by any chance?," Heeseung asked knowingly, giving you a look that you quickly brushed off.

"Moving on, next question!"

anonymous tipper: name the last person you hooked up with $100 donation on the line here, btw... plus someone's modesty 🙈

Oh God, you thought to yourself, dreading how this anonymous tipper knew you'd do almost anything for money.

It was really a bad trait of yours...

"Wow, just jumping to the extremes, aren't we?," Heeseung mumbled between a sip of his drink, the wet condensation drawing your attention to his glistening digits for a quick second.

How were you just now noticing how thick his fingers ar-

laylaspapi: uh oh someone looks nervous ...

pucca_princxss: mission accomplished 👹👹👹

In all honesty, you didn't really have an answer to that question, but to avoid coming off as prudish, you opted to take a pair of clothing off instead, lifting your hips in your seat to pull your pants down.

"____, what the-" Heeseung started before choking a bit on his drink, not just at your sudden boldness, but at the sight of your lace panties hugging the natural curves of your hips, pants getting bunched up at your ankles before you kicked them off under his desk.

yxstar3ject: 😭😭😭😭 DEFINITELY wasn't expecting that, oml-

Chelbear03: your turn, hee 🙏🙏🙏

Something about how frazzled your usually calm and collected best friend became at the simple act of you undressing before him gave you a feeling of exhilaration.

By now, your top barely covered the flesh of your thighs, a few commenters saying things about "wanting to take a bite" before Heeseung cleared his throat, hoping that they'd stop making things worse for him.

"Well uh, I'm not willing to strip a layer just yet, plus I could use the $100, so I'll be honest..."

The chat stalled momentarily as if everyone watching paused in eager anticipation of who and what Heeseung was going to say.

"It's been a while, I'll admit," he chuckled dryly, staring off as if envisioning it behind his sparkly eyes, "but it was around a year and a half ago... with a girl I'd rather not name, but she was a bit older than me..."

"Oh?," you accidentally said out loud, a strange feeling of happiness washing over you now that you knew he hadn't been with any girl since you two met reconnected. You're not sure why this information made you happy... or maybe you're just not ready to admit how you truly feel about him to yourself yet...

"How'd you two meet? Wait- why am I even asking that," you cringed at your own inevitable curiosity, Heeseung taking delight in how his timidness somehow rubbed back off onto you.

"Nah, it's okay... I'm sure the viewers wouldn't mind a little storytime-"

He adjusted his posture in the chair, eyes scanning a few new comments before he spoke, "I met her during my bad boy stage, I guess you could say... we bonded over the fact that we were both born in October until we eventually started smoking together at a friends house of mine every now and then... she and I were both going through some divorce drama with our parents and uh... we thought fucking would be a good emotional outlet? I don't know, maybe it was more of a distraction, I guess..."

Heeseung didn't expect himself to ramble the way he did, but he wanted you to know the main details, even though he left out a few parts for another time and conversation.

Chelbear03: what would it take for me to be that girl ? just for one night 😔

maindancertypeshit: pretty sure Hee just confirmed he's into older girls, Chels ... and ones with daddy issues at that-

You nearly snorted at the sudden comment, up until you realized who the last one came from.

"Excuse me, but what the hell is a toddler doing on this stream?" Heeseung asked sarcastically, obviously referring to Niki.

pucca_princxss: LMAO, looking for his mommy ofc 🤱 (😏)

maindancertypeshit: ayo, wtf??? so dani's allowed but I'm not?? hmph >:{

maindancertypeshit has left the stream

You sighed while laughing slightly, taking a sip of the drink as water droplets now dripped unto your thighs, Heeseung's eyes doing a terrible job of not staring.

"I say we do one more round before ending the stream," you offered, looking at the time as you knew you'd wanna spend more private time with Heeseung before having to run back home.

yxstar3ject: BOOOOOOOO :(

Chelbear03: im too pressed abt riki rn to give a damn bro did NAWT have to dish me the truth like that 😭😭

mrloverl0ver: ok ok, let's make this last question worth it then hmmm ...

Sunghoon typed in thought, just as the bulb in Heeseungs side lamp suddenly shattered, the loss of light coupled with it's piercing sound making you jolt in your seat, half of your canned cocktail spilling on your shirt and chest.

"Shit," Heeseung swore under his breath, happy that none of your drink or any glass from the lightbulb got on his streaming equipment.

That's when he noticed you shivering a bit, the cold liquid contrastingly with the warmth of your body.

"C-can you grab me a towel please?," you asked softly, Heeseung taking the can from your grasp and leaving the room with haste to grab a damp and dry cloth for you.

"Here," he offered when he came back, hooking his hands at the hem of your top and pulling it over your head in one swift movement, making you gasp out loud.

You were now half-naked in front of your best friend, not to mention the tons of people watching from their digital screens.

"Heeseung, what're you-"

He was now taking off his own shirt, holding it in one hand while he wiped your chest down with the cloths he held in the other.

There was something about the way his eyes looked while wiping down your boobs, coming off as romantic despite the awkward nature of the situation.

"Put this on," he whispered so quietly you almost missed it, snaking your head through the head hole of his T-shirt while he flicked the ceiling light on, your mind running in a hundred different directions in this moment.

You're not sure if it had something to do with the alcohol, but your skin still tingled in the spots where his fingertips grazed your flesh... just like old times...

You don't think you ever put on a T-shirt faster in your life, wanting to cover up as fast as you could despite how everyone had already gotten a free show from the both of you.

laylaspapi: B👀BS ?!?!? caught in 4k? just like that !?!??!????

mrloverl0ver: guess that means the games over now since y'all started stripping regardless ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

pucca_princxss: I think Heeseung's house might b haunted :'0

Chelbear03: HEESEUNGS FUCKING ABS RN- IS HE TRYING TO KILL ME !??!?

yxstar3ject: 👁👄👁

The chat was going crazy at this point, their flood of comments honestly being the last thing on your mind as you sat bottomless in Heeseung's gaming chair, wearing his T-shirt as he searched for another shirt somewhere behind you.

A billion emotions were coursing through your veins, still trying to grasp how you went from sneaking out your bedroom window, stripping in front of an audience, and getting flustered from the mere presence of Heeseung now.

"Alright guys, this was fun but we're gonna call it a night for now," Heeseung said as he came back into frame, not even bothering to sit back down as his right hand found the mouse, moving it towards the end stream button.

"Yeah, I think my streaming career might end here," you added jokingly, making Heeseung chuckle a bit at your words, his bright smile doing nothing but make your stomach flutter all over again.

What was going on with you?

"Who knows? Maybe we can work on starting an OnlyFans together ..."

"Heeseung-"

"I'm kidding," he laughed again, looking at your face from the screen, not even aware of how he bit his lip before speaking, "you look pretty on camera though, for what its worth."

The all-too familiar tune of the livestream ending rang in your ears, the screen displaying stats of the broadcast engagement, which surpassed any and every stream you've ever filmed before.

"Wow," Heeseung marveled, just as he shut his computer off.

"I know," you added, stretching your back while sitting, "we don't even reach stats like that in a week..."

"I wasn't talking about the ratings, ____," he returned, the room seeming much more quiet now that the computer was off, even though it's been this way the whole time.

"Enough about that, though," he started again, taking your hands in his to pull you out of the chair, "I haven't been a very good host to you this evening... making you work first thing before properly treating you... allow me to make up my lacking..."

"I mean... you gave me a nice seat and something to drink... you even lended me one of your shirts after I made a big mess of myself," you replied while giggling, feeling silly as he held both of your hands while speaking formally all of a sudden.

"Yes, yes, but I'm serious," he continued, now guiding you down to the rug lying in the middle of his bedroom floor, "you still like candy, right?"

ALMOST ANOTHER HOUR had passed and it was somewhere around midnight give or take, you and Heeseung hardly feeling tired as you sat on the mat together, alternating between eating orange slices and gummy bears.

You were propped up on your elbows, a glow still present on his face from the laughter you've shared together so far, even though there was something less innocent you wanted to get off your chest.

You were feeling completely reckless already, and you figured it wouldn’t hurt for you to push things a little further.

Besides, it’s not everyday that a girl like you gets an opportunity like this just placed in her lap.

It's just like Heeseung said, you'd be a fool to give up this bond you two share and not explore it further...

Plus, you weren't sure how much longer you could hide behind the good girl act.

Giselle was right: Heeseung had sex written in full length parables all up and down his six-foot-something body, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on.... if you said it didn't reel you in, like a burning desire to explore what's corrupted.

To be ruined.

"Heeseung," you started, making him look down at you as he sat with his legs crossed, hair messy from the amount of times he ran a hand through it, "can I ask you something?... It's... kinda personal..."

He popped another strawberry flavored gummy bear into his mouth, "As long as it isn't about your period, I should be good to help you then," he chuckled slightly.

"And what makes you think that I need help with something?"

"Hmm… maybe just that way that your nails keep picking with my wrist watch right now," he answered quietly, drawing your attention to your fingers which tend to get busy whenever you were nervous.

"Oh- I... I didn't even realize...," you laughed at yourself, shying your hands away before sitting up and hiding them in your lap.

"Well go on," he urged, looking back at you with warmth in his eyes, taking off his glasses and setting them aside, "What'd you wanna ask me?"

You let out a breath, clenching your thighs a bit as your sight fell between his legs.

Fuck, did he just laugh? God, he definitely noticed your peeking... you fucking perver-

"I don't really know how to word this but..." you chewed on your lip in thought, "Sometimes... when it's just you and me alone like this... even when we're just video chatting... I feel," you looked up at the ceiling as if it'd help you divulge, "I don't really know what to call it."

He blinked at your words, adjusting his sitting position on the ground, "Are there certain things I do or say that make you feel... whatever it is that you can't explain?" He asked, tilting his head at you, just as his hand inched closer to you on the rug, but not quite touching your skin yet.

"Its a few things, actually-"

"Like what?" His hand was now on your thigh, eyes glued on your shaky figure even though you avoided eye contact, lost in the veins that trailed the pretty skin of his arm.

"When you touch me," you whispered so quietly, the only reason he heard you was because he read your lips, thinking in his own mind what it'd be like to taste them, "like that."

"Speak up for me, I can hardly hear you," he urged, almost as if cooing at you.

"I can't," you said shakily, chest expanding slightly with each heavy breath you took in and let out.

Your idea of being bold was starting to backfire... if only you could stop being so awkward about this for one second-

"It's just me, ____," he whispered with a slight chuckle this time, your hands finding the fluffy rug beneath you as your skin still stung from where he'd last touched you, "be as honest with me as you need."

"Maybe it's best we just pretend I never said anything," your voice trailed off, regretting having looked into his dark eyes that stared back at yours because you felt as though your shield had faltered, his energy coaxing your mind to wander.

"Would you mind if I took a guess?," Heeseung offered with an expression you couldn't read, but you nodded anyway, just as his hand traveled further up your thigh, your breath hitching in your chest as you felt his finger tips meet your core.

"You feel something in here, don't you?," he whispered again, "Hurts, doesn't it?"

Like hunger pains, you answered in your head, finding his shoulder as half of you thought to push him away while the other half just needed to touch him.

You nodded shyly in response, thankful that he didn't move any further so you could catch your breath, already too effected by his actions.

"I feel it sometimes, too. The aching... but I'm sure you're old enough to know there's only one way to get rid of it."

You didn't even have to ask to know what he was implying, feeling tempted to give in to whatever this urge was.

He was right though. It did ache, and so badly, your own core tearing up with a need you never intended to entertain.

That's when his touch creeped closer to your core, your thighs closing around his hand as you struggled to think clearly.

You almost couldn't in a state like this.

It baffled you how the energy was starting to change, but it was only a matter of time that you'd be able to sit bottom less in front of Heeseung looking the way he does before something sexual would happen.

"Are you willing to let me help you?" He asked, gripping your flesh between his hands as a shy sound fell from your lips.

You were having second thoughts.

"As much as I'd like to, Hee, it just doesn't seem right anymore..."

Even though this was all your idea to begin with-

"But doesn't it feel right?" he pressed, feeling his hands gently pry your thighs back open, but its not like you were putting up much of a fight either, "Besides, you wouldn't have told me if you didn't want me to do something about it..."

In this moment, you couldn't care less about maintaining that fleeting sense of virtue all the elders in your life harped on growing up.

You were simply young, horny, lovesick, and in need of a release.

Before you knew it, your legs were parted for him, your back against the rug as his head got comfortable at your heat, fingers barely grazing over your now bare cunt before he started leaving plush kisses against your sweet spot.

The ache was definitely still there, but having him this close to you made it feel better.

Almost too good, honestly…

“Heeseung-” you cried out, clamming your thighs around his head as you felt his thick and warm tongue enter you.

Hooking his hands at your knees, it helped to open you back up for him, feeling your stomach tighten as he continued to lick you down.

“I’m still here, baby…” he cooed, looking back up at you, just as your phone started to ding, "relax for me, alright?"

It was a few random messages here and there, you being too pleasure-drunk to give a damn as he continued lapping at your slick, alternating between one and two fingers as he teased your hole, only making you want more.

“Fuck…s- someone’s calling me,” you whined, propping up on your elbows with tired eyes as you reached for your phone, seeing none other than Giselle's contact number as Heeseung left your core, getting on his knees and unbuckling his belt.

"What're you-"

Your words were cut off as he leaned closer into you, his bulge resting in between your folds as he looked into your eyes and said, "Answer it."

He was already rocking against your pussy as you struggled to stay focused, his boxers being covered in your slick just from how wet you'd gotten, even though you nodded no.

“You want me to help you, don’t you?” He continued, completely aware of your stalling and hesitance as the phone continued to ring, your breathing only getting heavier as he kept grinding against you.

You bit your lip, clenching around nothing as his fingers cascaded over your sensitive spot. Heeseung practically drooled at the sight, your tight little cunt all slick and messy for him.

"Hello?" Giselle asked over the phone, "where the hell are you right now?"

Fuck.

You watched nervously as Heeseung pulled his boxers past his hips, his thickness springing up now that it was finally free to breathe.

"What're you talking about, I was just in my room," you lied terribly, watching Heeseung with pleading eyes as he lined himself up with your entrance, bracing a hand on you lower abdomen while glaring back at you, a glint of playfulness in his doe eyes.

Oh, the way you wanted to smack him across his pretty face right now-

"I wasn't born yesterday, ____. I checked your room an hour ago and you're still not here. Tell me where you are," she continued, voice cracking a bit as you winced through a bitten lip, thanks to Heeseung somehow having slid his thickness inside you.

Well, most of the way, at least...

"____?"

"Y-yes, I'm listening, just- don't worry about me, I'll be back in a bit-"

"That still doesn't answer my question, ____..."

Thud.

You accidentally dropped your phone beside your head once Heeseung pushed all the way in now, leaving a few kisses along your neck to help you calm down.

His hips were still, but for some reason, your breathing remained shaky beneath him, your step-sister still awaiting your reply on the other side of the phone.

"Call you later," you said in a squeaky voice, reaching over to hang up the phone as Heeseung started to move again, your legs trembling a bit as the nerves in your mind traveled through your whole body.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" He asked sarcastically, hand following a trail from your waist, over your boob, then to your neck, goosebumps sprouting on your skin as you suddenly felt cold, your body internally shivering.

"Hee," you said with a whimper, feeling his grip loosen around your neck before he started thrusting into your walls, your slick providing just enough lubrication for him to slide in and out easily.

You couldn't even think in your mind at this point, his actions already becoming more than you could handle given how new everything was.

How nice he felt.

"C'mon, don't get quiet on me now, baby, I just started," he teased, slamming his pelvis against yours to hopefully reel a moan out of you, which obviously worked, your hand flying up to grip the fluffy rug over your head as it became harder to hide your sounds.

He hissed at the feeling of you clenching around him, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked into your eyes.

"So either you like it when I'm rough with you or when I call you baby..." he started in a low voice, "which is it?"

"M-maybe both... now can you stop trying to turn me on with your words for one fucking second?," you asked with labored breaths, feeling your orgasm creep up on you a lot sooner than anticipated.

Sure, this was your first time, but you were glad he didn't treat you like a baby during the whole thing.

There was just something about the way his voice sounded in this moment, the way he was rutting into you like a horny teenager that took you over the edge.

And he was being such a tease, trying to make you talk knowing that your sentences would be broken and whiney thanks to how rough he was going.

He wanted to hear you falling apart underneath him.

He let out the most attractive chuckle you'd ever heard at your words, "But I can tell it's working," he smirked, bracing himself against the floor so you could wrap your legs around him better, "now quit your complaining and keep taking me like a good girl, alright?"

You're sure your clit started doing backflips at the pet-name, coupled with the pretty sounds he was very intentionally humming beneath your ear.

He found your wrists on the rug, sliding up to your hands and interlacing his fingers with yours,

“Stop trying to act tough, I can tell this is all new to you…. don’t even know what to do with your hands, huh?” his said, watching as your eyes get lost in the view of his shaggy hair.

He snickered, “you can touch it if you want…”

Fuck, you thought to yourself. You don’t know why you felt the need to put on some act for him… maybe it was because you assumed a competition between yourself and other girls he’s been with, even though in reality, you’d been the only girl on his mind for a while now.

“I…,” you started with a stutter, “I can’t.”

Your fingers were still interlaced with his, but your inability to touch him had less to do with the fact that he had you pinned down, and more so to do with your nerves.

As badly as he wanted to keep toying with your head in this moment, he could you were getting closer from how your breath kept hitching, so he didn’t have much time to play.

Releasing his grip from your hands, he brought a thumb to your chin, tapping at it for you to open your mouth, “I’m gonna speed up now then, okay?”

He choked out, his own head becoming a little fuzzy as you parted your lips obediently for him, the sight of your tongue laving at his fingers being enough to make him feel like cumming.

He knew you had to get home quick now, but he still wanted to give you the best orgasm of your life.

Once he collected enough of your spit on his fingers, he slid his hand down, circling your swollen bud while looking into your eyes, your hands automatically flying to his shoulders to brace yourself.

“Fuck, Heeseung~,” you cursed with furrowed brows, whimpers that almost sounded like high pitched hiccups falling from your lips as you felt your hips chase his.

There was so much energy coursing through both of your bodies that it could charge your dying phone on the floor right now.

“It’s okay baby, you’re almost- shit, you’re almost there,” he grunted weakly as he continued fucking into your walls with his fingers at your clit, his own eyes closing at how good your tightness felt around him.

You never heard yourself sound like this before, getting all whiny just as he whispered the words “Come for me” against your neck, sealing the space with a kiss and retreating his hand from your core, holding you in place as your orgasm hit like a flood.

You were squirming so much, walls pulsating like a drum as he kissed you down, your hands finally being brave enough to grip at his hair while he rode out your high.

You could tell that he didn’t finish inside you, but he was nice enough to slow down and not fuck you completely stupid.

“I can’t even believe we just did that,” you mumbled mindlessly, eyes staring back at him as he started to gently caressed your cheek.

“Wasn’t too bad for a quickie though, right?,” he asked jokingly while still inside you, not quite yet ready to pull out of your comforting warmth.

To say goodbye to the you he brought out in this sex-filled space.

“No… it wasn’t bad at all,” you smiled back, words sounding somewhere in between a shocking realization and sincere compliment.

“Then I guess that means we can look forward to doing this more often-”

“Heeseung-”

“Kidding,” he whispered softly, meeting your lips in one last kiss before leaning back up to adjust his pants, “now let’s get you cleaned up and ready for home before your mom has me crucified.”

“Okay,” you said while laughing slightly until he pulled out of you, your legs trembling a bit from the missing fullness.

From the feeling in his chest, Heeseung came to fully accept that he was 110% in love with you, not giving a flying fuck about the naysayers who’d disapprove of your now-even-more-complicated friendship.

You on the other hand, came to realize that Heeseung was worth much more than being judged by a bunch of hypocrites, and that you now had the courage to make a lot of your own decisions now, even if they’re solely for the sake of pleasure.

”Still,” you continued, watching as he stood up from the ground to grab a pack of wipes from his desk, “I just remembered that I locked my bedroom window when I left.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” He asked while parting your legs, wiping your sweaty thighs down with your panties hunched up in his other hand.

You admired the view of him cleaning you up with adoration flooding your heart, your limbs letting themselves relax as feathery words fell from your lips, “It means I might have to spend the night at your place for a little longer…”

Fin…

♱ Thank you beyond words to everyone reading this right now! I teased the release of this fic a while ago but ended up changing almost everything that I’d originally written because it was kinda shitty 🥴 but hopefully you all enjoyed this fic anyway! Also, masterlist is here !!

♱ tag list: @fakeuwus @adeoluhh @zerasari @anonant @yaatrickyaaa @depressedandobsessed666 @woninluv @moonshoon @imjakes-wifeofc1 @heesbee @kaykay11sworld @wannieepisod @ilikekpop-c @heesoo11 @idkdykilr @seungjiseyo @nctislifue @ro-diaries @heesushiii @jakehooni @babygirlmarshmellow @jaysdze @princeseung @flowerbe0m @skzenhalove @rayofsunshineeee @wonsbaer @namdeyuoi @tasnim10 @cheruluv @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @addictedtohobi @yourmomscuntis2tighy @ashgonedash

[b14augrana]

Strobe Light

The only thing a few drinks fail to make you forget is her face

Alexia Putellas x reader

masterlist

Warnings: mentions of drinking / alcohol, party setting, romantic angst, short one shot

A/N: kind of a shit blurb i wrote ages ago that i wanted to get out of my drafts 👎 i think i was listening to the last minute of tumblr girls on repeat bc i had written that on the doc so … thats the vibe!

Oh, Ibiza.

It’s the most popular party location to the point where it’s hardly anything special anymore, but you still find yourself excited by it. Ending up on the floor of someone’s house who you don’t even know the name of, your first thoughts being the memories of the night before… what a high. You were addicted to that, the aftermath of getting shitfaced and only having enough capacity in your mind to worry about where your phone is, not what Alexia Putellas is doing right now.

You hated the people — watching them grind against each other and retreat to bedrooms if not crash on the sofa and make out right there, it was distasteful and you hated it. You hated alcohol, but you also hated the fact that Alexia wasn’t around to talk you out of having a few drinks, so you drank it out of spite. Among all these hundreds of people, you hated how you felt more alone than ever.

People would make the assumption that you attended these parties to find a girl to take home, but they looked all the same to you, hence your appeal in none of them, because Alexia was unlike anyone you had ever seen with her hazel eyes and lonesome dimple on her right cheek, the one that was barely there. Nobody else had that Alexia-ness that made you mourn her absence every time you went to these parties, and you knew that no matter how much you drank and partied, she’d always be your first thought of comfort the morning after.

You two had dated for a year, give or take a month. You were relentless in your pursuit of fun, whereas she was infatuated with football and refused to put anything above it, which was understandable, because she was good at it. She called it off in her apartment, saying that she couldn’t risk her career for a lifestyle you wanted to live, and you complied with it instead of making an effort to do something to keep you two together — it was your biggest mistake yet, and a decision that never fails to keep you up at night, because maybe if you had tried a little harder, she would’ve been beside you on these restless nights.

You thought you were absolutely hammered when you recognised her face in the sea of bodies, staring at you with narrowed eyes as if she was trying to determine whether it was really you she was spotting. Brushing it off, you considered it another instance of your mind fucking with you, and that made you put down the plastic red cup in your hand, abandoning it on some surface for another drunk to pick up.

Alexia was there, but she couldn’t tell herself why. Why was she in someone’s expansive Ibiza backyard without a reason?

She never liked big parties, such as the ones hosted in Ibiza. Her teammates appreciated them a bit more than her, but she wasn’t her teammates. She rarely ever got drunk unless she was in a Barcelona based nightclub, celebrating another trophy, but even then she never got blackout drunk.

None of that even mattered, because either way she was still standing among sweaty bodies on an island off the coast of Spain, the music sure to give her a headache sooner or later and the strobe lights hurting her eyes that were locked onto one uninterested face.

There was something else to the bored expression you had; almost like you were caught in an epiphany that this wasn’t enough to fill the void you gained when she left. Your face was plagued by disgust, your stare blank and fixated on nothing specific. She noticed all of this.

Alexia knew that you were only here to relive the oddly comforting morning-after sensation. She didn’t know that you craved it so much because ever since she left, she was all you thought about amidst a heavy hangover, and if you pretended hard enough, she was right beside you with her arms wrapped around your frame and her chest pressed to your back. Waking up post-party was almost like travelling back in time to the happiest period of your life — being Alexia’s girlfriend. It was the closest you thought you’d ever get to her again.

You felt like you were ebbing in and out of consciousness, the music fading into nothingness before coming back louder than ever, and your legs were giving in underneath the weight of your entire upper body. Shoulders and knees grazed against your own, nudging you around the crowd, and you could barely remember who’s property you were at, but you looked up and it became apparent to you that the Alexia in front of you wasn’t a hallucination and she was really there, reaching out to you and pulling you out of the crowd.

The reason she was there became apparent to Alexia as she led you to an empty guest room that wasn’t plagued by the smell of sweat and sex (she quickly learned that was rather hard to come across). She locked the door behind you two so there would be no chance of a lustful couple stumbling into the room while she laid you down.

You groaned as you made contact with the mattress, as moving your body at all had become a difficult task. She sat down beside you, turning on the lamp perched atop the bedside table, and she inspected your face; your cheeks bore hints of red and tired eyes squinted to adjust to the light as they settled on her own concerned-looking face. There wasn’t a feeling in the world that could sum up what she felt looking at you.

“Ale,” you mumbled, and she met your gaze. “Lay down. Give me this one night, at least,” you finished, rolling onto your side. Your back faced her, and she didn’t respond for a minute. She didn’t know what to do, what to say, and she was glad you couldn’t see the inconclusive look on her face.

All you felt was shuffling behind you before the mattress dipped and the presence of her body could be sensed behind you. There was a notable distance between you two that she worked hard to maintain throughout the night, because she didn’t want to remember what it felt like to be close to you.

She should’ve been in Barcelona, training and focusing on the matches ahead. After all, that was the entire reason you two had ended things, yet…

She was here.

[amostnobleyandere]

Persephone, swept away into the deep

Yandere! Wriothesley x GN! Reader

Warning(s): yandere, toxic behavior, possessive behavior, mention of blood, violence (Wriothesley beats someone up), stalking, obsessive behavior, unjust execution of the law, possessive behavior, corrupt official Wriothesley (?), drugging (needle injection), kidnapping, captivity, implied stalking, non-consensual touching, forced romantic relationship

A/N: I’m not sure if I did a good job at translating the themes ✨ of the hades and Persephone myth (however slight they may be in this particular fanfic) but I tried ;)

—————————

Every happy customer that came out of your shop would inevitably spread your business through tongue—that’s just the way things worked in Fontaine.

Of course, you weren’t complaining. You were running a thriving business and their lively conversations often brought you joy and pride. The little gardener on off of main street, the florist who sells the most beautiful bouquets you’ve ever seen, the flower shop tucked away like a hidden gem, they’d say, fondness in their tone and the echo of good memories in their minds.

You were proud of the lifestyle you had made for yourself and the reputation you had garnered. Your natural green thumb had made your shop quite popular among commoners and socialites alike, as anyone of any class could stroll inside to find something for a person precious to them; whether it was a child, a spouse, a friend, or an infatuation, you had helped mold their stories, crafting and shifting them around petals and bows.

Though some days, you let yourself dream. Of petals and bows, not meant for someone else, but meant for you. Though your business had seen many love stories, its owner had yet to find a love of their own.

On your worst days, you scoffed and thought to yourself about how ironic your life was.

But…some days, your aching romantic heart would have you sighing wistfully as you watched customer after customer buy carefully cultivated blooms to gift to their beloved. They would leave gleefully, only for you to remain in your shop, watching them walk out with a piece of you. A piece that you wanted to give to your own special someone.

Always watching, never experiencing.

And then suddenly, everything you had built was being torn down by the one thing you desired the most.

—————————

On a day that was insultingly ordinary considering the damning events that followed it, you were sitting in your shop, furiously pruning flowers and cutting stems and leaves. You were a little behind in work, so you had kept your shop open later than you usually would.

A festival was going to be thrown at the center of the city, and that meant you were busier than ever. Business was slow at the time, but it always picked up during events, as it was common for people to take advantage of the merry mood and ask out the apple of their eye, or propose, or buy a bouquet just to enjoy life.

And your bouquets were certainly beautiful, as you had heard from the many couples that walked into your shop, fawning over the arrangements and each other. You were sure you would see many lovers come into your shop once the joyous celebrations began.

You sighed, feeling the solitude of the your profession begin to seem depressing. It made you happy knowing your creations would be appreciated, yet, you knew the festival would end up torturing your heart with the same stale loneliness you often felt.

Friends had invited you to come with them to enjoy the festival together, so you weren’t all alone. Ultimately, you had declined.

Business would be booming.

…Plus, it wouldn’t be as special if you couldn’t go with someone special. It would only hurt to go out into the bustling streets and to see all those people holding hands, touching arms, carrying your bouquets, while your side was cold and your hands were empty…

You snipped at a rainbow rose a little too hard, hissing as the tip of the shears nicked your finger. You watched in mild panic and exasperation as the blood began to fill the small cut, feeling a sting form in your finger. Reaching for the medical kit you kept close by, you swiftly treated and bandaged yourself, watching the gauze go from white to a bright red.

Shaking your head, you waved away the pain and your nasty thoughts. You were sure your friends would be fine without you and, more than anything, you needed to be here to sell your flowers. It would be a waste to throw out your beautiful blooms because you let them wither, and soon customers would be grabbing for them…and who knows? Maybe you might meet someone.

Maybe you would even find someone to enjoy the festival with….

You heard the telltale ding of a bell and looked up, peaking out from behind the wall of floral remains you had constructed around yourself.

A man walked into the shop, and the first thing you noticed is that he was handsome. And big. Like, slightly intimidating big. A large, built stature, with broad shoulders and heavy boots on long legs. You pinched yourself, feeling your cheeks slightly heat up. Who were you to get flustered? And by a stranger? Pull it together.

“Hello!” You greeted cheerily, thankfully turning on your usual customer service voice without problem. “How can I help you today?”

“You’re still open?” The man asked, a note of surprise in his voice. The question sounded weirdly familiar for it to be spoken by a stranger, but you chose to ignore it. Plenty of people knew your hours, it wouldn’t be odd for one of them to send a new customer over.

You paused, taking him in. The stranger was tall, dark, and brooding, a person that looked strangely out of place in your little safe haven that was crammed to the brim with mosaics of colorful flora.

However, his eyes were the clearest color you had ever seen. They were like steel in their cool quickness, taking seconds to size you up. You unconsciously shrunk under the pressure of his gaze. Still, you smiled up at him.

“Yes, sir. We’re still open. What can I get for you?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not exactly sure. I came here because of a recommendation; they say you’re the best in town, with the freshest flowers. I’m guessing you outsource from the country?”

“No, sir. I grow them myself.” You said, still smiling sweetly.

A flash of recognition behind those steel eyes. “Ah. You’re the owner then?”

“Yes, sir.”

He hummed, looking away in thought. “I’d like an all blue bouquet—something with an air of delicacy to it. Nothing too fancy, just something pretty and light.”

That sounded…really romantic. Delicate? Pretty? Those were words people used to describe bouquets with romantic intentions behind them. You had heard them time and time again, as you carefully put together arrangements and your customer fawned over the person it was for, tone sugary sweet. Those words never failed to clog up your chest with a bitter jealously.

A feeling of disappointment filled your chest and your heart sank. Of course, he was already going with someone. It seemed that everyone, except for you, had a date for the festival. Of course. That made sense. Anyone that good looking would most likely have a date—

You smiled, sweeping away the disappointment and putting back on a false merry face. You had just met this man, really. What was there to be sad about? You decided to fill the silence that was quickly making you want to curl up into a ball and hide.

“So you’ve got a date for the festival? I’m sure they’ll love it, since you seem to know what they’ll like. Can I get a name for the order?”

“Wriothesley. And, no. I haven’t got a date.”

Your brain short circuited.

“But you’re so good looking?” You blurted out, the thought in your head coming out of your mouth without warning.

Wriothesley looked momentarily stunned, and you wanted to scream. Of all the times to embarrass yourself in front of a cute guy, it had to be now—

“A-Ah!” You stuttered out. “I’m sorry! Sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain! I just said what I was thinking, I hope you’re not insulted by it…or uncomfortable….not that I meant to insult you—“

He laughed, the sound startling you. When he looked at you again, he seemed less guarded, his eyes shining with mirth as he gazed at you with interest. Oh, and that smile. Oh wow. That. Wow.

“You know, people are usually too afraid to say stuff like that to my face. Or really, they’re too afraid to say anything to my face. Guess I was just lucky to meet you today, huh?” He grinned and let his voice drop as he spoke. The glint in his eyes turned bright, like a dancing flame. He leaned into your space, letting one arm rest on the counter.

You felt the smooth words roll down your back and over your skin, excitement or fear (or maybe a mix of both) running up your spine and through the rest of your body.

You laughed, trying to play off his words as if they were meant to be friendly. (At least, you thought they were meant to be friendly.) Maybe the naturally deep tone of his voice and his intimidating aura made your brain misinterpret harmless words as…predatory.

You grinned. “Well, I don’t know about luck, but everyone deserves a compliment every once in a while, right?”

He leaned back, that dangerous glint disappearing into his eyes as if it was never there. He crossed his arms, looking smug.

“Right.”

Silence filled the air again, and your curiosity got the best of you quickly.

“Goodness, I’m sorry but who is this for then?”

He chuckled and you were immediately relieved that he wasn’t annoyed with you. People didn’t like it when others pried into their business. The thought of Wriothesley with his leather boots, pretty face, and icy eyes glaring at you with disdain nearly sent you into shock.

“It’s for…a co-worker, you could say.” He continued. “She does a lot for me and I thought it might be nice to get her a gift to show my appreciation. Everyone’s in a good mood with the festival coming around, so I might as well, you know?” He smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you, though. No romantic feelings involved.”

You nodded, a weird feeling of relief filling your chest after finding out that a man you didn’t know and that you probably would never see again did not have a date for the festival.

Maybe you were just glad to know that you wouldn’t be the only person going without a partner.

You began to gather sample flowers, spreading them out between you fingers and taking comfort in the familiar weight of them in your hands.

“Not disappointed at all.” I’m also single, you thought, but thankfully didn’t say out loud. “I guess I’ve just gotten so used to lovebirds walking into my shop, I was surprised you weren’t one of them.”

“Because of my face?” He asked, amusement seeping into his tone. You wanted to smack that smile right off of his smug, beautiful face. Of course, you wouldn’t, because that would be a crime to everyone else who had eyes. You couldn’t mess up that piece of art.

You nodded, your face burning. “Because of your face.” You confirmed.

“Well, I’m flattered.” He said.

You thrusted the sample flowers out in front of you, mortified that he was making your already embarrassing situation worse with teasing.

“Pick out the ones you like.” You said, your face practically on fire.

He did, without further comment at that, but a smirk pulled at his lips the entire time. He looked at you, with that grin molded onto his perfect lips, more than he did the flowers in your hands.

He refrained from torturing you with teasing remarks for the rest of the conversation, and when you told him it would be ready for pick up in a few hours, he gently placed a bag of mora on the counter.

Only when he was walking out the door did you realize how much mora he had given you.

Your eyes bulged as you peeked into the bag, nearly fainting at the amount. Who carries this much on them?! What if he had gotten robbed?! Well, he would probably never get robbed looking like…that, but still.

“Hey!! Wait—Sir!! You gave me way too much!”

He waved as he closed the door behind him, the bell ringing cheerily as he ignored you protests without even turning around.

You stood gaping behind the counter. You turned to the bag, determinedly picking out the correct amount and putting the rest away so that you could throw it at him when he came back. Not his face, though. Never his face.

A few hours later, he came back, his face neutral and undisturbed, like nothing in the world could move him to react.

He saw you, and his expression twitched and changed, looking just as smug as when he left.

You wordlessly pushed his bouquet, which you had worked extra hard on out of spite, not because you wanted him to like it or anything, towards him. Again, without saying anything, you pushed the bag of mora back towards him.

He quirked an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut, also determined to win the quiet challenge that you had started. He (rather cheekily) slid the bag back towards you, a smile fighting to pull onto his face.

You, more forcefully this time, slid the bag back towards him, face betraying no emotion.

Eyes sparking with amusement, he held out his hand.

Oh my Archons. You thought. What does that mean? He doesn’t want to….does he? You hesitatingly raised your hand in response, suspicious of the man in front of you. He gently slid his hand under yours, making your heart pound in your rib cage. His gloves covered most of his hand, but the skin that did touch you was startlingly cold. Your skin downright tingled where his touched yours.

Whether it was from the temperature or just him, you didn’t know.

He placed the bag of mora in your hands, a graceless plop and a cheerily jingle sounding through the quiet room.

Okay. You take it back. This mora was going directly at his face.

“This mora is going right at your face.”

“What?”

“What?” You parroted. Inside, you were crying. The first time you’ve ever threatened a customer and it’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep and long and archons even his laugh sounded angelic.

“I could’ve sworn you just—“

“I didn’t.” You cut him off, panicking. You pushed the bouquet towards him, hiding behind it. “Enjoy your day. Thank you for your purchase. Have fun at the festival.”

“…Thanks.” He said, still amused, but following your lead and taking the flowers from your waiting hands. For a moment, maybe on purpose, his hands brushed yours, the touch sending a spark of electricity up and down your arms, making your heart beat faster….Must have been the cold from his skin, sending you into shock or something.

He left the shop (without the bag of mora) and you wistfully thought that you would never see that beautiful face again, kicking yourself for not asking him out. You were both single, right? Right??

Ultimately, you went home with the same familiar wistful feeling that soon turned to giddiness at having almost held hands with such a handsome man—his personality was odd but that could be overlooked.

Overall, it was a good day.

——————————

Except he was there the next day.

And the next.

….And the next.

Everyday he would order a bouquet of a different color. Once he ran out of colors, he began grilling you on what kinds of flower combinations you liked best. You would tell him, practically shaking while trying to prevent yourself from imploding, and that’s what he would order. He spent an enormous amount of money at your shop as the ridiculous mora bag battles continued (you were going to throw it at his face, you really were. You just needed to muster up the courage).

He would take the flowers home, and you would be left with a burning face and a quivering heart.

Then one day he asked you if you would like to go out. With him. Together. And you said yes, tying a bow around his order with trembling hands as a strangling giddiness filled up your entire chest.

So, you went to the festival with him right after work.

For the first time in weeks you were closing the shop and stepping out into the fresh air during the middle of the day.

You had an amazing time.

You found out that Wriothesley was extremely funny, and that his dry, sarcastic wit could have you doubling over and laughing in seconds. You found out that he liked tea like, a lot. Like a concerning amount. You found out that the co-worker he gave the first of many bouquets to is a melusine and a nurse. You found out that he talked to the Chief Justice regularly and somehow knew a lot of important people.

You explained to Wriothesley that you actually did have a life outside of flowers. You told him about your friends, your hobbies, and whatever else you could think of in the moment, feeling comfortable with him after just a few hours together.

He bought you food, somehow correctly guessing your tastes at every stall you visited. When you protested and offered to buy him something in return, he merely shook his head with a smile and said you could buy him lunch another day.

You walked together through the streets under golden lights, eating delicious food and buying trinkets. At the end of the night, you tentatively inched your hand toward his, and he interlaced your fingers together, holding your warm palm against his cold one tightly.

You felt yourself grinning like an idiot, thinking that absolutely nothing could change the way you were feeling.

Everything was going great until you got back to your shop, laughing and chatting idly with the man beside you.

Your heart stopped as you realized that something was wrong, and your hand left Wriothesley’s for the first time that night as you ran towards the open door.

The entire place had been ransacked. The money in the cash register was gone. Your precious flowers—countless blooms that you had taken the time to grow and cut had either been stolen or trampled on. One window had been smashed in with a brick. You lifted up your foot, feeling the shattered glass break into smaller shards under the pressure—Archons, it was everywhere. Luckily, the small vault you keep most of your savings in was still closed but dented in multiple places and on its side.

You nearly collapsed on the floor right then and there. It was only Wriothesley, who caught you as you were falling to the ground, that kept you from completely breaking down. You were mourning. All of your flowers. All of your hard work, ripped from your hands, without so much as a warning.

You felt rage and misery burn in your chest, resulting in hot tears running down your face as you pathetically picked up the ruined flowers scattered across the shop floor. Next to you, shadow cast Wriothesley’s face in darkness, hiding his expression from view. You heard him assure you that he would take care of it, that he would fix all of this for you, as he told you not to worry in that perpetually assertive tone of his. Your muddled and distressed mind immediately clung onto it like a life line, desperate for something to ground you.

Wriothesley would take care of it, you told yourself. If not him, then who would help you?

—————————

You found out soon after that the man who had robbed you was a rival store owner whose business had gone under ever since you had moved in. His storefront was situated on one of the more populated streets, streets that saw more foot traffic and that attracted customers of a higher class. Still, he had been losing to you, a small shop on some nowhere street, for months. In the end, arrogance and jealousy had driven him to attempt destroying your business.

Whether it be from fear and intimidation, or hopelessness from losing all the money you had made in the past couple months, he had hoped that you would chose to pack up and leave after he ruined the inside of your shop.

Fortunately, he was not a master criminal. A few shop owners on your street had seen his face and identified him to the guards. According to rumors you had heard from friends, he fought the guards during his arrest, shouting that he was not some lowly commoner to be pushed around. The guards and some mysteriously clothed people flooded around him, dragging him to the court house and sentencing him within the hour. He was allowed to go back to his shop, as his home was above it, but was put on house arrest for the time being and had guards stationed outside of every window to await further punishment.

It had happened so…quickly.

Wriothesley, during all of this, was very supportive.

—————————

It all came crashing down on the last night of the festival, a week after you had been robbed.

You were in the process of walking home before you realized that you had left your keys in your bag.

…Which was at the shop.

…That you would have to go back to.

Groaning, you made yourself turn around and trek back towards the storefront so that you could actually get into your house.

As you walked down the main strip of stalls and shops, you realized with a bitter heart that you would have to pass the shop of the man who made your life hell to get there and back quickly. You were glad that he had been caught and sentenced swiftly, but you were still incredibly angry about the damage that had been done to your business. The mental and emotional wounds left from the shock of seeing everything you had worked for destroyed were still fresh.

You fastened your pace as the night lamps began to turn on, the sky quickly turning dark as they became your only source of light. You knew the city was mostly a safe place to live, but that didn’t mean crime never happened, and it would be just your luck for you to get robbed a second time.

Then there was shouting.

You slowed your pace as you heard a voice echo off the tall buildings, only amplifying the panicked screams.

Uh oh. Had you walked right into a crime scene?

You looked around you, noticing that there were no guards in sight. Hopefully they had noticed the trouble and were taking care of it.

You sighed. You really needed to get into your house, as you weren’t too keen on sleeping on a bench for the night. Cursing whatever being had brought this upon you, you continued forward, walking in the shadows and hoping to avoid whatever drama was happening near the home of the man who had robbed you.

You turned a corner, freezing as you took in the sight of a group of men huddled together, seemingly trying to apprehend someone—

Wait. Was that—

You recognized that figure—those boots—that coat…

What was your boyfriend doing here in the middle of the night?

Swiftly, you moved back out of the light, eyes trained on the man you could now clearly recognize. You watched as Wriothesley raised his fist, his knuckles connecting harshly with someone’s jaw. You startled at the harsh noise of skin splitting skin.

You felt yourself flinch as blood splattered across the pavement. For a moment, you were grateful for the imposing figures blocking your view of the violent scene.

The victim was splayed across the stone due to the force of the blow, thrown right into the circle of people that had formed around him, pathetically whimpering as he tried to pick himself up.

You watched as he was dragged away, looking genuinely terrified, screaming bloodcurdling words as he went mad with fear. His pleas fell on deaf ears as those around him stood still, Wriothesley silently watching as he was picked up and thrown into the back of a carriage. The door squealed as he yelled that he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve to go to the Fortress of Meropide, please—doors slamming shut, cutting off his final sentence as the men and the carriage disappeared into the night.

Wriothesley stood under a street light, a short distance away from where you hid in the shadows. His body was tense, his back drawn tight as he gazed at the retreating carriage, with the man he had assaulted and doomed to a life in prison lying within.

You stumbled back, you feet scuffling against the pavement. The noise sounded like an explosion in the dead quiet of the street.

His entire body stilled. He turned around, almost in slow motion, his eyes widening in horror as your gazes met.

You spun on your heel and ran, heart pounding in your chest. Heavy footfalls followed you, leather hitting stone with threatening thumps that seemed to get closer to you with every passing second.

You got to your shop, flinging open the door and rushing to the back of the building, heading towards the closet where you kept all of your supplies. Hearing the bell above your door chime mockingly, signaling that Wriothesley was in your shop oh Archons, you slammed the door shut and locked it from the inside.

For some reason, you could have never imagined him being so violent. You were shocked and terrified, seeing your new boyfriend, who you had only ever thought of as safe, as anything but. Now you knew. He was dangerous. You were so stupid for trusting a complete stranger—

You heard him run towards your hiding place, calling out to you as the heavy foot falls slowed to a stop.

“Y/N.” He said, voice calm and level, betraying no emotion at all. It was like he was discussing the weather and hadn’t just chased you down the street.

Your breathe hitched in your throat. Somewhere, in your frayed mind, you hoped, prayed he would just go if you were quiet enough—

“I never meant for you to see that. I’m sorry. Let me explain.”

The doorknob began to turn. It stopped, hitting the lock.

You heard rustling and then a faint jangle as Wriothesley stepped away from the door.

You had left your keys in your bag.

The bag was on the counter, the keys were in your bag—

….He knew where you kept your keys?

You had never told him that.

The door knob began to turn. You grabbed onto the it with a white-knuckled grip, stopping it from the inside.

Your heart thrummed in your chest, beating rapidly as you desperately held onto the cool metal.

“Leave me alone!” Please was left unsaid. You shouted the words, terror making you shake and tremble.

Wriothesley fell silent. You heard him lean his weight against the door, his movements causing it to creak.

The doorknob stopped turning.

You prayed that he wouldn’t try to force it, or worse, break the door down. You didn’t know if it would hold, or if you could hold on, considering how strong he was.

You imagined his hulking figure standing outside, only a few mere inches of wood separating you, towering over you from your spot on the floor.

You were practically paralyzed with fear, and didn’t know what you would do if he actually managed to get in and get his hands on you—

“Damn it, I ruined it all, didn’t I?” Wriothesley murmured.

You jumped, not expecting the despairing admission amidst your racing thoughts that were trying to pinpoint where you had went wrong in life.

His usually playful voice was monotone, eerily flat for the self deprecating words he spoke.

You didn’t deign him with a response. You merely listened to the quiet that followed, feeling more scared than you would have been if he had been raging and banging on the door. There was something about the silence; something about it felt foreboding, like a threat was creeping up behind you and you couldn’t hear it no matter how hard you tried.

You heard him turn away a few minutes later, heavy footfalls walking towards the door, and finally the bell signaling his departure.

For a few minutes, you sat there and waited.

Eventually, you opened the closet just a sliver, looking out into the dim lighting with flickering eyes, checking every possible corner that he could be hiding in. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t in here.

You slid out of the closet and almost immediately ducked behind the counter, still shaking from the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Shakily, you peeked out from behind the counter, checking for any sign of him outside. When you found the street to be devoid of him, you silently gasped in relief.

You ripped your keys out of the door with rushed hands.

You went home alone, without Wriothesley, who had taken it upon himself to personally walk you there almost every night of the week. A part of it felt strange to deviate from the routine, but you needed no reminder to know that the man you had trusted and spent time with all week was now a dangerous threat. You ran to the door of your home, opening it hurriedly and slamming it shut.

You tossed and turned as you slept that night, a doomed feeling settling in your churning stomach.

—————————

The next day, you took measures to start rebuilding. Perhaps you were just frantic to get back to some sense of normalcy after having the rug ripped out from under you the other night—or maybe you were desperate to have something to keep your mind off of the buzzing anxiety that was constantly gnawing at the back of your mind.

The man who broke in had already been put on trial and sentenced to an undetermined amount of time in the Fortress of Meropide, and had also been forced to cough up more than enough mora to cover the damages.

This, oddly enough, had all been told to you by a third party, someone hired by the court to watch over legal proceedings.

Someone was pulling the strings behind the case, and you didn’t want to think about who it was, just in case the pieces started falling together. (Deep down, you already knew.)

When you had heard he was being sent to the Fortress, you felt something in your gut twist unpleasantly, a kind of stone-like anxiety that weighed and sunk a permanent pit in your stomach. People who went there didn’t usually come back, or if they did, they weren’t the same. They weren’t viewed the same, either. What would happen to him once he came back? If he came back?

You shivered as the memory of him being dragged away resurfaced.

You sighed as you swept up errant pieces of class, determined to discard of every shard before you allowed any more precious customers or flowers to come through the door. The window had already been replaced, as a very nervous man had knocked on your door a few days after the…incident with Wriothesley, and claimed that he had been sent to repair it. You hadn’t even talked to anyone about fixing the window. A sinking feeling appeared in your chest as you watched the jumpy man chip away at glass and wood, his movements tense and swift. When you went to close the shop, you checked if you had locked the door three separate times before rushing home, practically running through the stone streets, running from absolutely nothing at all.

There was no sign of Wriothesley during the months it took your shop to recover. You were glad that he had taken what you had said to him in your moment of fear seriously. Still, you feared that he would show up on some random day, at some random time, and catch you off guard. That you would be reminded of the violence that seemed to follow him like a shadow, leaving trails of devastation in his wake.

Everyday you went home glancing over your shoulder while walking briskly down the street, always making sure to make it home before dark.

—————————

You unlocked the door to your home, hurriedly glancing behind you as you shoved the keys into the lock, pushing the door in quickly as it gave way. You closed and locked the door behind you, allowing yourself to relax minutely against the cool frame.

“Back so soon? I noticed you’ve been closing earlier nowadays. What’s that about?”

You froze, an ice cold fear creeping through your veins.

There, sitting in the dark of your unlit living room, was the man you had been simultaneously avoiding and thinking about constantly for months.

You could make out the silhouette of his hulking figure, leaning back into your favorite chair with his fingers laced together and knees spread apart, relaxed and causal. His eyes, which always held a mildly scrutinizing gaze, had turned razor sharp—they hadn’t moved from you since the moment you had stepped into the room. You were a pinned butterfly under that look, being dissected and picked apart by glacial, stormy irises.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice coming out a little more shakily than intended. You tried not to hyperventilate. You really tried, but you could already feel your chest tightening, like just being in his presence was suffocating—

He stood up. Rooted in place, you didn’t dare move. If you tried to run, you knew he would catch you.

He moved towards you slowly, like he knew just as well as you did that you couldn’t escape.

He stopped a foot away from you, his height easily trumping yours, his figure casting a large, beastly shadow in the dim lighting.

You tilted your head back to look him in the eye. Even now, those icy eyes were beautiful. You thought it was unfair. Now that you knew what he was, what he was capable of, you thought, his eyes should come as warning. They were the eyes of a predator. And yet, still cold and steely, clear like cryo vision that hung from his hip, which you had never even seen until now.

Still beautiful, reminding you of clear water and arctic oceans and quiet. It was so quiet.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you dared to break the careful silence.

He reached up, curled fingers gently caressing your cheek, dragging down along the side of your neck, as if a simple touch with too much force behind it would shatter you.

His eyes flickered to the place where your shirt had lifted to expose your collarbone, coat hanging off your shoulders and pulling the fabric down.

He ran his fingers over the exposed skin, making you shiver as you felt rough, calloused pads run across you gingerly, lightly. A delicate touch from a hardened man. He looked back at you, his eyes soft. Intense. Adoring. He had moved closer in the last few seconds, you remarked. You only noticed because you had to crane your head up more to look at him. His chest touched yours. He leaned down, ghosting his lips over your forehead. His hand had moved. One had settled on your waist, holding and trapping you close to him.

You felt a prick in the side of your neck, vision going black as you collapsed into his arms.

—————————

The next time you woke up, you weren’t in your house anymore. There was gauzy, heavy fabric hanging above you. You had been placed in a canopy bed in a room that was expensively furnished, and yet somehow untouched. You were in a bed, which was in a prison, at the bottom of the ocean.

Wriothesley walked in only an hour after you woke. You had a feeling he had been routinely checking to see if you were awake.

He looked down at you, his eyes painfully tender in a way that you regretted not noticing before. There was a fondness, a suffocating fondness, which told you that all those things he now whispered to you at night—how he wanted to protect you, how he had longed to have you for so long, how he had been watching you from afar with his heart in his hands, just waiting for the right moment to give it to you—

His eyes told you that they were all true.

Somehow, you couldn’t hate him.

Wriothesley had been living as a lonely prisoner in his own kingdom—his underwater kingdom that he ruled, because he thrived on the depths of the cold, dark ocean and its inhabitants that yielded to his power.

And yet the king of the underworld yearned for just a little bit of life. Life that you were familiar with—life that you thrived off of, and that thrived in return under your guidance. Life that you loved.

Life that had attracted you to him.

You didn’t know if anyone still talked about you on the surface; if they talked about your existence, or more so your disappearance, in hushed whispers with shifty eyes. No one talked about you down here—no one knew you existed, except for the head nurse and your husband.

You had been stolen away, under the ocean, that little shop off main street missing its owner forevermore.

You, who had always been surrounded by the life of the surface, had been transported to the underworld, a land of misery and lost souls, away from all life, surrounded and trapped by the love you once longed for—and mourning the life you once had.

—————————

Reader: *lets go of Wriothesley’s hand bc they got robbed*

Wriothesley: oh this jerk is gonna pay *sends the guy who robbed you to the bottom of the sea*

he’s been waiting to hold that hand for so long )):< wtf dude

[pascallftv]

Girl Next Door— Part 3

Previous Part Series Masterlist

Summary: Joel invites you over for dinner and you watch a scary movie together.

Word count: 2.8k

AN: This had me kicking my feet and twirling my hair BAD

The drive down the road to Joel’s house consisted of your mind rerunning the events over the past few days. You over analyzed each touch, conversation, and even the way Joel looked at you. Consider it delusional, but you had yourself convinced that maybe your infatuation wasn’t one sided. The memory of Joel wrapping around you from behind to show you how to tear down the tiles replayed the most. Surely there was more to that interaction, you had thought to yourself. More so, you considered what your intentions were for the evening. Your plans to watch a movie could be harmless. The truth was you were lonely at the house alone, and you could only imagine how lonesome Joel got living by himself, so watching a movie together would lessen both of your times’ alone. However, there was a voice at the back of your mind laying out the potential to make a move on Joel.

Sure, the idea of being able to finally touch Joel in the way you wanted sounded captivating, but the consequences of your actions could be detrimental to the progress you’d made so far with him, and even ran a hazardous line for he and your father’s friendship. You fantasized about the sheer chance of Joel accepting your advances and everything working out perfectly when breaking the news to your father. It seemed within reach to you, but also so unobtainable at the same time.

After parking your car in Joel’s driveway, you tucked one hand into the pocket of flowy sweatpants, with a tote bag in the other containing a couple of movies that you’d picked out. For being a summer evening, the temperature had cooled off and you were a bit chilly with just a white camisole on your top half. Joel’s porch light was on, illuminating the steps and front door. You were nervous. It felt like the nerves before a first date, although this interaction was far from that. You lifted your knuckle and knocked on the door. After a few moments, the door opened to Joel wearing a pair of dark gray sweatpants paired with a black t-shirt. The outfit was very different from his usual attire, but damn did he look good. His muscular biceps and forearms were on display, as well as his tanned complexion.

“Hi.” You said, adjusting the tote bag over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes trailed down to take in your outfit as well. Your thin, yellow sweatpants flowed down your legs, and your tight, white camisole with lace details didn’t leave much to the imagination. The chilly evening air left your nipples erect, the fabric of your top peaked around them. Joel swallowed hard, his eyes falling upon yours before you caught him lingering on your chest for too long.

“Hi.” His gravelly voice responded, stepping aside to let you inside. His house was surprisingly decorated and very cozy. The walls were off white, and the foyer accommodated a beautiful dark green cabinet. The rug beneath your feet was an aged maroon with an extravagant bohemian print. A gold framed mirror was hung on the wall above the green cabinet. Joel’s attention to decorative details shocked you. You slid off your slip on shoes and sat them adjacent to a pair of Joel’s shoes against the wall. The aroma of cooking food wafted into your nostrils, the smell making your mouth water.

“I grilled some marinated chicken. The garlic potatoes are finishin’ up in the oven.” Joel explained, leading the way into his living room that was connected to the kitchen.

“It smells amazing, Joel.” You said, your eyes wandering, still observing the interior of his home.

The living room was just as breathtaking as the foyer. There was another bohemian rug across the dark, polished wood flooring. In front of a flat screen TV was a brown sofa and an aged wooden coffee table that matched the flooring.

“Your house is beautiful.” You spoke as you entered the kitchen. The tantalizing smell of the food was more intense, and you couldn’t wait to try his cooking. Joel looked back at you and smiled.

“Why thank you, darlin’.” He responded, grabbing an oven mitt off the counter, using it to pull the pan of potatoes out of the oven. He placed them on the stovetop next to the chicken breasts that looked grilled to perfection.

“I didn’t take you as a cook.” You said, stepping closer to steal a look at the food Joel prepared.

“It’s always the ones you least expect.” He said, reaching into one of the black cabinets to grab two plates. After dishing out a piece of chicken and some potatoes, Joel handed you one, then grabbed a fork and knife out of a drawer for you.

“I poured you a glass of wine, I wasn’t sure if you drank so I got you a glass of water too.” Joel explained, glancing over at the dining room table. It was a small, dark wood table and chairs with black cushions. The colors of his house felt like home somehow. In the center of the table was a clear vase with yellow flowers. They appeared to be flowers from the field behind your houses. For being such a gruff man, Joel’s house was delicate and cozy.

“I do love wine.” You chimed, following him to take a seat at the table.

You picked up your fork and knife, cutting into your chicken. You popped a piece into your mouth, and nearly melted at how amazing it tasted.

“Joel, this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You gushed. Joel looked up at you from his own food, a smile toying at his lips.

“You sure do know how to flatter an old man like me.” He teased, taking a bite of his potatoes.

“I can’t believe no one has tied you down yet. I mean shit, you can cook, you’re an excellent builder and decorator.” You rambled. “Not to mention, you’re very easy on the eyes.”

Joel watched you with wonder in his eyes as you spoke. God, you were everything.

“If you find the answer, be sure to let me know.” Joel conceded, taking another bite of chicken. After he swallowed, he knitted his brows and rested his arms on the table. “You know, I could say the same for you.”

“Is that so?” You raised a brow, sipping on your white wine.

“Well, look at yourself, darlin’.” Joel gestured towards you. “You’re young, beautiful. You’re intelligent. What else could a man want?”

You swallowed hard, running your tongue over your teeth. You couldn’t decipher if he was simply being nice or if there was an underlying reasoning behind his words. You cleared your throat and chuckled softly.

“You’re blowing sunshine up my ass.” You said, poking a potato with your fork and bringing it to your mouth. Joel chuckled and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” He insisted. You felt your cheeks flushing. You ate in comfortable silence for a moment, your thoughts running crazy. You felt even more delusional after Joel’s words.

“So I brought over a couple movies. I have the original Halloween and the first Scream.” You changed the subject.

“I haven’t seen Scream in a while.” Joel imputed, taking a swig of his mixed drink that appeared to be a Jack and Coke.

“Then it’s decided.” You winked.

When you both finished eating, you helped Joel pack away the leftover food into Tupperware containers. Even his refrigerator was organized. You helped put your dishes in the dishwasher before you both retired to the living room to put on the movie. You brought your glass of wine with you, placing it on the coffee table. Joel grabbed the movie from you, setting up the movie while you got comfortable on the sofa. After your conversations at dinner, your nerves had practically evaporated. You felt much more comfortable and less like you needed to act a certain way to impress Joel.

You watched his back flex underneath his black t-shirt as he leaned down to put the disc in the DVD player. You longed to run your hands down his back, feeling every curve and muscle of his back.

It was dark outside now, the only light source being a lamp that Joel had turned on. He walked to the couch, reaching behind you to grab a large wool blanket. He sat down beside you, your legs being only a few inches apart. Joel placed the blanket over both of your laps, and grabbed the TV remote off the table to click play on the menu to start the movie.

“This is going to give you nightmares, isn’t it?” Joel spoke, looking over to you. Your legs were curled up into your chest on the couch cushion, you pulling the blanket up over your arms.

“No.” You said with a smirk, looking from him back to the TV. “I’ll probably be scared shitless in that house by myself though.”

“A scary movie was a terrible idea.” Joel sighed, resting his arm over the back of the couch.

The first kill of the movie played across the screen, and Joel startled beside you. You turned to look at him, your mouth parted in surprise.

“Maybe it’s you we need to be worried about.” You teased, reaching over to squeeze his leg. His head snapped over at your touch. You turned back to keep watching the movie, but Joel’s eyes lingered on you. Your touch made him feel crazy. The power of your fingertips was enough to make him melt entirely. His eyes lowered to your plump lips, the shadows from the TV dancing across them. Your gaze was locked on the movie, not even paying attention to how you had Joel caught in a trance.

Strategically, Joel decides to lean forward to take a swig of his drink, coming back down to sit even closer to you. Your thighs were touching under the blanket now, his arm falling behind your head to rest on the back of the couch again. You glanced down to observe your close proximity. Your legs were still tucked up on the couch, so your knees were practically on top of his lap.

You continued to watch the movie, but you weren’t really paying attention. Your eyes followed the images flashing across the screen, but your brain wasn’t comprehending anything. All you could focus on was how good it felt to exchange body heat with Joel. You wanted to cuddle into his side, but you couldn’t find the courage to do so. Little did you know, that’s exactly what Joel longed for you to do. He wasn’t paying attention to the movie either. Likewise, he was fighting every urge to drape his arm across your shoulders instead of the couch.

As the movie progressed, a jumpscare happened, and you jolted and covered your eyes. Without thinking, you leaned into Joel’s side. He looked down at your head pressed into his chest, and he lowered his arm to wrap around you, his hand squeezing your arm gently.

“Holy shit, I even expected it too.” You muttered, leaning your head back just a little to peer up at him. Joel stared back into your eyes, the emotion in them unreadable. Joel reached his free hand up hesitantly, brushing your hair back out of your face. Goosebumps rose on your skin, your eyes flickered back and forth between his eyes, searching for any hint of emotion.

Joel didn’t speak. His thumb was working soft circles on your arm while his other hand lingered in the hair by your face.

“Joel.” You whispered. His eyes flickered to yours.

“Hmm?” He muttered gruffly.

“Kiss me.” You exhaled. Joel stared at you for a moment, his eyes dancing between yours and your lips. He furrowed his brows as he considered.

He was fighting himself mentally. If there were zero consequences, he would’ve kissed you way before this moment, but there were so many obstacles with taking things to that level with you. Would it make things awkward between you? Would you realize he was too old for you? What about your father?

Joel’s hand moved to your jaw, his thumb running gently over the soft tissue of your bottom lip.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Joel asked softly, the pad of his thumb still on your lip. You nodded, your hand reaching up to cup Joel’s face. His complexion was rough and tanned with wisdom, the crow’s feet by his eyes deepening with the perplexed expression on his face. You ran your fingertips over his beard, ghosting them slowly over the gray patches.

“Use your words, sweetheart.” Joel cautioned. You stared up at him, your fingers venturing into the hair by his ear. Your gaze flickered down to his lips, then back up to his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.” You assured him, your tone smooth.

Your words were all Joel needed to hear. He leaned down, his lips softly pressing to yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, your fingers moving deeper into Joel’s salt and pepper hair. The kiss was sweet, the taste of the white wine on your lips mixing with the savory flavor of the Jack and Coke on Joel’s. Your bodies pressed together, your chests flush against each other. Your gut was swarming with electricity, Joel’s arm dropping to your lower back to press you closer to him. He craved you closer. Your tongue darted to brush against his bottom lip, a gentle whimper leaving his mouth, leaving enough of a gap for you to slip your tongue inside.

Joel’s hand lowered to your ass, pulling you up onto his lap, deepening the kiss further. Joel wound his hand into the back of your hair, his fingertips massaging into your scalp lightly. You placed your hands on either side of Joel’s face. You broke away from his lips, lowering your mouth to his jaw, peppering gentle kisses there, then moving to the rough skin of his neck. He exhaled deeply, leaning his head back into the couch, opening up more skin for you to press kisses to.

In that moment, the both of you knew you were playing with fire. You were at the point of no return. The intense infatuation reigned champion over the moral dilemmas that troubled your subconsciouses. The desire you felt for each other took precedence of any sort of reason about the reality of the situation.

Joel’s hands ran down the warm skin of your back as your lips ventured back to his. Your tongues danced together, Joel’s hips rutting up against yours. You felt him hardened underneath you, and suddenly reality swarmed your thoughts. A kiss was one thing, but the thought of moving further scared you. You wanted nothing more to be intimate with Joel, but it felt too soon. You wanted to take your time with him.

You pulled away from the kiss, resting your forehead against his, your warm breath fanning across his face. He ran his hands from your back to your hips, running them slowly up your sides.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Joel whispered, pulling away to gaze into your eyes. He brought a hand up to brush the pad of his thumb across your cheek. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the supple skin of your cheek, then lowered his mouth to your neck, breathing in your sweet, vanilla scent. You breathily moaned, intertwining your hands behind his head, pushing your breasts together.

“So so pretty, honey.” He murmured, his mouth ghosting over the soft skin of your breasts, his fingertip tracing over the peaking fabric from your nipples. Your brows taught together, your lips parted at his gentle touch.

“J-Joel I want to—” you began, “but it’s too soon.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Joel reassured you, lifting his hands to cup your face, pecking a soft kiss to your lips. “I’m just enjoyin’ tasting you. I don’t want to rush anythin’.”

Your belly fluttered, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You bent down and kissed him again, this time with a little more pressure. You couldn’t verbally tell him how you felt about him, but your kiss told him everything he needed to know.

“Stay tonight.” Joel spoke against your lips. “We don’t have to do anythin’, just want to be with you.”

You nodded emphatically, running your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Okay.” You muttered breathily.

You lifted yourself off his lap and sat back down in your spot next to him, this time cuddling into his side. You couldn’t hold back the smile that overtook your lips.

[herejusttosufferalong]

I just have to say something to the naysayers who swear that there's anything unrequited going on between L and N or that he's so in love with 🐜. Consider this. Luke has said that the lines had been blurred and that he wished he could live in the character longer or whatever.

What lines exactly were blurred? Have none of you actually considered this? The mutual attraction? The pining and the longing between two people who are supposed to be friends? Two people coming into their own through the love they found with each other? None of those reasons are pointing to N or L being alone in their feelings for one another.

Neither does L saying he's going to miss living day in and out as Colin, a man literally so very infatuated with his wife. What that tells me and anyone else listening is that he'd miss living vicariously through his character who gets to love all over his best friend. What that also tells me is that it most certainly created problems with he and J who wanted nothing more than to marry that man. That says to me that things became so blurred that who they were pretending to be on screen actually ended up being who they became to each other in real life so much so that it possibly affected his longest term relationship to date.

None of that spells that anything is unrequited between these two. I'm not understanding how these two goofballs don't hear each other when they speak. Because they've been telling all of us how much they love each other but it's like they aren't translating it correctly amongst themselves. Like they've suddenly gone deaf and dumb. I love them but I swear if they were my Barbies I'd be smashing their faces together already.

no notes

💜🥃

[actually-factually-anonymous]

The Reveal is Worthless

I entreat the reader to remember the earlier period of the Miraculous fandom, back when Ladybug and Chat Noir were something like actual partners instead of superior and subordinate.

There was something special about their relationship. They were friends who cared for one another, who relied upon one another and trusted each other in a way they could no one else, despite neither knowing the true name of the other. They didn't fully know one another, but their relationship was a one-a-kind friendship based upon a unique experience between them that no one else could relate to.

And of course, there was that ironic romance, the Love Square whose dynamics underpinned the plots of so many of the early season episodes. Marinette loved the boy she thought she knew, and Chat Noir loved the heroine who he fought beside: neither necessarily saw the full value the other had to offer because they were blinded by the idealised image they had of the other's alter-ego.

Thus the reveal and teasing thereof was an enticing prospect: these two closest of friends and allies could finally merge their lives together without professional boundaries. Adrien could get to know the clumsy girl who wasn't a perfect heroine and Marinette would finally be able to actually know who Adrien was, as opposed to being infatuated with his model image.

A true basis for a true relationship.

And something they could never have so long as their mission continued. For until then, Ladybug and Chat Noir could only be partners and friends, but their responsibilities would always have a barrier between them.

What a shame how this premise has been so utterly devalued.

-

There are three aspects to consider here:

1: Romance

2: True understanding/personal development

3: Exclusivity/Trust

-

Romance

The first is the simplest and quickest to cover.

The nature of the Love Square was an ironic circle of attraction, Marinette loved Adrien, but Adrien loved Ladybug- so they were in effect rejecting each other to chase after one another. The only seeming solution was for the identities to be revealed and thus allow the two to actually bond fully and resolve the entire mess by getting together knowing full well that their attraction was reciprocated.

That was not what happened.

Instead, the show decided that Adrichat would finally move on from Ladybug and onto Marinette. And after a bit of back and forth, the Love Square was resolved by having the two unknowingly date their co-workers while Ladynoir cooled to platonic.

This was certainly a choice.

It also rendered any reveal entirely moot in regards to romance. Adrienette is canon, what does them finding out they're co-workers achieve?

-

True understanding/personal development

The core of the Love Square was that neither Marinette or Adrien could see the other's alter-egos within them. Or at least, Marinette outright found it laughable that Chat Noir could be Adrien.

Adrien meanwhile outright called Marinette the "everyday Ladybug" and was unsurprised to put the pieces together himself in Chat Blanc.

But the point of the matter is: in theory the secret identities are barriers to a full bond between the two (alleged) protagonists. That by overcoming them, they could fully "be themselves" with another person.

A Marinette with full confidence and self-assurance, but who also didn't need to be the heroine and could be sad and share her burdens. An Adrien who was allowed to be expressive, silly or imperfect himself without being reprimanded.

This is not what happened.

At least not for Adrien.

Marinette has achieved that goal, with Alya. She has a friend who cares for her with whom she can be completely honest with and who she can share her emotional burdens. Chat Noir meanwhile has steadily learnt to restrain himself as Chat Noir and if anything, grown more compliant and less self-deterministic as Adrien.

Moreover the two have gone from partners, to superior and subordinate. A strict hierarchy where all power, information and authority exists in the hands of one person, and the other person has none whatsoever beyond leaving the ring behind. And it has to be said: Ladybug does not have some special fondness or trust in Chat Noir that would enhance their relationship as Marinette and Adrien.

Nor is there any exceptional trust that Marinette has in Adrien that would enhance their relationship as Ladybug and Chat Noir, indeed the opposite might be true, given just how much she is hiding from him already despite it being critical to his very existence (eg: the whole Sentimonster business). Most likely any reveal between the two at this point would just introduce that power dynamic and secrecy into their personal lives, and likely extinguish what independence Adrichat still possesses.

Because all the reveal would do now is give Marinette even more leverage over Adrien as his superior. Marinette would continue to hide her full self from Adrien, and Adrien having already learnt to ignore and suppress his own feelings for Ladybug's sake would do so constantly for Marinette (if he didn't already, I see precious little of Chat Noir in the Adrien of S5 compared to S1).

-

Exclusivity/Trust

The third is the most extensive to cover, the most important secret either Adrichat or Maribug have are their identities. Thus either letting another know it willingly is (supposedly) the highest sign of trust. The less people who know that secret, the more valuable the act of the reveal is as it creates an incredible vulnerability that did not exist before and proves that the revealer trusts the revealee more than almost anyone else.

It was seemingly inevitable that if Marinette were to willingly reveal to anyone, she'd first choose Chat Noir. He was the one who she supposedly had that unique bond with, and vice versa. It was even a fandom staple back if you search back far enough.

Now of course, that staple is more dated than The Dab.

Marinette's identity now seemingly free space for anyone but Chat Noir. She first willingly spilled the beans to Alya, despite Alya having been Akumatised multiple times before over what are relatively minor affairs (I sure hope she doesn't get caught canoodling with Nino again!) and her being a known target for Shadowmoth thanks to her own identity being known to him. From there on, through either her own choice, accident or observation Ladybug's identity has spread to at least half a dozen other people including Gabriel Agreste and possibly Lila.

But not Chat Noir.

This is important, because that bar of trust and exclusivity has been continuously lowered, to the point where Marinette seemingly has no problem with Felix "Genocide" Fathom being the in the club of people who know her on both sides of the mask- even if he and Kagami have no business doing so. But her supposed partner? He's not even considered.

There are some arguments as to why... but they don't stand up scrutiny:

"It's because of Chat Blanc! Marinette is traumatised over Chat Noir knowing her name!"

That would make sense, alas: it's also fandom staple. Not part of canon itself.

References to Chat Blanc are few and far between, and Maribug has had precisely one sign of any possible trauma from the event and it was as part of a nightmare induced by revealing her identity to Alya. There's nothing in the show that demonstrates that she has any lasting harm from Chat Blanc, or that it's the cause of her actions.

"Chat has the Black Cat Miraculous, they can't know each other's identity because their Miraculous have to stay safe!"

This would be reasonable.

Up until the moment Marinette spilled the beans to Alya. At that point her security had been breached so severely that there is no longer any value in maintaining her secret from Chat Noir. You cannot say the multi-time Akuma victim who Hawkmoth knows was a Miraculous wielder is a better secret-keeper than Chat Noir, even if she broke from Akumatization from a few hours ago: she also got Akumatized a few hours ago.

The only valid part of this argument is that Chat Noir maintaining his secret to Marinette would still be required.

"Chat Noir gets mind controlled every Tuesday, his mind will be an open book!"

No. No it will not.

It's true that Chat Noir is mind-control themed. However- unless I've missed an incident- for all those many times he's been brought under someone else's power he's never given up his Miraculous or identity barring direct use of his Amok. Unless Ladybug has somehow discovered Adrichat's identity, there's no reason to expect that he'll spill the beans- and certainly no more than Alya.

Then there's the final nail in the coffin:

As of "Ephemeral": we know perfectly well that if Marinette knows Chat Noir is Adrien, she'll quickly decide to throw caution to the wind anyway. So by evidence alone, it's not a matter of security or trauma, it's a matter of favoritism.

By evidence: Chat Noir is not one of those favourites. Forget the actualization of a special bond, he's less trustworthy than Felix.

-

What is the value of the reveal at this point?

Adrien and Marinette are together. The barriers are gone, but there's no special exclusivity to this shared experience anymore: there's an entire team of others after all and Rena's the one Ladybug shares her feelings and secrets with while Chat Noir barely knows anything. The "Ladynoir partnership" has cooled to a platonic working relationship where all the trust and authority goes one way, so there's not exactly some great romantic addition to be made to the Adrienette relationship.

Exactly what difference does it make to their relationship if they know each other's identity? What would actually change beyond them not having to make awkward excuses about where they're hiding for any given Akuma battle?

Because unless there's going to be some kind of Ladynoir conflict in the next season to provide a new, negative potential impact to the reveal:

The once brimming potential of The Reveal has been completely wasted.

[sporadically-writing]

Howdy, I got one for u

But maybe some headcannons for Cassidy with an s/o that calls him when they can so they can hear his voice because who wouldn't wanna hear that nice voice (maybe add in that the reader doesn't like to admit that they're infatuated with him because of his flirting lol)

But eventually he catches on to why they do it and what do you think his reaction would be?

Cassidy w/ S/O Who Loves His Voice

I love this, I love this, I love this!

Cole is away a lot. Not enough for it to be a problem, after all you are away a lot as well. Such is the nature of your lives as agents.

Besides the two of you had always done your best communicating with each other and spending time together while neither of you are on missions.

However, that doesn’t mean that neither of you get lonely when the other is gone. Especially if the mission has been going on as long as Cole’s has.

It would have been easy to just text him but, unfortunately for you, you couldn’t communicate with him until his mission was complete. As much as you hated them, the protocols were there to keep him (and any other agent on similar assignments) safe. You could endure missing him if it meant he came home safe.

You had a friend in administration who, with a smirk on their face, always told you when your significant cowboy was on his way home. They were the one you had confided in long before you and Cole entered a relationship. They knew, even more than Cassidy (and likely even yourself), just how head over heels you were for him.

To their credit, they only teased you a little.

Ok.

Maybe a lot.

But you two were friends and that’s what you do. The point is, they always let you know when you could contact your cowboy.

You usually just texted him in the past, figuring he was probably tired and wanted to rest on the way home, but… it had been a long mission.

You called him instead. To your surprise he answered.

“Darlin’?” You would be lying if you said you didn’t immediately start blushing. Cole’s voice, all saccharine tone and honeyed words, had always had an effect on you. And you know what they say about absence and what it does to the heart.

The two of you talked about his mission. It went well darlin’ he was just tired, don’t you worry about him none.

And you talked until it was clear you were starting to fall asleep.

“Honeybee, if you’re tired we can hang up so you can rest, ya know. I’ll be back when you wake up.”

“No!”

Shit. You answered too quickly. Cole Cassidy might not be considered the brightest bulb in the drawer but he was plenty smart, occasionally too smart for his, and your, own good.

Like now.

Unseen by you, the cowboy smirked, he knew. You had been taking a little longer to answer him all night and even before you were tired. Your own voice had taken on that lovesick quality it usually did when talking to him. He knew it well, he’s used it around you a fair number of times as well.

It did not take Cole long to connect the dots. You just wanted to listen to his voice. He’d been doing most of the talking, which made sense at the beginning when discussing the mission but after that the conversation still managed to be in his court.

You missed him and would rather stay awake to hear his voice than get the sleep you needed.

Well, if that isn’t adorable.

But, Cole would use that information (lovingly) against you later. But right now, you and he were both tired. He’d use his powers for good first.

“Well then,” he began, making his speech softer and slower. He just sort of talked like that for a while until he was sure he had lulled you to sleep.

“Darlin’? Sweetheart?” He hummed contently to himself, “See ya soon Sweetpea.”

Then, not hanging up the phone, he leaned his head back, closed his eyes and fell asleep the rest of the way home.

Request Rules/Character Sheet

Navigation

[aziraphales-library]

Thank you so much for all that you do! I've found so many good fics from your recommendations ♥️

Do you know of any that involve Crowley being homeless or otherwise seriously struggling financially? Thank you!

I have read one with this theme, Divine Restorations and Repairs, so I'd love to rec that too! It's fantastic.

We have some fics in which Crowley is struggling financially here. And I've got a few more in which Crowley has problems with money/housing...

Copper and gold by Joseph_Amadeus (M)

Aziraphale doesn't pick up hitchhikers but he can't help himself when he sees Crowley getting steadily wetter in the rain one night.

Be Still My Soul: The Romance by MirjamOmens (E)

It’s the summer of 1917 in the Grand Duchy of Finland. The Great War rages over Europe, and the empire of Russia, of which Finland is still part, has suffered a revolution. For Azirafel Fjäll, a minor landowner and a shop runner, all these things are only mildly annoying inconveniences. His dear friend, Anton J. Crowley, is not as fortunate. The working-class people struggle to make a living in a world where there's a constant shortage of food, fuel and work. Despite their class differences, Azirafel and Anton have been friends since childhood--and both secretly yearn for more. Can their two hearts find each other as their country heads from one crisis to another? Or will the ever widening gap between their worlds keep them apart?

Sharp Objects by ElderlySardine (M)

Back in the mid-nineties, Aziraphale and Crowley had it all. They were friends, lovers, soulmates. Life was hard, but as long as they were together it didn't matter. Then in one catastrophic fight caused by Aziraphale's cruel, coercive brother Gabriel, the whole thing came crashing down. The boys parted company for good. Now it's 2021. Life has spun Crowley and Aziraphale in very different directions before throwing them back together at their lowest ebb. Can they manage to hide their history from their new friends? Can they forgive each other, and themselves? Could there possibly still be something there between them? And with Gabriel still lurking on the horizon, will they be strong enough to do anything about it?

The Ghost of Husbands Past by A_N_D (E)

Az always knew that he’d be thrown out the moment his father found out he was gay. He hadn’t expected to be declared dead though - or for his husband to believe it! But their marriage had been a foolish teenage impulse (not to mention invalid in America), so when Az moved to a small town far upstate New York to start his new life, he moved alone. The kindest thing he could do was let Crowley mourn and move on, not be shackled for life to a now disabled partner. Tony Crowley never recovered from losing his best friend, his childhood sweetheart, his better half. He’d been drifting ever since; no plans, no hope, no money - and now, just before Thanksgiving, no job either. Given the stark choice of freezing to death or accepting his sister’s invitation to join her upstate, Tony reluctantly lives out the Hallmark cliche of Recently Unemployed Person Moves to Small Town for Christmas. It’s a time of hope, love, and family. It’s time for Az and Tony to find each other again.

Magpie by southdownsraph (E)

Ezra has just been hired as a bartender at an underground LGBT nightclub to help supplement his income while he studies for his master’s, and he can’t help but become infatuated with one of the performers, an exotic dancer who goes by the name AJ.

And the one you mentioned...

Divine Restorations & Repairs by skimmingthesurface, SylWritesStuff (E)

While it's unfortunate for one’s car to break down in the middle of the countryside, the pretty-as-a-postcard Tadfield could hardly be considered the worst place Anthony J. Crowley has ever been. Of course, it doesn’t help that it looks like it hasn’t yet seen the turn of the millennia, let alone this decade, but perhaps that’s just what he needs as he crawls his way out of the Hell he’s endured for the past fifteen years. Maybe the last thirty, if he's honest with himself. Though he could do without the rain. When Aziraphale Fell happens upon him and offers him shelter from the storm in his little family-run antique repair shop, neither are expecting it to change everything. The angel with his white umbrella and his tartan bowtie doesn’t expect this mysterious stranger to be able to fill the timely vacancy in his shop or the quiet of his life, but they’ve both had experience in restoring once-beloved items back to their full glory. Perhaps Crowley hasn’t fallen quite so far that he wouldn’t fit in with the rest of Aziraphale’s ragtag team of eccentric restoration experts. And perhaps they may be able to turn that talent on themselves and each other, and seal the cracks in their own hearts.

- Mod D

[treethymes]

In my landmark analysis of The Wind Rises, I interpreted the film in terms of Miyazaki working through his feelings on his life’s work—perhaps regret and shame thinking of all the sacrifices from others it took to bring his work to fruition, to pursue his desires and ideals; his ideas on what “beauty” is and perhaps how glad he is that it exists/is created in spite of all the suffering that may be attached to it. I did not talk about the relatively more straightforward ways of reading the film, which is of course about Japan during World War II: Miyazaki reflecting on the factors that drive history, what it means to live through, to be embedded in—and to look back on—so much violence; Miyazaki reckoning with his own family’s role in the imperialist war effort as well as his lifelong infatuation with the aesthetics of military machinery. Considering these modes of interpretation together yields a portrait of a man and his art—Where does it come from? What does it value? Where does it want to go? As such, The Wind Rises is arguably a very rich and fitting swan song. And yet, with its grounded, adult perspective on the war, the film also sticks out like a sore thumb in Miyazaki’s oeuvre and maybe always sat uncomfortably as a conclusion to it.

For those who feel that way, The Boy and the Heron should come as a welcome addition to Miyazaki’s filmography. It is, after all, a return to fantasy adventure with a child protagonist—something that feels, at least more so than a quasi-biopic of an aircraft engineer does, like quintessential Miyazaki. But crucially for our purposes, the film is not just a return to a familiar form (often quite literally a sum of everything that came before it), it is an extension of and second half to The Wind Rises. Through the lens of my interpretation of The Wind Rises, The Boy and the Heron is like an inversion of The Wind Rises in that it foregrounds the concerns with artistry and legacy while keeping the war in the background and frame of the narrative.

Two scenes in The Boy and the Heron in particular reminded me of The Wind Rises. First is the scene of the dying pelican, which visually recalls the scene of the ill man in Princess Mononoke but in terms of the content of the dialogue reminds me more of the scene in The Wind Rises of the children turning down Jiro’s offer of castella cake. It is a reflection on poverty, pride, and survival. In the context of these films, we are led to consider specifically the condition of the Japanese people, the things they were driven to do, and are left to draw our own conclusions with regard to the nuances.

The other scene, of course, is the brief moment of Mahito looking at the windshields his father brings to the house and remarking on how beautiful they are. This scene embeds in The Boy and the Heron Miyazaki’s preoccupation with the aesthetic allure of aircraft originally designed for warfare, a contradiction between beauty and violence that is mirrored in the dream world that Mahito ultimately decides to reject.

In the dream world in The Boy and the Heron, there are so many echoes of past Miyazaki and Ghibli films it is deafening. Seemingly contrary to Jiro’s solemn resignation to the world of pyramids, Mahito rejects the dream world he’s inherited and ventures to build something new in the real world. But I’m not sure they are so far removed from each other. They are complimentary views of the same object (Miyazaki’s legacy), one from his own perspective and one from the perspective he hopes for future generations to take—one of not overly attaching themselves to some old fool’s dreams. In The Wind Rises, perhaps Miyazaki tries to celebrate his life’s work without celebrating it. In The Boy and the Heron, he gives us the greatest hits slideshow we wanted and then some—a celebration of the joys and tribulations of the creative act he so compulsively pursued—but not without gesturing to us nonetheless to peer beyond the curtain.

[smytherines]

do you have any hcs for precanon curtwen? how they got together, what they were like etc

Oh for sure I do!

I think they were probably paired up together for missions over the span of a couple of years, and had all this romantic & sexual tension that they convinced themselves was all in their heads, before they actually got together. They had long enough to build a friendship, a partnership, and they're both afraid enough of the consequences (both personally and professionally) that they don't want to even consider making a move.

I always imagine it as something goes wrong on a mission, someone gets hurt, or maybe they have a spectacular success and are high on adrenaline, and Curt impulsively kisses Owen because hey, this guy is attractive and Curt has a crush. Owen is just kinda stunned by it, and Curt pulls away like "oh shit he's gonna kill me," but really Owen has been infatuated with Curt for ages and just assumed Curt wasn't interested.

I could see Owen having an inkling that Curt is into men, but assuming that if someone as cocky and confident as Curt hasn't made a move, it must mean he isn't interested. So Owen has just been pathetically pining for him. I think Curt has been pining too, but because he just kind of assumes in that young closeted queer way that nobody else is "sick" like him, that confiding in anyone will get him in trouble. And in my headcanon, Owen is bisexual, so perhaps he's had affairs with women and Curt assumes that means he isn't interested in men.

Anyways, I love thinking about them in a relationship, even though it breaks my heart. Because realistically Curt and Owen probably only saw each other a handful of times per year, so everything they manage to build together is based on these little stolen moments. I think they start casually hooking up, killing time on missions, but it very quickly becomes something more. It almost has to. You don't get a lot of time to date as a spy, and even less as a gay spy. So even just the act of repeatedly hooking up by default sorta makes them the most important relationship in each other's lives- especially because they were such good friends first.

I personally don't think pre-fall curtwen were as toxic as a lot of people think. I don't really see any evidence of that in A1P1. I mean they both seem to be little freaks who get off on danger and violence, and I'm sure constant distance and secrecy and danger took their toll, but for me A1P1 shows two men who love and respect each other, even if they bicker and mess with each other.

One thought I keep coming back to is that they sneak off for movie dates, mostly because I love classic films and get really into imagining them reacting to the many gay subtext films of the early 50s. I think they sit in the darkest part of the theater and only their legs are touching, and maybe if there's nobody there one of them will put his hand on the other's thigh and it's almost a real date.

I think they'll go to bars- not underground gay bars specifically, but bars where a lot of queer people just happen to congregate, and sit at a booth or a table, and drink together and find little ways to be discreetly affectionate.

I think Curt thinks it's adorable that Owen is a kind of a nerd, and tries his best to pay attention when Owen goes on a ramble or a rant about boring tech stuff (but gets bored and starts trying to make out with him instead). I think Owen is fascinated with how Curt's mind works, how he's seemingly so chaotic and disorganized, but in a crisis he is absolutely cool and calm and comes up with clever, creative solutions for problems.

I think they loved each other, they knew each other so well that one could barely finish a sentence before the other picked it up. I think they were a bit codependent, and the distance started to gnaw away at them towards the end, but they were each other's favorite person in the world. They trusted each other more than anyone else on Earth. They missed each other desperately, but tried their best to put on a brave face every time they had to part. I think they sent each other coded love notes and presents and found excuses to request each other on missions. I think some of their pillow talk included imagining little scenarios where they could run off together and never have to be apart again, and it starts as a fun thing but gradually gets sadder and sadder for them as they realize how impossible that would be.

(That's all I have time for right now but I might pick this back up later)

[rainykthebroken]

Love on a silver screen (link)

When Taranza had agreed to have a movie night with the magician, he hadn't imagined that it would provoke such infatuation in Magolor. He found it hard to understand why Magolor seemed so excited at the prospect, given that he and Marx were used to movie marathons until dawn.

What's more, the Floralian wasn't much of a cinephile, and he feared he might not be the most receptive person. Added to this was the fact that Taranza was an early sleeper. What if he didn't like the film? What if he fell asleep before the end? Magolor would surely be upset!

Fortunately, the Halcadran had quickly dispelled his fears. Whether he liked the film or not, the important thing was to spend an evening together, and Taranza was all for that.

He'd only been officially a couple for a few weeks, so the two lovebirds were still finding it slightly difficult to acclimatize to this new part of their lives.

Despite having spent much of his life imagining himself at Joronia's side, and having consummated a multitude of romance stories, Taranza found himself intimidated now that he was actually in a relationship. Spending these days with Magolor was great, but Taranza was still a little nervous of not being able to live up to someone so great. Ironically enough, the other magician felt the same way.

After a day of wandering around Dream Land and having one of those candlelit dinners Taranza loved so much, Magolor had hurried to get everything ready.

The spider was admittedly pretty tired, but watching his boyfriend go out of his way to make their night unforgettable once again had immediately put him back in the mood. There was something endearing about seeing him like this, the usual polite and ceremonial mask coming off to reveal his passionate side. He loved the "cool Magolor" as much as the "nerd Magolor", and watching him muddle through his various CDs while monologuing about the cultural impact of these films made his heart warm all over again.

Taranza had never needed to remember why he'd fallen in love with the feline, but seeing him so cheerful and enthusiastic could have triggered another love at first sight.

After inserting the disc and switching on the large flat screen, Magolor asked Lor to turn off the lights. Soon, the two magicians were snuggled under large blankets on their sofa.

From what Magolor had told him, Taranza was about to watch a masterpiece of cinema that the inter-dimensional pilot had found himself in the rubble of an ancient world forgotten on an old voyage. He couldn't stop talking about his admiration for his favorite film, which made the arachnid chuckle, finding it simply adorable. Seeing Magolor so open was always a treat.

Finally, explosions covered the screen, startling Taranza who grabbed Magolor's hand. The latter, after a quick tease, kissed the cheek of his "Ranran", which had the effect of darkening his bluish blush.

The rest of the night went according to plan, if not more amazing than Taranza's already high expectations. The drawn style struck a chord with him immediately, and as the minutes ticked by, he found himself more and more invested in the plot. With his eyes riveted and one of his hands still entangled with one of Magolor's, the bowl of popcorn quickly emptied.

If Magolor was casting small glances in his direction to assure himself of his comfort, his apprehension diminished as the movie progressed. His snide comments during certain cheesy scenes, as if in fear that Taranza would look down on him for liking what some considered a children's cartoon, also became increasingly rare. Soon enough, they were lying silently against each other, enjoying this little moment of happiness together.

It wasn't until the credits that Taranza remembered that there was a world beyond the one in the film, and that a weight had settled on his right shoulder. With some embarrassment, he realized that he had completely disregarded his surroundings, and even more so the handsome guy with whom he shared the sofa. He now felt all too well the absence of his fingers intertwined with his.

Slowly turning his head to thank Magolor for this incredible night, Taranza's heart nearly leapt out of his chest. His beloved kitty was no longer standing beside him...

He was literally sleeping against him!

Magolor rested his head against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around his. In a deep sleep, the love of his life emitted a little snore that could have melted him on the spot.

And by the stars, was it a light purr he was emitting?!

Taranza tensed, however, as he noticed that the pilot's hood had fallen back, revealing his scars. He wasn't sure if this was deliberate, and he knew how much Magolor hated showing them. Even if he had revealed them to Taranza before, they normally remained constantly concealed beneath the garment. It broke the Floralian's heart a little to know that Magolor thought he'd look at him differently if he left his wounds exposed for too long, but Taranza was willing to sacrifice the sight of his beautiful hair if it made him feel more at ease.

Taranza tried to stand up to give Magolor more room, but Magolor unconsciously pulled out his claws, determined not to let go of his substitute cuddly toy.

Taranza felt a little conflicted. This would be the first time he and Magolor had really slept together, and he wondered if he was ready to take the plunge.

Glancing again at his boyfriend, a smile formed on his face. It was so strange to see Magolor like this, so vulnerable, so peaceful, so happy. He'd let his guard down, fallen asleep in his presence, all because Magolor trusted him.

Taranza doubted that he would ever receive a greater honor in his life.

He quickly sat up again, taking care not to disturb Magolor, before curling up against him. There was a slight hesitation, then Taranza leaned towards his companion's head before placing a delicate kiss on it. Embracing him in their cocoon of sheets, the gardener murmured gentle words of comfort.

"Good night, my beautiful cosmic prince. Sweet dreams."

And with that, Taranza joined Magolor in the land of dreams, each eager to wake up in the other's arms.

[blues824]

Octavinelle with Female reader who's a sirenix fairy from winx club ^^ if you don't mind

I checked the Wiki and there are a few powers that fall under the Sirenix powers, so I will keep it to the Voice of Sirenix power for obvious reasons.

Azul Ashengrotto

You were a threat to him because your voice was able to break dark spells, like his contracts. However, when Ace and Deuce signed the contract, you thought they deserved it and allowed Azul to collect on his debts. 

Because of this mutual understanding, you both became close with each other. He eventually let everyone go, as long as you agreed to be his girlfriend (to which you agreed because who wouldn’t wanna love this cecaelia?).

During your time together, he found out that with your power you could communicate with the sea life that resided in the tank in the Mostro Lounge. He could as well, but before he knew that you could he would tell the fish a bunch of secrets that they would tell you. It eventually started something akin to leaving a post-it note for your significant other.

When he overblotted, you were hesitant to use your power to blast a sonic beam towards him, but it seemed as though you didn’t have much of a choice. So, you caused him to get distracted by the sonic beam and had the others take him down as he was covering his ears.

You sat next to him in the infirmary, having taken some lozenges in case that your throat hurt after using your voice a lot during the fight. When he woke up, you wrapped your arms around him and he blushed so hard, but he hugged you back and held you close.

Jade Leech

He thought you were very interesting, especially your ability to break dark spells with just your voice. And the fact that you were a fairy, since you obviously weren’t a fairy from this world as the ones from Twisted Wonderland all lived away from the other beings of Twisted Wonderland.

When you agreed to be his girlfriend, he started calling you his blessing because fairies often do such a thing when a child is born. He was grateful to have someone as great as you by his side as his lover, and he considered it impossible unless he was actually blessed. Of course, a lot of it is just to make you flustered (I am so in love with this man I can’t-).

As you both spent a lot of time in the Lounge, he found out that you can communicate with the animals within the tank. He could as well, and whenever you had to leave before his shift ended, you often left a message for him to the fish, who would whisper it to him as he passed by.

When Azul overblotted, you really strained your voice by using it to direct sonic beams at the Housewarden. Jade, Floyd, Ace, Deuce, and Jack all had to make quick work before you could let up your vocal chords. 

Jade accompanied you and his boss to the infirmary, where you were given tea with honey as well as lozenges for your inevitable sore throat. Honestly, this man did not really pay too much attention to Azul. You were much more important to him, and he was constantly asking if you were alright. Please excuse him though: he’s just worried.

Floyd Leech

He was entranced by you, to say the least. The fact that you held more power than his boss (having the power to break the contracts even if debts weren’t paid) just fueled his infatuation for you. You could just be breathing and this man is just staring at you like you whipped gold out of nowhere.

When you agreed to be his shrimpy, he was so happy. Nothing that day ever brought his mood down because he knew that you would be there to comfort him at the end of the day. He was just so excited about having such a great girlfriend (I’m also in love with this man-)

The time you spent together could be a lot, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. He found out that you could communicate with the sea animals in the tank, and he was so excited about it for some reason. You found out that it was because he could leave you messages when he got too busy in the Lounge, and your heart swooned at this.

When Azul overblotted, Floyd did not want you to go into battle in case you got hurt. However, you swam forward and used your voice to create a large sonic beam so as to distract the Housewarden from everyone else’s attack from behind. 

Floyd all but carried you to the infirmary, worried when your voice came out a bit scratchy when you tried to tell him that you were fine. He was not hearing any of it until you got some tea and some lozenges and cough drops. Once your voice came out fine, he cried and squeezed you as he apologized for not protecting you. Please give him some love, or else he will keep crying.

[bro-atz]

1024UB CHAPTER ONE: SO WE'RE GOING TO BE MORE THAN JUST FRIENDS

word count: 4k

table of contents ♤ next chapter

Gyuri didn’t understand romance or romantic feelings. She honestly saw it as such a huge waste of time— if things didn’t work out and she broke up with whoever she was with, then what was the point in investing all that time and energy into that person? Also, what the hell does love mean anyway? Sure, she loved her mom and her friends, but loving another person romantically? She’d never felt that in her entire life, and she didn’t feel like she was missing out on anything great, which was why she was so frustrated over her infatuation with her best friend of seven long years.

Their friendship started in high school because they both had a lot of the same interests, their major being one of them. So, they decided to apply to the same college, and they got in. From there, they spent even more time together. They had the same classes, which meant they had the same homework. They studied together, cried over assignments together, and fell asleep in class together. She really didn’t even know when she started falling for him. Was it small moments over the years that built up and finally exploded within her, or was she always attracted to him from day one?

What really surprised her about their friendship was how different they were. Gyuri’s personality was fiery, and he was calm and serene. They couldn’t be more different, but that’s why they complimented each other so well. Gyuri would get worked up over things, and he would be there to calm her down. She was extroverted and made friends instantly. He was more introverted, so her new friends became his friends. He fought for his friends, she fought for everyone. It was the main dynamic of their friendship, and it definitely turned into one of the things she liked best about him.

The one thing Gyuri did not want to do was tell him that she liked him because over the seven years, they gathered more and more friends, and at some point they had made a little group of tight knit friends. Heck, even their group chat name was “Rides-or-Dies.” She absolutely did not want to disrupt the balance of the group, but even more so, she didn’t want him to reject her. If he rejected her and their friendship ended, her entire world would definitely come crumbling down. There was no way she would let it happen.

She found herself having immense frustration towards herself. She got frustrated when he wouldn’t text her back as fast as he usually does, or if she went the entire day without seeing him in person— things that didn't bother her when she only considered him her best friend, so she really hated that they were bothering her now. This pent up frustration within her needed a way out. She’d drag someone from the group to work out with her; she’d go to the gym with them every time she had a negative feeling in regards to her crush, but after a month of relying on exercise to hold her over, it stopped being effective. That led her to other temporary solutions, like lollipops (because she refused to smoke), screaming on the roof at the top of her lungs, breaking pencils, and even self-pleasure. They all worked for a short while, and then, they all stopped helping. At some point, the only thing that really seemed to be helping was crying and eating, but mainly the crying.

That was when he found out. Not the guy she liked, but another guy in the friend group— a guy she wasn’t necessarily close with. At least not yet.

The Rides-or-Dies— or as they called it, ROD— group all lived in the same building: 1024 University Boulevard, 1024UB for short. It was a modern, sleek building (but surprisingly affordable) that only students were allowed to live in, but it wasn’t a dorm. Each apartment had two rooms, which mean that each person in the group roomed with another. The apartments all had keypads with a four-digit code that would let them into their respective rooms, and they all knew the codes to each other's apartments. This meant that any of them could go into any of the groups apartments at any time, and that was why he walked in on her crushing macadamia nuts in her hands and angrily consuming them.

“Who is it? Oh, San! Please, come in,” Gyuri said sarcastically as she saw San enter from the corner of her eye.

She cracked another macadamia nut, and she saw him flinch.

“What?” she snapped at him, not meaning it to be as harsh as it came out.

“I just came to grab Yunho’s book. Iseul stole it again,” San said carefully; he looked rather taken aback.

“Go grab it, then.”

San lingered in the threshold. She looked at him, and he was standing so awkwardly, questions written all over his face. His dark, fluffy hair covered his eyes as he looked down. She patted a spot on the floor next to her and said with a sigh, “Sit.”

He obeyed and sat right where Gyuri told him to. She cracked another nut in her hand and offered it to him. He declined and fidgeted as she continued to consume the macadamias she was cracking out of the shells. While still focusing on the nuts, she said, “Spit it out, San.”

After a moment of hesitation, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Why are you asking?”

“Well, you’re crushing the world’s toughest nut with your bare hands like it’s no big deal…” San leaned in and looked at her face. “Also, your eyes are red.”

“My eyes are always red,” Gyuri tried to brush it off.

“Yes, but they’re red and puffy right now. Usually they’re just red.”

Gyuri dusted her hands and placed the bowl of macadamia nut shells on the coffee table in front of her. She faced San completely and looked him in the eye as she said, “Everything is fine. I promise.”

“I would believe you if your promise came with a smile, not a frown.”

“I have an immovable frown—”

“Shut up, you don’t. I literally have so many pictures of you smiling on my phone,” San said as he pushed a finger in between Gyuri’s furrowed eyebrows, her eyebrows immediately relaxing.

Gyuri sighed deeply and looked up at the ceiling. She hoped that her body wouldn’t betray her and let tears spill out of the corners of her eyes, at least not while San was there. Gyuri never cried in front of anyone, period. She’d only ever cried in front of the group once, and that was because she was so happy that her final paper for the hardest class she ever took came back with an A for a grade. Yet, when San placed a reassuring hand on her knee and said softly, “You can tell me. I promise I won’t tell anyone. Let me help you,” it was as if a dam burst.

Tears streamed down her face as she hugged her knees to her chest and hid her face from San. She kept from wailing at the top of her lungs by settling for hiccups as she focused on her breathing. San rubbed her back slowly, his other hand patting her knee softly. After a couple deep breaths, Gyuri was able to suppress her sobs enough to get coherent words out.

“There’s a guy I like, and I don’t want to say anything to him because I don’t want to ruin our friendship or any other of our friendships… So I’m keeping my infatuation and frustration to myself, but sometimes it’s just so unbearable.”

“Why haven’t you told us? The group would have helped you…”

“It’s not that simple,” Gyuri sniffled and wiped most of her tears away; she still couldn’t look San in the eye, especially not after she cried harder than she ever had. She wanted to tell him not to tell a soul about her crying, but she kind of got the feeling that it ws a given from him.

The two were silent, San sat cross-legged, his eyes closed. After moments of consideration, he broke the silence with a question.

“Who is it?”

Of course he’d ask that. “I’m not saying,” she glared at him.

“What if I guess?”

“Knock yourself out then,” Gyuri sighed, knowing that he would persist regardless of what she said.

San hummed before saying, “Wooyoung?”

“What the fuck?” Gyuri said with complete disgust.

“You drink with him all the time!”

“So?! He’s like my brother! That’s so gross— and he’s clearly gay for Yeosang!” Gyuri exclaimed.

“Hey, don’t assume someone’s sexuality,” San lectured. “Anyway, Hongjoong?”

“No.”

“It’s gotta be Jongho,” San said with extreme confidence. “After all, he’s your work out buddy.”

“He’s everyone’s work out buddy,” Gyuri sighed deeply.

“Okay, then it’s—”

“I’m just going to tell you because you’re driving me insane,” Gyuri interrupted him. “It’s Seonghwa.”

San stared at Gyuri in shock.

“No…”

“Yes.”

San shuddered. “He’s your best friend! That’s so weird, didn’t you like grow up together?”

“First of all, we only went to high school together, and second of all, things can change! Friendships can change,” Gyuri advocated for her love interest.

“Actually… Now that you’ve mentioned it, you have been acting a little different around him lately,” San pointed out. “You’ve been a little, well, not you. You’re usually very upfront, but with him, you’ve been acting a little submissive.”

Gyuri could feel her jaw start to drop, but San closed it for her. She retreated back into her knees-to-chest position, her head buried in her knees as she chanted, “Oh God,” over and over again.

San tried to do some damage control as Gyuri trembled and rocked back and forth. “It’s really not that noticeable, though! Like thinking back on it, you are usually upfront if he’s around, but you’re just not that upfront with him and only him. Also, as long as he doesn’t notice, then it’s fine, right?”

That made Gyuri feel worse. She fell on her side and let tears trickle down the side of her face. San pet her head, but it didn’t make her feel better at all.

“Does anyone else know?” she croaked out.

“I don’t think so. I only really thought about it after you said it out loud. I’m sure no one else knows or suspects anything. You and Seonghwa do spend a lot of time together, so I guess it makes sense how you can develop feelings for him,” San responded. “Although, Yunho and I spend a lot of time together, but we don’t have those kinds feelings for each other…”

“No, you don’t have feelings for him. He could love you,” Gyuri couldn’t help but laugh; at least she wasn’t crying anymore.

“Ha ha,” San laughed sarcastically.

San helped Gyuri sit up. She looked at the coffee table in front of her to see that there was a tissue box. San must’ve noticed her looking at the tissue box, because seconds later, he held out the whole box for her.

“Thanks,” Gyuri’s voice came out muffled as she grabbed a tissue and held it to her nose.

There was another moment of silence. Gyuri was able to stop sniffling, and she looked at San to see that he was deep in thought.

“…You’re right. It isn’t so simple. I get it.”

San’s face conveyed internal pain, but he didn’t look like he was going to cry. He took a macadamia nut and handed it to her, and she gladly crushed it for him. San took the nut and popped it in his mouth, his jaw tensing up as he chewed angrily.

“What do you get?”

“That it isn’t so simple when you have a crush on a friend. I’m going through that right now,” San bit out.

“…Iseul?”

“How did—”

“There’s only two girls in the group, and there is no way in hell you would be telling me that you liked me,” Gyuri interrupted him and rolled her eyes. “I also doubt you have a secret friend group outside of ROD.”

“Hey, man, you don’t know me! I could be throwing a curveball your way.”

“Dear God, don’t ever make another sports metaphor.”

San stuck his tongue out at her before confirming, “Yeah, it is Iseul.”

A deep sigh escaped from the depths of San’s lungs. It comforted Gyuri to know that someone else in the group couldn’t say anything to the person they liked either. Maybe the entire group was walking on eggshells around each other, or maybe it was just Gyuri and San, but at least they weren’t alone. This time, Gyuri placed a reassuring hand on San’s knee.

“It’s not that I’m afraid to tell her, but rather that I’m going to get rejected because she likes someone else more,” San explained.

“Yunho.”

“Fucking— Stop doing that! How are you guessing all of this?” San threw macadamias at her.

Gyuri shielded herself from the flying nuts. “It’s not hard to guess considering that she spends most of her time with him in the lab!”

“Huh,” San looked at the fistful of macadamia nuts he had grabbed and poured them back in the bowl where they came from. “I guess you’re right.”

“You guess?”

“Anyway,” San ignored her. “I like Iseul, but Yunho is one of my best friends, and he’s also my roommate. If there is something going on between them, then I want to be supportive of them and not stand in their way.”

Gyuri nodded in understanding before getting up, leaving San with a confused expression on his face. “What the hell! I just bore my soul to you, and you walked away from me?!”

The sound of macadamia nuts clinking against the bowl filled the air, and Gyuri immediately turned around holding her hand out. “Relax! I’m coming back with reinforcements.”

“Reinforcements?”

Gyuri returned to the living room carrying two shot glasses and two bottles of chilled soju. “I thought we could use a drink.”

“Should we really be day drinking?”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

San opened his mouth, presumably to argue with her, but then settled for a shrug. He took a glass filled with soju from Gyuri and said, “I guess we just really know how to pick them.”

Gyuri held her glass up and said, “To the unattainable.” They clinked their glasses, and the shots immediately disappeared. Soon, one shot turned into two, then three, then four. Gyuri and San were still somewhat coherent, but their words were definitely starting to slur. Gyuri could hold her alcohol pretty well, but she knew San wasn’t an avid drinker, nor did he have a high tolerance, so she was surprised to see him still, well, alive. At some point, Gyuri was lying on San’s lap and crushing more macadamia nuts for them to eat while drinking as San finished whatever was remaining in the second soju bottle.

“Do you have more?” San asked as he shook the empty bottle.

“Yeah, let me get it,” Gyuri sat up, her head nearly knocking into his.

Her heart definitely wasn’t beating faster when she looked at San that closely, but it did stir something within her as they locked eyes. They were frozen like that for another split second before San cleared his throat and moved back so Gyuri could get up. She grabbed two more bottles of soju from the fridge and returned to her spot on the floor. As she opened one of the new bottles, she could feel a his eyes staring intensely at her.

“What is it?” she asked as she poured out one shot.

She turned to look at him, only to feel something soft press against her lips briefly. The warmth of San’s lips lingered on Gyuri’s as he moved away from her slowly. Gyuri could feel her eyes go wide and dart back and forth as she looked into San’s eyes trying to figure out what the hell just happened. As they looked at each other, Gyuri’s hand was still pouring the shot, and she didn’t realize that the shot had overflowed completely until soju started dripping down the table and onto their legs.

“Fuck!” Gyuri stopped pouring while San shot up to grab paper towels.

The two cleaned up the spill (and Gyuri went to the fridge and got another bottle of soju seeing as how she poured the entire bottle onto the table) before they sat on opposite ends of the sofa they were once leaning against. Gyuri couldn’t help but touch her lips as the two sat in awkward silence. Finally, she managed to break the silence.

“What— why— how— huh?” Gyuri could not believe her choice of words.

San pursed his lips. He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair as he exhaled slowly through his nose. “Okay… I know this was crazy and impulsive, and probably nonconsensual and alarming, but… I’m thinking… What if we helped each other out when we’re frustrated like this? I can be Seonghwa, and you can be Iseul.”

“What kind of fucked up role-play—”

“Wait, that came out wrong! I meant like, seeing as we both can’t be with the people we want to be with, we can rely on each other, you know?” San tried to redeem himself.

That’s when it clicked for her. “You want to be friends with benefits?!”

“Yeah, that!”

“Why the hell did you kiss me first, then? Couldn’t you have asked first?” Gyuri smacked her forehead with her palm.

“I’m an introvert! I’m too shy!”

“Shut the fuck up! You literally just kissed me out of nowhere!”

“It’s easier to kiss than to talk!”

“How does that even make sense?!”

“We are different people, Gyuri,” was San’s only explanation.

Gyuri sat with her jaw dropped, and before San could close it for her again, she clamped her mouth shut. So many questions swarmed through her head, and she didn’t even know where to begin because what the fuck was this situation? How should she navigate this? The first question that managed to escape her mouth was, “Why me?

“Because I can’t ask Iseul to be with me—”

“No, like, you could literally go with any woman and just have meaningless sex with one random woman, or many random women!”

“Honestly, I tried that with one woman, but she kept asking me why I was doing this. So, I explained it to her. She tried to convince me to just date her instead, and it was just so much more of a headache than I could have imagined,” San explained.

“That’s just one woman though. There are many other fish in the sea—”

“I don’t have the patience to go fishing! Also, I don’t want to hurt someone else just because I’m hurting. I don’t want anything serious, and I sure as hell don’t want the other person to develop feelings for me.”

That knocked out more than seventy-five percent of the questions flying around Gyuri’s mind. “Okay, but have you tried anything else? Like—”

“Working out, snacking, screaming on the roof, breaking pencils and apples in half, and self-pleasure,” San interrupted.

“Damn, okay…”

“I’m guessing you’ve been doing the same?”

“Yeah, but nuts instead of apples… Did Jongho teach you that?”

“Yeah,” San let out a small laugh, and Gyuri couldn’t help but chuckle— Jongho was the only sports player in the group, and he was notorious for being able to split an apple in half with his bare hands, or any fruit for that matter. Gyuri was just more surprised that someone else in the group was now able to do that.

The two sat in silence for a beat before Gyuri continued with her questions. “Is this even a good idea?”

“Yes.”

“No, I mean like, is it a smart idea?”

“Yes.”

“Are you not going to let me go until I agree?”

“Yes.”

Gyuri tried to smack San on the head, but he leaned back just in time, her hand grazing his nose. He grabbed her wrist with his hand and pulled her into his chest, his other hand supporting the small of her back. They maintained eye contact as Gyuri tried to sort out her feelings. With San holding her like this, a little of her frustration did disappear, but her heart wasn’t racing. She didn’t even bother fighting her way out of his grip at that point because, like he said before, he wasn’t going to let her go until she agreed.

“What are you thinking about right now?” he asked quietly.

“Uh…”

“Think about Seonghwa for two seconds,” he instructed.

Seonghwa’s face flashed in her mind. Immediately, she felt her heart flutter thinking about him holding her like this. Gyuri was able to pull away from San, her face getting redder by the second.

“Now how do you feel?”

“Like I want to punch you.”

“Besides the obvious, do you feel less frustrated?”

“…Yes.”

San grinned, and Gyuri immediately smacked his face with a pillow, causing him to laugh. He sat back and said with a straight face, “Let’s be friends.”

“With benefits?”

“With benefits. What do you say?”

Gyuri nodded, her ears still hot from earlier.

“I’m going to need you to verbally consent in this litigious society,” San held his hand out.

“Jesus fucking Christ, San,” Gyuri rolled her eyes. “Yes, okay, let’s be friends with benefits.”

Gyuri took San’s hand, and they shook on it.

“Okay!”

“Okay.”

The two sat in awkward silence for a little before San asked, “What now?”

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Gyuri questioned.

“Yes! I’m still shy…”

“Oh my fucking God, you’re really something.”

Rolling her eyes, Gyuri scooted closer to San on the sofa and put her hand on the back of his neck as she pulled him into her this time. Now that he wasn’t taking her by surprise, Gyuri was able to really feel how soft San’s lips were and how gentle he was being with her. There was nothing wrong with him being gentle, but all the pent up rage and frustration got the best of her, and she pinned him down on the sofa, her tongue slipping into his mouth. Her hands roamed up his shirt, causing him to groan quietly from the back of his throat. His hand gripped her waist as he subtly matched her aggressiveness, his other hand running through her hair, grabbing it at the roots, messing up her hair. Right as his hand starting tugging at her waistband, someone entered the code to her apartment, startling the two so much that they fell off the sofa. San ran to Gyuri’s room to hide while she straightened herself out.

It was Yunho who walked in. He smiled as he saw Gyuri.

“Hey, Gyu! Sorry, did I wake you up?” Yunho asked as Gyuri opened the door and let him in.

“No, why?”

“Your hair is a little all over the place,” he pointed to various spots on her head.

Gyuri patted her hair down as she responded, “I was just laying around.”

“I sent San earlier to grab my textbook, but he never came back. Did that kid ever even come here?”

She didn’t know how to answer that without her voice wavering, so she settled for a shrug.

“I’ll just go grab my book—”

“No, not that way!”

Yunho froze in his tracks like a deer in headlights as he stood near Gyuri’s room. Gyuri pointed to Iseul’s room and said, “That one.”

“Ah, right. My bad.”

He quickly disappeared into the room and emerged shortly after with his textbook. He waved goodbye to Gyuri, Gyuri shutting the door behind him. San exited Gyuri’s room moments later, his face in complete shock. She looked at him, completely exhausted. “Why the hell didn’t you grab that textbook earlier?” she nagged him.

“You were cracking macadamia nuts with your bare hands, and then we started drinking. I really forgot about why I came here,” San bowed his head.

Gyuri sighed and walked over to San and tilted his head up, her lips meeting his. She pushed him back into her room and locked the door behind her as they continued where they left off.

She really didn’t think this little agreement of theirs would last past that week itself, but after a month of relying on each other, it just became second nature. She continued with her new form of friendship with Choi San.

table of contents ♤ next chapter

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[grapejuicestyless]

Sick Of The Chase

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n is what she considers a “killer.” Her relationships constantly falling apart in the same pattern, she can’t help but believe her failures are because of her. All she needed was one person to break that cycle. Based off Killer by Phoebe Bridgers.

Sometimes I think I’m a killer. I scared you in your house. I even scare myself sometimes when I’m talking, rambling on your couch. But there’s nothing I can do. This is who I am, this is who I’m destined to be. The woman with a twisted mind and an even darker dating history.

A bloody trail of broken hearts, inconsolable nights spent chasing after the next loved one who had enough and got the fuck out.

And there’s nothing I can do.

It all started the same. An innocent man and an overly believing woman crossing paths by some kind of fate. The gravity would pull us together and we’d spend the next few moments of our lives together.

We would vow to see each other again, and we would. And the next months would be spent between the sheets with lips pressing to our cheeks and lips sore from our sorry smiles.

And before the clock would strike midnight, around the year long mark achievement that marked our love, it would become too much every time. Our abilities to work things out not yet prepared for the intense fights we would have.

The drifting was irreparable as all that was left to do was sit there idly waiting for the final blow that would break the camels back.

I would watch them leave just as it began. Some fate pulling us apart as it was always meant to be. And the proclaimed love of my life would walk out just as quickly as he would enter.

How stupid I was to have fallen into the trap of my own feelings yet again. How cruel of a trick I had played on myself for believing this could be different. That he would stay.

Harry entered my life just past the new year, confetti stuck in his hair and the rose spread across my cheeks from the warmth the alcohol transferred into my blood. His curls were lively, even when matted in sweat from dancing all night.

He stayed to pick up the aftermath, as did I. The quiet enveloped us, soft breathing and footsteps uneven and heavy. How funny it was how quickly history is ready to repeat itself as soon as you forget why you were so sad.

Ever the beautiful fool, I became hooked. The sickness that came from the chase buried underneath the desperation for blood. The undying want for his arms to hold me in the coldest nights and for his laughter to ring in my ears in the most humid rain storms.

We just fit. We shared the same interests, but we’re different enough to be able to share the enjoyment of teaching each other new hobbies and skills. Everything in my life became Harry coded.

From the apron hung on the door just for him when we’d bake to the strawberry shaped bowl on my counter top that reminded me of his love for summer. I had truly drowned in my infatuation for him.

But my love and my effort was never enough, in the end. And right around that December mark, just before the year anniversary, I watched as the fights that ceased to exist became a frequent part of our routine. I watched as his happiness turned into anger and mine into a deep rooted depression I couldn’t run from.

I couldn’t sleep next to him, some nights. Even as harmless as he was. The feeling of his arms around me only reminded me of our bitter words and unresolved arguments. The couch became my sanctuary. A place where sobbing seemed easier to do, and breathing was slightly clearer.

We progressed, sick but too ashamed to admit it for weeks. Apologies lingering only to be shattered within the next few hours as the next storm rolled in.

Yet, the killer that I was, the sad, mellow woman I became in every relationship still wasn’t enough to tame the fire that was him.

I sat there, sick and tired. My mind was barely there. A machine might as well have been keeping me alive, the way I had been feeling.

The stress came through my fingers. Knuckles white from pulling out the ends in a desire to make it stop. The fragile ending of a beautiful romance too much to think about.

But Harry, even in our most difficult time, found a way to surprise me. He kissed my rotting head, watching as my feet curled under my bottom and I tried to sink into the cushions, he refused to pull the plug. He let the wire twist, watched the rope burn slowly until only a strand held it together.

He refused to walk out and leave what we had built behind. That harsh question of, what was left to do for us, became answered in that resilience he showed.

In our darkest hour, in the softest whisper he promised me, “I know there’s something waiting for us.”

The road seemed narrow, walls closing in around us but he would hold them apart with all his strength until we figured it out. The cycle breaking bit by bit. With his promise to not abandon what we had, I grew the strength to give the same back to him.

There is something waiting for us.