#Idk what to tag this because it's only barely inappropriate

[monoma-neito]

My complete inability to have a proper conversation makes it so the only social interaction I really get, ESPECIALLY online, is just through watching other people's interactions. I want to interact so bad, but at the same time I know I'd ruin it and I'd rather watch you be happy in your conversation. I feel like a voyeur, watching people I know exchange words for my own social pleasure, watching others have what I cannot to compensate for my own inadequacy. I'm some stalker obsessed with the concept of society and people that's staring through their window while their words flow in between their mouths, dying to be in the middle.

[navyhyuck]

how many times? — 2.3k words, choi yeonjun

warnings: explicit marijuana usage, shotgunning, kissing, so incredibly suggestive and so much sexual tension, stoner!yeonjun, sorta mutual pining/bff2l idk, reader gets a little goofy

a/n: my comeback!! honestly i was high writing this because what the fuck. i got so carried away. anyway @itgirlgyu (i hope it's ok i tagged u hehe) wrote the most lovely little thing and getting shotgunned by yj would most def lead to.. something :> so thank you for the inspo! also pls don’t smoke kids, i would let only yeonjun absolutely demolish my respiratory system. tagging kai @channoticedmeuwu bc … yes! <3 (yes it’s not soobin but he’s otw ok). listen to often by the weeknd for ultimate vibes!

you’ve decided that you absolutely love the way yeonjun rolls his joints. 

there’s nothing special about it, of course. you’ve watched him countless times, folding the rolling paper with hazed concentration, carefully packing the perfectly grounded weed inside. it’s the stupid sleeveless shirt he insisted on wearing today, stolen from soobin’s closet after a fifteen minute banter—as you’re told, because it’s ‘too hot outside’ to wear a short-sleeved t-shirt instead. 

his arms are bare, smooth skin stealing the attention of your gaze the moment you walked into his apartment a few minutes ago, and you still haven’t gotten over it. not when yeonjun rolls the unfinished joint between his fingers, involuntarily flexing his forearms as he does so, flitting his eyes towards you as he asks in question to your silence, “you good?”  

perfect. you simply nod, untrusting of your words at the moment. he smiles lightly, getting back to work as you let your eyes wander once again, finding yourself caught up on your friend a lot more than you usually do.

that’s not to say you haven’t thought about him in the past, when he’s invited you over to sit on the overpriced outdoor furniture outside on his balcony, sporting a handsome smile and tousled hair, getting you higher than taehyun’s gummies ever have. the other boy swears his working on increasing his milligram count, but you think it’s a little more than that.

you’re on-your-knees, borderline inappropriately attracted to yeonjun; clearly, considering you watch a little too intently as he raises the joint upwards, licking a quick stripe to seal the paper. fuck, if you leaned in just a bit closer, you could waft the addictive cologne he’s rubbed on his neck, one you gifted him on his birthday last year, and maybe it’d get you off in ways you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about.

yeonjun finally lights the joint, slowly rotating it in his fingers as he does so, sharp eyes focused on perfection. it was hard to believe how much he cared how intentionally his joints were lit (price inflation?).

a gentleman as always, he places the joint to your lips with a gentle expression of want to go? and you couldn’t imagine saying no to him. 

how could you? pretty boy perched next to you, legs spread in such an inviting position—you’ve almost lost it already. eyelashes fluttering, you inhale deeply, trying to ignore the way his fingertips pressing lightly at your lips, keeping the smoke contained from the very beginning. you wonder how his lips would feel on yours, maybe for a little longer than you should.

when he pulls away, you lull your head back, your body slumping, easily enamoring yourself in the sudden joust of pleasure. it makes you forget where you are momentarily, giggling in a daze as you part your lips, letting the smoke leave your mouth. 

“all that with one hit?” yeonjun teases, and your eyes meet his with a roll of annoyance. there’s a smirk dancing on his lips, playfully as you watch the smoke bellow around him, slowly releasing from the corner of his mouth. always so fucking pristine, a perfectionist if you will.

“it’s been a long day,” you say in response, furrowing your eyebrows as the boy shrugs, passing off the joint. “remember how my manager told me to recruit another intern for our team?”

“hmm,” he hums, running a hand through his hair as he watches you inhale again, relaxing your head back as you always do. he finds it so innocent, the way your jaw relaxes as the weed takes its effect, and your lips, as inviting and plump as always, opens only to the smoke.

there’s a sort of numbing feeling, either from watching your jaw slack, mouth open, eyes closed with a string of dense fog surrounding your face or simply the high he’s slowly losing to watching you. it’s almost intoxicating, how you tilt your head to him, small smile lining your lips, offering him another hit as you continue speaking.

“i referred taehyun, you know,” your eyes are narrowed now, gazing nearly shamelessly at yeonjun when he’s unsuspecting. “dude’s got a fucking stellar resume. but they hired this other guy instead, and he’s just been following me around like he’s my intern.”

“yeah? what’s he like?” 

sharp eyes trail on you carefully, watching intently as you subconsciously dart out your tongue, licking along your bottom lip before going off on one of your usual ramblings. it’s so easy to get lost in the way you look, yeonjun thinks, especially when he’s slowly prodding a ‘wow’ or ‘no way’ into your rants every so often, just so you don’t get so caught up in the way he’s absolutely undressing you with his eyes.

he can’t help it, you’ve always been so difficult to be around after a certain hour at night; when the clock strikes midnight and he hears, from a distance, the university bells signaling the arrival of tomorrow, you take his invitations with open arms, spreading your legs on his couch and marking your spot. it’s not as though he spends his time smoking in pg rating with other girls at 2 a.m. anyway, that’s all reserved for you.

the dark-gray shorts and white t-shirt combination is maybe his favorite ever, he thinks, as you suddenly flail your arms up in sudden annoyance, screaming about some ‘and he fucking asks me again!’, the uneven hem of your shirt riding up slightly, exposing the smallest sliver of skin. yeonjun’s mind wanders to where you might’ve gotten this shirt; maybe he should ask you before he tears it off of you.

yeah, maybe it’s time for another hit.

and your voice blurs more than it did before, surprisingly, sounding increasingly more attractive with every word that leaves your mouth. yeonjun’s dazed, drunk on how you lean towards him, chest forward before your face, reaching to grab his joint with your perfect, graceful fingers. in a split second, he moves it out of your reach, smiling lazily when your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“want me to shotgun you?” he asks with a tilt of his head, words spilling from his mouth impulsively. your forehead smoothes at the question, maybe a little too casually for his liking, and you shrug a nonchalant sure. “i–have we done this before?” he’s got to be crazy, he’s never lost his memory smoking weed ever in his lifetime.

“no,” you’re trying to search his eyes, “hmm, taehyun’s shotgunned me before, though.”

the innocent shining of your eyes paired with your response has yeonjun suddenly giggling, making him place a hand over his mouth as if it would mask anything. oh, he hadn’t known you could be this cute, whining lightly as you question his laughter. when he catches his breath finally, planting his sight back on you, he simply pats the seat right beside him, “come here, i’ll show you.”

you’re quick to oblige, your body buzzing from the marijuana in your bloodstream, keeping you warm even as a cool breeze blows by. yeonjun’s presence is ever-so comforting, more so than ever, and you nearly have to hold yourself from resting your head against his shoulder. with parted lips in unadulterated awe, you watch as the dark-haired boy takes a long drag, the simple motion appearing astonishingly alluring. you’re hooked on deep, and there’s nothing to save you.

but when yeonjun turns towards you, suddenly holding the side of your face–thumb pressing down on your bottom lip to keep your mouth open, and moves impossibly close, you practically freeze. 

heart in your throat, his eyes beckon you to fill in the gap, never faltering. when you shuffle close enough, cautiously grabbing onto his forearm—you can almost taste the ghost of his lips, barely an inch away—he exhales straight into your mouth.

oh…your eyes flutter shut at the soft sensation, your fingertips pressing tightly into his arm as you let the high course through your body. maybe it’s because you’ve already taken too many hits (how many times?), but the intimacy has you buckling down even faster, the rate possibly record-breaking in guinness terms. 

yeonjun’s waiting when you open your eyes, nearly blowing the excess smoke right into his face, yet he isn’t fazed. it wouldn’t matter anyway, no, you could do anything to him and he’d take it without hesitation.

“wow,” you mutter, laughing breathlessly as your friend plasters on a stunning smile. “yeah, i definitely haven’t done that before.”

good. taehyun would be dead otherwise. his hand’s found solace resting on your thigh (when did it get here?), barely grasping at the flesh with nimble fingers. the material of your shorts are soft against his skin, loosely covering you, reminding him of just how easy it would to simply tug—

“can i try?” yeonjun’s fighting inner demons at this rate, testing the deep levels of his self control. he lets you do as you will (of course, why not?), eyes widening when you shift onto your knees, cautiously placing one in between in his legs. he’s gripping on your waist now—just lightly in case you’re overwhelmed, hoping he doesn’t look incredulous with the way he stares at you taking another hit, absolutely enamored with every move you make. 

there’s a flash of desire in the way your pupils dilate, suddenly hyper-fixated on your best friend’s exposed arms. it’s driving you crazy, your mind wandering back and forth—palm grazing up his bicep, feeling the taut muscle beneath your fingers. yeonjun’s gaze wanders on you, quietly leaning forward and putting out the joint against the ashtray. 

you’re looking down at him now, hovering over him in a less than platonic way, glancing between his eyes and lips. opening his mouth, he guides your jaw back towards him, warping you in far too close than the previous time. everything is so heightened, senses tingling from the ends of your finger to your nose—which barely brushes his—and you exhale. 

you’re a natural, yeonjun thinks, from how you don’t let your stream falter, giving him a high just as well as yours. as you finish, you realize you’ve moved your hand to grip at the junction between his shoulder and neck, leaving slightly reddened marks against his skin. 

“sorry,” you mumble, trying to rub them away, but yeonjun merely brushes it off, instead pressing your hand back against him. “i didn’t mean to…”

you lose your voice to the dead of the night, faltering when he runs his thumb back over your bottom lip, eyes scanning your face. when you all but gape at him, he takes it as his invitation to yank you down, crashing your lips against him.

he’s kissing you feverishly, desperate for the way you let out the slightest sound of surprise before surrendering completely, finding it more than difficult to keep you perched above him. your legs are spread over him, nearly lewd in the way you press up against him, drinking him up to the very last drop. 

even when you lean back, disoriented from how the world around you spins miraculously, grinning from ear to ear, yeonjun pulls you back. licking into your mouth, begging for anything physical, feeling you up from the sides. oh.

“yeonjun,” you’re panting, dodging him lightly as he tries to chase you. blinking dazingly, your fingers find purchase in his dark locks, gripping a lot harder than you would’ve done sober. “jun—i didn’t know you liked me like that. i thought we were just friends.”

you’re giggling under your breath as he groans, now tightly wrapping both arms around your waist. it’s so contagious, how your smile lights up your entire face, and he can’t help but match your expression. “what am i meant to do, y/n? have you seen yourself?”

you scrunch up, now gazing at your hands as if you’ve never experienced them before. “i’m seeing myself…”

yeonjun clicks his tongue, gathering your attention with a humorous look on his face. “fucking gorgeous, right?” you start giggling again, shying away when he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. 

“mm, but you’re hot,” you all but whine, overcome with confidence when you lean in, molding your mouth against his with an adrenaline-filled fervor. hands run down the sides of yeonjun’s neck, circling around until you’re grasping at him. you gasp while he delivers the smallest licks to your lips, taking advantage of your open mouth.

he sucks on your tongue—such an obscene action in your usual book, yet you can’t care. laughter racks up through your chest when his impulses get the best of him, sinking his teeth into your tongue hard enough to elicit the most indecent sound. 

you’re lucky you’re high, or else you’d be doubling over in embarrassment at your behavior. you’d have to thank yeonjun for getting you stoned later. 

“hey,” he calls for you, thumb caressing your cheek, “you’ll let me kiss you after this, right?”

you climb off of him, much to his dismay—laying down against the cushions, stretching your legs, opening your arms—grinning up at your friend. shirt riding up, exposing your midriff as you make a show of your position, nudging him with your legs. 

he's giving in to your beckoning, palms grazing your thighs, gripping and tugging, slotting between your legs. caging you in with his arms, you woo dramatically at his biceps, pecking at the skin with quiet giggles. “yeonjun…”

he hums, admiring you softly, desire and longing lingering behind his eyes. 

“you can have me anyway you want,” you whisper, igniting a fire in his stomach, roping him down in your embrace with a tantalizing kiss. now tangled amongst you, prying mindlessly at clothing that seems so unnecessary in the moment. 

oh, that’s something he’ll have in his mind forever.

[decepti-thots]

for so long I have felt like a weirdo for thinking that the jro pregnancy stuff is deeply unhorny. but I am going to say it now: it's only horny in the way that the alien franchise is horny: there are definitely people who are horny about it, but it's primarily about the non-sexy aspects of pregnancy. i get that it's a funny joke but a non-insignificant people genuinely act like it's "the writer's barely disguised fetish". birth is weird and scary and fascinating, even more so in robots. im probably more defensive about this than I should be but it's kind of upsetting to me that this is where the discussion always ends

I'll put this under a cut so as not to spam anyone's dash bc yeah I went off on this ask haha (positive).

I actually felt so insane about this very topic I ran a damn poll on my NSFW sideblog and the thing is: the majority of folks voting agreed no, it's not inherently, textually horny. (I would know; I know horny when I see it, ffs!) Which vindicated me! Because I agree it's so ridiculous a thing to unironically, sincerely insist is super horny, given the text, lmao.

Like, it's extremely obsessed with pregnancy, but this is not the same as 'a fetish', and tbqh I think the 'fetish' joke just shields any actually interesting discussion of what it's doing. I think the Alien comparison here is actually really telling; it's absolutely a visceral thing, a thing concerned with the body and how it functions, sometimes against our will. And it's not unconnected to sexuality or eroticism in how those things are discussed more broadly, in the sense it's talking about a thing that intersects with those elements in the abstract, but it's not. Like. It's not a "fetish" thing, and if the characters it involved weren't referred to as 'he' in text I think less people would be calling it that, and actually it kinda sucks that every time I bring it up I have to block people who see 'pregnancy mentioned' on my completely sfw posts as an excuse to go off on their personal fetishes in detail, or their desire to speculate on the imagined fetishes of the writer in equally graphic detail. (BTW, it's genuinely uncomfortable seeing people obsessively speculate on the imagined fetishes of a creator, I think. We should all do that a little less in public.)

I mean not to be a total killjoy or anything but like... treating pregnancy in itself, even in the most abstract way, as inherently fetishistic and inappropriate (the people reblogging my innocuous posts about pregnancy metaphors with fucking trigger warnings! 'mpreg trigger warning' being a normalized way to tag pictures that are just Trans Dude Who Is Pregnant!) is uh. I mean we live in a world where pregnant people are often massively marginalized by society period, and seen as somehow inappropriate for public life, and especially anyone who is remotely GNC. Like the idea that something is inherently obscene about a pregnant person is, shall we say, not apolitical. It is in fact a thing that people actually have to fight against in real life. I mean. Fandom doing this to a text that in fact is most notable for treating pregnancy weirdly neutrally in these terms is... frustrating! I think we all lose out when we refuse to engage with weird, funny texts that have things to say about these topics that fall outside our expected frameworks, like, say, 'this is A Fetish TM'. That's limiting! If we want to talk about what IDW1 phase two does with gender, we cannot do that properly if every time we talk about MTMTE we get weird about it doing sexless genderfree pregnancy metaphors, and instead make them funny mpreg jokes, tbh! IDK! Seems counter intuitive! And I genuinely think MTMTE/LL's bizarre approach to the thing is so interesting precisely because it's so odd and offputting. What if we actually examined it. I think we can find some good stuff in there, frankly.

And truly the especially frustrating thing is that the comic itself, for all it is objectively weird and hilarious and 'why the fuck is this even HERE' about it... is just never that. Like. I posted those excerpts because it IS weird and it IS wild and it IS quite funny in its way! It's alien robot body horror in a kids' cartoon franchise turned to an unexpected end! But you know what it actually manages, somehow, to never be? One: weird and misogynist about pregnancy. Two: weird and transphobic about it involving vaguely, ostensibly 'male' characters. Make all the mpreg jokes you want I guess, but MTMTE is many bizarre things but it never gives one single shit about the gender binary, and tbh I think it's genuinely kind of embarrassing the fandom saw a comic that did insane robot body horror pregnancy shit and was like. Okay well. But the mpreg tho.

Like. I've joked for years that I want to do a transmasc read of the pregnancy stuff Roberts did in TF seriously, same as I think a transmasc read of how Alien presents fears around "male pregnancy" in a trans context would be great. And for all my jokes, I genuinely would, actually. I think it's legit very interesting how Roberts manages to divorce the presentation of horror of pregnancy from gender in a way that mitigates the gendered subtext somewhat and gets at the loss of autonomy in a broader sense.

anyway it truly sucks that fandom is so fucking shitty about this. to give a little extra context, i talk about a particular transmasc humanformer AU sometimes that involves pregnancy and. i have had to Delete Some Fucking Asks about that thing, which. well that happens in normal regular real life and people talk about it like a fanfic trope (derogatory). so. i am a little sensitive to people getting Like This about the topic, aha.

sorry i went off on one anon, can you tell. i also find this frustrating. i relate. i am totally with you. god it would be so much less interesting to read it as horny so like, why is this the ONLY MODE we seem to have tbh

[rogue-durin-16]

HE WOULD HAVE

Request: could you maybe do an angst fic for eddie? idk just some fighting because he’s jealous. but honestly everything will be great, i love your writing

Summary: Eddie can't stand how close Y/n and Steve have become, mainly because he knows he can't compete with the latter. Not knowing how to handle himself, Eddie pours his heart out in the most inappropriate moment.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Requested by: anon

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, blood, wounds

A/N: this is way longer than I expected. I love how I exclusively get angsty requests. Good to know everyone's aware of my incapability to write anything happy lmaoooo. Anyway, thanks for the request lovely anon, enjoy<3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Woah... Woah woah— wait! Hold up!" I frowned at the compass, my hand raising in order to give a visual aid to my order.

Robin and Eddie didn't miss a beat before halting their oars, turning around to check on me. Nancy and Steve were already peaking at the gadget over my shoulders, as confused as I was.

"It's... Here?" Nancy questioned, more than declared, shifting her position to lean out of the boat, staring into the darkness of Lover's Lake.

"Can't be." Steve shook his head in the negative, scooting closer from behind in order to take the compass from my hand.

"No, actually, it could." my upper body rotated to meet Steve's eyes, my fingernail tapping on the edge of the boat. "Underwater. Eddie?" I'm called out, switching both my attention and my line of vision toy long haired friend. "Where did Patrick..." My question died in my throat at the sight of the boy's eyes digging holes into Steve. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's great, Y/n. I'm having the time of my life." He quipped, briefly meeting my eyes, just to look away as soon as I parted my lips. "Patrick died here, if that's what your question." he killed two birds with one stone, taking the chance to both reply to my unasked inquiry and to refrain my response to his comment.

"So" Robin cleared her throat, eyes rapidly shifting from my form to Eddie's, to Steve's and then to Nancy's. "It's underwater, right? Right" she pointed animatedly below us. "Here."

"Has to be." Nancy's absentminded attitude switched fast as lightning right as I felt movement behind me. "Steve, what are you doing?"

"Someone's gotta go down there. Check this thing out." I looked over my shoulder to see the boy taking off his shoes and socks.

"No." I denied, reaching out to hold him down by his forearm, stopping him from standing up. "Why's it always gotta be you?"

"Well, unless any of you can top being Hawkins High swim team co-captain—"

"Was I not the other co-captain, Harrington?" My whine earned me a groan from Steve.

"Yeah, but you're not a certified lifeguard, are you?" The boy reasoned, lightly slapping my hand away from his arm.

I resigned myself, sharing a concerned look with Nancy, and proceeded to abandon the thwart in order to give them both some space cramped boat, which left me kneeling in front of both Robin and Eddie. The younger girl took a sudden interest in the walkie as soon as I searched for the metalhead's face.

"How are you holding up?" He shrugged, his hands turning fidgety with his rings while he so obviously refused to meet my gaze, or even communicate with me.

I knew it wasn't the time to confront him about the attitude —we had other priorities, and pressing him into talking to me around people he barely trusted would be fruitless—; yet, it had been an ongoing problem since we found him in back that shack, getting worse and worse.

I sighed in defeat, pursing my lips in a tight line before going back to my previous place; this time, only Nancy sat by my side, eyes glued on her wristwatch while we waited for Steve to return.

EDDIE'S P. O. V.

"How long?" Robin's words broke an ominous silence that could have lasted anything from twenty seconds to two hours.

"Closing in on a minute." Wheeler finally peeled her eyes from the damn watch, looking around with visible worry.

"Okay, that's it." We three turned in shock to Y/n, ever the impatient one, who was already discarding her shoes.

"Woah— nonononono." My heart stammered against my chest, hands in the air, prompting Y/n to stay sat, something she obviously didn't do.

"'nonononono' what?" She spat, getting rid of her jacket. "You want him to drown?"

"Y/n. stay in the fucking boat." Though I attempted to sound assertive, it most likely came off as a plea.

A frown darkened her gaze, her movements coming to a halt for a millisecond. "Nance?" She called, not averting her sorry eyes from me.

"One minute and twenty seconds." The girl announcement cued a deafening silence, charged with anticipation.

Y/n's sweater landed on my lap, making me shoot up to take a firm grasp of her wrist, and earning a wave of complaints from the girls in the boat due to the wobbling caused by my impromptu movements.

"Guys, stop!"

"Eddie sit down!"

"Let go of my wrist!"

"I'm not letting you jump in there!"

A loud splash at my right tore a collective shriek out of us four, immediately ceasing the ruckus.

"What's going on in here?" A breathless Harrington found himself hanging on the side of the boat after a couple of strokes, curious eyes observing both Y/n and me, quickly putting two and two together. "Sit down, Jesus Christ." The fact that Y/n complied when Steve asked her to do what I had just requested from her seconds ago only fueled my resentment towards the pair. "I found it." He announced, taking the hand Y/n was offering him. "It's pretty damn big."

His last word was followed by a yank, strong enough to momentarily pull Harrington's head and Y/n's hand and forearm underwater.

Once he resurfaced, we all shared a panic-stricken look.

"The hell was that..." I muttered, fearing the possibility of my words disturbing whatever was below us.

Nancy shook Y/n's shoulder I'm distress, snapping her out of her paralyzed state. "C'monshitc'mon." The y/h/c girl took a firmer hold of Steve's forearm, planting her foot on the gunwale in order to use her whole body to pull him up.

Horrible decision, really.

They were there and...

Splash.

They weren't there anymore.

And oh, how I would wish to say I didn't think twice before throwing myself into the cold, unwelcoming water of Lover's Lake to save the girl I held so close to my heart, but I didn't.

I froze, a string of unintelligible curses dripping from my lips, hands on my head while Nancy Wheeler dove in headfirst, closely followed by Robin.

Fuck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

"—Y/n! For fuck's sake—" I found myself gasping for the intake of foul air in a world that didn't look like ours, a hand clad in chunky rings forcing me to sit up. "There you go." Eddie's voice sounded somewhat distant, yet my eyes caught him knelt right by my side. "You fucking idiot."

"Shut up." Eddie's frightened eyes shifted from my frame to something behind me, right before my back was met with yet another pair of hands.

"C'mon, dummy." Robin spoke, helping Eddie pull me up.

"Where's Steve?" I took an startled look around, not missing how Eddie's hand quickly slipped away from my arm at the mention of my friend. I tried to ignore the muttered bitter words that accompanied the lack of touch.

"Steve's fine, though he may have..." Robin confirmed, sneaking an apprehensive look at Eddie. "... Rabies. Anyways, gotta run!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

EDDIE'S P. O. V.

"You sure you can walk?" Even his tone annoyed me. "You hit your head pretty hard. You may have a concession."

"Conc—" Y/n's snort made me peek over my shoulder with yearn and jealousy. She, Steve and Nancy sat under the rock. "Steve, it's a concussion." Her hand landed on his shoulder and I had to look away. "I swear I'm fine." Ahead of me, Robin watched with knowing eyes, the same she gave Wheeler.

God, did that suck.

Soon enough, we were advancing through the woods, Nancy leading the march with Robin trailing after her; not so far behind, Y/n ambled, taking in her surroundings as if we were in a field trip.

Maybe she did have a concussion.

I should check on her, I thought, before Steve can do so. I trotted towards the girl, who, as soon as she caught a glimpse of me, gave me a half smile.

"Hey, uh," I rubbed my hands together, eyes fixed on the ground in order to avoid those creepy vines. "You okay?"

She hummed affirmatively, "got a couple of scratches and my head hurts, but could be worse." I nodded, feeling her y/e/c irises scrutinizing me. "You?"

"Good— yeah, I'm good." Fuck, it was so difficult to communicate with her these days, and the nasty feeling that corroded my insides and fed my insecurities whenever Harrington got a bit too close to her didn't help one bit either.

Flashes of all the small moments I had seen them share those past few days hit me like a ton of bricks. Since when were they so close? And when had Steve 'the hair' Harrington turned out to be a good guy? And why the hell would Y/n put herself in danger for him?

Worst thing was, a part of me knew he would have done the same for her.

"I'm sorry I didn't throw myself into that damn lake without missing a heartbeat, okay?"

My heart stammered, eyes opening wide as I fought the urge to freeze. The words had come out in a passive-agressive grumble I couldn't manage to stop from spilling out. I didn't need to raise my gaze from the dirt to know that Y/n looked at me like I had grown two heads.

"No one expected you to dive in." Deep down, I knew she had the best intentions by saying that; she was trying to make me feel better about quite literally forsaking her earlier, but the wording...

"Yeah, 'cause why would anyone expect me to do something heroic, right?" Shut up shut up shut up, I internally yelled at myself; not only did I not listen, but also started to raise my voice "Leave that for King Steve, am I right?"

"woah— okay, enough."

Y/n had been patient for the time they had spent on me. She was understanding of my situation, but I was out of line, and she could only take so much.

"Everything good there?" Steve had most likely caught on the conversation; he was just a few feet behind.

"Peachy." Y/n deadpanned. When I finally met her gaze, I regretted every word that I had just vomited. "Where's this even coming from?"

Terrified of being confronted by Y/n, I attempted what I had found out I did best; run away.

Her hand got a firm hold of my leather jacket's sleeve before I could go far. "Don't you dare."

"You were sooo ready to dive in for him." Please stop talking, please stop talking.

"I'd have jumped for any of you." Her brows were knitted and her jaw clenched, and I knew I was on the wrong but why did she have to look at me as if I was making things up? "Steve just happened to be in the fucking water, y'know, since he volunteered to do the dangerous shit."

" 'since he volunteered to do the dangerous shit.' " I bitterly mocked her words, yanking my arm away from her grasp, and wishing for the foreign ground to swallow me.

"Can you stop with whatever's going on?"

"Nothing's going on."

She threw her hands in the air, overcompensating for my uncharacteristic lack of dramatism "you're being annoying now."

"If I'm so annoying, why don't you go talk to Harrington?" I tried to hide my pain with a scornful visage.

For better or for worse, she was having none of it.

"Fuck you!" She sped up the pace, walking backwards in order to face me. "I almost got beaten up, saw a person die," she enumerated with her fingers, attracting the attention of the remaining three people with us, "had to run for my life— have you seen me run, Eddie?" She scoffed. "Got dragged into a DIFFERENT." Clap "FUCKING." Clap "DIMENSION!" Clap. "through the dirtiest lake and nearly DIED! so EXCUSE ME if I decide to skip this bullshit argument you're trying to drag me into." She shook her head in disappointment, turning her heel. "Hey Robin, Nance! hold up!"

Could this be any worse?

"Trouble in paradise?" I felt a wave of shame washing over me at Steve's cautious tone.

"Huh?"

"You and Y/n."

"What about me and Y/n?"

Steve quirked an eyebrow at my pretended nonchalant demeanor. "Listen man," he briefly motioned at Y/n, walking crestfallen between the two girls.

From that perspective, we could see the gashes on her back from those weird bats.

"You know where she should be?" I could only deny with my head, spinning my rings. "Italy."

Holy shit.

My brain would never understand how school could make English such a boring subject. I knew I'd be good at it otherwise, but it was so. Fucking. Boring.

"Eddie, focus." Y/n's whisper, appropriately loud for the library, did little to snap me out of my lethargy. It did remind me, though, that I was not alone in the calvary that turned out to be an English study session.

"I'd kill to travel the world." My whine made Y/n stared at me dumbfounded. "What's your dream destination?"

"... What?" The girl was not quite used to my random changes of topic, yet, she never told me off for distracting her and myself.

"Dream destination." I repeated with an excited smile. "Which place you'd sell your soul to visit?"

"Hmmm" she mused, gnawing the cap of her pen. "Probably Italy, but I doubt I'll ever have enough money to go."

"But your place popped up in the news, and bam! Henderson calls me." Steve pretended to pick up an imaginary phone, imitating Dustin's voice. "'A college girl named Y/n's asking about Eddie. What do I do?' and I thought, damn." He stopped me by placing the back of his hand in front of me. "She gave that up to help you."

"Well, now I just feel even shittier." I mumbled, distractedly kicking a rock. "Not only do I get you guys in trouble, I also screw up her dream trip." I stole a glance at Y/n through my lashes, only to find her already peeking at me. "She's gonna hate me forever."

"I think you're way off on that one, man." I silently questioned the boy walking besides me. "You're pretty much the only person she talks about. She was so pissed about being out of Hawkins during the summer." There was a moment of silence before Steve spoke the his last sentence related to the topic. "I don't know were or how you two left things off. I don't know if you ever dated or anything but..."

"Not really."

I shut my eyes, leaning back against the ugly paperwall covering Nicole's home. I hadn't been invited to a ton of big houses, but it just took a couple to realize that rich people had the most horrendous paperwalls.

The music was so loud that we could hear it even from the third floor —supposedly off limits—which wouldn't be all that annoying any other time, but now it was muffling Y/n's laugh.

"Ughhhh."

"What's wrong?" I could hear her smile every without opening my eyes and turning my head to her frame.

"Music's too loud."

"Too loud?" I peeked at her through my opened eyelid. She was leaning forward, her hands on her back, planted on the wall, much like her foot. Her gaze was focused on me, sporting a disbelieving half smile. "You're a disgrace to metalheads."

I took my hands to my heart with a pained look constricting my gaze. "Ouch! You're a mean," I shook my head, "mean," slowly shifting to face her, my shoulder never leaving the wall. "mean woman, Y/l/n."

"You hurt my feelings, Munson." She joked, mimicking my moves in order to meet my eyes. We stayed like that for an instant before Y/n detached herself from her resting place, taking my hand in hers. "Let's go for a walk."

"And leave your graduation party?"

She shrugged, careless, "honestly," Y/n took a step closer, her fingertips traveling up to tuck behind my ear a couple of rebel locks. "I'm over high school parties."

"Look at you, being all mature and shit." She scoffed, averting her gaze. "I should be graduating with you."

"Next year, you'll see." Her hand gave me a reassuring squeeze.

"Hey." I swung our hands, snapping her attention back to me. "Don't forget about me once you go to college, okay?"

"Pfffttt." She increased the swinging in response, staring into my soul with her mesmerizing eyes. "How could anyone forget about you? In any case," without letting go of my hand, she crouched to grab her red cup from the floor. "you don't forget about me."

"Dunno," I looked up, pretending to ponder my words. "you're pretty forgettable." Her palm came in contact with my chest, pushing me back playfully and leaving me praying to whatever was out there that she hadn't noticed how hard my heart was pounding due to our proximity.

"Y'know what?" She returned her drink to the floor. "If you want," Y/n took a firm hold of my leather jacket's flaps "I can give you something to remember me." I gulped, my mildly intoxicated body not opposing to her hold as she dragged me to the further corner from the stairs that led to the actual party. "Just if you want." She whispered, coming to a stop once she dimmed we had enough privacy.

"Are you going to, like, kiss me? 'cause" I managed to sputter with a nervous laughter, not quite understanding how my legs hadn't given out yet. "I-I might pass out if you do."

"In that case, I won't." She tsked her tongue, letting go of my jacket with pursed lips. "Can't have you hitting your head or something."

The girl took a step back with a devilish smirk; I barely registered my following movements, only catching the amusement crossing her face before our lips met in a drunk, lazy kiss.

"Consider giving it a shot, then." Steve genuinely suggested, giving me a pat on the back before jogging to reach the girls.

Before I even registered it, we were at the Wheeler's house, waiting for Nancy to find a proper way to communicate with Dustin. As I was scanning the place, I didn't realize Y/n had approached me, by Robin's request.

"That was really cool." Her voice was soft and low, but still managed to make me jolt away from the curtains. "Sorry— the Morse code thing, I mean."

"About damn time I made myself useful." I tried to laugh my own self deprecating comment off; unfortunately, it put up a frown on Y/n's face. Clearing my throat, I attempted to redirect our interaction, vaguely motioning at her form. "You should, uh... Check your back."

Her eyes squinted in confusion, endearment tugging up the corner of her lips. "A bit difficult, isn't it?"

"I'll check it for you. Let's—" I looked over her shoulder, mildly raising my voice. "Hey, Wheeler! Can we borrow your room for a moment?"

The younger senior gave me a side eye, but nodded nonetheless. I cued Y/n to head to Nancy's room with a light bow, which she did, thanking the brunette on her way out.

Once we found ourselves out of sight and nosey ears, the girl before me cleared her throat. "Are you actually gonna check it out?" She removed the plushie from the mattress and plopped down on top of it. "Or was it an excuse to talk privately about whatever's going on with you?"

"Both?" I shut the room's door behind me wandering around to find any piece of fabric mildly clean. "We didn't really have time to check yo— woah!"

"What?" Y/n shrugged at my shaken reaction, her shirt hanging loosely on her arms as if she had just pulled it over her head, which she probably did. "You wanna check it or not?"

If I hadn't known any better, I would have said her cheeks had acquired a dark shade of pink.

"I— no, yeah— yeah." After somehow managing to prevent my eyes from roaming her upper body, I circled the bed, reluctantly reaching for the bandana tucked in my back pocket. "It's... Not so bad." I declared, kneeling on the mattress right behind her.

"Duh," she puffed. "I didn't even notice."

"Yeah, 'cause you were fucking unconscious."

"Touché."

"Dumbass." I muttered under my breath, ever so carefully scrubbing the dry blood from around the gashes with the patterned kerchief. "I thought you were, y'know," glancing over her shoulder, she raised her brows expectant. "Dead."

"I would be," she confessed, turning back around with a wince due to an incautious swipe of the bandana over her wound. "Had it not been for you."

"For them." I corrected. "I could've jumped earlier, and I didn't."

"To be fair," Y/n tilted her head to the side in a thoughtful manner. "You didn't have a solid reason to jump."

"You're a very solid reason to jump into— actually, you're a very solid reason to do anything." I felt my heart miss a beat at my own quiet words while I waited timorous for Y/n's reply.

"Am I?" Her tone was unsure and gloomy. "I've been feeling very shitty lately. Can't remember the last time I did something right." She threw a leg over the bed in order to make eye contact with me, the bottom part of her face hidden behind her arm, resting atop her bent knee. "Specially when it comes to you."

Finding myself at a loss of words, I could only, put down the bandana and avert my gaze from hers.

"Truth is, I've been avoiding you since my graduation 'cause I'm— well— stupid." She let out a rueful laugh. Y/n most likely noticed I was about to reassure her; not a single word had come out of my mouth when she stopped me. "Eddie, don't. I may be a coward, but I'm not gonna make up a crappy excuse for giving you the cold shoulder after..."

Silence.

"Harrington said you'd be in Italy right now." My irises raised to hers, examining her every move at my statement.

"He gotta button his lip." She pinched her nose.

"Why didn't you leave?"

"Because I love you." The statement knocked any sign of jealousy out of me, leaving me in a state of absolute panic instead; in fact, my head was buzzing so loud that I didn't even realize Y/n seemed to be going through the same emotions, pink once more staining her face. "Y'know, like, you're my— my friend, and you were in danger."

Her friend.

Why did that hurt?

"Do you like Steve?" The question escaped my mind, but Y/n wasn't shocked by it; on the contrary, I could see the gears of her head turning until they clicked.

"Is that what all of this is about?" She put her shirt back on with a wince. "You're being a pain in the ass because you're jealous of Steve?"

"I'm not jealous." She gave me the look, making me groan out of frustration, shooting up from the bed in a sudden movement that startled both of us. "Can you blame me? Really? You two are all over each other, and he's cool, and rich, and brave, and apparently a fucking good dude?!" I took my hands to the back of my head, trying in vain to keep my emotions at bay as I paced the room. "And you know what? He WOULD'VE jumped into that musty lake after you!" Y/n raised to her feet, circling the bed with her mouth open. "I'm not a interdimensional hero!"

"Eddie—"

"Actually, I'm the furthest thing from that— from him!" My monologue faltered at the gentle wrapping of Y/n's hand around my wrist, her eyes staring at me with sympathy. "S-So cut me some slack for getting... a bit jealous of Steve fucking Harrington being as close to you as I used to be."

A series of rushed knocks on the door brought us back to reality— more like to this alternate reality.

"C'mon lovebirds," Robin pushed the door open, Steve and Nancy peeking over the blonde's shoulder. "We gotta bike to Eddie's trailer."

"What—"

"We'll fill you in on the way, c'mon!"

I cursed under my breath; at that point, I had decided to just do as they told me and not question it. Y/n had come to the same conclusion, so out we went, trailing after the three people.

"Wait," I stopped Y/n, who walked before me, and, after taking off my leather jacket, I draped it over her shoulders for her to slip her arms into it. "So you don't get cold."

She muttered a quick 'thanks' that sentenced the conversation to an abrupt end; just as I attempted to walk past her, though, her hand attached to my now bare forearm. "Eddie?"

"What is it?"

"I like Steve, just not like... that." She made sure I understood, putting an exaggerated emphasis on the last word. "My type's not really interdimensional hero. It's more like, uh..." she squinted her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Misunderstood nerd mistakenly framed for murder."

It was my turn to blush, mouth in agape. All this months thinking that one kiss was a product of careless flirting and cheap beer, when, hopefully, it was something more.

"So please drop the attitude, alright?" She added, leaping to plant a quick kiss on my cheek, right by the corner of my mouth. "C'mon, lover boy."

As ridiculous as it might sound, in the horrible situation we five had found ourselves into, Y/n's lips brushing my cheek was all I needed to feel reassured, and her fingers intertwined with mines, all I needed to feel safe.

[raplinesmoon]

All By Myself (JJK x Reader)

Pairing: Attending Surgeon!Jungkook x Resident!Reader

Genres: Fluff, slight angst, brief smut

AUs: Medical AU, co-workers-to-?, one-night-stand

Word count: 2.3k

Tags/trigger warnings: medical trauma, surgical procedures (not described in detail), medical terminology, inappropriate attending-resident relationship (srsly this is meant for fiction only), age gap, smut warnings: nudity, stripping, oral (f receiving), brief penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it)

Ratings: nsfw, 18+

Summary: Day by day, your crush on your attending grows stronger. After watching him perform a cutting-edge procedure, you decide to pay him a visit to ask for some insider tips.

A/N: I’m so sad, because it’s finally time to wrap this up. Idk how this got so long, but I highkey am in love with Dr. Jeon after writing this because he’s so ahhhhhherjndednedorenfdbhi4roi3if! Based on the Mark and Lexie scene from 5x10 (you’ll know it when you read it), also featuring Meridith’s voiceover from the episode. Disclaimer: this is obviously romanticizing a highly inappropriate relationship for fiction, so enjoy it as such and don’t aim to replicate it in real life.

Taglist: @suhdays, @deliciousdetectivestranger

Jungkook never took this job for granted. Being an attending at an advanced surgical hospital like HYBE meant that he’d never run out of things to do. Sure, there were the exciting things like replacing a joint or repairing a herniated disc. Once a young, shy medical student, he’d been swept into the world of surgery after rupturing his biceps tendon during a late night workout in the midst of finals. Paying no mind to the countless bouquets of flowers that found their way to his hospital room, he instead sat down one-on-one with the attending managing his case, Dr. Cho, running through every report and every scan until he was sure he could have fixed the rupture himself.

And yet, the majority of the time, he found himself losing his mind over the more trite, mundane aspects of his job. Despite knowing his way around the OR, HYBE’s most prized orthopedic surgeon found himself getting flustered when it came to presenting at grand rounds, or supervising a rowdy group of medical residents who were barely a few years younger than he was.

“Nine year old patient presenting for a revision repair of a Chiari malformation,” he mumbles to himself, flipping through the reports Yoongi had faxed over to his office this morning. The two of them would be tackling the joint case this week, and then presenting together at the hospital conference at the start of the next week.

“Dr. Jeon!” Jungkook whips his head around at the sound of the eager voice calling his name. There, running down the hallway, with a cappuccino in hand, is you, one of his PGY-1s. A small smile crosses his face at the sight of you, hair falling out of your messy bun and neck glistening with sweat.

“Good morning!” you exclaim, sliding the cappuccino over to him. “So, what do we have on the docket today?”

Jungkook can’t help but melt at your enthusiasm. You were his most eager resident, always showing up outside designated hours to shadow him. The two of you had developed a sort of primitive friendship, and if Jungkook didn’t know any better, he almost thought he detected the signs of a small crush on your end. But you were too smart for that.

“Well, do I have the patient for you, ____,” he smirks, taking in the way your cheeks redden at his biceps underneath the white coat. “Since you’re my favorite resident, how about you help me work up the patient for the joint ortho-neuro case?”

Your eyes brighten at his proposition. Dr. Jeon was, in your opinion, the smartest doctor you’d ever known. You were constantly in awe of how much he’d achieved at such a young age. Drawn to him like a magnet, you picked his brain about everything he could teach you. Of course, there was also the very blatant fact that he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen.

“Sounds good Doc!” you blurt out, mouth forming a tiny “o” as you realize you’d been a little too loud, causing everyone in the corridor to turn around and look at you.

“Follow me,” Jungkook smiles.

“Song Hyo-yeon, 9 years old, presents for evaluation of her spinal hardware after a fall from her bicycle. Her hometown orthopedic surgeon was concerned the hardware is now close to impinging on her brainstem, so he referred her to HYBE. Ms. Song has a previous history of a repaired Chiari malformation and atlas assimilation, which were stabilized around 6 years old,” you read off the report, giving a friendly smile to the tiny, frail body that looks at you with curious eyes in the hospital bed.

Yoongi glances over to Jungkook, quietly nudging him for the proud look that crosses his face as he watches you read the report.

Jungkook clears his throat, cheeks flushing as he turns to the family, ready to provide them with the potential risks and benefits.

“Hyo-yeon will be in good hands with Dr. Min and I,” he explains. “As always with any type of revision surgery, the risks are escalated due to the already existing hardware limiting the field of view, and the recovery process is extensive, but by the end of this year, your daughter should be running and jumping around like any other growing child without fearing that she’ll dislodge the hardware again.”

The girl’s mother looks close to tears at Jungkook’s admission, wrapping her arms tightly around her husband and daughter as hope glimmers under the worn out lines of her face.

“Dr. Jeon and Dr. Min, our family can’t thank you and your entire team enough,” her voice wavers. “We’ve spent so long just wanting our beautiful girl to be happy, and healthy. As a mother, it makes my heart hurt when I have to see her in pain. Whatever risks there are, whatever chances you’re taking, they may end up changing her life. And ours. Thank you again.”

The three of you give a deep bow to the family, expressing your gratitude for their kind words, and Hyo-yeon gives you a lively wave when you excuse yourselves from the room.

Out in the hallway, the three of you huddle together, and you make out the faint glimmer of tears in Dr. Min’s eyes. A new father himself, the Songs’ words had touched him beyond belief.

“Dr. Jeon, Dr. ____, you better be prepared for the surgery of your lives. Screw the grand rounds report, screw the press coverage. We’re doing this for that little girl and her family, and we cannot afford to fuck it up. We have to do our best, damn it!”

Jungkook gives Yoongi a solemn nod, and gestures for you to follow him to the resident room.

“See you in the OR,” he breathes.

“Clamp,” Jungkook calls out with bated breath, watching as you reach over the fluorescent blue and green drapes to snatch the needed tool off the instrument table.

Your hands are shaking as you hand him the clamp, and he offers you a comforting smile, calming your nerves instantly as he continues to resect.

Nearly 3 hours into the surgery, the exhaustion from standing has you almost toppling over. You’d barely slept last night, instead hanging around the on-call room to read over notes beforehand.

Your fellow residents had flitted in and out, congratulating you on being the resident chosen to scrub-in and observe. Your closest friend, Yeji, had even teased you that the only reason Jungkook insisted on you accompanying him was because he liked you back.

Blushing, you remember Yeji’s words as you watch Jungkook’s hands work underneath the harsh fluorescent lights, the tiny tattoos that adorn his fingers becoming even more prominent.

“Dr. Jeon, with all the hardware in place, what technique are we using to establish anastomosis-,” your question is cut off with a swift wave of his arm, and your heart drops.

Hours pass by on the clock, and Jungkook and Yoongi continue to work tirelessly reconfiguring Hyo-yeon’s spinal hardware. You attempt to stifle every yawn that rises up in the back of your throat, knowing you were nowhere near as tired as them.

As Jungkook calls time, allowing Yoongi to close up, you shuffle out of the OR with him, ripping off your gown.

“Dr. Jeon,” you say softly, and his wide eyes meet your own. “I didn’t mean to question your expertise back there, sir. I just wanted to learn. You amaze me, your ability to take something old and turn it into something new, something extraordinary. I’m sorry-”

You choke out the last two words, your voice becoming small. Looking up, you find Jungkook’s doe eyes gazing into your own, a glimmer of fondness hidden beneath their stern depths.

“I know I can be harsh,” his voice rumbles as he chuckles. “Unfortunately, after years of doing this, my people skills are sometimes less than desirable. But I see real true potential in you, ___. Anything you ever want to learn, anything at all, I’m willing to teach you. I’m that fond of you.”

Your eyes widen, the thundering of your heartbeat matching the tap of his shoes as he walks away.

Letting out a deep breath, you check your watch again, eyes flitting nervously to check for anyone coming down the hallway.

It’s 4:31am, and you’re standing outside Dr. Jeon’s office. Knocking on the door this late is quite possibly the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, but you can’t get his words out of your head.

The door opens, and a surprised Jungkook takes in the sight of you standing there. Brushing past him, you let yourself in.

Turning to face him, you take a deep breath. Now or never.

“I respect you,” you begin. “As a man, as a surgeon, and as a teacher.”

You watch a muscle in Jungkook’s jaw flex as he swallows, but his eyes don’t become stern. Instead, they beckon you to continue.

Reaching for the bottom of your scrub top, you pull the hem over your head. You hear Jungkook let out a sharp exhale.

“Teach me, please.”

“___, what are you doing, I’m your teacher, please stop-” Jungkook’s protests are cut off by his deep groan as you unclasp your bra, nipples pebbling in the cold air of his office.

“So, teach me then,” you breathe out, reaching down to slide off your pants.

The blood in your veins freezes as you watch Jungkook stand there, barely moving a muscle.

“Come on,” you remark, fighting back the tears that sting your eyelashes. “Am I really so bad?”

“No,” Jungkook mumbles, sweeping you into his arms as his lips descend on yours. “No, you’re not.”

The kiss between you is frenzied, hurried, and passionate, clothes disappearing as Jungkook urges you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. Biceps flexing, he carries you to his desk, spreading you out beneath him. Dropping to his knees, he licks a long stripe up your folds as you let out a breathy moan.

In the waning hours of the nightime, Jungkook eats you out like a man starved on his desk, working you up until you can barely remember your own name, breathless and begging to cum underneath him. When he finally enters you, the dawn light filters into the room, and for that brief moment in time, you feel euphoric.

Taking in the tired glances of the residents, attendings, nurses, pharmacists, and other professionals that have gathered for today’s grand rounds, Jungkook’s heart races, and a trail of sweat begins to run down his back.

He knows you’ll be in attendance. The two of you have barely spoken since sleeping together in his office almost a week ago. Part of him wants to hang his head in shame at the obvious lapse in judgment he had - sleeping with one of his residents. As a mentor and a teacher, he didn’t want distractions like this stopping you from living up to the potential he knew you had. However, as a man, who’d spent the most formative years of his life buried in work, he knew the feelings he’d developed for you were no error.

He spots you then, taking a seat all the way in the back, clad in a cosy blue hoodie over your scrubs. Looking your way, he finds you staring past him at the whiteboard, and his heart drops.

The lights dim, and Jungkook clears his throat.

“So, I was gonna talk about Chiari malformations at the behest of dear Dr. Min, but I think that’s kinda a dry topic for Monday morning,” he quips, please with the faint din from the chuckles in the crowd.

“Instead, I want to take a step back from talking about the patients, and talk about us,” he continues. “The surgeons. The students. The nurses. The techs. The pharmacists. All of us here, who are involved in changing lives.”

“The responsibility we have is both great and terrifying,” he goes on. “Now, I risk sounding like Uncle Ben when I say that, but each one of us has probably had that ‘oh shit’ moment when we’re with a patient and realize that they’re entirely helpless. That they depend on us.”

“In between those moments that we find ourselves entrusted with the care of others, we owe it to ourselves to find a little company too,” he watches you as he speaks, seeing your eyes glimmer even from this distance. “​​We need help. We need support. Otherwise we’re in it by ourselves. Strangers, cut off from each other and we forget just how connected we all are. So instead we choose love, and for a moment we feel just a little bit less alone.”

“As I helped a little girl gain her ability to move back, I also helped a family find their life again,” he realizes it's time to close up, but he chooses this moment to lay his heart bare, out in the open. “Doing it all by yourself seems like a cool, heroic thing, but at the end of the day, we’re never alone. We all have people we love, who love us, that we can fall back on. And if we don’t, we’re looking for them. So, I’m here to let you know that I have your back. Quite literally.”

The crowd bursts into applause as he finishes, and Jungkook feels his heart swell in pride. As everyone disperses, he sees you dip out the door. He gives Yoongi a panicked glance, watching as the older man responds with a furtive nod.

Rushing out behind you, he yells your name, ignoring the curious stares from passersby. Coming up next to you, he reaches out to put a hand on your shoulder.

Turning on your heel, you glance into Dr. Jeon’s, Jungkook’s-, eyes as he hunches over, catching his breath.

“You lied,” you speak first. “You have pretty good people skills. Stellar actually.”

“Care to discuss my people skills over a cup of coffee?” he asks hopefully. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Although panic should be rising in your chest, you give him a nod of acknowledgment. Hope blossoms in your chest at the promise of something new, something extraordinary to look forward to between you and Jungkook.

“Lead the way.”

A/N pt. 2: Thanks for reading! I want to thank everyone for all the support and love on this entire series, it’s my first completed one ever! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

[bubblyhoney]

can i request a fic where sapnap takes the reader to his hometown? like the classic going to places he went to when he was younger. maybe playgrounds and ice cream shops idk

places i used to go

warnings: language of course, an allusion to virginap, my uneducated guess of what sapnap was like in highschool, tiny detail of long haired!sapnap, singular canon detail of underage drinking, jokish about marriage

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 2191

A/N: you are a god, anon. i love comfy and nostalgic fics like these and it was so fun to write. if you hate it dont tell me but if you like it lemme know akskdjd

inbox/requests: open

-

The wind whips fast on your bare fingers, cool and quick and raising goosebumps in its wake. You blink in the haze of the early sunset, head lolled to the side of the headrest. It feels good.

“That’s where I went to high school.” Sapnap interrupts your thoughts and points a finger at a collection of tall brick buildings down a side street. The silver of the lettering is dull, but you can still feel the nostalgia.

“And you’re about to see the park that me and my friends used to hang out at after work and—actually, nevermind.” His arm drops to the middle console and he looks straight ahead with slightly pinker cheeks.

“Do what?” You ask, voice all sweet, and a grin grows on your face. You turn towards him and wiggle your eyebrows.

“Nothing. Homework.” He avoids your eye contact and hikes his hand up higher on the steering wheel. “Anyways— Do you want to get some food before we head out? I know a great place.”

You two were just coming to a close on your little trip to visit his family; it was his step-mom’s birthday and you decided to make a week of it. It was your first long-term trip with Sapnap, and also your first time meeting his dad’s side of the family. You were proud to say she loved you. His little sister took a little more effort to talk to you of her own volition, but soon enough she was on your side.

You have a couple hours to kill before making your flight back home, so Sapnap has taken it upon himself to give you a quick tour of his hometown.

“Yeah,” you decide, bottom lip popped out. “Can we get ice cream after?”

“Uh, duh.” The Neighbourhood’s Stargazing starts through the speakers and he reaches to turn it down. “I’m so ready to get home and sleep.” He stretches his neck in his seat, letting out an uncharacteristically inappropriate grunt when his bones pop. You make a disgusted face, nose wrinkling, but stretch your own back, slumping down in the seat. The day had been full of packing up and this horrible hike his dad liked to do early in the mornings, so you two were pretty beat.

“Okay, we’re here,” he announces three sleepy minutes later in his best attempt at a whisper. Lifting your head off of the corner of your seat, you blink in the setting sunlight as a yawn splits your face. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, and struggle to get your seatbelt off in that post-nap haze. You’d barely been asleep for thirty seconds, damn it. The air is a swampy heat when you step out of the car onto rocky gravel and nearly twist your ankle climbing over the curb. Sapnap catches you by the lower back, trying to hide his laugh but failing miserably. You slide him a dirty look, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can manage while limping towards the front entrance.

The door jingles when you two breach the doorway, alerting a bored-looking hostess that the circus has arrived. She looks at Sapnap a second longer than she should, eyebrows screwed together in silent confusion. But she leads the two of you to a booth near a large window, handing you sticky menus and promptly fucking right off to the host station. She nearly runs.

“Do you know her?” You ask, inconspicuously hiding your face in the search for their 24/7 breakfast menu. You feel his eyes on you.

“Don’t think so.” He leans on one elbow and slides his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. In the 25 seconds it takes for you to find their french toast and sides menu, he has browsed and closed his phone with an animatedly shocked look on his face.

“What?” You give him a weird look and put down the menu.

“I totally went to homecoming with that girl.” He eyes the hostess. You glance over at her again, meeting her gaze, and offer a polite smile. She turns away quickly, eyes wide.

“She’s cute,” you say, voice high and fake, and he drums his fingers on the tabletop as an amused look makes its way onto his face.

“Are you—?”

“What?” You reply right back.

“Nothing.”

Thank God the server comes up to your table then and starts asking for drink orders, or else you’d have to admit (sheepishly) you were a tiny eensy-weensy bit annoyed. Only a tad. But after requesting a Dr. Pepper and a water the conversation surrounding the nervous-looking hostess dies.

“I’m so hungry I think I feel my stomach shrinking.” You flop your head onto your arm on the table top and make a whiny noise into the stack of napkins your server left at the table. Sapnap rubs his thumb into the side of your forearm, touch warm and nearly dissolving the pangs of hunger and jealousy.

“You weren’t hungry an hour ago.” He lifts your hand to his face and plants a kiss on the back of it. Oh, pulling out the big guns, huh? “I would have made you something.”

You tilt onto your chin, pouting, and stare up at his cute face. His cute, scruffy, perfectly-kissable face.

“I think I got hungry staring at you for half an hour.” A mischievous grin grows on your previously-petulant face and he just shakes his head.

“I do have that effect,” he admits with cockiness in his tone, lifting his eyebrows and leaning back into the booth with his lips pursed.

The server returns with two glasses and takes your food orders onto their little yellow notepad. You chug the water down when they leave for the kitchen, getting your lap and chin thoroughly wet in the process. Sapnap just snorts at you and shoves the napkins your way.

“So,” you start, patting dry your jeans. “tell me what you were like in high school.” You cross your arms and settle into the booth, smirk on your lips.

“What I was like?” He parrots, sipping at his soda, looking thoughtful. “Firstly, a virgin.” You make a noise. Duh. Dude had a buzz cut his junior year. (You’ve seen the pictures. His step-mom particularly likes them.) “Secondly, I was actually— well, I wasn’t popular, but I had a lot of friends. We were all semi-athletic lonely band kids but we had fun. Had one girlfriend senior year but she went to Cal Tech in the fall and I didn’t. I, um, worked at a Dairy Queen in the summers and gained so much weight I had to lose all over again for Unified Track.”

“Relatable,” you comment, drinking noisily at your water. He fiddles with the paper straw wrapper and crunches it up into a ball. It goes soaring into your drink with a quiet “Kobe” and you just give him a look. He smiles toothily right back at you. “Stop being cute, I’m trying to listen to your story.”

“Oh, my bad,” he mocks. “Anyways. That’s what I was like in highschool.” You fish the paper ball out of your water and flick it wetly at his arm. It sticks and you choke on a laugh, cheeks puffed.

Two plates of warm food are set down loudly onto the table and you thank the server with a surprised smile, Sapnap mirroring you.

Two minutes of wordless chewing passes, minds occupied just by “food, me eat” instead of anything related to your previous conversation. You realize that Sapnap is one of the loudest chewers ever, and he realizes that you fail to notice the streak of maple syrup in your hair.

“C’mere,” he mumbles through a mouthful of omelet and hash browns and beckons you with his hand. You lean closer, chewing slowly, as he pats a napkin at the strands of hair trapped in syrup.

“Thanks, baby.” You take the napkin from him and pause your assault of the warm french toast before you to clean the sticky sugar out of your hair. He just watches you, half of a smile on his lips.

You two finish your food in record time. It’s borderline vacuum-like. There’s a short grace period where you just sit like two lazy cats, slumped down in the booth and holding your full stomachs. But the check comes soon after, and you both pay your way and are out of the restaurant without any mad dashes for the bathroom. A miracle, really, because of the American-like amount of butter you both consume.

“I’m a much more functional person now,” you mutter into the cotton of his shoulder, swinging your hand in his. He just hums in agreement.

“I guess we’re not getting ice cream, then,” he teases, and you just groan in response.

“I don’t feel like having diarrhea on a plane, unfortunately.” You sigh heavily when you have to split and get into your respective sides of the rental car.

The entire trip (somewhat roundabout because of the amount of side quests to show you things from his childhood) to the airport Sapnap is a chatterbox. He’s like this when he has sugar: either bouncing off the walls with energy or talking your ear off.

“That’s where my dad proposed to my step-mom. I was kinda young but I remember being surprised at how big the ring was— dude broke the bank for her.” It’s a little gazebo you catch a glimpse of through the trees in a park. It probably was an incredibly picturesque moment, and you can sense how much she must have loved it. With just meeting them this weekend, you can already see how much love those two have for each other.

You hope people can see how much you love Sapnap.

“Oh my God, it’s still there.” He points out the side of your window to what looks like a Dairy Queen that has been through World War 3. “My buddy Eric and I once spilled a gallon of that liquid ice-cream-shit all over the men’s bathroom.”

You shoot him a horrified look. “Why was it in the bathroom?”

He just smirks.

“—And that’s my Uncle Ron’s house. Had my first beer there.”

“And last, hopefully,” you add, pulling a disgusted face. The two story bungalow is cute, and one of your favorite colors: olive green. “That shit is nasty.”

He just shrugs and continues down the side street.

“Is this the park you were talking about?”

He pulls into the gravelly parking lot of a small clearing of tall trees, a picnic table and campfire sat squat in the middle. But he doesn’t respond, just turning the car off and climbing out. He reaches the passenger door without speaking, and opens it for you. You climb carefully out, confused.

“Come on.” He takes your hand and starts for a small path to the left of the picnic table. The mid-sunset shade envelopes the both of you.

“I hope this isn’t where you kill me.”

“No,” he snorts. “I just wanted to show you something.”

It’s just a few moments of stumbling through the damp underbrush before you’re coming face to face with a small, mossy pond that sits right underneath an incredibly old willow tree. He stops right on the edge of the rocky path and turns toward you.

“This your make out spot?” You ask between a grin as he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush to him. Your innocent smile fades when you feel the press of his lips to the side of your neck, light and ticklish. Oh.

“No,” he murmurs, and just breathes you in. “I came here once—the night before I graduated highschool. And I told myself when I really really loved someone I’d take them here with me.” He sways with you in his grasp, a gentle and song-less dance.

You grip his shoulder tighter in your hand and lean into him.

“That’s— awfully romantic, huh?” Your voice is quiet. Almost nervous. He just makes a noise of agreement.

“So here we are.” His voice is the opposite of yours, all strong and confident.

You two just move together for a moment. The sun breaks through the tree canopy, shining bright orange down onto the glassy surface of the pond. Crickets and frogs chirp back and forth as the willow vines swing in a cool evening breeze. You watch nature come alive around you, suddenly grateful for the man in your arms.

“Don’t propose,” you whisper, breaking the gentle tension. A laugh breaks the silence and he’s pulling away to look at you. Maybe in disbelief. A strand of hair falls into his eyes and you brush it away, fingers stilling on his temple and sliding down onto his cheek. Stubble scrapes against the skin of your palm and he stares at you through those meadow eyes.

You realize in that moment that he is exactly himself. Of course he is. He’s Sapnap, and everything that encompasses that. Dark and light and fiery and cool. He always has been, and always will be.

You realize you wouldn’t mind if he proposed.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. let me know what you think

[yer-cute-when-you-scream]

My Inspiration~ Han Jisung

WARNINGS: Smut, Cockwarming, Unprotected Sex (wrap it my guy) Praising, Fluff, Lame Ending Because I’m Unoriginal. (I’m probably forgetting something)

A/N: Yooo I ended up turning this into a full on smut...I’ve started on some other requests and I also have another smutty fic I’ve been working on for a bit. I’m not sure if I want to keep it as Bang Chan or change it to Lee Minho, I’m leaning towards Minho but idk. Anyways this was requested by an anon, I hope you enjoy it! 

Today I decided to tag along with Jisung while he worked on some lyrics in the studio, I was laying on the couch watching him work; I just love the way he looks when he's concentrating. 

His brows were furrowed as he hunched over his desk, writing lyrics down in the black notebook I gave him; I bought it specifically for him to write lyrics in and he has decorated it ever since. 

He has a few stickers on the front of it along with the nickname I gave him, ’Hannie’, etched into it. When you open it, you'll see a polaroid of us taped to it; he told me that he put it there because I gave him inspiration. 

His ebony hair hung in front of his forehead and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the cologne he wore filled my nostrils and soothed me. He had some songs playing in the background while he wrote away, I hummed along to the songs and let my thoughts wander. 

The pressure in between my legs was becoming too much as I thought about the way he feels inside me, arousal pooled in my panties and I rubbed my thighs together to try to calm myself but to no avail. I wanted to feel him inside me so much, I stood up and walked over to him, placing my hand on his shoulder to get his attention. 

He turns around and looks up to me smiling ”Everything okay, Babe?” he asks, I nod then lean down and press my lips against his soft ones. He gladly kisses me back then draws me into his lap, my skirt slowly inches up my thighs as I straddle him, he notices and places his hands on my bare thighs. 

”Hannie, can we try something?” I plead after pulling away from the kiss and gently caressing his arms. Curiosity flashes across his face, he adjusts his position and I feel his bulge grazing my drenched panties. 

”Yeah? What do you want to try?” 

I bite my lip before answering ”Cockwarming.” 

He raises his eyebrows and his mouth curves into a small smirk, his hands go to my hips and he presses his bulge against my core more making me gasp. 

”Well who am I to deny my Princess a request like that?” 

I smile and give him a tender kiss, I lift myself up a bit so he can push his pants down, his cock springs free with a little bit of precum leaking from it. He positions me over his cock and slips his hand under my skirt, he rubs my folds and smirks ”You're soaking, Princess,” he states before pushing my panties to the side and letting me sink onto him. 

We both gasp as he enters me, his mouth hung open and his eyes locked with mine, his cock throbs, and I have to bite my lip so I don't moan. Once he bottoms out in me, he pulls me in for a kiss, his hands wander up to my hair as our tongues move together perfectly in sync. 

”You feel so good around me, Princess,” he slightly groans into the kiss, he pulls away and smiles at me. ”I already love this, we should do this more often.” 

A small giggle escapes my mouth and I wrap my arms around him ”You can go ahead and keep on writing, I'm just gonna cuddle you,” I tell him as I nuzzle my head into his neck. He kisses my forehead and goes back to writing lyrics, humming along to the music that played. 

The feeling of it all was very intense, but I loved it, being close to him like this sparked joy in me. After a while, I began to litter his neck with kisses, occasionally biting softly and trailing my tongue across his skin. I hear a sigh come from his mouth and then his pencil dropping, I quickly pull away to look at him. ”What’s the matter?” I ask, hoping I didn't upset him by kissing his neck. 

He lets out a chuckle ”These lyrics started out soft but now they're a bit too mature,” his face reddens and I can the hint of lust behind his eyes ”And because of that, it ended up giving me very inappropriate thoughts about you,” he finishes. My face turns red this time, I clench around him as I wonder what exactly he thought of and he slightly smirks at me. 

”So what are you gonna do about it?” I breathe out, not even realizing I was holding my breath. His eyes quickly darkened; he starts tracing the curves of my breasts before softly groping one. I sigh in delight as he kneads my chest, he drops his hands and toys with the hem of my shirt. 

”Let's take this off, Princess,” his voice dripped with lust, and a hint of eagerness. I lift my arms above my head and he swiftly removes my shirt, he kisses each mound before reaching around and unhooking my bra with one hand.  He starts to roam my bare torso with lips, kissing my stomach and collarbone before dragging his tongue across my nipples. 

I tug on his hair as he stimulates my nipples with his mouth, breath hitching when he grazes them with his teeth. ”Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” he mumbles, looking at me with adoration. I rest my hands on his clothed shoulders and realize I was the only topless one, I travel one hand down and slip it under his shirt, tracing his abs with my fingers. 

”I don’t think it's fair that I have my shirt off and you don't.” 

He grins and hastily takes it off, I lean down to his chest and leave kisses and love bites across him, he pushes into me more as he revels in the bliss of everything. Even though he's been inside of me this entire time, he always likes to take time to appreciate my body with a little foreplay. 

When I whimper at his dick grazing my g spot, his hands go to my hips, slowly rocking me back and forth on his dick. Sparks coursed throughout my body, I choke on a gasp and started moving my hips faster, smashing my lips against him as he moans out. 

His dick hits my g spot with each roll of my hips, I grab onto his biceps and dig my nails into them, our moans muffled by the kiss. He takes my lower lip between his teeth and lightly tugs at it, he pulls away and brushes his thumb over my lips, smiling at my desperate moans that were no longer muffled. 

”You can moan louder than that, Princess.”

He slips his hand under my skirt and rubs my clit, loving the way I start falling apart from it. My movements get quicker and chase the euphoric high I love, the lewd noises that came out were loud and Jisung was eating it up. 

”That's it, Princess, let it all out,” he praised. I feel my abdomen start to curl and I drop my head onto Jisung’s shoulder, whimpering against his skin.

”I’m so close Hannie.” 

”Cum for me, cum all over my cock Princess.” 

My hips stutter and I clench around his dick, practically screaming into his shoulder as the orgasm hits me like a ton of bricks. Jisung immediately cums after me, his arms wrapping around me tightly as he moans out profanities.  

The ecstasy of it can be felt in every part of our body, both of our eyes were blown out from pleasure. We continue to ride it out and I raise my head and rest our foreheads together, still whimpering while my hips slow their movements down. Our lips barely touching and our bodies tremble together, we just stare at each other with heavy eyelids and fucked out expressions. 

He presses his swollen lips to mine, giving me a few loving pecks. ”Are you okay? Do you need anything?” he questions me with a soft voice, giving him a small smile, I shake my head. 

”I’m a little tired, can we still stay like this?” 

”Of course Princess.” 

He reaches to the side and grabs our tops, he helps me put my bra and shirt back on before putting on his own. My head nuzzles into his neck, listening to his breathing as I fall asleep. 

Jisung goes back to writing, he looks down at me and feels his chest fill with love and quickly erases all of the vulgar lyrics. He replaces them with sweet and loving ones instead, finishing the song very quickly and smiling at the result. Turning his head back to me, he whispers ’I love you’ before planting a soft kiss on my cheek. 

”My Inspiration.” 

[imma-potatoo]

For the bthb, may I request Logan and U!Patton with Thrown Down The Stairs? Maybe with some Remus or Janus comfort later? Idk, I just like your writing style and am crazy for Logan angst.

@badthingshappenbingo

Send me a prompt with a character! Please specify ships! No romantic prinxeity, r*mr*m or U!Janus and U!Logan please!

You wanted Logan angst? You got Logan angst~

Prompt: thrown down the stairs.

Warnings: U!Patton, blood, gore, choking, scratching at throat, concussion, thrown down stairs, pinning, graphic abuse, punching, slapping, ask to tag

(I'm really sorry this took so long. Wifi problems and family shit)

-----

Love

----

Logan walked out of his room, humming a small song (Crofters the Musical, but that was only for him to know) dress shoes clicking softly on the wooden floors while he skimmed over the book in his hands. The mindscape was just as bustling as usual, he could hear Janus lecturing Remus in the darker half of the mind about how stealing Roman’s sword and turning it into a dagger was inappropriate and that he’ll have to make Roman a new one. Roman himself was sulking in his room playing Burn from Hamilton on loop because “Remus is dead to me like Hamilton was dead to Eliza”…. Logan didn’t get it. Virgil’s music was turned on max; like always but this time he was trying to drown out Roman’s complaints with My Chemical Romance. Patton was most likely baking in the kitchen once again.

Logan flipped open to the page he left off on; he had just started this book so he wasn’t too far in. He couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face as he started to read,

The person who was supposed to love me the hardest-the most unconditionally-has always wanted me gone. No matter how hard I tried to be perfect. Now, this boy-who knows all my imperfections and has seen all my hurt laid bare-wants me to sta- Logan’s reading was interrupted by a door clicking open.

Logan looked up to see Patton closing his bedroom door. An ear to ear grin plastered on his face, it was a little too much teeth for his comfort. Patton locked eyes with the blue side, “Hiya kiddo!”

Logan slipped his bookmark back into the thin pages, “Greetings Patton.” Logan waited for a second or two for Patton to walk beside him; after all, when someone comes out of their door, you have to wait for the other to join you on your walk.

And Patton did, they started towards the staircase; Logan tracing the book pages with his fingers. “So! Where ya headed kiddo?!” Logan had always thought Patton was a little too cheery for his tastes, but that was just the father’s personality, he couldn’t change that.

“I’m headed to the imagination to read,” for a brief second, Logan forgot who I was talking to, “It's actually quite an interesting book! The Dangerous Art of Blending In is considered a must-read for pride month and is based on the author's true story,” Logan continued to talk; eyes twinkling with excitement and pure joy as he went on to explain the main character’s arc so far.

The blue side steeled his expression to his happy grin, “That sounds interesting kiddo! Can I see it?”

Logan grew stiff, but continued walking with Patton until they made it to the top of the stairs, Logan shifted his eyes downward and handed the book to Patton. Morality swiped the book straight out of Logan’s hands, he pulled it open to a random page and started to read. Logan watched in horror as the older side’s expression shifted from mild curiosity to confusion, to disgust, and finally to anger.

“Why are you reading these horrible things, Logan?” Patton’s smile was gone, eyes cold and disapproving as he stared into Logan’s eyes. “This is something Remus would read. Why. Are. You. Reading. It.” Patton stood tall, teeth formed into a sneer as he stepped closer.

Logan took a small step backward, “I-I-”

“Shut up.” Logan hit the wall when Patton hissed through his teeth, “Come on Lo-Lo! If you read stuff like this, you’re just as bad as Remus and Janus! You don’t want to be like them, do you?” Patton was inches away from Logan’s face. His breath hot on his skin, raising the hair on the back of his neck.

Logan gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “W-well, I thought that Even and Henry’s story was a sweet story about overcoming hardships, even when you’re put in a bad si-” The stinging pain of Patton’s hand hitting his face stopped him in his tracks. Tears leaked down as Logan raised his hand to his cheek.

Logan looked at Patton with wide eyes, “y-yo-” The blunt end of a punch struck his face, Logan could only stand in shock as he felt his lip start to leak crimson, “Patton stop!”

The so-called father pushed his hand against Logan’s neck, keeping him in place even while Logan clawed at his hand and own throat, attempting to pry Patton off. His nails dug into his flesh, small warm droplets of blood pricking out of the skin as Patton tightened his hold.

“You, Lo-Lo-Bear, need to learn when to shut up~” Logan was sure that his neck was going to be bruised, all he could do was wheeze a suffocated breath in response. Patton applied his sugar-sweet smile once more, looking into Logan’s eyes with a twisted fascination.

Logan attempted to speak, he knew that he couldn’t. But words were his weapon. Without his voice he was helpless, and he refused to give in to the father figure’s torment. Patton had always been particularly touchy, touching them when it wasn’t necessary. Hands grazing over their shoulders or swiping things from their hand to look it over. Patton had also always been particularly violent. Pushing them against walls over little things and whispering threats. It didn’t make these situations any less terrifying though. And this was the first time Patton had taken it this far.

Logan’s hands were covered in blood. His blood. Gore covered his fingers and Patton’s hand, a few small beads hitting the floor; as well as Patton’s cartoon-themed sneakers. Long thin scratches ran up and down his neck, his nails had thick pieces of skin underneath the nails.

Patton raised an eyebrow at the side’s attempt to pry him off, he huffed a breath and let go of Logan’s neck.

Logic fell against the wall, hands immediately wrapping around the sluggish bleeding at his neck, Logan breathed in short ragged breaths eyes wide and staring at the floor. Breathing in the sweet addiction of oxygen.

Patton smiled, eyes skewed shut while the side on the floor held himself tightly. “There! Didn’t you learn your lesson kiddo?” Patton waited a second or two for Logan to respond, his breathing calm and steady as he swirled the crimson liquid on his hand. “Right kiddo?” Patton bore his cold eyes onto the crumbled side, he barely waited a second before seizing Logan’s wrist and pulling him to his feet.

The cyan side held Logan by his tie, right in front of the staircase. Logan could barely process anything before the side in front of him smiled, locking his eyes. And then, he let go and pushed Logan down the steps.

Logan fell, hitting almost every stair on his way down. He could feel his blood vessels burst as his arms scraped on the wooden railing, splinters indenting into his flesh. His head spun when it hit the stairs, glasses flying off. Logan could barely tell what was happening to him as he hit his head repeatedly, he knew that he heard a crunch from his left arm and right leg when he hit the bottom landing.

Logan laid on his face, breathing hard and rapidly. His mind was fogged over, no coherent thought could pass through as the ringing sound that suddenly plagued his mind filled his senses. He couldn’t hear his father figure climb down the steps, taking care to step over the blood spatters that covered them.

Patton poked Logan in the ribs with his shoe, giggling when the side groaned in pain. “You really should be more careful kiddo! Stairs can be pretty dangerous you know!” The cyan side took one last look at his victim before pulling Logan’s book from his pocket.

Patton opened the book to its center point, before grabbing each side of the novel and ripping it in half. Pages floated down like butterfly wings, gracefully falling as they surrounded the broken side in bitter mockery of the book. Patton threw what was remaining of the book onto Logan, his demeanor just as peppy and upbeat as ever, even while covered in another’s blood.

“You really need to be more careful with your possessions, Logic, such a tragedy, you know I love a good book.” Patton walked back up the staircase to his bedroom, while Welcome to the Black Parade blasted from Virgil’s speakers, Logan barely responded to the father figments door slamming.

Logan had no idea of how long he let his blood stain the carpet, but his mind grew even fuzzier as the room grew black. He allowed the sweet bliss of sleep to cloud his function telling him to stay awake. He closed his eyes, only to have someone shake him.

“-GAN! LOGAN WAKE UP!” The panicked voice of the deceitful side flooded his head, he tried to force his eyes open; muscles spasming. “There we go! Come on starlight! Stay awake! Remus is coming back with the medkit! Just stay with me!” Logan followed his voice, the smoothness and composed attitude of the yellow side was gone. Logan hated seeing the silver-tongued side like that.

“I-I see you have a copy of The Dangerous Art of Blending In! It’s such a good book right! I l-ove how the author wrote Henry! Don’t you? Come on Logan, stay awake!” Logan looked into the terrified side’s eyes. The enchanting yellow and brown eyes kept his focus even if they were clouded in fear, he wondered why he never noticed the flecks of green surrounding the slivered pupil before.

“I GOT THE MEDKIT!” The horse voice of Remus broke his concentration on the pretty eyes, why did everyone call Janus a monster anyway? Was it the scales? Logan could only wonder as the two dark sides hastily applied the first aid. Voices scared and rushed as they faded into the background, Logan could only focus on how Remus’ mustache was perfectly curled into its position, even when it was soaked in tears. Tears? Why were they crying? Patton said that they were monsters, and monsters don’t cry. Then again, monsters don’t help people either… 

Logan watched the two sides dig into the kit as fast as they could. Janus even removed his gloves.

Logan gazed at them tiredly, mouth lightly sagged open, “There we go! I think we can move him now Jan!” “Good! Let’s get him out of here before Patton comes back, I think he did this…”

Logan could feel his body raising to meet the ruffles of Remus’ tunic. The small teeth that embellished the ends of the fasteners rubbed against his shoulder. He didn’t have the energy to make any noise as the two sides took him back to their side.

He doubted he would ever return to the picture-perfect family he once belonged to ever again. He had his actual family, ready to help him through everything.

Janus bought him a new copy of his book too.

[sluttyten]

All the Stars in the Night Sky

summary: hendery is a rich playboy type in public, lonely in private, and when he lets you into his life, neither of you are sure you’ll ever be able to leave

length: 16,255 words

tags: male reader, smut, daddy kink, angst, idk it felt like it got a little emotionally dark sometimes, some family troubles, happy ending (I promise)

Hendery would never admit to his friends (if he could really call them that at all) how miserably lonely he found this life. 

He was rich, sure, and that meant that many doors were opened to him, that he had dozens and dozens of people vying to be his friends or to warm his bed for a night or two. When he’d once attempted to go near the topic with his close friend (the most genuine one of the bunch), Xuxi had laughed and gestured around them while saying, “How can you ever feel bad about anything in your life when you have all this? Like you’ve got an entire chest of drawers and an additional display case just for jewelry.”

That was true.

Jewelry was nice, it could buy him attention and a few friends, but it was nothing real or meaningful.

So Hendery set out on a great journey to find something that would fill the gaping hole of loneliness. Along the way, he earned the name of richest playboy in East Asia, Huang Guanheng, or Hendery to his friends.

He fucked his way across the world’s map, his body count growing each day. None of the girls or boys in his bed were it, they couldn’t fill up that void of loneliness. Xuxi and Dejun tried their best, but they were both in a similar state to him—earning money faster than they can hemorrhage it in an attempt to feel better about their lives.

On the first night you met Hendery, you were covering a gala where his father was the guest of honor. Most of the reporters were left outside the event, but you had managed to catch the eye of the eligible Guanheng as you’d dressed for the gala in the hopes of getting inside, a nice sleek suit paired with a bowtie.

He looked you up and down then gestured for the security team to allow you inside. You couldn’t miss the hisses and curses behind your back as you left the cluster of other reporters to enter the party. As you came up beside Guanheng in his handsome suit, his hands glimmering with rings, he plucked your phone out of your hand and watched as a guard stepped forward to frisk you.

“Hey!” You smacked at the guard’s hand as he got a bit too handsy at your inseam.

Guanheng called off the guard, but didn’t hand back your phone. Instead he tucked it into a hidden pocket of his suit jacket. “You can have this back later. It’s a media blackout event, so I can’t have you taking photos or recordings, you know, but it would be such a shame for someone like you to miss out an event like this.”

You decide that you don’t really mind. Even without photos or video inside the gala, you would still have the experience of being inside, and your boss would love that more than whatever pictures you got from outside. And besides, you were personally being invited inside by the most notorious young man on this side of the world.

“You can call me Hendery.” He said as you stepped through into the heart of the event. And then as you looked over at him, he smiled and leaned closer, laying the charm on so thick that you could almost taste it, and he said, “Or you can call me Daddy.”

If you weren’t already so attracted to Hendery, you would have left right then. Fuck your phone, a line like that one he’d just given you would usually have you walking the other way. You’d known him for less than five minutes. You were a reporter meant to be covering this event in an official capacity, and he had to go and make an inappropriate comment like that? Cocky assholes were not your type.

But, lucky for him, you actually did have a weakness for guys who liked being called Daddy, and more importantly, you had a weakness for the pretty curl of his smile and his dark eyes and the comforting weight of his hand at the small of your back.

Your knees felt weak.

You’d heard about the games he played before. A friend of yours had once met him at a party and she’d given you the step-by-step of his seduction. The way he’d charmed her thoroughly and then he’d gotten himself drunk before he fucked the breath from her lungs and left her so jelly-legged that she was still a little unstable when you saw her two days afterwards.

So you weren’t terribly surprised by anything that followed. Hendery was charming. He knew all the right things to say, he knew the way to look at you to break through the last of your walls, and he definitely knew just the right things to whisper in your ear any time that you began to mentally talk yourself down from pursuing where the night was inevitably going to end.

And that’s how you found yourself in the bathroom with Hendery, facing yourself in the mirror as he fucked you. The sound of your bodies colliding and your moans, his low instructions for you to call him daddy, all the sounds of the two of you together echoed off the dark tiles and the mirrors of the bathroom, and you gazed into the reflection as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to your orgasm.

Hendery’s ringed fingers came down hard on your ass, and the sting of pleasure sent you crashing through your orgasm.

You only barely managed to hold yourself up to still look into the mirror as you came for Hendery. You looked up at the reflection of his face, and what you saw there scared you a little. You saw the dark look in his eyes, an emptiness as he fucked you like it would make him really feel something, but it was then that you saw that all his charm and seduction was just a mask, and right then you were seeing Hendery without his mask, robotically fucking you to make himself feel something.

When he cums inside the condom a moment later, you look away from his face, and the next time you look up after he’s pulled out and is disposing of the condom, you find his mask back in place. A cocky smile as he tells you that you sounded so sexy moaning daddy for him, begging for his cock.

But now that you’ve seen beneath his mask, you can hear the hollow sounds behind his words.

He rocked your world absolutely, you’ve never had a better orgasm. But even after you leave the event that night, you can’t forget the way he’d looked, and how even with all of that lack of true emotion or passion for what he was doing, he’d still treated you so good all night.

Your body craved another orgasm by his hand, or rather by his cock.

Luckily, you had the perfect excuse. You’d left your phone in that hidden pocket of his jacket. A full day and a half passed before you finally really needed your phone and you finally confirmed to yourself that you could go to a Hendery again if he would have you.

You called your phone from a friend’s, and you were so pleased when three rings in, someone picked up on the other end.

“Hendery?” You asked cautiously as he’d not said a word.

“Yeah, I’m guessing you want your phone back?” He says.

You cradle the phone closer. “I do sort of need it. Have I missed any calls?”

Hendery’s quiet for a second and then. “Two from your boss. Hope that doesn’t mean anything bad for you.” His voice is flat, tired, and you wonder if you just woke him even though it’s edging toward two in the afternoon. He yawns. “You can come pick it up at my place.” He rattles off the address, and you write it down on your hand.

His house is huge, gorgeous, and so out of reach from your position in life that it almost hurts when the gates swing open after you press the buzzer button. The taxi you’d taken here still rumbles and puffs exhaust behind you, and you just know the driver is still craning his neck to take in the place, probably thinking he should’ve charged you more for the ride. But the gates clank shut behind you, and then it’s just you, a massive drive way and a fountain and large green shrubs that are neatly trimmed, and the house looming up before you.

A butler—an honest to god butler with the penguin suit and everything—opens the door for you and tells you he’ll lead you to “Master Hendery.”

It takes the entire walk through the house to Hendery for you to decide that the butler is not joking about calling Hendery ‘Master’ as he even begins addressing you formally. You pass maids as well, handfuls of them dusting and sweeping and carrying laundry. And it’s all just incredible to you because it takes you as long to reach Hendery’s bedroom from the front door as it takes you to walk from your favorite take out place to your sofa in your apartment.

“This is fucking insane,” you say as you step through the doorway the butler holds open.

The door snaps shut behind you, and you take a moment to look around at the entryway you’re in. There’s a sitting area to your left, a spacious bathroom visible through a doorway to your right. And just right there you’re overwhelmed with the luxuriousness of Hendery’s lifestyle.

“Are you coming in?” Hendery asks, his voice from somewhere deeper inside his palatial suite of rooms. You finally do walk further inside, passing through the sitting area to eventually find yourself in his bedroom.

There’s a large unmade bed with a pair of feet hanging out the side and someone still snoring beneath the blankets. A bay of windows looks out over the side lawn of Hendery’s home, a manicured lawn with a pool and more neatly trimmed shrubbery. It’s against those windows that you find Hendery. He’s got his legs stretched out the length of the windows eat while he stares down into the yard and pops mouthfuls of something into his mouth from the plate in his lap.

You clear your throat, and he snaps away from the window, looking at you. Your gaze slides away, back to the figure in his bed.

Hendery stands up, dropping the plate onto the window seat as he gesture for you to follow him. “That’s just Xuxi. You know, Huang Xuxi.”

You do know. Everyone who’s paid any attention to the life of Hendery knows Xuxi as well as Dejun, the two most wealthy and most prolific with their sexual encounters, just one rung below Hendery on the list.

Hendery doesn’t say anything else about his friend, instead he leads you back through the sitting room, in through the spacious bathroom, and out the other side into his closet. You try not to let your eyes grow to wide at the wealth you see amassed in this one room. Hendery ignores your expression, the look of wonder on your face, and he points at the window into the room, another window seat, where your phone is plugged into a charger.

You don’t even consider what a strange place this is for your phone to be. You just walk over and scoop it up, sit down to check your notifications. You have two voicemails from your boss, the first irate, the second still irate but slightly concerned as you normally return his calls within an hour at most, and his two calls were 24 hours apart. You quickly shoot off a message to him apologizing and explaining the situation in as few words as possible, promising him that you have a story for him.

Being at the gala hadn’t been all fun and fucking with Hendery. You had actually been working too, gathering bits of information for you to compose into a story, which you’d begun on during the last day and a half.

“So everything okay with your boss? Not fired?” Hendery asks, and you look up at him, having half-forgotten that he was there and halfway believing that he would’ve left the room and returned to his bed and best friend.

“Not fired, I hope. He was just angry that he hadn’t heard from me.” You stand up and unplug your phone, tucking it into your pocket. And then you hesitate. You came all this way for your phone, it seems such a shame to leave so quickly. Especially after you’ve been thinking almost non-stop about Hendery’s cock.

Something in that must show in your eyes because Hendery smirks. “You’re a thirsty bitch, aren’t you?” You gaze works down from his smirk to his chest and then even lower to the loose linen sleep pants he wears. “Bet you forgot your phone in my pocket on purpose so you could come try to get me to fuck you again.”

You hadn’t planned that, but it truly had worked out that way.

Hendery comes closer, and you sink back down onto the windowseat, and when he stands right before you, you find your mouth level with his swollen bulge in the front of his pants.

“Do you want me to fuck your mouth, slut? Want Daddy to make a mess of you?” Hendery asks, and he pushes his fingers through your hair, tilting your head back so you’re forced to look up at his face again. “You want Daddy’s cock again?”

You swallow and suddenly your tongue feels too big for your mouth. You nod silently.

“Then open up.” Hendery runs a hand down to your jaw, thumbing at your bottom lip. “Show me what you want.”

Your mouth drops open, and you look up at his face, ready for your mouth to be filled with his big cock. Hendery tsks at you, and he reaches down to push his pants down, freeing his cock, and then he pushes immediately into your mouth.

Hendery doesn’t wait for you, he just pushes in, setting off your gag reflex, and he moans as you choke around him. He only pulls back slightly to let you breathe a bit, and then he pushes forward again. This time you take him slightly better, still gagging a bit, but Hendery seems to love that. He swears and moans, puts his hand on the back of your head and sinks forward until you’re straining to take all of him in, but you’re pretty sure that you can’t possibly take even the little bit of him that’s not yet between your lips.

“You’re taking Daddy’s cock so well,” Hendery tells you, stroking the back of your head. He starts thrusting, pulling back to thrust in sharply again. Your jaw aches already and you’ve barely even started, but the hunger for Hendery makes you brush off the ache as if it’s nothing.

You close your eyes, open up your mouth as wide as you can, and you let Hendery fuck your throat. You reach for his hips, trying to hold yourself steady, and Hendery fucks your mouth harder at your touch, he sinks into you like he’s searching for something, hungry for the feel of you around him. You think again of that look in his eyes while he fucked you at the gala.

Looking up at him now, you see him watching his cock pushing between your lips. The light coming in through the window sets his face alight, all sharp angles and perfection. His jaw clenches when you moan and suddenly try to push forward, fucking your throat down on his cock instead of the other way around.

Hendery swears and the hand on the back of your head pushes your forward, his other hand curls against the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the length of your throat in the front. You feel at last the final bit of his cock passing between your lips, your face buried against his abdomen and you’re actually choking around him now, your body rejecting this and you love it, the way that Hendery keeps holding you down on him.

He cums to the feel of your throat convulsing around him, shooting his load deep down your throat. You can feel the drool leaking from the corners of your mouth, even some tears dripping down your cheeks.

Hendery starts to pull out, and you make an awful noise of choking again. He strokes your neck and throat, murmuring some words to you that you can’t make out over the sound of your heartbeat and your own coughing.

Hendery pulls most of the way out, but you’re not ready for him to leave you yet, so you suck around what of his cock is left in your mouth, and he thrusts shallowly a few more times, weak pumps of cum leaving him, and at last you both pull away from each other.

It’s quiet for a moment.

“Who’s that?” Xuxi asks where he leans in the doorway, clearly amused at what he stumbled in upon. You wipe at your mouth, and Hendery just tucks his dick away.

“Don’t worry about it.” Hendery turns away, moving toward a smaller doorway that you missed before, leading into yet another room in this labyrinthine suite of rooms. “You know the way out!”

You’re not sure if he’s addressing Xuxi, but you’re positive that he’s addressing you. You push to your feet and brush by the other wealthy man, who turns to watch you. After a few feet, you hear him walking to catch up with you.

“So, what are you doing hiding in Hendery’s closet?” He sticks close even when you push out the door of Hendery’s room. You can’t remember which way you came from, but Xuxi taps your shoulder and then points to your left. You start that way with him tagging along. “I know you weren’t here when I passed out this morning, and Hendery never mentioned a booty call.”

“He had my phone,” you finally tell him. “We met at the gala the other night. He took my phone and I forgot to get it back before I left.”

Xuxi hums in thought, and before he can think of anything else to say, you’ve reached the front door and shoved your feet back into your shoes, dancing through the door so he can’t try to say anything more. But unfortunately, his legs are longer than yours and he catches up.

“Let me give you a ride home.” He suggests. You don’t know what he’s playing at, so you turn him down.

“I’ve got a friend on their way to come get me.” You lie, but you’re already pulling your phone out to message one of your friends who doesn’t live too far away to come pick you up. “It’s too late now for me to cancel on her. She’d be pissed.”

Xuxi doesn’t seem too impressed by what you’ve just said. He offers it up once more and then heads away to his shiny luxury car parked nearby. You’re still standing there waiting for a response from your friend when Xuxi’s speakers begin booming from the bass, and he shoots off around the driveway, sending up a small shower of the little white pebbles that make up the drive. The gates open and close behind him, the booming of the bass fades away.

Still no answer from your friend. You try another. Call your first option. No answer from either of them.

It’s not necessarily cold outside, but you shiver as a breeze skirts around the side of the house. Your phone sits silent in your hand, and you feel like all the windows of the house are watching you, the maids and the butler and most of all Hendery. You tell yourself that’s foolish.

But even if it’s foolish, you think it must be true that you were being watched in some way, because after ten whole minutes of waiting with no response from your friends, the front door of the house open behind you.

“You can come back inside, if you’d like.” Hendery stands there, looking weary. He looks so different from how he looked when you first laid eyes on him. Gone is that glamor, the rich boy polished to a shine in front of all the cameras. Here you see the tiredness, the soft edges that had been so sharp in public. “You’re clearly waiting on your ride, and it’s rude of me to just leave you waiting outside. Plus, I owe you an orgasm, don’t I? Come inside.”

He sweeps his hand in a gesture for you to step through the doorway, and it doesn’t take much more than that for you to return inside Hendery’s home.

Back within his suite of rooms, Hendery plucks at your clothes while you walk toward his bed. You shed them obediently, leaving a trail from his door until the mess of his sheets, which he tumbles you into.

In the haze of lust that takes you over, you’re not even sure what all positions Hendery bends you into. You’re aware only of the pleasure, of his cock and fingers breaking you apart only to pull you back together and do it all over again. His stamina is incredible, and it’s only when you cannot physically stand another orgasm, that Hendery finally backs off, rolling over into his back, and casting the condom toward the trash half hidden in the corner.

You curl up and look at him. The cool shuttered look on his face. He stares up at the ceiling.

“Hendery.” You reach over and hit him in the chest. He jumps and grabs your hand, pushing it away. You try not to feel hurt, but you do anyway. After all that you just did together and he rejects even just a little touch of your hand? You clear your throat and try again. “Hendery, are you—“

The last word, okay?, hovers unspoken in the air when Hendery sits up and walks away, grabbing his pants from the floor and yanking them up. You wait for a moment to see if he’ll come back, and when he doesn’t, you go looking.

You find him in the bathroom washing his face. Or, more accurately, staring down into the sink with water dripping from his face.

Part of you thinks that now is the time for you to leave. He’s clearly going through some stuff and doesn’t really want you there. He just wants someone he can bury his cock inside of, nothing more. Even if you have to walk home from here, maybe it’s better than staying.

The other part of you feels that you should stay. He’s clearly going through something, and maybe he just needs to someone to stick around and be there for him through whatever this is. But when you take a step closer to him, Hendery looks up, and the second that he spots you he comes over and sweeps you into his arms, trying to kiss you and pick up again where you left off in bed.

You push at his chest. “Stop. Are you okay?”

Hendery makes a sound of frustration, and tries to kiss you again. You push at his chest again.

Hendery spins away, walking into his closet, walking deeper and deeper, and you follow him this time, slipping through that narrow doorway from one room of the closet into the next.

He walks through a section that is nothing but shoes, another that seems to be just suits. You follow him through a private laundry room, and you see a maid slipping back through a narrow door as Hendery passes by. You follow him until there’s nowhere else to go.

In a small square room at this end of his suite, there are windows set into three of the four walls. Half of the ceiling is also glass, and below that is a pile of pillows and beanbag chairs. Hendery collapses down into one of them, and then looks over at you. There’s a flicker of surprise before it’s replaced once more by a somewhat petulant expression.

“Why did you follow me?” He asks.

You fold your arms in front of you. “Because you’re clearly upset about something. I don’t know what. I know I’ve only known you for hardly even two days, but there’s clearly something going on with you and you’re using sex to cope.”

Hendery rolls his eyes, grabs a pillow and squeezes it against his chest. “You can leave now. You got your phone. You’ve had my dick as well as a month’s worth of orgasms. Bye.”

His absolutely dismissive tone stokes a fire to life inside you. You hate the way that you’re just trying to show some genuine concern for him, and he’s just brushing you off and being rude about it. He was mostly fine until you denied him fucking your again. And now he’s throwing a tantrum basically, like a spoiled rich boy, unused to not getting what he wants.

“You’re such a rich brat, you know that?” You stand firmly in the doorway.

Hendery doesn’t look at you, but the way that his head turns ever so slightly lets you know that he’s listening.

“Throwing a tantrum because I won’t let you fuck me for the fifteenth time today? And getting genuinely pissed off when I’m trying to find out if you’re okay.” You want to storm out of the room but you also want to storm over to him and drop down in his lap, make him look at you and tell you why he is the way that he is. “But maybe you’re right, Hendery. Maybe I should leave you here all alone in your ivory tower. You’re right, I got what I came for: my phone. And I got to be fucked by you again. Maybe you’re used to just being used for sex, for what you can give to others without being given much of anything else in return to recognize when someone is trying to actually show some interest in you and your personal wellbeing.”

Hendery turns his head again, almost facing you, but just looking at the floor, refusing to make eye contact. You think you must’ve hit a nerve of some sort.

“If you really want me to leave then tell me to leave. I’ll go. But I hope we’ll see each other again, Huang Guanheng. I hope the next time I see you, you’ll smile and mean it, that you won’t just drop the smile as soon as you think no one’s looking. I’ll see you around.” You turn today leave.

A hand catches your wrist. “Wait,” Hendery says. “Don’t leave me alone.”

You half turn back to him, and he squeezes your wrist.

“Stay.” He says, and with just that one word, a part of you breaks and you feel like you’ll never leave him.

Hendery pulls on your hand, drawing you closer and down to sink into the beanbag chair with him. He doesn’t look at you, but he softly pleas again, “Just stay. I hate sleeping alone.”

You sit for a while together silently, squished together in a beanbag chair as the sun sets, and at some point you rest your head on his arm and you just look at him. Hendery falls asleep, his head tilted back to look up at the glass part of the ceiling, and you watch his eyes close and hear his breathing fall steady and slow.

Maybe it’s weird to just watch him while he sleeps, but where else are you going to look? Any time that you shift, his arms twitches beneath you, as if he’s ready to pull you back to keep you from leaving him.

Hendery looks so soft as he sleeps. So relaxed, freed of whatever it is that plagued him while he’s awake. His pretty hair falls back from his face, leaving his forehead visible, unblemished by a frown or stern set of his eyebrows. His lips are parted and you notice that they’re turned up in a slight smile. You admire his profile—the line of his nose, the length of his eyelashes, all of the little attractive qualities about him. The sound of his breathing is like a lullaby.

You’re nearly about to fall asleep yourself when you realize that Hendery is awake again.

You don’t know when his eyes opened, but between one slow blink of your heavy eyes and the next, you realized that Hendery was gazing up at the sky through the ceiling, the stars growing more visible as night settled.

“I’m lonely, that’s my problem.” Hendery says the words softly as if he’s not sure if he really wants you to listen. “No one ever sticks around, and even if they do, they don’t really care.”

You get more comfortable with your head on his shoulder, and you tell him, “I’m here, Hendery.”

“Because you wanted dick.” Hendery keeps staring up at the ceiling, beyond it to the stars. “That’s why you’re still here.”

“Yes, at first.” You answer honestly. “What are you looking at, anyway?” You shift your head closer to his. His ear touches your cheek. “Do you know astronomy, Hendery?”

He jerks his head. “No. I just like looking. It’s dark enough and clear enough around here that we can actually see the stars somewhat decently.”

His arm beneath your head curls, draping over your shoulder. It’s comfortable, and you sink into Hendery’s touch, keeping your eyes up on the night sky as well. “Do you know anything about any of the stars?”

So Hendery begins telling you a few things, pointing out the constellation you can see, telling you stories behind the constellations, stories that you’re not familiar with, but the longer Hendery talks about them, the more you can see that he’s put some time into learning them. After a while you look away from the stars and back to his face, to the passion in his eyes and the smile on his face, the way that he stares up at the stars in awe.

You wake up in the morning with an achy neck and no memory of actually falling asleep. The last thing you remember is Hendery’s musical voice painting a story of a dragon across the night sky.

But now, Hendery is nowhere in sight.

Sunlight pours through the windows of the room, and you squint, shielding your eyes against the blaze. You rub at your eyes as you sit up, and a blanket falls down into your lap. You drag it up around your shoulders like a cape as you pass back through his extensive closet and the bathroom. The sitting room is empty as well, but he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, raking his fingers through his hair and talking on his phone.

Not wanting to pry, you quietly head back to the bathroom, hoping that by the time you’re finished showering and everything, his phone call will have ended.

His shower is massive, and it takes you somewhere close to three minutes to figure out all the controls, but finally you do stand in the glass shower, steam pressing against the walls, warm water massaging your back, racing through your hair and relaxing the ache in your neck. You start singing, quietly to yourself at first and then louder. The acoustics in the bathroom are wonderful, and you’re admiring that as you wash down your body, when another voice joins in.

You swear and turn around toward where you think the door. Your voices echo around the room, but Hendery speaks again, “You’re awake.”

You feel a spray of cold air cutting through the steam, and then you see Hendery, his bare form stepping up to stand beside you under the showerhead. He smiles, once again that charming playboy rather than the vulnerable side of himself he’d shown you last night.

“Plans today?” You ask him.

“Not really. Do you?” His gaze flicks up and down your frame, dragging slowly up from your feet, lingering when he reaches the apex of your thighs, then suddenly he’s gazing into your eyes with a fiery hunger, a half-hidden plea for you to stay, to clear your schedule for him.

You drape your arms over his shoulders, moving so you’re standing in front of him, your wet bodies fitting together. “No plans. I can send my boss my story from the gala tomorrow. As long as you promise to keep me entertained today?”

Hendery lowers his mouth to yours. He slides a hand around to palm at your ass, the other comes up to press between your shoulders, holding your chest firmly against his. His busy fingers on your ass slip into the cleft between your cheeks, dipping in deeper and deeper until you moan and press back on his fingers, just wanting him inside you.

“You gonna be good for Daddy?” Hendery speaks the question against your lips, backing off just enough that you can moan for him. “Yeah, you want me to fuck you again? Thought you weren’t here just for my dick?”

You shake your head. “I’m not, but fuck, you’ve got me all worked up now.” You reach back to hold onto his wrist, keeping him from pulling his curious fingers away from your entrance. “Just touch me, please. Daddy.”

That’s what does it.

Hendery kisses you again, his mouth hot and sharp on yours as he steps forward, pressing you backwards until you feel the glass wall of the shower cool and damp against your back. He pulls your hips forward so his wrist isn’t trapped so uncomfortably between your ass and the glass. And then he slides his finger over your needy entrance, and when you make just the sound he’s been listening for, he presses it inside you.

You pull your mouth away from his, dropping it back almost painfully against the glass. Your moan echoes between the glass walls. Hendery fingers you and mouths at your throat, soon working another fingers inside you, opening you up for his cock.

When you’re bucking your hips forward, rubbing against his erection, moaning for him, that’s when Hendery pulls his fingers away.

He flips you around, pressing your chest against the glass, drawing your hips back flush against his.

“Look at you, slut, hungry for my cock, just needing to be stuffed full.” His hand comes down on your ass. You whimper. Hendery swears and you know he just saw you clenching around nothing, looking so invitingly snug for his cock. “You want Daddy to fuck you?”

“Yeah, fuck me.” You push back, only to feel his hand burning against your ass again. “Please, Daddy, want you to put your big cock in me, I need it so bad.”

Hendery takes hold of his erection, drags it between your legs, teasing it over your entrance. You feel weak, twitching with the need to get off and touch yourself, but you don’t even have to try that to know that Hendery doesn’t want you to touch yourself. He wants you to cum solely from what he does to you.

He slaps his dick against your ass cheeks, and then pushes into you.

It burns sweetly as he pushes in deep, as you stretch around him. Even though you had him multiple times yesterday, it feels all new today. Hendery pounds into you, nailing right into that spot inside of you that sends stars across your vision, pleasure unfurling through you and turning your vision white.

Hendery presses in as deep as he can go as you cum, your walls squeezing around his cock, feeling so sensitive but still craving to be touched.

He’s so into the feel of you around him, that you don’t think he notices when your hand slips from the glass, reaching around to wrap your hand around yourself, whimpering daddy all the while. Hendery thrusts into you still, continuing on to his orgasm, carrying you too toward a second one which you feel swiftly coming towards you.

“Ah, fuck,” Hendery groans, snapping his hips forward so harshly that you knock against the glass. A whimper spills from your lips. Hendery reaches around you, drawing you back again, and that’s when he notices that you’ve been touching yourself. He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Trying to cum again on my cock? Well, come on, baby.”

He fits his hand against yours, his fingers lining up with yours, touching you while you touch yourself, pumping his hand on your cock all while he still thrusts deeply inside you.

You feel yourself growing close again, pushing back on his cock. Your moans and cries of daddy and Hendery! are swallowed up by the steam billowing around the pair of you, and Hendery cums without warning, pulling out of you so quickly that you don’t even have time to miss him before you feel his hot cum painting stripes over your ass, his soft moans he leaves against your shoulder along with soft kisses.

Your joined hands continue to work on getting you to your second orgasm, and it’s when Hendery bites down on your shoulder that you spill over. Hendery rubs you through it, kissing your shoulder and murmuring to you how sweet you look cumming like this, dripping cum over your fingers and the glass, making such a mess.

“I’m tired again,” you tell him, slumping forward against the glass.

Hendery hums and pulls his hand away, bringing it to his mouth to lick his fingers clean. You rest your cheek on the glass, watching him do this, and it makes you feel warm with desire still, but you can’t take more right now. Not even when he grabs you by the hips and drags you back under the shower’s spray, cleaning the cum off of you carefully. 

You end up down in a large overly fancy kitchen. A chef has several things going at once, and you’re not sure what to look at or do, but Hendery sits down at the table, pours himself a glass of juice, then pushes out the chair beside him, nodding pointedly at it. “Sit down.”

Breakfast, which is really more like brunch given the hour, is extraordinary and rich. You feel absolutely stuffed by the time you’re finished, ready to just laze about with Hendery. Until he gives you the news.

“I’m having a party here tonight.” He rubs a hand on your thigh, smiling a bit conspiratorially. “All sorts of friends are going to be here. Booze, drugs, whatever you like. Just don’t go writing about it.”

Being with Hendery makes you almost forget about your job. And you like him. You wouldn’t gossip about him even to get paid.

“DJ’s coming. Xuxi too.” And then he lists several other names that sound vaguely familiar, like you’ve heard them in connection with his name before—celebrities and other rich kids—and some less familiar names as well. “Will you stay?”

Hendery kisses your cheek and then goes lower to your neck.

You grown and push at him. You’re still sitting at the kitchen table. His chef is just a few feet away. His hands are constantly moving, massaging, stroking, attempting to entice you to stay.

When he kisses a sensitive spot on your neck and strokes at your thighs, you almost moan.

Instead you push him away more firmly this time. “You don’t have to make everything about sex, you know? Why don’t you show me around? Or tell me more about you?”

Hendery grumbles a little bit, but he stands up, takes your hand, and leads you out of the kitchen. He shows you around, showing the pantries, a greenhouse, the gym and sauna, the pool, the private movie theatre. There’s the great room, the sitting room, another sitting room, a study that holds so many books you can’t even take them all in before he’s whisking you away. He shows you the garden and the outdoor pool, the mini golf course his father had put in when he was younger.

“And where is your father?” You ask him as Hendery you pass by a gardener and the groundskeeper who are arguing over a flowerbed. “He lives here too, right?”

Hendery looks sideways at you. “Oh, you have a real Daddy kink don’t you? You trying to bump into my dad, baby?” He laughs and you can tell he’s completely joking with you. “Trust me, you’re not my dad’s type. He likes them pretty and dumb with big tits. You might be very easy on the eyes, but you’re not dumb at all. And your dick might be a bit of a problem for him.”

You can hear the bitterness clear in his tone.

You’re familiar with the story. Mr. Huang had been married to Hendery’s mother, by all accounts was head-over-heels crazy for her, but she passed away when Hendery was still very young. Mr. Huang quickly moved on to a young, hot girl. And after her there was another and another and another. An endless stream of models and actresses and heiresses, all beautiful and sweet, but none of them lasted too long.

“My father is in Moscow on business at the moment,” Hendery says coldly. “He’ll probably come back with my next mom.”

To change the subject (because you really don’t like the dark cloud that suddenly rains on Hendery’s parade), you ask him, “What’s your favorite room?”

Hendery brightens up a bit. “We’re on our way there now.”

You walk through a bit more of the garden, fragrant flowers and neatly trimmed grass, stepping stones cross a small pond swimming with koi fish. There’s a tall tree and a small picnic area, and then Hendery pulls you beneath a pergola woven with wisteria, then right through a pair of glass double doors.

The room inside is shaded on one side but on the other side sunlight spills through windows set high on the wall. It’s quiet inside, just dust motes dancing through soft sunlight. There’s a piano and drums, a violin and cello, guitars and microphones and every instrument you can imagine.

“Father always had me study music. I think he thought it would calm me down as a child. Pretty sure it made me louder and didn’t teach me nearly as much discipline as he’d have liked.” Hendery walks away from you, trailing his fingers almost lovingly over the instruments he passes.

When he reaches the piano, he looks back at you.

“Can you play them all?” You ask.

“Most of them. Not always well.” He sits down at the piano bench. “Do you play?”

You shake your head no.

As a child you’d often dreamt of playing the piano. Not necessarily to become a master of it, but just simply because you enjoyed the sound and that watching a pianists fingers flowing smoothly over the ivory keys was mesmerizing. Your parents hadn’t been able to afford the lessons and when you once attempted to play the piano in the music room at your school, you’d realized it was a little more difficult than you’d imagined. So you’d given up and never looked back.

Until now.

You slide down beside Hendery on the bench. “No I don’t play. But if you do, I’d love to hear.”

Hendery smiles. “Anything in particular you’d like to request?” He flexes his fingers, stretching them in preparation.

Suddenly you can’t think of a single song. Your mind goes blank and you just gaze at Hendery, all lit up in a heavenly golden glow. He’s so handsome, and right then as you sit shoulder-to-shoulder with him in his favorite room of this massive home of his, you really look at him and feel an ache deep in your chest. A stupid, silly ache. Like you’re falling in love with this rich playboy who’s just using you so he doesn’t feel lonely.

When you don’t give him a song to play, just continuing to stare at him distractedly, Hendery laughs his goofy but wonderful laugh, and he starts playing anyway. It’s not a song you recognize, but it’s lovely all the same. After that he plays another and another, and you listen intently, amazed by how well he plays, watching his fingers move over the keys.

“You’re really good,” you tell him.

Hendery runs a hand through his hair, messing with it nervously. “Thanks. Part of me always dreamed of playing, pursuing music as some form of a career, but my father insists that I follow him with the business. A career in music wouldn’t allow that.”

“Do you sing?” You ask, nudging him. “I bet you have a lovely voice.”

Hendery laughs, the sound filling the whole room. “I can. I’m better at rapping. When I was younger, Xuxi, Dejun, and a couple other guys seriously considered forming a group. Father brought his fist down on that. Even though he’s the one that got me started on music in the first place. So now I just satisfy myself with coming in here to mess around sometimes.”

For the better part of the next hour, Hendery picks up different instruments, playing a bit for you on each one. He’s still actually humming along to a melody as you leave the music room, exiting back out under the wisteria. The sunlight of the early afternoon feels great, kissing your cheeks, the breeze pushing pleasantly warm air over your arms. You tilt your face up to feel it all the better.

Hours later you find yourself emulating that pose. Your face is turned up to the sight of Hendery standing on the second floor of the house, speaking to the crowd of partygoers. He’s decked out again, hands gleaming silver with rings and bracelets. A drunken couple of girls giggles beside you, falling over each other, and one of them mentions how sexy Guanheng looks with his hair like that.

You have to agree. Sex hair that he’d never fixed does look quite good on him.

You’d raked your fingers through it as he went down on you, sucking your life through your dick until a knock on the door of his suite of rooms announced the arrival of Xuxi and Dejun, who in turn announced that other party guests were starting to show up.

And now he presented his hair messed by your fingers in front of the whole party while you stood below, drinking something Hendery had shoved into your hands before he dashed up the stairs to make a speech.

He’d already introduced you around to a few people. Xuxi and Dejun, of course, and then also a singer, an actor, a producer, a rich kid whose daddy owned a car company and made the guy a racecar driver the minute he turned 18. All old friends, he told you, and as you looked at them and Hendery, you could see the connections, the constellation that they made. Age-old lights gleamed in their eyes.

You wanted to tell Hendery that he wasn’t nearly as alone as he might think. He was like all the stars in the night sky, part of something greater than they could see from where they stood.

The party raged on. You saw faces you’d only ever seen in entertainment spreads before, heard names that you’d written about. There were things going on there that you knew would fetch a pretty penny if you wrote about them, but though your hands itched to write, they were tied behind your back by your promise to Hendery. Nothing you saw tonight would make it to the gossip columns.

Even when you saw Sicheng, Hendery’s actor friend, flirting with a pretty young actress who was rumored to be dating an actor that she was filming a movie with, you kept your hands still. Even when he pulled her into his lap and she kissed his face and giggled, you just distracted yourself from the urge to write a news story by instead staring at Hendery, reminding yourself of the promise, distracting yourself with fantasies.

Hendery caught you looking a few times. It’s the fifth time as you’re looking at him over the edge of your glass that he grins back at you, draping his arm over your shoulders. “What’re you looking at?” He laughs, pulling you close enough that he can affectionately rub his head against yours.

“Just you,” you tell him.

Hendery keeps smiling a wide, loose smile that spreads wider than normal due to the alcohol. He slides his arm from your shoulders, instead laying a hand on your thigh. You stare at it, remembering the way his fingers had moved on the keys of the piano earlier, wishing that he would touch you as he’d touched that instrument, to master playing your strings and keys as well as he was with the instruments in that room.

“You really like him, don’t you?” The boy sitting across from you both says. You look up and see one of Hendery’s friends looking at the pair of you and how close you sit, the familiar way in which he touches you. “How long have you known each other?”

Xuxi butts in then, “Like two days. I caught him blowing Hendery in his closet when I was leaving yesterday. They didn’t seem too close, something about a phone, right?” He squints at you and you nod. That is what it had been. Then. But things had changed for you since then. “Clearly I was wrong, and you’ve gotten closer since I left. I thought we both were leaving, huh? Not fair that you traded me in your bed for him, Hendery.” He raises his eyebrows at you and Hendery.

Hendery’s hand leaves your thigh, and he grabs for the drink in Xuxi’s hand instead. “Fuck off. As if it means anything when we mess around, Xuxi? And it’s not like it’s a big deal.” He gestures between you and him, and then tilts his head back and downs the glass in one gulp.

You want him to lean back beside you, settling his warmth around you like a comfort in this strange atmosphere of his friends and his guests, but Hendery moves farther away, drowning himself for a few moments in a drink that someone hands to him. And then after that he leaves you there as he goes to talk to someone he spotted across the room.

The night had been going well.

Hendery kept his distance after that, winding deeper and deeper into the maze of the house, always fitting himself into the hearts of groups, dancing away any time that you finally spot him. You comfort yourself in the company of his producer friend, Kun, talking about some of the tracks and artists he’s been working with lately, talking about the time you did a story on him and his partner before he branched off to make a solo production company.

You try not to feel hurt that Hendery’s abandoned you at the party he invited you to stay for. But as the night grows later, edging toward dawn, Kun leaves the party, and you consider leaving as well. You did tell your boss you’d send him your story today, and Hendery’s not paying any attention to you, so maybe you should head home. You go in search of Hendery to tell him you’re leaving.

One of the pretty girls from earlier in the night has edged her way closer to him, and you find Hendery with this girl pressed up on him, perched in his lap. She’s laughing and clinging to him, and Hendery lets her. And then his eyes land on you. His arm on the girl’s waist tightens and she squeals in delight, kissing at his neck, giggling and murmuring sweet words to him, slipping her hand down between them so she can touch him.

His eyes slide from yours as he turns toward the girl, pulling her mouth to his.

You shouldn’t be upset. You knew what this was.

You were a hook up at the gala, a one night stand when you came to get your phone. Hendery is just a rich boy, a playboy who fucks around with anyone pretty who catches his eye. It’s not anything more than just a no-strings hook up when you’re with him. You have no right to feel upset by what you see.

But you do anyway.

You turn on your heel before you see anything else. You move through the party without noticing anyone or anything, brushing by people, knocking over something that luckily doesn’t break onto the ground (no matter how much you want it to, just to see something that looks the way you’re feeling right now—jagged and broken and out of place, all spread over the floor).

Already you’re out the door and halfway down the drive when you realize you don’t have your phone. Or your clothes. You’re still wearing Hendery’s borrowed clothes and you’d left your phone in his room, and you’ll be damned if you have to come back here for either of those reasons again.

You’re already stripping out of the clothes the second you step through the doors into his room, and before the door swings shut behind you, you hear footsteps, and then the door pushes open again, Hendery says your name.

You glance back at him, at the even more unkempt state of his hair and the way that his shirt’s collar is tugged askew. There’s a smear of that girl’s lipstick on his throat.

He says your name again.

“What? Why’d you leave her? It seemed you really liked her, Hendery. I mean, please, don’t let me leaving ruin the fun you were about to have.” You say. “I’m just getting my phone and my clothes and then I’ll be gone, and you can go back to using sex as a coping mechanism and a means of distancing yourself from people who want to be close to you. Have you ever thought maybe you want to be alone? That you cause this for yourself by pushing people away, not letting them get close to you?”

You drop his borrowed shirt over the back of a chair in his sitting room, and you keep walking toward the bedroom. You hear him following you.

“Maybe,” you continue, “you don’t want to be vulnerable and open. You just want to keep to your dark broodiness, you want to keep yourself isolated so you have something you can complain about because you’re so incomprehensibly wealthy that you don’t have any other problems to deal with, so you’ve created one for yourself.”

You drop the pants, and then reach for your own clothes that are piled right where you left them the day before. His bedsheets are still a mess, you can see a gross cumstain on the sheets, and you freeze, remembering for a moment how it had felt as he fucked you on his bed, his body covering yours from behind, your hips grinding against the sheets, his teeth digging into your shoulder and neck, and the way you’d moaned at the feel of his cock pounding inside you, right against your prostate.

A hand touches yours, and Hendery brings you around to face him.

“Are you really going to leave?” His voice sounds small. “Don’t go.”

He dips forward as if to kiss you, to reel you back in to his orbit so easily. But you push at his shoulders, and say, “This is what I’m talking about. You’re using sex to make yourself feel better, to manipulate people into getting close. But you don’t want anyone to stay.”

“Please?” Hendery latches onto your hand again. “Stay. The chef’s already up, he’ll make us whatever we order, anything at all. Name the most delicious thing you can think of, and I’ll send down for him to make it. Stay for breakfast.”

“Hendery.” You groan, and push at his chest again. “I don’t care about that. I’m going to leave because I need to go home and sleep so I can finish my story for my boss. I’ll grab a burger on my way home, a cheap, disgustingly greasy burger. Why don’t you go find that pretty girl who was so eager to get into your pants. Or Xuxi, you’ve already made it obvious that he’s fine with warming your bed. Or I’m sure you’ve still got guests down there who would be so excited to have you fuck them or throw your wealth at them. And even if not, you’ve got all this around you, I’m sure you can preoccupy yourself somehow. Maybe count all that jewelry in your closet, but don’t pretend for a second that you want me to stay because I actually mean something to you.”

“I don’t care about all that! I don’t want it!” Hendery cries in frustration as he pulls the rings from his fingers and throws them across the room. You hear them bouncing and plinking off the tiles and the wall and the windows. “Don’t you get it? Haven’t I already made it clear? All of this money doesn’t do a damn thing for me! I’m still lonely. I still feel like no one appreciates me for anything other than my money or for sex. They all are only interested in what I can give them!”

But then he steps forward, his hand touches your cheek, and then he touches the other, cupping your face between his hands. And in a voice far gentler than the one he’d just been using, Hendery says, “Except for you. You are the first person I’ve met in I don’t even know how long who’s made me feel like I’m more. The way you look at me, I don’t feel like you’re looking at just me on the surface, you’re looking deeper. Maybe that’s a lame thing to say, but I feel like a person when I’m with you. Like I can feel things and want things, like I don’t have to give and give and give. I can see that you want me, that you love the way I make you feel when we have sex, but it’s not like that’s all I see when you look at me. You listen. Even when I’m talking absolute nonsense about stories of dragons in the sky, when I’m banging out a bad tune on the piano, anything I’ve said, you’ve listened.

“And you’re right. I do use sex to cope, to fill in this gaping hole of loneliness, and I fail every time and I’m still hollow and aching. I want to have people close to me, but it scares me. I haven’t— I haven’t been open with someone totally in years and I got hurt, and maybe I shouldn’t be telling you all this because we don’t really know each other well and you’re a reporter so if things go wrong then you’ve got this shit to write a story about. But I opened up and got hurt and I’m so lonely and tired of feeling used, and you’re the one person I’ve met in so long who doesn’t make me feel like a vending machine for what other people want of me.

“So stay. Please stay.” Hendery drops his forehead against yours.

And just like that, you do.

Not because he wants you to. Not because of that whole eloquent speech (well, okay, partially because of both of those things), but you stay because you want to. Because over the last approximately thirty-two hours that you’ve spent with Hendery, you got to see a side of him that you really liked. The boy behind the mask his father made for him. A boy who’s more than just lonely, but a boy who wants to be heard and seen, who wants to be loved for who he is. 

You don’t know what that trauma is from his past that hurt him so he pushes people away while  desperately begging them to come closer. All you know is that with his hands on your cheeks and his forehead against yours, you slide your arms around his waist and never want to let him go again.

Dawn finds you wrapped together in the garden, a thick blanket draped around both of you as you sit together and enjoy cheap, disgustingly greasy burgers from a 24 hours place that’s not too far off, just a short drive there and back. You rest your head on Hendery’s shoulder, listening to the sounds of nature waking, and the snores of a few partiers who passed out on the patio nearby.

Eventually, as Hendery starts nodding off, you convince him up onto his feet as the first rays of sunlight spread across the lawn, and together you return to his room, crawling into bed with dew still wet on your toes. 

Hendery really doesn’t like it when you roll out of bed when the clock shows it’s nearly noon. He groans and reaches for you, trying to grab onto any part of you to pull you back in, but you dance out of his reach. 

“I really do have to go home. If I want to keep my job, I can’t miss a deadline. I’m already cutting it dangerously close.” You lean back in and kiss his forehead, earning yourself a handsome smile from him. “I’ll see you later, right?”

Hendery nods. “Yeah, I’m not pushing you away. Hey.” He grabs onto your hand, squeezing. “I am really, really sorry about things. I like you, I genuinely truly like you, and you’re totally right about my coping mechanism and everything, and I’m stupid for trying to hook up with that girl last night when I’m fully aware of how much I like you. Like, a crazy amount. I promise,” he says so honestly and soberly that your heart beats faster, “That I am going to try my hardest to not do anything that will mess this up. So, please, come back after you’ve written a wonderful story about my father’s gala and the handsome and charming Huang Guanheng that you met there.”

A week later you find yourself back in Hendery’s arms, though this time he’s at your humble abode, squeezed into your bed, both of you pretending that you can’t hear your upstairs neighbor yelling at her husband. 

“It’s not as nice as your house.” You apologized when you let Hendery in, but he didn’t seem to care. His eyes moved over every square inch of your apartment. The small kitchen, the living room which was a futon and a coffee table that was covered with half-drunk coffee mugs, old drafts of stories your editor had sent you all marked up in red with necessary revisions, your laptop, a goldfish bowl that was now home to a lovely little cactus ever since your beta fish died, and a tall stack of books.

At the other end of your single-room apartment was a divider you’d drawn across the space to shield your bed from view if ever you decided to entertain anyone. Not that the divider seemed to block Hendery’s curiosity, and a few seconds after he stepped inside he was guiding you by the hand toward your own bed. It took no time to strip each other and then Hendery had you on your back, your fingers twisted in his hair as he sucked your cock.

Hendery’s mouth was heaven, his talent with his tongue left you speechless, tugging on his hair in a way that had him moaning in delight, and just as you’re riding up to the edge of your orgasm with your hips rocking up off the bed, Hendery pulls off, dropping all contact.

You gasp and sit up, ready to whine and beg, but Hendery’s just stepping back to root through his pocket for a condom.

“What are you doing?” You ask, clenching your bedsheets in your fingers. “I have condoms. Get back over here.” You reach under the edge of your bed, bringing out a condom as well as a bottle of lube. Hendery drops his pants back on the floor, and you tip back onto your back, spreading your knees apart for him to fit between your legs.

You look up at your ceiling as you listen to Hendery popping the cap on the bottle of lube, squirting some out onto his fingers. He kisses your thighs, nipping at them lightly with his teeth as he works the lube over his fingers, warming it up a bit before he carefully eases one finger inside you, opening you up for him, sucking at your cock once again.

In no time, Hendery has you close again.Three fingers in, his mouth working magic on you as well. You tug and pull on his hair, dragging him up off your cock, and Hendery kisses a fiery trail up your body until he reaches your lips. 

“I need you. Now.” You moan.

Hendery swiftly rolls the condom down his length, then pulls you up as he lies down. “I want you to ride, Daddy.” 

Too eager to have him inside of you, you immediately move to straddle him, sitting right down on him. Hendery wraps his hand around your dick, swiping his thumb over your tip, cooing at you and telling you how good you look riding Daddy’s cock. It’s hard to not focus on just getting yourself off.

The way Hendery’s hitting so deep inside you, his cock brushing past your prostate each time you drop your hips back on him. And his hand on your cock, jerking you off at the same pace as you’re riding him. It’s all too much.

“Hendery!” You cry out, so close to your orgasm. He pulls his hand away, instead grabbing at your hips, holding you right where he wants you so he can thrust up into you, fucking you with hard, quick thrusts that soon have you cumming untouched onto his belly. And as soon as you’ve finished, he’s touching you again, a hand wrapped around your spent, sensitive cock, and he continues fucking you at a brutal pace.

You’re certain your neighbors can probably hear you, but you can’t hold in your moans, whimpers of oversensitivity.

Hendery nails your prostate with each thrust, and your cock keeps blurting out drops of cum onto his belly, his hand milking you for all you’ve got. 

When you can take no more, you collapse on top of him, and Hendery just holds your hips tighter and chases his own orgasm, moaning in your ear, saying, “You feel so right around Daddy’s cock. God, so tight. Like you were made for me.” 

You moan and tuck your face into his shoulder, biting his skin lightly between your teeth as Hendery cums. His body shudders under you, his cock jerking and filling the condom inside you, and you cum again too at the feeling, just adding more to the sticky mess on your bellies. 

Hendery wraps his arms around you and you stay like that, dozing off with him still buried inside you. It’s only when your neighbors start arguing that you wake, and Hendery reluctantly leaves the bed at last to dispose of the condom. 

You roll over and bundle up in your sheets, then you notice him reaching for his clothes. “What are you doing? Stay.” 

You throw back the blankets, ready to forcefully pull Hendery back into bed with you, but you find that unnecessary as he drops his clothes and tackles you back into bed as if all he’d been waiting on was an invitation to stay. As if all he wanted was to be wanted in return. 

This time you wrap your arms around him, his head on your shoulder as you play with his hair, and you tell him that later you’ll make dinner for him, there’s a recipe you saw online you wanted to try out. Hendery clings to you, presses a smile against your bare skin, and tells you, “I can’t wait.”

And later, when you do finally drag yourselves out of bed (after another round or two), you cook dinner with Hendery hovering at your side, not quite sure how to help you but eagerly wanting to take part. And so what if it doesn’t turn out quite the way you want it? A little bit burnt around the edges, a dash or eight too much salt. You and Hendery made it together and you eat it together and laugh and then drown out the flavor with the alcohol he digs out for you. 

That night, after drinking yourselves to a point where you both feel light and happy, Hendery lets you do whatever you want with him. He lets you spread him out on your bed so you can kiss over every inch of him. He sighs with pleasure when you drip wine over his chest and lick it off his skin, drinking it from the hollow of his throat. 

Hendery cums embarrassingly quick when you grind against him, licking and sucking at his throat and murmuring dirty things against his skin, whimpering how needy you are for Daddy’s cock to fill you up again. 

He fucks you later against the window, telling you that he wants the whole city to see how you look with him inside you, and you look at your reflection in the glass. 

You see Hendery behind you, like the first time you were together, but this time his face isn’t cold indifference just trying to feel something. No, this time Hendery’s eyes burn with passion, his face shows the strain of trying not to cum again already as your walls flutter and clench around him. 

This time Hendery touches you all over, his fingers leaving burning trails over your skin, like asteroid tails on the night sky. 

This time Hendery kisses your neck and pulls you back against him so he can reach around you and palm at your cock, so he can feel it when you cum, dripping down over his fingers, painting the window. 

This time Hendery buries his face against your shoulder and doesn’t let go. He doesn’t put a mask on to hide his face from you. He just holds you close enough that you can feel his heart beating against your back. 

When you wake in the morning, it’s to the feel of Hendery slipping back into bed. His socks touch your bare leg. Cold fingertips skim your back, and you shiver, flinching away. His breath warms your shoulder and he sneaks his cold hand once more onto your skin, over your belly where he presses his palm flat as he whispers to you, “I got breakfast.”

You open one eye and look at him. There’s a flush in his cheeks like he’d run up the stairs. He’s wearing your jacket. 

“How did you get back inside?” You yawn and roll over, stretching your arms up and then flopping into place on top of Hendery’s chest. 

“An older lady was leaving just as I was coming back. She let me in.” Hendery pokes at you. “But I brought breakfast back. Get up and come eat it.”

Everything feels so domestic as you sit down on your futon with Hendery. He unloads the breakfast. You open your laptop, checking your emails to see if your editor has any news for you. You eat together. Hendery tells you about his dream from last night about being on an airplane, and something about a pregnant woman and a cat. It’s simple and easy and you both bask in the pleasure of each other’s company.

Hendery’s in the middle of pulling you apart on his fingers, swallowing your moans as he stretches your hole wider, when there’s a knock on the door of his rooms. You whine as he rolls you off of him, drags the sheet up to cover you both, and calls for whoever it is to enter. 

The man who comes inside is no one you've ever met, but you recognize him all the same. Hendery’s father. 

His eyes land on you first, half-hidden in his son’s bed, and then he looks at Hendery. “You’ve been keeping busy while I was away. My assistant says you haven’t been into the office.”

It’s been weeks that this has been going on with Hendery. You’ve spent nearly every day together to at least some degree, and you’ve definitely not heard him say anything about going into the office. Instead the two of you have mostly been spending time together, in between making out and having sex, you’ve also been watching movies together, teaching Hendery how to cook, he’s started teaching you a bit on the piano.  You’ve hung out with some of his friends, particularly Kun, the producer, as you convinced both of them to try to make some music together, and Hendery dove headfirst eagerly into it, and Kun was extremely supportive. 

But now, with Hendery’s father standing in front of the pair of you, you can already see that light that’s been growing steadily brighter in Hendery diminishing again. You slide a hand onto his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. His father notices. 

“Maybe if you weren’t so focused on fucking whatever pretty creature slithers into your bed, Guanheng, maybe then you wouldn’t be such a disappointment,” his father says. 

Hendery drops his head forward, not looking at his father anymore. 

But you do. You glare at the older man. “Just because he’s not following the rigid life you chose for him doesn’t make him a disappointment. Hendery is amazing. He’s incredibly talented and smart, and he doesn’t need you to tell him how to succeed.”

Hendery grabs your hand tightly. “Stop.”

You look at him, at the downtrodden look on his face. He jerks his head. You close your mouth, but you have so much more you want to say. Hendery is a fantastic person. His father is an asshole. You want to say as much, but you know that it’s not what Hendery wants or needs right now. 

“I’m sorry, Father.” Hendery ducks his head lower in apology. “I allowed myself to get distracted. I’ll come by this office this afternoon.”

His father nods and then turns and leaves the room. The door of the suite slams shut behind him, and as soon as it does, Hendery slumps back into the pillows. 

“Hendery....”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “Don’t.” 

You wish you could leave it. Hendery clearly doesn’t want to talk about what just happened. But you do. 

“Why do you let him walk all over you like that? If you don’t want to follow him in the business then don’t.” You crinkle the bedsheets up between your fingers. “Follow music. Or something else you’re passionate about. Don’t make yourself miserable to make your father or anyone else happy.”

Hendery groans and rolls away, rising out of bed so he can pace. You watch him like this, admiring his body in the clear light streaming through the windows. He rakes his fingers through his hair. “You don’t understand what it’s like. The business is my future. It always has been, and my father makes sure that it always will be.”

You frown and scoot to the edge of the bed to be closer to him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says as he comes to stand still in front of you, and continues, “that my father has always been the one controlling my life. He chose my friends. He chose my schooling and my teachers. He chose my first girlfriend. It was up to him to approve of anyone that I tried a relationship with, and it was my father who ruined the first real relationship I had, the only time I’ve ever fallen in love.”

You wait, knowing he’ll elaborate if he wants to.

Hendery continues without you having to prompt him for more. “The autumn I turned eighteen, I fell in love with a girl a year older than me. Father had called her in to tutor me in economics, but I was already kinda, I guess, what everyone calls me. A playboy, fuckboy, manwhore. All of the above.” He pushes his fingers nervously through his hair again, squinting as he stares past you out the window into the bright sunlight. “Anyway, I managed to seduce her, so lessons were less likely to be about economics and much more about anatomy. But then it turned slowly from sex and pretending that we were learning economics, to me actually taking her out on dates, and I fell in love with her and she, like you, tried to convince me that I didn’t need my father or the business. She didn’t know about my music, but she tried showing me different career paths. And then one day while she was meant to be tutoring me, Father walked in and found us together and a little bit more digging revealed what she’d been telling me, trying to convince me to do. And then she broke up with me, which was devastating in itself, but then Father told me that he’d paid her to leave me. Just one check from him was enough to eliminate everything between us. And then, to top it all off, a few weeks later she was back, actually tutoring me, and then she became my latest, newest model of a stepmother. She lived it up rich for a few months until Father grew tired of her.”

“I still don’t understand why that means that you have to do something that you’re so dispassionate about?” You ask. 

Hendery sinks down to his knees, and you watch as he lays his head on your lap. “Because. He’ll find a way to ruin anything good I try to make for myself outside of what he wants.” He takes your hand and brings it to the back of his head, so you begin stroking his hair. “It hasn’t really mattered in a long time. Not since her. He didn’t care if I was fucking around, if I was jetting off to parties on the other side of the world as long as he knows there are other wealthy people there to make connections with. He doesn’t care as long as whatever I do will profit him in the end. And it didn't matter because up until a few weeks ago, I didn’t have anything for him to ruin because there was nothing I loved enough for it to matter. But then I met you.”

You pause, your fingers going still in his hair, your breath catching in your throat. 

Hendery, the once cold and indifferent playboy you’d let fuck you in the bathroom for a fun night, now tilts his head in your lap and looks up at you so softly, his gaze tender and warm on your face. 

“I love you,” Hendery tells you in a voice so quiet and small that it could almost get lost in this room. “Please don’t leave me.”

You can’t help the noise you make. One of alarm and sadness and reassurance and love and need. You curl your fingers against whatever part of Hendery you can touch, and you pull him up. He climbs back into the bed, over you, covering your body with his, and then his mouth is smooth and sweet on yours. 

“I love you,” you tell him too, feeling the truth of it swelling, burning and beating in your chest. 

And Hendery repeats, “Don’t leave me.”

You know there’s such a depth behind those words. Now, it’s more than just a lonely boy who doesn’t want to sleep alone. More than a lonely boy who sees someone who finally listens and sees him too for who he really is beneath his facade. Now, you hear the plea of a broken-hearted boy who has had the love bought and sold from right between his fingertips. 

You hold his face in your hands. “Never,” you promise, and seal it with a kiss.

Hendery’s money is the last thing on your mind. You don’t care one bit for it. You like going on cheap dates with him to the movies on a Tuesday afternoon when it’s cheapest, even if the movies showing are only the bad ones. You amuse yourself by taking him with you on public transportation, both of you leaning together and making up stories about the other passengers; some of them are so funny that you both burst into laughter, drawing odd looks from everyone around you. You enjoy lazing about in the garden of his home, sunbathing beside the pond, or sitting beside the pool while you write your latest entertainment story, Hendery swimming laps and singing up at the sky, his voice echoing off the side of the hostage and the trees and hedges on the property. 

His father doesn’t like you, and all three of you know that. 

He doesn’t hide it. 

When you sneak down from Hendery’s bedroom at midnight to steal a snack from the refrigerator, and his father is just concluding a video call, and you bump into him as he comes out of his office, he just scowls at you. When you and Hendery are sitting at the pool with Kun and Xuxi and Dejun, laughing and filming Hendery for a music video for the song he and Kun have put together (with a little vocal assist from Dejun), his father nearly explodes. And while you and the other three boys flee back to the safety of the music room, you can hear Hendery’s father shouting about how music isn’t a viable career choice, that it’s useless. 

Hours later, Hendery fucks you until you’re both numb from the intensity of multiple orgasms, and he wraps himself so tightly around you, that you’re not sure the knots of his fingers with yours will ever untangle. 

And finally, after months, when Kun and Hendery have compiled a few songs, Kun wants to release the music as an EP. 

Naturally, you encourage him to go for it. 

And word of it gets back to his father. 

Hendery’s just left your apartment one morning, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, and you’ve just sat down to work on your latest story—an exclusive interview you’d snagged with the lead actors of an upcoming film that was slated to be a big hit at international film festivals. There’s a knock on your door, and at the same time as you hear it, you spot Hendery’s wallet left behind in the mess on your coffee table. 

You grab it up and spring toward the door. 

But when you open the door, it’s not Hendery standing on the other side. 

“Mr. Huang?” You stare in confusion at Hendery’s father, looking so out-of-place on your doorstep. “Can I help you?”

“May I come in?” He asks, but he’s already stepping inside. 

He enters your apartment and looks around with such a judgmental eye that you almost just walk out your door to avoid whatever harsh words are surely about to come out of his mouth. But you stick firmly to your spot, letting the door swing shut as you stare at him. 

He turns to face you after he’s had his fill of your apartment. “Mr. Y/L/N, I don’t know what your parents taught you about respecting them, but I have always demanded absolute respect from my son. Guanheng has always been a distracted boy, easily caught up in things, finding himself miles away from where he needs to be. But he’s always respected me and the wishes I have for his path in life. I have done my best to keep him on the straight and narrow, but clearly, there are times when he doesn’t heed my guidance.” He looks pointedly at you. “Right now, he is straying from the path, and it’s my duty to make sure he returns and won’t stray again. You understand?”

Yes, you understand what he’s saying. But no, you don’t agree with it. 

“Mr. Y/L/N, it has come to my attention that you have been encouraging my son to pursue music, which is a fickle industry and not worthy of his time. It’s simply not a good path for him. That friend of his, Mr. Qian, his father has ties in the industry that gave him a great leg up when he began. Mr. Qian has a talented ear, and he lives up to the standards that his father set for him. But those same standards fall far below what I expect of Guanheng, you understand? Guanheng already has his path laid out before him, nice and safe and smooth from his birth until his death. Following me into the business means he’ll never have to worry about a thing.”

On some level you know that, but does a safe, boring life have to take precedence over an uncertain, yet passionate life? 

Hendery’s father looks you straight in the eye and says, “This dangerous path you’re leading him on is unacceptable. I am willing to give you ten million dollars if you will drop this subject and leave my son alone. Ten million, all yours, to just stay out of my son’s life and stop ruining it.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. “Are you kidding? You think I am the one ruining his life by encouraging him, showing him positivity and love, showing an interest in the things that he enjoys, rather than just squashing them out of him until his life is flat and dull and lonely? Sir, I mean no disrespect when I say this, but you are the one ruining his life.” You take a step back, open the door of your apartment, and gesture out of it. “I love your son. Completely. No amount of money or bribery you can offer will convince me to break his heart. Please leave.”

You don’t wait to watch him go. You walk away from the door and back over to where you left your phone. You immediately pick it up and call Hendery. You tell him about what just happened, not to start any shit between him and his father, but just because you feel that being open and honest about what just happened is crucial. You want him to know that you will never leave him, that you don’t want to leave him.

The warmth of summer is finally sticking, penetrating even the house, and you and Hendery hang outside, floating on your backs in the pool or seeking the coolest patch of shade in the garden. 

He’s stretched out on his back in a shady patch of grass as you look down into the koi fish pond nearby. You hear a splash and when you look over you see a little frog. He squirms when you pick him up, but then he sits in your palm, a soft damp little body, quivering in your palm. You walk towards Hendery to show him, but as soon as you call his name and are within a few feet of him, Hendery swears and scrambles away. 

“What are you doing with that? Oh my god! Put it back!” He runs as far away as he can while he can still see you to make sure that you walk back to the pond and leave the frog there. 

“I’m sorry!” You laugh. “I didn’t know you were scared of frogs.” You wipe your hands off on your shorts and settle down in the shade, beckoning him over to join you. He comes over cautiously, as if he thinks you’re going to pull another frog out of nowhere. “Hendery, I’m sorry.”

He makes a face at you and finally does come closer, sitting with his legs folded in front of him, and you take that opportunity to lay your head in his lap. 

“What else are you afraid of?” You ask. “Or is it just frogs?”

“Toads, too. And heights. Sometimes the dark, but only really pitch black dark, like in a cave or somewhere with zero light penetration.” He shivers. “And you know, also, being lonely. Losing you.”

You make a face up at him. “Cheesy.” You grab his hand, holding it over your heart. “But same. I’m scared of losing you. I’m scared of the dark, needles, and this one ridiculous scary story a friend told me when I was a kid.” You shudder just remembering the story, unable to even bring yourself to put it to words. “But we’ve got each other, right? I’ll keep you safe from frogs, and you can keep me safe from needles. But we’ll both have to do something about the dark.”

You’re still laying like that in the grass when afternoon begins to sink towards evening, the sun turning the sky amber, the grass striped emerald and navy. The first early stars begin to peek through. 

And that’s when Hendery’s father strolls out into the garden. He’s on his phone, so he doesn’t seem to notice either of you at first, but Hendery stiffens. 

“Have you spoken to him yet?” You ask. Hendery was so angry that day when you called to tell him about the bribe his father had offered you to leave him. You were so sure that a nasty argument was going to ensue, but Hendery hadn’t said anything to you about it yet.

“No, I’ve been too angry.” Hendery’s fingers clench, flexing against your chest. “And he’s been away. Plus I’m a little bit scared.”

You lay your hand reassuringly over his. “Don’t be afraid. You can’t let him control your life.”

Hendery nods, and you watch his face as a look of pure determination and strong will takes over. He taps your shoulder, and you sit up so he’s free to get to his feet. 

You watch Hendery strut across the garden and come up to his father who is still on the phone. You hear him say, “Father.” The older man holds up a finger, not even sparing Hendery a glance. Hendery looks back at you, then takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and he faces his father again. “Father, I’m marrying Y/N and we’re moving to America.”

Both are outright lies, but they send a thrill through you all the same. You imagine marrying Hendery in a small, formal ceremony. Owning a home together, moving somewhere new together, or just traveling the world together and experiencing all the great places there are to see.

The fantasy fades as you realize that his words caught his father’s attention too. 

“I’ll call you back,” he says into his phone, and then all of his attention is on his son. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

You watch as Hendery tenses his shoulders, clenches his fists tightly at his sides, and tells his father, “I’m marrying him because I love him, and I’m never going to be alone again because of something you’ve done.” 

His father looks from Hendery to you, and then back at Hendery. “Do you think you’re really going to be happy like that? Married to a mediocre reporter? And what if I cut you off?”

“I’d rather be poor and happy than always second-guessing the motives of people who get close to me.” Hendery spits back. “At least I know he won’t betray me for money, not ten million dollars, not a billion, not for all the stars in the sky. I just want to be happy, Father. He supports me, from the day we met, he’s supported me in pursuing music. I love making music. Kun and I have been working together to produce some stuff, and I want to release it. If it flops, then it flops, and I’ll just continue making music for me and anyone who wants it. If it’s successful, then that’s even better. But I just want to try to be happy, and you’ve made it clear time and again that that is not something you want for me.”

You can hear cars passing by on the road outside the property. Birds singing in the trees. But in the air between father and son, it is entirely silent for a few long seconds. 

It feels like a private moment, something that you shouldn’t really be seeing even though for the past few months, it’s felt like everything has been building toward this moment. You want to look away, yet even when you do turn to look down at your hands, you can still hear them. 

You hear Hendery’s father clear his throat and say a quiet, “Well.” Then it’s silent for another little while before he gathers together the words to say. “I do want you to be happy, Guanheng. I want you to be secure and happy, and that is always why I’ve pushed you toward this future I had planned. A nice stable future where you would never have to worry about anything, where you can be happy. Music is a hobby, not a job. And you fall in love with people who try to tell you that it’s a viable life choice, but it’s not, Guanheng. I’m just trying to protect you. Is following my footsteps into the business such an appalling thing? So horrible to you, so unsettling and disheartening, that you would leave me and disown me as your father?”

It sounds a bit like a guilt trip, in your opinion, but you keep your eyes on your hands, your mouth closed. 

“You’re an adult, and maybe it’s time I let you make your own decisions, your own mistakes to learn from.” He clears his throat again. “I do want you to be happy. Maybe I don’t show it in the proper ways, but I mean it.”

You lift your head then, just checking on them. And as you look, you catch his father’s eye. 

He’s still looking at you as he says, “Release your music, Guanheng. Marry your boyfriend. But I don’t want you to give up on the company. If music falls through, you’re taking a job in the company, and that’s the last I’ll hear of it. Be happy, but be secure in your future too.”

Hendery relaxes. Those tense knots in his body all loosen at once. “Thank you.”

And then you watch as his father claps a hand down on Hendery’s shoulder, then draws him in for a hug. 

“Your mother always loved music too.” The words are spoken quietly, intended only for Hendery, but the garden is so silent you can’t help but overhear. “I guess you got that from her.” 

He pulls out of the hug abruptly and walks back inside, leaving Hendery frozen in his spot. You push up to your feet and go to join him, wrapping your arms around him. 

“He never talks about my mother.” Hendery tells you. “And he said yes? Are we sure that’s my father?” 

You smile and kiss his cheek. “Are you happy?”

“Beyond. I should call Kun, tell him to go ahead.” He reaches for his phone, and as he scrolls through it for Kun’s contact, he looks up to meet your eyes. “And I wasn’t lying, you know. I do believe I want to marry you.”

“I want that too.” 

And after Hendery calls Kun, after they celebrate and excitedly talk over the phone for like an hour and a half while the nighttime settles around you. After it all, it’s just you and Hendery, stretched out together in the now mild summer night, looking up at the stars. 

“Remember that first night?” Hendery asks you. “Do you remember the stories I told you?” 

You look up at the constellations visible overhead, all those tiny stars millions of lightyears away, the patterns that they make from your viewpoint down here. “I remember. I remember the look on your face as you told the stories to me, the way that you looked up at the stars, like all you wanted was to be part of something great like them.”

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah. You were just telling me how lonely you were, and you looked at the stars like you were jealous that they were never lonely, that they’re a part of a constellation, of a story.” You roll up onto your elbows so you can look down at Hendery. “You know, you’ve never really been alone? I’ve watched you, Hendery, the way that you are with your friends. The seven of you make a constellation of your own, and they’re all drawn into the gravity of you. Just like me. Caught in your orbit.” 

“Are you saying I’m a star?” Hendery laughs. Then he teases, “You gonna make a wish on me?”

Leaning down to kiss him, you stop just a breath away from his lips. “Oh, Hendery, I’ve already made countless wishes on you, and I’m pretty sure they’re all coming true.”

And when Hendery lifts his head from the grass so his lips meet yours, that kiss feels like a new wish, burning bright in the sky.

a/n: okay this took me a little longer than it was meant to. I originally started out making this a drabble in response to this message: Aksdhgfdj Hendery the “rich playboy who would definitely treat you right for a few nights” I would like to say I’m here for IT! which was in response to what I said about how Hendery looked during this periscope he did with Xiaojun, like black on black is truly a god-tier look for Hendery (this is only made truer after I saw him during the Wayv Beyond Live concert like oh my god I was dying of thirst)

Anyway, as usual, thank you if you read all this mess. I’m pretty sure there are a few spots that are a little messy, but if you read it all, I still really really appreciate it 💗 comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated thank you!! 💗💗💗

[yeojaa]

someone’s someone, i.

read part two!  inspired by today’s weverse post (because omg???) and set in the angels & airwaves universe because these idiots are so special to me.  a second part to this drabble will be forthcoming and it’ll be...  even cuter?  idk.  

pairing.  jjk x (named) f!reader.  rating.  general.  tags.  nothing inappropriate.  just a lot of sweetness and silliness.  wc.  1.1k.

JINNY’S APARTMENT Saturday, December 3, 2020.  12 AM. 

 You’re laughing at him.  He’s really not sure why - only knows that you are from across the room with a towel wrapped snug around your body and your phone in your hand. 

“W-what’s so funny?”  The words round on their way out, tripping over themselves with the appearance of his occasional stutter.  After a long day, he’s more tired than he expects.  Less refined and more loosely-limbed - your favourite version of him.  

(You remind him of it constantly, passing reassurances he never really realizes he needs.)

With your dark hair in a loose twist at your neck and your feet bare, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look more beautiful.  That is, until he’s on the receiving end of that stupid blinding smile of yours, singular dimple drawing his own forth.  His favourite version of you.

You’re like mirror images - lovesick idiots who can’t take their eyes off each other. 

“Taking selfies in my bed?  Really?”

Jungkook blinks, gapes, tries to formulate an appropriate response.  He settles for honesty, long fingers sweeping through his grown out fringe to push the strands behind his silver-lined ear.  “You have good lighting.”

You laugh again - he never gets sick of it - and he watches as you cross to your closet, tossing your phone at him along the way.  You’ve got terrible aim somehow, despite the many hours you log on the first-person shooter you both love.  The glossy black iPhone narrowly misses his face, bouncing off the padded headboard and onto your side of the bed. 

“You look cute when you’re in selfie mode.”  It’s full of teasing yet wrapped up nicely and topped with a big red bow.  

His face stares back at him from your screen.  

“Okay, creep!”  He doesn’t mean it and you don’t really care, though he gasps like he does and you throw a pair of bacon and egg patterned socks at him. 

“You can take selfies but I can’t take photos of you taking selfies?”

It’s like the last brain cell shared between the two of you has gone out the proverbial window, thrown from the room by the ridiculous nature of your conversation.  Neither of you mind.  This is how you were - had been for the last year. 

He wouldn’t trade it for a single thing. 

“Are you sure you don’t secretly work for Dis—”  The ceiling is an understanding audience member, meeting his stare until he swivels it to you - and nearly forgets what he was saying. 

It’s hard for him to form any sort of articulate thought when his girlfriend’s standing six feet away wearing only his favourite pair of underwear:  high-cut plain black cotton.  Simple and yet so perfect. 

“Work for who?”  You echo, turning to him with an inquisitive raise of your brow and a smile that reads wicked. 

“Huh?”  It’s not uncommon that you reduce him to single syllables.  It’s the byproduct of being stupidly head over heels in love, probably. 

“Who do I work for, JK?”

“Me?”  Now he’s just spewing nonsense, answering before he’s even given proper thought to the question.  An overeager puppy who only knows treats come from sitting so he does it often and without thought. 

Wait, did that make him Pavlov’s dog? 

“I work for you?” 

You’re a striking figure, dressed in spirals of ink and the sweetest smile.  His heart skips a beat - a little one-two tap - when you draw close enough for him to reach for you.

“You could.”  Truthfully, he doesn’t even know what he’s saying right now.  Just feels the need to speak, to coax you closer whether by words or hands or any other method under the sun. 

“I’m good,”  you return with sugar on your tongue and hearts in your eyes. 

“Okay,”  he answers, probably a little dumbly.  He’s suddenly far too interested in how you feel in his arms, your knees slotting wide on either side of his hips.  You’re terribly soft and still shower-warm, radiating heat all the way through his black tee shirt and worn grey sweats.  Broad palms traverse the shape of your bare waist before settling into their preferred spot with fingers interlaced.  He holds you easily, comfortably, like he wouldn’t rather be anywhere in the world. 

You unfurl your hands from around his shoulders, simultaneously pushing him back and seizing his discarded phone from beside yours.  “Let me take one.”

“Take one?”

The exasperation is exaggerated, fitted into the conversation by a gentle palm against his chest.  His heart beats steadily beneath your palm - in sync with yours in a way that makes you bubble with pride.  “A photo!” 

“Okay,”  he relents easily, sinking into the pillow that cradles his head.  He peers up at you with those big doe eyes of his, galaxies caught in the unnerving darkness of his pupils and the pretty depths of his irises.  He’s so utterly handsome you can’t help but take a few long moments to appreciate the angle of his nose, how the freckle right beneath his soft bottom lip winks up at you when he speaks.  The attention isn’t anything new but it’s a little unnerving;  a shadow of shyness passes, drowning out the sun in his smile.  “What?”

“I love you.”  It’s not the first time you’ve said it, nor is it the last (he hopes).  Jungkook still folds it up and tucks it into the space behind his ribs for safekeeping. 

“I love you, too.”  He’s grinning when he says it and you snap the photo simultaneously, catching him off guard with a proud smirk.  He’s heartbreakingly adorable, bunny-smiling and relaxed against the frame of grey sheets.  You hum a noise of approval, shifting above him;  his thumbs rub soothing circles over your hip bones as he waits patiently. 

“You look good.”  

“Post it.” 

“Post it?” 

“Did I stutter?”

You have half the mind to remind him how bad it sometimes gets, but you don’t.  “You post it.”

The phone is back in his hands, digits tapping over the surface as he does exactly that.  “There.”  It comes with a great flourish - posted to Weverse with a line of purple hearts.  “Lazy bones,”  he grumbles, shooting you a look as he drops his phone and takes up something far more important in his hands - namely, your face, so he can kiss you all over your cheeks. 

He does it sweetly, repeatedly, until you’re swatting at his wrists and demanding he stop.  He only does because his phone starts blowing up, a barrage of notifications lighting up the screen.

If only either of you had noticed the purple in the posted photo, tips of your fingers just barely peeking into the frame. 

His eyes meet yours - wide and alarmed and somehow, filled with amusement. 

The same word in two voices and then all at once, colliding laughter.  “Oops?”

[notepadsandtealeaves]

Tim Drake x GN!Reader in: Old Peeps Roasting on an Open Fire~

12 Days of Batmas || Day 2—Cuddling by the Fire

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT || 18+ ONLY ||

↞ previous: you’re the reason why (we can’t have nice things) || playing in the snow

|| ao3 version | 12 days m.list | batboys tag | main blog ||

|| dames day 2 | dick day 2 | jay day 2 ||

“Old peeps roasting on an open fire, Timmy-boy screaming ‘Oh god nooooo~!’”

You probably won’t need the fire extinguisher this time. Probably.

↠ Requested By: Not a soul lol ↠ Reader Gender: Neutral ↠ Content Type: SFW fluff ((but my blog’s 18+ if minors want to consume my sfw stuff while still respecting my wishes of them staying out of this space, they can head over to my AO3)) ↠ CWs: There’s some implied intimacy in the ficlet. Nothing too racy, but you definitely can tell where things are heading lol… ↠ Betas? Nah, we don’t do that here. ↠ Total WC: 2.7k~

Headcanon || WC: 1.6k~

🌟 Tim is one of those people who doesn’t realize how touch starved he is until you’re nearby.

You don’t have to be actively be touching him or close enough to do so, hell you don’t even have to be in the same building. It’s like once he knows he’s gonna see you his skin is set aflame, his nerve endings flayed.

I know that sounds unpleasant, and it kinda is low-key, but he’s learned to love the burn.

His not getting to see you as often as either of you would like only compounds things so that by the time you’re actually slated to see each other he’s half insane with his desire to hold you.

🌟 If you’re a friend that has turned into more things are even worse lol.

Once he acknowledged his attraction to you dude spent so much energy on making sure that he never touched you in a way that could ever be mistaken for inappropriate.

Unfortunately this p. much led to him barely touching you at all for a long while as he just couldn’t for the life of him get his shit together.

It was a bit jarring for you both because despite the fact that he was never the overly feely type, casual touches had never posed any problems prior to his revelation. Needless to say things got weird/awkward quick, which, yanno, was the exact opposite of what he wanted lol.

Once he saw how the change was negatively affecting your relationship he pulled himself out of his head enough to start (mostly) functioning like a normal human being in your presence again.

🌟 Once you finally got together it was a complete 180 from your platonic days. Casual touches all day, errday.

And hugs.

So many damn hugs—from the front, the back, the side, from above, below, whatever. Any configuration that allowed him to wrap you up in his arms he would gladly take. He spent so much time denying himself, so you best believe that he’s gonna indulge now that he can (*insert obligatory—‘Only if you’re okay with it!!’—here*).

It was so damn cute to witness, but like grossly so. Catch Connor, Dames, and Jay making gagging noises whenever they caught you two being all lovey-dovey (it’s one of the few things this trio could ever come into agreement over lmao).

On the opposite end of the spectrum is Dick who is living for this do you hear me?? He’s been shipping the pair of you from jump, and he’s just so glad to see that his babies now know happiness—he’s not cryi– okay he’s totally crying, but that’s okay because he still cute and so are y’all…

🌟 Anyways!

🌟 Because of this all of your dates inevitably turn into cuddle sessions (which do oftentimes lead to more as he’s not at all shy about acting on his wants—again, providing you’re on the same page).

Are you complaining? Idk man, I don’t know your life like that, but I would think that you aren’t because this man has cuddling down to a science. He knows just how to position you both so that you’re always comfortable.

Limbs rarely grow numb and somehow you’re always able to see whatever screen you’re watching without straining yourself—it’s witchcraft, you just know it is.

He also always has the best snacks on deck. Lbr—homie would eat like a trash panda 24/7 if he could (hell, he kinda still does tbh).

He does have a diet that he mostly sticks to and an exercise regimen from hell, both of which he uses to justify the less-than-healthy dining habits. But dude’s such a hypocrite because he won’t let you eat yourself silly.

He’s not the type to control your diet or anything, you’re a grown ass adult, but he’s also not gonna just sit there and watch you give yourself a tummyache either, ya know? ‘Everything in moderation’, that’s what he always says—that and ‘Do as I say, not as I do’ lol.

🌟 As you progress in your relationship that near manic edge that had colored your early interactions is tempered, though he’s still big on skinship.

He always likes to be in some sort of physical contact with you if it’s at all possible. You don’t have to be laying on top of one another (though he’ll never complain if you do indeed want to use him as a body pillow), he revels in the slight brush of arms that are busy working at your respective tasks while you sit together, the press of your shoulder blades against his as you sit back to back reading, the hooking of ankles around one another as you share a meal…

🌟 As I said in a fic of mine, quality time is the most prominent of his love languages. I know that seems to go against what I’ve been saying thus far, but follow me around the room with this.

As precious as touch is to him, it’s time that he’s most obsessed with. It always seems to get away from him, and as of yet there’s no way for him to get it back or make more of it.

Time with you is even more fleeting, or at least that’s the way it seems. When he’s holding you his need for touch is sated, but how long will it last? When will he be pulled from your arms indefinitely—or god forbid, you be taken away from him somehow?

He’ll always fight to keep you both safe, but he knows he’s not infallible. So whether you grow old and gray together or he falls victim to Gotham tomorrow he’s gonna make sure that whatever time he has to give freely is offered up to you.

🌟 On top of all of that, Tim’s a v. busy guy, one that’s always having more things shoved onto his plate (if he doesn’t serve himself) than what he can feasibly get done with the hours allotted to him.

Somehow he always makes things work, but this usually means that he has to sacrifice in other areas. Because of this a lot of his previous relationships—both romantic and platonic—oftentimes suffered to the point of ending.

You’re one of the first people that has been able to put up with the madness that is his life for any extended amount of time.

🌟 Like the rest of Bruce’s misfit toys he has abandonment issues, so he figures it’s only a matter of time before his absences outweighs any charms you perceive him to have.

Though he refuses to ever think too long on you ever coming to harm, your leaving him is something he can picture with stunning clarity. In his mind it’s an inevitability, a set event that can only be delayed for so long.

He’s selfish enough to hold on to you until then, even though he knows you’d both be better off if he pushed you away sooner; the longer you’re together the more feelings there will be to get hurt.

He’s pretty sure this makes him some sort of emotional masochist, but whatever. He’s cool with it (he’s really not someone help this man).

🌟 You eventually get through to him, the specifics of which are a HC for another day.

Suffice it to say it involves you just being there—staying when others would leave, extending understanding and grace when he feels he doesn’t deserve any.

Above all else Tim both needs and craves some sort of stability and you give him that.

This’ll sometimes leave you at a deficit, but no one ever said that loving a Bat was an easy task. Your relationship will never be completely normal and you’ll have to make concessions that others with a more conventional partner would never even have to consider.

The good thing is that Tim, just like all his brothers, will always meet you halfway whenever he can, and if he can go the full hundred percent or beyond you know he will.

🌟 Anyways!

🌟 Because of how much he loves touching you, the colder it gets the happier he becomes.

A dip in the temperature provides him with the perfect excuse to keep you close while you’re out and about—he can’t have his little lovebird getting cold, now can he?

Expect lots of adjustments to your clothes and outwear. It’s one of the subtler ways that his love manifests itself; he wants to take care of you always, and if that means he’s gotta pull up your scarf every five minutes because it won’t stop slipping down then dammit that’s what he’s gonna do.

And if you turn that shit around on him?

DED.

His soul has left his body and his heart feels like it’s gonna pound straight through his ribcage and out of his body. Omg you’re so damn soft for him and he’s so soft for you! What the frick?!! Why are you so cute and amazing and ahhhHHhhHhhh~

…Yeah, his brain turns straight to mush, but like mush that’s running a mile a minute lmao

🌟 Being the homebody that he is means lots of nights spent in year round, but the low temperatures give the prospect even more appeal, to him at least.

If you like being out in the cold he’ll certainly oblige you, he’s pretty neutral when it comes to weather in general so long as it’s not too extreme and he doesn’t have to patrol in it).

Getting cozy with you under some blankets with a grip of snacks and something good to binge? Hells yeah. Chef kisses all around because that’s some prime date night material right there—hell, that’s the peak of existence tbh.

You wanna swap out the show/movie for a fireplace and just talk/chill/whatever? He’s down for that too! Your being together is the most important part of the equation, everything else are just rad ass bonuses.

🌟 So imagine, if you will…

Old Peeps Roasting on an Open Fire~ || WC: ~1.1k

“Old peeps roasting on an open fire, Timmy-boy screaming ‘Oh god nooooo~!’”

“Seriously babe, you too?” Tim sighs from across the room. He’s been prodding at the hearth’s glowing logs for the better part of several minutes in an attempt to make sure the fire won’t go out once it’s left to its own devices.

You reply comes in the form of a cheeky grin that morphs into a few air kisses. Though you can barely be seen with the way you’ve burritoed yourself in blankets, you know he can hear the exaggerated smacking of your lips.

For his part the man just snorts out a laugh, rolling his eyes as he turns his full attention back to the budding fire. “I’m never gonna live that one down, huh?”

“Probably not, no,” you agree, laughing a bit, “but I mean I played my own dumbass part so…”

It had been a nuanced combination of boredom, a several month old box of Peeps, ‘Why the fuck not?’-levels of curiosity, and some good ol’ fashioned crackhead energy that had led to the unfortunate event in question.

Roasting the little sugar-covered marshmallows shouldn’t have been any more precarious than roasting one without the added layer of sweetness, but then Tim had let his skewer get just a little too close to the flame. The resulting fire probably wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t tried to put it out by shaking the stick instead of blowing on it like a normal person. The confection’s center was gooey enough that it dislodged itself, flying far and fast thanks to the intensity of Tim’s waving, and landing in Connor’s open backpack. From there things only got worse as the Kryptonian had a roll of tissue as well as some other extremely flammable items in there and well…

The resulting fireball was a pretty shade of red at least.

In trying to make things better you’d only managed to make them worse as the blanket you threw over the flames was an acrylic blend that caught fire itself almost instantly. In the end Connor ‘It’s my turn with the singular brain cell we all apparently share’ Kent was the one to put out the blaze, though not before a tree (or several… and a sizeable patch of grass… and Con’s sleeping bag… and the stuff for the s’mores that was sitting on top of said sleeping bag… and half of the tent…) got scorched.

That had happened when you were all in your early teens, and had resulted in the lot of you being banned from camping without ‘proper supervision’ pretty much indefinitely. Even now, with you all being grown ass adults, the others like to teasingly threaten to come along whenever any of you mention spending any time in the great outdoors. So it had hardly come as a surprise that they’d all started it back up when you and Tim said you’d be spending the weekend up at the family cabin–

The cabin that is out on the lake, which is very much in the middle of the woods, which are very much flammable, and—“You two sure you don’t want to take Connor along? Ya know, just in case?”

Memes abounded, roastings were had, but what really took the cake was Bruce’s contribution. His text was succinct, only being long enough to tell you where all the fire extinguishers were, but really that was enough. In response the pair of you had sent him a picture once you’d gotten settled in.

It was a parody of one of those old school family photos from back in the day, with you sitting in a chair, fire extinguisher cradled in your arms like a newborn babe and Tim standing behind you tall and proud. You both have your best ‘It’s picture day and mama said these shits better look good or that’s my ass’ smiles on as you stare at some unseen point off to the side. He had left you on read for the better part of ten minutes before replying with ‘The three of you make for a beautiful family.’ It was as much an admission of amusement as the man ever gave, and so you counted it as a victory.

In the now your metal child sits beside the coffee table, well within reach should you for some reason need it—not that you anticipate actually having to use it, mind, but better safe than sorry…

Once the blaze is properly stoked you man joins you on the sofa with a sigh. He wastes no time settling himself amongst the mass of blankets, pillows, and snacks that share the space with you. That this ends with you mostly draped across his wiry frame is unsurprising, if very much wanted—he likes to keep you close after all.

The show that you’ve been binging is resumed with a few taps at the laptop that’s balanced precariously on your legs. Yes, you could just as easily avail yourselves to one of the cabin’s many televisions, but there’s something about having to squint down at the smaller screen that makes both of your chests tighten. There’s a nostalgia to be found in it, one that takes you back to a simpler time—when you were both just two kids that were hellbent on denying their feelings but drawn together all the same

It reminds you of every not-a-date date, every stolen glance and lingering hug and that first awkward press of lips against wind chapped lips…

“God, I love you so much.”

“You know I love you, right?”

Your declarations are spoken at nearly same time, a thing that leaves you both laughing as you verbally trip over each other for a few more sentences.

“Okay, wait, we gotta get this right,” you manage around a laugh. “On three, ‘kay? One, two, three–”

“I love you.”

The synchronicity displayed is only topped by the sincerity of the delivery.

You tilt your head back to look up at the man whom your heart beats for. The love that syrups behinds your eyes is reflected in kind, with so much purity and absolute truth it actually makes you ache. When he repeats the sentence it’s against your lips. He slurs it again over the breadth of your jaw, nipping and sucking until he can breathe it against the shell of your ear…

The show is soon forgotten, the laptop tucked away someplace safer, as you both find a much more pleasurable distraction in one another…

Up Next:

🌟 Day 3: mall madness || Getting Lost at the Mall

Tim’s more so of an online shopper. It’s fast, convenient, and he can buy things while he’s still thinking about it.

If he is at the point where he’s shopping in-store he’s probably panicking, to be honest lmao.

Well ‘panicking’ is too strong of a word. He knows what he’s going to get, he just has to go get it. Now. Because he needs it like yesterday and, well, I wouldn’t want to be the person standing between him and his prize is all I’m saying.

He’ll do the thing, but just don’t expect him to like it lol…

© notepadsandtealeaves, 2020 || Please do not repost, translate, or otherwise alter or distribute my works without my express permission. And for the love of god keep it away from Youtube and TikTok lol…

[obsidianfr3sk]

Rise of the Renegades (Chapter 1)

Summary:  Heroes come from the most unexpected places. Heroes sometimes feel a little too different, a little too scared, a little too alone. But heroes also know when enough is enough, and that before saving the world, they need to save themselves. And they cannot do it alone. 

They were going to be the hope of the world. They were going to call themselves the Renegades. Even if they didn't know it yet.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246812/chapters/63886654

I needed to posted this now or I would never do it:))) what did y’all say? “this bitch won’t write again”???? surprise!!! sucks to be you, rules to be me (?)

for those who don’t know, this is a direct continuation from my other fic The Origins, so if you’re interested on this one, you should read the other first! But if your a freaking punk... then, welcome to my fic (?) it’s going to be all about the first year of the OG renegades as superheros, how they became friends, and that stuff. Maybe Ace will make an important appearance, idk, everything can happen. I hope you like it as much as you liked the last one c: 

Tag list: @nodrianbcyes @healing-winston-pratt @alecjamesartino @blueraspberry-official @novas-tunnel-of-anxiety @magykaldealings @jacihayle

The Lost Voice

Age of Anarchy

Year 10. Month 10

Kick me under the table all you want,

I won’t shut up.

Simon

It was quarter past eight when their father told Simon and Sophie dinner was served. His sister had her nose stuck in a gothic novel that used language too complex for an eight-year-old girl to understand, and his father sipped his dark coffee, looking through yesterday's newspaper. Simon pretended to be reading the first volume of The Scarlet Enchantress and the Phantom Feline for the eighth time, but really, he was completely absorbed in his thoughts.

He had never hated dinners at his house as much as he did at that moment.

The worst thing is that it had not always been this way. He was still able to remember the controversial topics Laura brought up at the table. “Dad, what do you think about what the mayor did today?” “Mom, did you hear about yesterday's protest?” “What are we going to do about Ace Anarchy?”

His mother almost always agreed with Laura's opinion. His father, on the other hand, made jokes that were inappropriate for the situation. Even his youngest sister participated, while in her mother's womb. Simon joked that when she was born, she would be as “loud and annoying” as Laura. His parents burst out laughing and Laura gave him a bad look.

“Don't call me loud and annoying, Simon,” his older sister scolded. “I am the only ray of light in the midst of anarchy.”

She may have been joking. But for him, she was a ray of light in his life.

All the light left their house along with them. Mom died giving birth to her third daughter after she started bleeding out and there was no time to get to a hospital. Laura said that she had never seen her father cry like that day. All he said was, “Gabriela, oh, Gabriela, my love, please wake up.”

She didn't wake up and he never laughed again.

Laura. His older sister was stocky, with curly hair and olive skin like his. She had a smile that could please even the saddest of hearts.

The light in the midst of anarchy.

What the hell had happened to Laura?

What the hell had happened to Simon?

But most of all, what the hell had happened to their dinners?

Not that he wasn't used to it. In fact, he was so used to dining in silence that when Hugh invited him over to his house for lunch, the fact that he and his aunt kept talking and asking him questions struck him as strange. 

So much light inhibited him.

He learned (a little the hard way) to appreciate silence.

However, now all he wanted was for someone to speak. Someone saying something to get him out of his thoughts for good. No matter what kind of conversation it was, Simon was willing to talk about the fucking weather as long as he didn't keep asking himself the same question over and over.

“But what if we did?”

Both of them. Beat Ace Anarchy.

Please.

And yes, it was ridiculous. Simon had even laughed and told Hugh to stop being an idiot, believing that the conversation would end there. But Hugh spent the rest of the afternoon talking about it, so convinced, so sure of his words, that Simon began to hear inside his head a voice that he thought he had lost a long time ago.

But what if you joked during dinner again?

But what if you gave your opinion when the teachers ask you to?

But what if you were the light in the middle of the anarchy?

He shot a glance at Sophie. She was the complete opposite of Simon (and Laura): Sophie had pale skin and straight hair, like their father. No one would have ever believed they were siblings if it weren't for the fact that they had the same dark eyes.

He wondered if she had that voice inside her head. Probably she did. She was a kid. Kids used to be more gullible about that kind of thing, right?

Perhaps it was a voice that you lost over the years.

Although he doubted Hugh had lost his voice. Simon would be jealous of him if it weren't for the fact that the voice was way too annoying.

He had to shut it up somehow.

Simon took a deep breath.

Then, for the first time in eight years, he spoke to his father during dinner.

“Dad, do you think I could defeat Ace Anarchy?”

His father stopped reading at that point. He looked up at him as if Simon were pointing a gun at him. Sophie kicked him under the table.

He knew it immediately. He shouldn't have done that.

“Give me that comic,” his father ordered.

Simon obeyed and handed it to his father. He started flipping through the pages frantically, looking for a single mention of Ace Anarchy in it, like he did with all the comics Simon brought home.

He didn't know how to feel about it. By this time in his life, John Westwood should know that Simon always read the same comics, which had been previously authorized by him. There was no “propaganda” in them. But, of course, it wasn’t like his father paid attention to him. (That, and that Simon never read the last volume in front of him, in which Ace Anarchy was the main villain. If his father saw it, he would go crazy.)

The man wouldn't even let him read superhero comics until a few years ago. Laura used to be a superhero fan, but when she died, his dad carried all her and his mother's things up to the little attic they had. His father wouldn't let him get close to them for any reason. He assured him that comics were full of dangerous propaganda, that they would put ideas into his head, and that they were boring and predictable stories anyway.

Although he believed him, he couldn't help picking up a copy of Wonder Man from a counter the first time he and Hugh broke into a store. Simon thought he was going to be happy. He knew how much his friend liked superheroes. However, it was the opposite of that. Hugh was very nervous and told him that they had to return it and apologize to the owner. But they couldn't return without having to confess their other crimes as well.

Simon could barely keep standing, and although Hugh didn't want to accept it, he couldn't continue for long either. Their families were also starving. 

They needed that food.

In the end, they decided to keep it. They read it that same afternoon, in Simon’s basement, while eating a pack of rancid cookies. For some reason beyond his understanding, Hugh told his aunt what they had done and she, instead of getting angry, told him that he would give him a little money every two weeks to buy a new comic.

“Now we can buy our own comics, Simon!” he exclaimed.

And that was great, but Simon couldn't help but wonder if perhaps Miss Everhart needed to improve her parenting methods.

Simon kept his hobby a secret, even when his father gave him an old copy of Wonder Man because he considered that “he was mature enough to read it”. Ironically, it was the same number that he had stolen years ago. He didn't have the heart to tell him he had already read it, and he didn't like it that much.

His father gave him back his comic with a sigh. “Where did you get the idea that you could beat Ace Anarchy?” he asked.

Sophie looked at him curiously. She kicked him under the table again, as if to say,  "Come on, tell us."

Of course, Simon wasn't going to tell his father that Hugh was the one who came up with the idea. He already didn’t like him. But he wasn't going to lie and say it was his idea, either.

“It was just— curiosity.” And he felt his body turn slightly translucent with embarrassment.

His father's expression softened. “What a peculiar curiosity you have, son.”

Simon just shrugged.

His sister's eyes gleamed peculiarly. Oh no.

“Dad,” Sophie called.

He kicked her under the table. Sophie didn't flinch and kicked him harder. It hurt Simon so much that he couldn't stop her before she asked, “How were things before anarchy?”

John tensed. And instinctively, Simon too.

Sophie was so young. She was the same age Simon was when Laura died. Back then, he didn't understand how things worked in that house, but now he did.

Linda Sophia, we don't talk about dead people in this house.

“We don't focus on the past, Sophie,” their father replied, squeezing the bridge of her nose affectionately, “it ruins our future—” he fixed his gaze on Simon— “because it distracts us from the present.”

Sophie pulled away, pretending to be upset about being treated like a little girl.

He wished he hadn't said anything. The first thing they said in eight years and it was stupid. He had completely ruined dinner.

Oh, but the voice was so loud. Simon was silent, but in his head, all he heard were screams of despair. There is no future, John! The past has ruined it! The present sucks! That is the problem!

Someone has to do something!

“Now go to sleep,” he ordered, picking up her plate. “Tomorrow is Monday and you have to go to school. Have nice dreams.”

“Dreams are for the weak.”

His father rolled his eyes and smiled at her. “Rest, vampire. You too, Simon.”

Sophie ran out of the dining room to the bathroom. Simon and she always fought about who was going to use it first when they were getting ready to sleep, but he didn't care at that moment. He had to do something first.

With translucent hands, he helped pick up the rest of the dishes. He put them in the sink and took the sponge to wash them. His father pushed him away without violence and whispered that he would take care of it.

That only made him feel worse.

“Sorry, Dad,” he whispered. “It was a dumb question.”

His father did not respond immediately. Every second of his silence was a second that the voice had to get louder and louder. There's no future! There's no future! There's no future!

“Don't worry, son,” he told him. “Seriously, no problem. Go to sleep.”

When he entered the room, his sister was under her covers on the top bunk, reading by flashlight and wearing a lacy nightgown that made her feel like “an evil queen”. She poked her head out from under the covers to see him enter and hissed at him. Was it a greeting? Was it a threat?

Who knows.

He got in his pajamas.

How did Sophie imagine the future?

There's no future! There's no future! There's no future!

On the wall, Simon had a picture of his mother sitting on a park bench, wearing a pink scarf. A five-year-old Laura was on her lap, eating a caramel apple with astonishing ferocity. He wished he had a more recent photo, but that was the only one he could save from when his father removed any remaining traces of his wife and daughter in the house.

How had they imagined the future?

He lay down on his bed and stared at the photo, feeling sleepy.

There's no future! There's no future! There's no future!

How did he envision the future?

It horrified him to realize that he had never asked himself that.

Someone has to do something!

Maybe someone should do something. But he knew that someone would not be Simon Westwood.

The voice insisted once more.

But what if you would?

[xbaebsae]

OTP Questions

Tagged by @f0xyboxes , @dieguzguz, @nightwingshero, @deputyrhiannonhale and @returnofthepd3 thanks for thinking of me sweethearts♥

(art by minilev)

Rheese Bennett & Jacob Seed (idk if anyone even reads these except me but under cut because long post)

DISAGREEMENTS

Who is more likely to raise their voice?  Jacob. Now don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t loose his cool all that easy but Rheese can be a pain sometimes and he lacks the patience.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?  Neither of them.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?  This is actually what Rheese does when they break up about three months before the game. He finally is too deluded by Joseph’s demands of him that she cannot get through to him anymore and keep him from hurting people. They have a pretty bad fight about him torturing people that ends with him actually slapping her with the intention of making her shut up because she wouldn’t stop arguing against him. She gives him one moment to apologize for that, but he doesn’t so she leaves :’)

Who trashes the house?  They frequently throw things at each other.

Do either of them get physical?  Depends on when. Jacob pushes her around sometimes or touches her pretty roughly when he suffers from the effects of his PTSD. No domestic violence though. They also land real blows in training fights, same level bad on both sides really.

It’s worse during the arrest when they aren’t together anymore. Jacob was pretty devastated when he realized she actually left for good (he interpreted ‘i am leaving’ as her going home). It resulted in a lot of self blame (justified) which his family couldn’t really deal with. Joseph convinced him in the end that she was just another test he had to overcome in his life to find his correct path. So, he pretty much behaves just like he does in-game. She doesn’t get special treatment, she gets starved and thrown into murder trials like everyone else.

How often do they argue/disagree?  Pretty often. In the beginning it’s all they do, until they realize that having normal conversations every once in a while isn’t so bad actually.

Who is the first to apologize?  Apologies are for the weak :)

SEX

Who is on top?  Jacob

Who is on the bottom? Rheese (though she won’t admit it if you asked her)

Who has the strangest desires?  It’s nothing very strange tbh (at least not by my definition of strange... god i’ve seen ... things on deviantart. Definetly none of that!)

Any kinks?  Yeah, the perfect combo of wanting to feel powerless and wanting to feel in control. It complies with their character really. Rheese was forced to take care of herself ever since her teen years, which developed her into a pretty tough person. She likes the control she has over her life, and doesn’t let herself be pushed around by anyone. Feeling stripped of that control is however really exciting for her. Jacob’s kinda the other way around (imo anyway) in that he’s constantly following orders nevermind when or where, even within his own family (to not disappoint Joseph).

Who’s dominant in bed?  Jacob, Rheese only if he forces her to be :)

Is head ever in the equation?  Yes

If so, who is better at performing it?  Rheese. Slightly unfair though because she’s simply worse on the receiving end.

Ever had sex in public?  Yeah, much to her dismay.

Who moans the most?  Rheese

Who leaves the most marks?  Both do in different ways.

Who is the more experienced of the two?  Jacob

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?  Even the nastiest sex is ‘making love’ to them really. It’s frankly a form of talking to them because they both truly suck at verbal communication. Also, Rheese has the old fashioned rule in her life that she won’t sleep with people she isn’t sure about, so before actually being together they don’t have sex. Tho she’s close to breaking that rule multiple times.

Rough or soft?  Rough, sometimes foreplay is soft.

How long do they usually last?  Depends on time and mood. Also Rheese is a lot younger so she sometimes could go again when he can’t. However that doesn’t mean he gets the best of her sometimes :’)

Is protection used?  Yes on her side

Does it ever get boring?  No

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?  Some small cabin at the place they train Judges. It was kinky, they got caught and she prefers to just not talk about it ever again.

FAMILY

Do they plan on having children/or have children?  No, they never wanted to. Their daughter Jaina was an unwanted accident.

If so, how many children do they want/have?  They have 1 and that’s already more than they wanted.

AFFECTION

Who likes to cuddle?  Rheese

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?  Jacob usually. But sometimes she’s good at it as well.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?  Jacob, and it bothers her a lot in public. He doesn’t really care about what his people think of him, he knows he’s the boss so they can’t say shit. It’s also a way of just showing off that she belongs to him and that’s exactly why she doesn’t like it, cause she ain’t property. Also, people might believe she only became a Chosen trainer because she fucks the boss, which isn’t true because she got that position from someone other than Jake, based entirely on her performance.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?  Until Rheese falls into deep sleep and starts spreading her limbs everywhere uncontrolably.

Who gives the most kisses?  Jacob

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?  Honestly, just existing next to each other is enough. They are just as happy just sitting in the same room, doing their own tasks, as they are going out for a fishing trip (actually she hates fishing, but the lakes are nice).

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?  The bed

How often do they get time to themselves?  Usually evenings and nights. They would have more time together if Rheese didn’t value her alone time. Sometimes she prefers to spend her days off alone, going on a ride through the forests or just relaxing without anybody around. He doesn’t quite approve of that but she doesn’t let herself be locked up.

SLEEPING

Who snores?  None of them

If both do, who snores the loudest?  Nobody

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?  Share a bed when living together.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?  Usually fall asleep cuddling but where they end up is entirely up to chance.

What do they wear to bed?  Underwear usually. Though t-shirts along with that in the beginning.

Are either of them insomniacs?  Jake has trouble sleeping and often wakes up. Her presence helps him but she’s not a magic sleeping pill so the issue never fully disappears.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?  Nah

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?  Usually the first, when it’s too hot the latter.

Who wakes up with bed hair?  Both. Rheese loves his messy hair, especially after she bullied him enough into letting it grow a bit. He however calls her hay-head, because her hair gets all tangled up and poofy despite being tied into a braid.

Who wakes up first?  He does, good luck getting her outta bed before 10.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?  Nobody does, they aren’t romantic.

What is their favourite sleeping position?  Rheese digging her face in the space between his neck and shoulders while one leg and one arm hugs him and he has an arm around her.

Do they set an alarm each night?  When there’s work the next day.

Can a television be found in their bedroom?  No, though she sometimes uses his laptop to watch movies.

Who has nightmares?  Jacob has real ones, Rheese only the occasional bad dream we all get sometimes.

Who has ridiculous dreams?  She dreams demented shit sometimes, never talks about it though.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?  Rheese, she’s a restless sleeper. Got kicked out of the bed for it more than once.

Who makes the bed?  Neither of them. They don’t care about it being untidy.

What time is bed time?  Depends. Usually Rheese stays awake longer to finish watching movies.

Any routines/rituals before bed?  Nothing special, sometimes talking, sometimes a movie, sometimes sex, sometimes just hugging in silence.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?  Jake, esp when she talks too much in the morning.

WORK

Who is the busiest?  They both are pretty equally busy.

Who rakes in the highest income?  It doesn’t really matter to them. The cult pays food and since they don’t care much about materialism, they don’t need much money.

Are any of them unemployed?  They have their job in the cult. Rheese works as a deputy before and after her stay there. so no.

Who takes the most sick days?  Neither really take any unless they are really so sick they can’t move. It’s an unhealthy work ethic but they feel useless when just lying in bed all day.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?  Jake didn’t before, but he sometimes does because of her in the morning. Not that he really minds though, who’s gonna say anything against him?

Who sucks up to their boss?  Jacob in regards to Joseph, which Rheese thinks is very unhealthy. She doesn’t like how he lets himself be used so much and mostly blindly follows whatever his brother says. They have a lot of arguments about this and in the end it’s what ruins their relationship.

What are their jobs?  He’s head of security at Eden’s Gate. She’s a deputy, then pseudo joins the cult and works herself up to become a trainer of the Chosen, then she returns to her deputy position for the arrest.

Who stresses the most?  He does

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?  Police work wasn’t her passion. It was just a career she thought wouldn’t be boring. No noble motives and such. She only reprises her role as the deputy for the arrest because she falsely blames herself for everyone who’s been hurt by Jake’s hands after she left him. Her return is based on her trying to redeem herself. She had fun training Chosen, but she wouldn’t want to be part of any torture cult.

Jacob barely has any opinion on his work. He believes what he does is what needs to be done and he’s the best suited person for the job. You won’t find him complain, though he secretly just wants peace in his life. He hopes the cult’s actions will ultimately lead to that.

Are they financially stable?  They have enough.

HOME

Who does the washing?  Neither until one of them is fed up with the pile in the sink or the lack of clean plates in the shelf.

Who takes out the trash?  Usually Rheese is bothered by it first.

Who does the ironing?  They don’t

Who does the cooking?  She makes good pancakes. But other than that? Don’t allow her in the kitchen because she can’t cook for shit. He can cook a couple of things but is often simply too lazy to ‘play housewife’ so their dinners often consist of very simplistic things. Occasionally one of them will bring home takeout.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?  Rheese, just...keep her out of the kitchen.

Who is messier?  Both pretty much. His place is a mess and she isn’t bothered by it because her apartment looked the same.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?  Jake, to annoy her.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?  They both just throw them wherever.

Who forgets to flush the toilet?  Jake, again to annoy her. (her ‘ewww you’re fucking nasty’ face is really entertaining)

Who is the prankster around the house? Neither, they diss each other a lot, sometimes joke on the other’s cost but no deliberate pranks.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?  Doesn’t really happen.

Who mows the lawn?  No lawn

Who answers the telephone?  They answer their own cells respectively. He refuses to get a smartphone.

Who does the vacuuming?  They don’t own a vacuum cleaner. Only a broom and a mop.

Who does the groceries?  Usually he does.

Who takes the longest to shower?  Rheese, she enjoys the feel of hot water on her skin.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?  Not much difference there. Rheese doesn’t bother anymore with any routines and such after Jake told her he hates when she wears makeup because it makes his hands sticky when he touches her face :’) Though sometimes she will still put eyeliner out of habit.

MISCELLANEOUS

Is money a problem?  No, they don’t need much.

How many cars do they own?  Jake own an old truck and a motorcycle, Rheese used to have a car but sold it. She prefers riding on her horse Nugget anyway.

Do they own their home or do they rent?  She had an apartment in Missoula before ‘joining’. Then she lived at Stone Ridge for a while, then she moved in with him to his place. A tiny cabin far up a mountain at the far outside of the region.

Do they live in the city or in the country?  Country

Do they enjoy their surroundings?  Yes, especially the forests.

What’s their song?  You Give Love a Bad Name - Bon Jovi

What do they do when they’re away from each other?  Working, doing their own thing, living. He’s more possessive about her than she is about it. But they both function normally when not being together.

Where did they first meet?  Technically at the church during her very first sermon to ‘join’ the project. But they only interacted about a week later when he’s supposed to bring her to her initiation at John’s place. They immediately hate each other :’)

Who spends the most money when out shopping?  Whoever does the grocery shopping? They both aren’t big on other shopping trips.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets?  She’s not very show off-y. Jacob likes showing she ‘belongs to him’.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?  Both

Any mental issues?  Rheese doesn’t really, she lost her parents and her family is extremely distant but it never gave her trauma.

Jacob still deals with the aftermath of war esp. His PTSD gets bad sometimes and he has sleeping issues.

Who’s terrified of bugs?  She is afraid of spiders, and would appreciate if he killed them when they are in the house. But usually he ends up throwing them at her and tells her it’s therapy to defeat her fears.

Who kills the spiders around the house?  Neither, see above

Their favourite place?  A small lake behind a mountain near his cabin.

Who pays the bills?  The cult

Do they have any fears for their future?  Yeah, they are very conflicted about it. Neither of them know where it all leads and their differences (esp the age one) is an issue at times.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?  They don’t really do that.

Who’s the tallest?  He’s 6'1, she is 5'2. He constantly calls her ‘Shorty’, not in any endearing cute nickname way, but purely to mock her height.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?  Happens with both of them frequently. Tho Jacob is more prone to this because he showers less on his own. So when she’s in there he’s often like ‘might as well join’.

Who wanders around in their underwear?  Rheese starts this trend which he really doesn’t complain about. She also argues that it makes sense because then there will be less laundry to take care of. Can’t really argue with that really.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?  She does, very very badly cause she can’t sing.

What do they tease each other about?  Her short height and his age. Always.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?  Doesn’t really happen but he does judge her Power Rangers T-shirt she wears for sleeping.

Who crushed first?  They both kinda did. They blamed it on physical attraction at first, which made Rheese mad because he wasn’t her type. It takes them a couple of months to actually admit they might eventually possibly perhaps maybe have feelings for one another :)

Any alcohol or substance related problems?  Not really

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?  Rheese does once, and another time they do it together.

Who swears the most?  Jacob, though she’s pretty good at it too.

Tagging @joeyhxdson @fadedjacket @shallow-gravy @chazz-anova​ @ja-crispea​ if you want to. Idk who did this by the time this gets posted.

[itsclydebitches]

Geralt and Yen: Relationship Dynamics in The Last Wish

Hi, @dottirselena​! Hope you don’t mind me tagging you. I’m very much a meta person, so when your comments popped up in my email I thought I’d waste some time this afternoon diving into Geralt and Yen’s relationship a bit. For those of you who don’t know, I’m referring to a silly ship post I made and this question attached to it: 

“I’m reading the Last Wish and I don’t understand “Nenneke establishes that Yennefer treats Geralt like dirt”? In fact, it’s the other way around. Apparently they were together and he ditched her without telling her why and she’s furious with him. HE treated HER like dirt. The crystals are supposed to be some sort of half-assed half-baked barely-there “atonement” for his mistake.” 

So far The Last Wish is the only witcher collection I’ve read and thus my knowledge/analysis of the relationship comes purely from that text (the 2007 paperback edition, translation by Danusia Stok. Also beware of spoilers for the short story’s ending from here on out). Admittedly, it would have been far more accurate for me to say that how Nenneke discusses Geralt and Yen’s relationship establishes that she treats him like dirt. Because I don’t think she’s a very reliable witness here. We don’t get to see this fight for ourselves. Rather, we hear Nenneke’s interpretation of it: Geralt “ran away” from Yen, behaved “in a manner not particularly worthy of a mature man” and is now using these gems to “wipe away [his] guilt” (270). That’s what she says, but that’s not necessarily  what happened. There are two sides (at least) to every story. 

Indeed, Geralt immediately refutes two points. The first is when he re-characterizes “running away” by pointing out that Yen was “too possessive.” He’s asserting that he didn’t just ditch her for no reason. Or even a bad reason. His language here suggests that she was mistreating him. He says that “She treated me like---” but notably Nenneke doesn’t let him finish. We don’t get to hear what Yen treated him like---a possession? A slave? A fool? A child?---because Nenneke cuts him off, outright saying, “I don’t give a shit how she treated you,” thereby denying Geralt the right to explain his side of things and, likewise, the reader’s right to get the full picture. He’s attempting to justify leaving and is straight up not allowed to do so. Geralt likewise asserts that the gems are not an atonement for what Nenneke perceives are mistakes, but rather him just trying to help Yen out despite their differences: “You misunderstand. I’m not thinking of appeasing or bribing her. I do owe her something, and the treatment she wants to undergo is apparently very costly. I want to help her, that’s all” (270). Rather than grapple with whether she believes in Geralt’s altruism or not, Nenneke instead goes on to tell him that the money would be useless to Yen anyway. She can make far more far quickly. Thus, the reader doesn’t get to see Nenneke potentially revoke her earlier assumptions. She, again, ignores Geralt’s attempts to explain, likewise leaving the reader with a very strong assertion on her end and only the words Geralt has been able to get in edge-wise on his. This story is imbalanced. 

Nevertheless, by the end of the conversation we’re left with two distinct viewpoints. Since we don’t get to see the fight for ourselves, we have to decide what interpretation we buy into. Do we believe Nenneke, asserting that Geralt treated Yen badly, ran away from his mistakes, and is now trying to get past it in an insulting manner by paying her off? Or do we believe Geralt, asserting that Yen treated him horribly, he left because of that, but he still wants to help her by offering some money for this treatment? 

Personally, I believe Geralt and not just because the person in the relationship probably has a better perspective on the situation than a priestess who sees them only a few times a year and who, notably, spoke to Yen first. We learn that Yen arrived two months ahead of Geralt and thus had that time to sway Nenneke to her version of events before Geralt even showed up. Her view of the situation was set before he ever got the chance to tell his side and, as we’ve established, Nenneke isn’t interested in hearing that. Nevertheless, even though we don’t get to see this specific fight, we do get to see how Geralt and Yen interact when they first meet... and I think Yen treats him like dirt. We see throughout this encounter that she’s a manipulative, vain, and incredibly power hungry person: 

She attacks Geralt. Not because he was in her bedroom but because he dared to be sarcastic towards her, asking which question she wants him to answer after she shoots out three in a row. It’s only Geralt’s witcher abilities that save him, something Yen doesn’t know about when she decides to attack. So she’s willing to greatly harm others when she thinks they’ve been a bit rude (291). 

She clearly values her own beauty and comfort over others’ lives. Geralt reminds her that “time is of the essence” and she still insists on a bath before seeing Dandelion (293-4)

We see how she likes to taunt men and then blame them for the situations she set up. Yen insists that they bathe together, despite Geralt not wanting to bathe at all when his friend is in trouble. She insists that they should be mature about this, “I don’t faint at the sight of a naked man” (294), and is agreeing to have him there while she bathes, yet will later punish him for this. Geralt offers to turn around while she washes and Yen insists that she needs to see his eyes, so she makes herself invisible instead, thereby demanding that he look at her even if he can’t fully see her. Yen also insists that he fasten her dress. She is, in short, flirting with him and Geralt, already being attracted to her, finds himself distracted by the washcloth and soap outlining her form. He doesn’t act on anything and, notably, keeps trying to set up a new situation wherein she can bathe in peace: let me leave, let me turn around, etc. Yen refuses. Geralt keeps trying to be the gentleman, Yen keeps forcing him to engage with her in a flirty, sexual manner using Dandilion’s life and/or voice as the blackmail. Then later Yen re-characterizes this ‘I forced you to bathe/look/touch me’ into Geralt deliberately going after her in an inappropriate manner. She plays the victim: 

“My accounts in Rinde could be settled by anyone, including Chireadan. But you’re the one who’s going to do it because you have to pay me. For your insolence, for the cold way you look at me, for the eyes which fish for every detail, for your stony face and sarcastic tone of voice. For thinking that you could stand face-to-face with Yennefer of Vergerberg and believe her to be full of self-admiration and arrogance, a calculating witch, while staring at her soapy tits. Pay up, Geralt of Rivia!” (310, emphasis mine) 

The thing is, Yen is full of self-admiration and arrogance. She’s so arrogant that for her a punishment of taking away Geralt’s autonomy and framing him for her crimes equals his “crime” of being sarcastic towards her and looking at her breasts while she very deliberately paraded them with the hope that he would look. Because then Yen has an excuse to punish him. This is, notably, a fraught interaction to analyze in this day and age because we’ve grown used to men insisting that women “forced” them to do something. She was taunting me, she clearly wanted it, I couldn’t help myself, etc. It’s a bit of a knee-jerk reaction to blame him in any scenario because sexual violence against women is so prevalent. However, this is not a case of a woman, say, wearing something skimpy and a man deciding to sexualize her while she’s just getting on with her life. Idk about anyone else, but if I insist on taking a bath at a very inappropriate time, insist that you take this bath with me, insist that you have to look at me while I wash/disregard the offer that you’ll turn around, deliberately flirt with you the whole while... and then get pissed that you looked at my breasts? I’m setting up a trap. 

Speaking of traps, when Geralt thanks her for curing Dandilion he finds that there’s another trap set up.  He’s clear about being willing to pay Yen in whatever way she pleases. He’s not trying to get out of this transaction by just offering gratitude, going so far as to say that Yen “treated him more kindly, albeit in a calculated manner, than the majority of your brethren would have done” (307). Which based on what we’ve seen so far is a really low bar. Yet Yen has decided she only wants the genie and is willing to endanger both Geralt and Dandelion to get it. As we know, she uses Geralt as a tool to attack all the men who have slandered her, getting him arrested, beaten up, and thrown into jail. Alongside the innocent Chireadan. It’s only Yen’s likewise “magnanimous” last wish that she has Dandelion make that ensures they won’t both be hanged. We learn later that Dandelion doesn’t actually have control of the genie, his wish is useless from a magical standpoint, but Yen didn’t know that. The story presents a last minute ‘Okay. I guess I won’t let them hang you’ as a kind act... even though it’s Yen’s doing that their lives were in danger in the first place. 

Finally, we see precisely how much a lust for power and her own arrogance has warped Yen’s ability to read the situation she’s in. Geralt insists that the genie will kill her, she haughtily claims she’s not so easy to kill. Yen opens a portal for him to escape through but insists that she doesn’t need to use it. They fight and all Yen can think about is how the genie will get away. She learns that Geralt has the last wish and taunts him with his witcher mutations--- “Humanity,” she said suddenly, smiling nastily” (341)---playing on his emotions to try and get him to make a wish so she can finally try to capture the genie. Key word being “try” considering that we’re told her spells are fading and her legs are shaking. Yen, with even more arrogance, insists she’s still up for the task. Only Geralt can see how that arrogance is going to get her killed. And killed for what? Pure power. We learn earlier on that only a few have ever successfully bottled a genie and with that power you can literally move mountains. As a former hunchback, Yen is desperate to be everything: the most beautiful, the most respected, the most powerful. As far as we know so far, Yen doesn’t want that power for some noble reason like, say, saving a loved one from some otherwise fatal disease. She just has a drive to possess it and she doesn’t care who she has to trample in order to achieve that. An opportunity arises to keep someone from the noose, or to open Geralt a portal? Sure, she’ll do it, but only if it’s convenient. If, you know, saving them from the noose also gets rid of the last wish so she can have her shot at the genie; only if opening a portal also gets him out of her hair so he won’t stop her from attempting to achieve this power. Yen is one of the most selfish characters I’ve come across in a long, long time. Based on what we see in The Last Wish, Yen is only out for herself.  

In contrast, this story establishes that Geralt really is altruistic in many respects. The whole setup here is that he’s willing to do anything, even meddle with a sorceress others are afraid of, to save his friend. Yen agrees to help him before breakfast (again, how magnanimous) because Geralt thought of a “thirsty woman” and brought her apple juice, even with everything else going on (294). The conclusion is Geralt attempting to save Yen despite everyone insisting that to do so is suicide, despite what she’s done to him mere hours before. Geralt likewise uses his last wish to bind them so that Yen will survive her encounter with the genie. That’s admittedly not pure altruism---he clearly desires Yen and wants her to survive for that potential relationship---but the fact remains that he could have wished for anything and screw the woman who used him and a dying friend to gain power. 

All of which is a very long-winded way of saying, yes. Yen does treat Geralt like dirt. She enjoys hurting others if they don’t show her what she perceives as the respect she deserves. She enjoys the attention her new beauty brings her while likewise enjoying punishing men for giving it to her. She wants power above all else and will sacrifice others to achieve it---most notably Geralt. She’s cruel, arrogant, vain, and power-hungry. 

So when we return to where we started, Geralt and Nenneke’s conversation, I know who’s side of the story I believe so far. We’re given two distinct perspectives, Geralt the abandoner now trying to pay Yen off with gems vs. Geralt the mistreated who wants to help Yen despite the horrible way she’s treated him. The Last Wish shows us the dynamic Geralt claims is the truth. The Last Wish provides far more evidence that we should believe Geralt’s side of the tale rather than Nenneke’s: 

Yennefer saw him, jumped up and raised her hand. 

“No!” he shouted, “don’t do this! I want to help you!” 

“Help?” she snorted. “You?” 

“Me.” 

“In spite of what I did to you?”

“In spite of it” (331) 

Based on what we know I think it’s the same situation this time around too. Yen did something---“She treated me like...”---and Geralt is trying to help her “in spite of it,” this time with money for the procedure she desperately wants. We only have Nenneke’s word that Geralt is in the wrong here and her word doesn’t stand up to his explanations or what we get to read for ourselves. 

[rhetoricalrogue]

OTP Question Meme

I was tagged by @bimollymauks thank you!

Answering with my new Zoe/Mason Wayhaven pairing and also my favorite OC OTP, mine and @alittlestarling‘s Roz/Vincent

Leaving this as an open tag, so whoever would like to join in, please do!  Fingers crossed that my Read More cut works, as this is LONG.

DISAGREEMENTS.

Who is more likely to raise their voice?

Z/M: both, tbh. Zoe yells when she’s angry

R/V: depending on the situation, both, though Vincent goes deathly quiet when he’s truly upset.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?

Z/M: neither. Zoe’s abandonment issues kick in like woah and it’s a line that Mason never crosses.

R/V: Vincent, but it’s not leave-leave, it’s more “I need some air, I’ll be back later” to deescalate an argument before someone says something hurtful they don’t mean. 

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?

Z/M: N/A

R/V: Vincent, but he’s back in an hour or so after he’s cooled down.

Who trashes the house?

Z/M: not the house, but Zoe’s been known to vent her frustrations by throwing rocks into nearby bodies of water and scream if she’s at like Anger Level 11 on a 1-10 scale.

R/V: neither. Vincent would probably want to flip a table, but he doesn’t because he’d ultimately be the one to clean it up afterwards.

Do either of them get physical?

Z/M: Coming to blows? No. Shoving Mason out of her way (if he hasn’t already left yet) so she could storm out? Probably, but she retreats into her Touch Me Not mode, so that would only be if she felt cornered.

R/V: Absolutely not.

How often do they argue/disagree?

Z/M: rarely. They bicker and snark more than hold true arguments.

R/V: only when one feels the other is putting themselves in danger. They’ve grown up together for practically their entire lives, they’re pretty much of a same mind on many issues.

Who is the first to apologize?

Z/M: Zoe. “I’m sorry I was being an asshole” is a regular statement.

R/V: Vincent. He hates being at odds with Roz and is miserable if he can’t apologize and make things right between them.

SEX.

Who is on top?

Z/M: either/or with Zoe barely creeping in on top more.

R/V: Vincent, but he loves it when Roz takes initiative.

Who is on bottom?

Z/M: either/or, depending on the mood

R/V: Roz, but it’s a 50-50 split

Any kinks?

Z/M: Yep

R/V: Absolutely. You know, it’s the quiet ones that surprise you.

Who has the strangest desires?

There’s nothing too strange for either pairing. Both are open for experimentation and the “try it once to see if we like it” mindset, but it’s also not like “is the NSA agent looking at my search history blushing?” variety either. 

Who’s dominant in bed?

Equal opportunity for both pairings! 

Is head ever in the equation?

Z/M: Yes. Zoe texted Mason after not hearing from him for a few days with “Hey, I froze my ass off giving you a blowjob in the woods last week, answer your phone.”

R/V: Yes. It’s nice that it worked out that Vincent loves to give and Roz is enthusiastic about receiving.

If so, who is better at performing it?

Z/M: Mason, though he doesn’t complain at all when Zoe offers.

R/V: Vincent, since he’s had more practice during his “have casual sex with anyone with a pulse to get over Feelings” phase of pining over Roz.

Ever had sex in public?

Z/M: a few times

R/V: they’re Circle mages. It’s easier to name a place they haven’t had sex in, especially in the Sweethearts AU.

Who moans the most?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: They’re both quiet by default, but when they have the opportunity to be a couple out in the open? Vincent. 

Who leaves the most marks?

Z/M: Mason, purely because he heals up faster than either of them would like

R/V: Roz. It was a surprise to them both when they found out biting was a big turn-on for Vincent, so she uses it often. 

Who is the more experienced of the two?

Z/M: Mason

R/V: Vincent

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?

Z/M: fuck, though they have some “oh shit, this got Emotional and I am NOT prepared to deal with this, WHAT DO I DO?” moments later on

R/V: make love

How long do they usually last?

Z/M: hot and heavy quickies to release all the pent up energy from the constant flirting banter they keep up, then a slower second round

R/V: quick and rushed during the day, but multiple slower sessions when they can be alone

Rough or soft?

Z/M: both

R/V: both, but more often soft

Is protection used?

Yes to both pairings

Does it ever get boring?

Yes and no to both. The whole intimacy thing where you can carry on a conversation or “oh hey, I remembered what I meant to tell you earlier” starts happening and sometimes sex is more scratching an itch than the whole soulful event. Then again, there’s those times when someone moves or does something different and “okay, so I didn’t know THAT was something we liked. Let’s do that again.” (idk, I have a lot of Feelings about couples and sex, see the sexlaughterhonesty posts @thesecondseal​ has)

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?

Z/M: in an abandoned building Zoe used to go hang out in when she wanted to be alone as a teen

R/V: extremely late night rendezvous in Skyhold’s library. May or may not have happened in the same nook Dorian likes to frequent. Also may or may not have been 100% sure Solas was asleep downstairs.

FAMILY.

Do they plan on having children/or have children?

Z/M: no. Zoe’s afraid of becoming her mother and focusing more on her work than her child and she never wants anyone to have to experience that.

R/V: yes. It’s an option that was never available to them before, but once it’s an avenue that they can actually think about, they would love to become parents.

If so, how many children do they want/have?

Z/M: none

R/V: they wind up with five, all named after flowers

AFFECTION.

Who likes to cuddle?

Z/M: *bangs pots and pans together* TOUCH STARVED PAIRING TOUCH STARVED PAIRING TOUCH STARVED PAIRING

R/V: both. They’re both very touchy-feely by nature and always seem to gravitate towards the other when they’re doing something in the same room

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?

Z/M: Mason, but it’s not like Zoe’s arguing either

R/V: Roz

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?

Z/M: both

R/V: Vincent

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?

Z/M: for a while before an arm falls asleep and they need to move positions/one of them gets too hot

R/V: for pretty much forever, except in the summertime. They’re both walking furnaces (Vincent says Roz is like a tiny space heater) so it makes for uncomfortable hot weather snuggles

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?

Z/M: Hanging out together outside and enjoying the quiet/scenery, especially at night

R/V: gardening

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?

Z/M: in bed or on the sofa

R/V: wherever, whenever

SLEEPING.

Who snores?

Z/M: neither

R/V: Vincent, but very lightly. more of a slight rumble ever so often

If both do, who snores the loudest?

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?

Z/M: separately. Bed sharing = commitment and this is supposed to be no strings fun

R/V: share a bed. Skyhold’s is the largest bed they’ve ever slept in, so there’s a lot of giggling and “I have crossed oceans of bedsheets to find you” jokes at first.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?

Z/M: N/A

R/V: starts cuddled together with Roz’s head on Vincent’s shoulder, but they move a lot during the night, sharing Big Spoon duties. Even if they wake up with both of them on their backs, they either have a foot touching a leg or holding hands.

What do they wear to bed?

Z/M: underwear & a t-shirt or nothing at all

R/V: dedicated PJs. Roz: nightgown/chemise or one of Vincent’s shirts, Vincent: sleep pants

Are either of them insomniacs?

Z/M: Zoe when something’s bothering her. Since Mason doesn’t technically need a lot of sleep, he doesn’t consider himself one.

R/V: Vincent, especially in the Sweethearts AU. Nightmares from his time conscripted into the Orlesian army keep him awake and afraid to sleep. 

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?

Z/M: no

R/V: yes, in both powdered and potion form, though Vincent rarely uses them since he hates how sluggish he feels the next day (and they rarely give him dreamless sleep anyway)

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?

Z/M: both

R/V: tangle of limbs

Who wakes up with bed hair?

Z/M: both, though Zoe tends to sleep with her hair in a braid most nights, so it’s not as bad as Mason’s

R/V: both, and it’s a tie as to who has the worse bed head most mornings

Who wakes up first?

Z/M: Mason

R/V: Vincent. He’s an early bird up before dawn and she’s more of a later morning riser

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?

Z/M: breakfast is normally coffee at home with a croissant from the bakery for her, so Mason usually turns on the coffeemaker when he stays over or before he leaves in the morning

R/V: either, but usually Vincent since he’s awake before her

What is their favourite sleeping position?

Z/M: they claim they’re both knives, but Zoe is a Big Spoon who likes to wrap her leg over Mason’s hip

R/V: snuggled up with Roz’s head on Vincent’s shoulder/chest, but they wind up with Vincent curled around her (and with a mouthful of hair) or Roz doing the turtle backpack/jetpack when they do spoon.

Do they set an alarm each night?

Z/M: Zoe needs at least two alarms, but did away with one of them when Mason nearly threw her phone out of the room after it blared right in his ear.

R/V: both of them have pretty good internal alarm clocks and wake up at the same time every morning

Who has nightmares?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: both, but probably more on Vincent’s side

Can a television be found in their bedroom?

No for both

Who has ridiculous dreams?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: Roz, maybe

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?

Z/M: Mason

R/V: Vincent, purely because he’s taller

Who makes the bed?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: either, whoever winds up doing it first

What time is bed time?

Z/M: 11 to midnight, but she’s usually asleep closer to one in the morning, even without Mason showing up

R/V: either anywhere between 8 and 11 or so late it’s considered early because they’re both working and one of them manages to drag the other into bed. There is no in-between.

Any routines/rituals before bed?

Z/M: usual tooth brushing, changing clothes, Zoe’s half-assed attempt at a nighttime skincare routine. Zoe usually spends some time brushing her hair out since it’s been in a ponytail during the day and brushing tends to soothe the all day pull on her scalp.

R/V: tea by the fireplace, changing clothes, putting aside work. Roz likes to braid her hair before going to bed and sometimes Vincent will ask if he can brush it and braid it for her since the act is calming for both of them

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?

Z/M: Zoe. Do not talk to her before her first cup of coffee.

R/V: Roz. Vincent is an automatic Ray of Sunshine first rattle out of the box and it’s a good thing she loves him as much as she does or else she may have killed him years ago.

WORK.

Who is the busiest?

Z/M: it’s a pretty equal amount

R/V: either, depending on which AU we’re talking about and who’s Inquisitor (*trips and a thousand AUs spill out of my pockets*)

Who rakes in the highest income?

Z/M: Mason

R/V: *insert “You people are getting paid?” meme here*

Are any of them unemployed?

No

Who takes the most sick days?

None of them are likely to take sick days, unless they’re truly sick, and they’re all pretty healthy people aside from one or two seasonal colds per year

What are their jobs?

Z/M: Zoe’s Wayhaven’s detective and human liaison to the Agency. Mason is with Unit Bravo

R/V: one of them is the Inquisitor and the other is a companion/former Circle mage, depending on the AU. Vincent was ranked higher than Roz as an Enchanter pre-Inquisition  

Who sucks up to their boss?

None of them

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?

Z/M: Zoe, but it’s rare

R/V: both are punctual 

Who stresses the most?

Z/M: both are cool as a cucumber on the outside, but internalize their stress, so who knows

R/V: Roz

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?

They all like their jobs!

Are they financially stable?

Z/M: yes, though Zoe really, really wishes she made enough to afford a new car

R/V: Yes.

HOME.

Who does the washing?

Z/M: the dishwasher. They take turns loading/unloading it

R/V: Roz does the washing, Vincent does the drying and putting away

Who takes out the trash?

Z/M: either

R/V: Vincent

Who does the ironing?

Z/M: Zoe, but only her clothes. Mason, but only his clothes.

R/V: Roz

Who does the cooking?

Z/M: is picking up or calling in for takeout considered “cooking”?

R/V: they like to cook together

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?

Z/M: “Mason, it was ONE. Fucking. Time.” Zoe set the fire alarm off while trying to be domestic and Mason won’t let her live it down.

R/V: neither, they’re both pretty decent cooks

Who is messier?

Z/M: Maybe Zoe, she’s neat but she leaves things out sometimes just to irk Mason

R/V: both are pretty neat and don’t really make messes without straightening things up

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?

Z/M: neither

R/V: neither

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?

Z/M: both, but it eventually gets picked up

R/V: both, if they’re really tired. Otherwise, there’s a hamper.

Who forgets to flush the toilet?

None of them

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?

Z/M: neither

R/V: (Modern AU) neither, but sometimes keys are misplaced even though they have a dish on a hall table right when you walk in. 

Who answers the telephone?

Z/M: depends on who’s calling. Bobby gets an automatic ignore and deleted voicemail.

R/V: (Modern AU) they answer their own phones, but will hand the other their cell to answer if the other person is away from where it’s at.

Who mows the lawn?

Z/M: Zoe lives in an apartment with landscaping management included in the rent. Mason doesn’t know who mows the Warehouse’s lawn, but it sure isn’t him.

R/V: (Modern AU) Vincent will go over to mow Roz’s rental house lawn (and probably sneak in a few plants from the nursery he owns into her flowerbeds)  

Who does the vacuuming?

Z/M: Mason

R/V: Roz

Who does the groceries?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: both

Who takes the longest to shower?

Z/M: Zoe, purely because she has thick, thick hair almost down to her waist that is a chore and a half to shampoo/condition

R/V: either, depending on who decided to sneak into the shower with the other

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: depends on the day. Shaving usually takes Vincent a longer time since he’s careful of his facial scars, but Roz has the same hair issues that Zoe has, so it’s pretty much a tie.

MISCELLANEOUS.

Is money a problem?

Z/M: No, but Zoe thinks that it would be nice to invest in her motorcycle or a new car

R/V: No. No matter the AU, Vincent’s technically a trust fund baby with wealthy parents willing to help out.

How many cars do they own?

Z/M: Zoe: beaten up silver hatchback that’s seen better days and is held together with spit and a mechanic’s prayer, WiP motorcycle she’s restoring. Mason: Agency SUV

R/V: two sensible, mid-priced cars, both pre-owned and paid for

What’s their song?

Z/M: Ghost - Au/Ra

R/V: Work Song - Hozier

Do they live in the city or in the country?

Z/M: they live in (Zoe)/on the outskirts of (Mason) Wayhaven

R/V: in the country, near Wycome post-Inquisition to be close to Vincent’s parents

Do they own their home or do they rent?

Z/M: Rents an apartment/lives in the Agency-owned Warehouse

R/V: (Modern AU) Vincent: rents out an apartment, Roz: rents a house

Do they enjoy their surroundings?

Yes for both

What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Z/M: work, hanging out with friends

R/V: work, friends, mentoring young mages

Where did they first meet?

Z/M: met when Zoe shot Adam (she was sorry about it later), but made a bad first impression on the other when Rebecca formally introduced them

R/V: Vincent was five, going on six years old when the Templars brought in a new girl his age. He was sad when he saw her crying and decided to be her friend. 

Who spends the most money when out shopping?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: Vincent

Who’s more likely to flash their assets?

Z/M: neither. Zoe would like to have nice things, but she’s not going to be a showoff with them if/when she gets them

R/V: neither

Any mental issues?

Z/M: Zoe’s abandonment feelings/anger with her mother

R/V: PTSD for both of them, Vincent’s insomnia 

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?

Z/M: both, since they’re both light on their feet and agile. They do check to see if the other is okay, even if they’re smirking while they do it

R/V: neither, they help the other up and ask if they’re okay, but don’t overly worry about it unless it was a bad fall or there was an underlying reason they tripped in the first place, like being exhausted.

Who’s terrified of bugs?

Z/M: neither

R/V: neither, unless you count giant spiders and whatnot as bugs. Then both.

Who kills the spiders around the house?

Z/M: either, though Mason is more likely to find a cup in the middle of the room with a “DO NOT OPEN” sticky note on top if it’s a big spider

R/V: either, and they usually try to scoop them up and release outside. 

Do they have any fears for their future?

Z/M: Aside from the whole immortality vs. human lifespan thing, they try not to dwell on things. The future is uncertain and it’s better to enjoy the present.

R/V: so many, but they’re in it together and can deal with whatever gets thrown at them.

Their favourite place?

Z/M: the Warehouse’s rooftop

R/V: Skyhold’s gardens

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?

Z/M: Mason, maybe?

R/V: Vincent

Who pays the bills?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: Vincent

Who’s the tallest?

Z/M: Mason. He’s 6′0″ and Zoe’s 5′9″

R/V: Vincent. He’s 6′1″ and Roz’s 5′1″ (my favorite tol and smol, tbh)

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?

Z/M: Mason

R/V: Roz

Who wanders around in their underwear?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: Roz

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?

Z/M: Zoe

R/V: both

What do they tease each other about?

Z/M: both of them being grumps with no filters. Mason about Zoe nearly burning her apartment down making a grilled cheese sandwich that one time. (”It wasn’t THAT bad!”)

R/V: I don’t really know! I mean, they do tease the other, but a lot of it is in-jokes and maybe Roz being a small ball of fury at times? *shrugs into the abyss*

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?

Z/M: neither. They tend to wear mostly the same dark colored clothing and stuff that’s not likely to stand out and get them noticed

R/V: neither. Vincent thinks Roz is beautiful in anything she wears and Roz likes the fact that Vincent’s pants are snug around his butt and his shirts emphasize his broad shoulders.

Who crushed first?

Z/M: Zoe, in that “stupid hot Agent, he makes me SO MAD...oh no, I think he’s hot. FUCK.” way.

R/V: Vincent P I N E S over Roz for Y E A R S but doesn’t do anything because she’s his best and dearest friend and telling her how he feels would risk ruining that friendship since there’s just NO WAY AT ALL she would EVER feel the same for him...

Any alcohol or substance related problems?

Z/M: none. Both will drink socially, but nothing more serious than a few drinks and a minor buzz. They both have a smoking problem, but Mason tends to cut back because of Zoe and Zoe has a rule of never smoking at work. She eventually cuts back in her off hours because of Mason, but will light up when she’s stressed or upset, mostly with things centering on Rebecca.

R/V: none

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?

Z/M: neither. Zoe doesn’t like to get more than a pleasant buzz where the edges are a little hazy but nothing past that

R/V: Vincent. He’s a horrible lightweight who can’t hold his liquor. Two drinks in and he’s all “WHOMST wants to see me naked???” Forget about tequila making his clothes come off, ANY booze and he’s stripping.

Who swears the most?

Z/M: both

R/V: Roz, though Vincent keeps a good internal swearing streak going every now and then.

[raysofcrosby]

REASON

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩...𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.” – 𝙅𝙤𝙝𝙣 𝙂𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙣, 𝘼𝙣 𝘼𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨

𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵 (𝘹)

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥: yes | no

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨(𝘴): bad words here and there plus some alcohol consumption otherwise its just full of moody!nolan and quite angsty tbh.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4,698

𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺: break up in a small town by sam hunt

𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦: yikes i’m back with another piece i wrote for my creative writing class but obviously i changed the names– i couldn’t have my professor thinking i was writing about hockey players ya know anyway like i said above, it’s pretty angsty lmao idk why i love writing sad things so much but oh well!!! enjoy!!! ;-) 

"Nolan hurry up back there! We need to get back soon!" Travis called out from the front of the store as he placed his booze of choice for the night up onto the counter.

"Yeah, yeah I'm coming," Nolan replied, turning his attention back to the liquor in front of him. He'd been home in Winnipeg now for a good month or so since the Flyers season had ended with no playoff bid. Yeah it sucked, actually, it really fucking sucked– but there was nothing he could do about it now. So when Nico had called and said he was coming to visit, Nolan took the opportunity to invite Travis too. Because what better way to get your mind off of the lack of playoff hockey, than by spending it out on a lake and drinking with your best friends?

In the few days that they'd been here, the three boys had already wreaked enough havoc in the Patrick home, that Nolan knew he was only one inappropriate joke away before his mom would book the three of them a hotel room and tell them to stay there. But they couldn't help it, their friendship was tight and after the whirlwind of a season both of their teams had– they needed a little fun.

Which is why he was standing in front of five rows of liquor, trying to decide which one he'd make his poison for the night. An old friend from Juniors was throwing a party at his house, and obviously Nolan, Travis and Nico were invited. The old friend said that the party was for Nolan, so to speak, a celebration on his return back from Philly and to commemorate the fact that he'd actually left his house for once. But in reality, it was just a get together with old friends while getting wasted on incredulous amounts of liquor all while sloppy games of beer pong, suck and blow and every other cliche high school drinking game Hollywood could manage into one movie, played on in the background.

Not that Nolan was complaining or anything. He was actually excited about the party since he hadn't really seen or talked to most of the people who would be in attendance since last summer. That, and he was always down for a party. His eyes skimmed across two separate bottles of vodka, unsure of which to choose for tonight as 'eenie meenie miney mo' played in his head.

"You should go with Belvedere," Nolan straightened up and looked to his left to see you standing maybe a foot or two away from him. "Black Cow usually made you throw up."

He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't make the words come out. Hell, he couldn't even find the words if he wanted to. He could barely even believe that you were there, standing right in front of him...in person, after all this time. He blinked once, twice, adding a third time for good measure to make sure that his mind wasn't playing any tricks on him. But you were still standing there.

"Hi, Nolan." You laughed, tossing some of your hair over your shoulder as you motioned towards the bottles in front of him. "You don't mind if I..."

"No, g-" he cleared his throat and stepped back from the shelves, "go ahead."

You smiled and walked closer to the shelves, bending down and causing your hair to fall back over your shoulders. You grabbed two bottles of Ciroc and stood back up, a bottle in each hand. "Thanks," you said, biting the inside of your cheek, a habit you wished you could rid yourself of but never had the willpower to do so. "Well, I guess I'll see you later?"

Nolan nodded while simultaneously swallowing the lump that had grown in his throat. You lightly laughed and turned away, walking to the end of the aisle and disappearing out of his sight. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to figure out if what just happened was one huge mindfuck. "Nolan what the fuck, come on!" Travis called out. Nolan opened his eyes t see Travis standing there at the end of the aisle with an annoyed look on his face. "We're about to leave without you and your alcohol."

Nolan rolled his eyes as turned away from his teammate. "Calm the fuck down, I'm coming. I just couldn't decide." He looked at the shelves and grabbed both the Belvedere and Black Cow vodkas. At this point, he knew that he'd probably be needing both bottles for tonight.

He walked down the aisle and brushed past Travis, putting his bottles on the counter and looking at Nico. "Sorry, I couldn't decide what to get."

"Well, at least you're here now," Nico shrugged, handing his I.D. and credit card over to the cashier. "Because now we can get home faster and then start drinking and therefore get wasted."

Nolan laughed, shaking his head as he stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. "Yeah, I couldn't decide between the two, so I got both."

"Did you talk to Y/N?" Travis asked, resting his elbow on the counter and causing Nico to look at him.

"Y/N? Y/N was here?" He asked, looking at Nolan. "Where?"

"You guys were still grabbing something. I let her check out before us since she already had all of her stuff." Travis replied, picking up the two cases of beer off the counter. "So Patty, did you talk to her?"

Nolan scrunched his nose and bit the inside of his cheek as he thought about whether or not he should lie to his best friends. Would it even benefit them if he told them that he had talked to her? Instead, he just sighed. "Kind of. She told me not to get Black Cow because I always had the habit of throwing up after drinking it all," he replied, grabbing the bag holding his two bottles in it.

"And yet you bought it anyway?" Nico asked, putting his I.D. and credit card back into his wallet and giving Nolan a confused look. "Can I ask why?"

"I need to get drunk and that's the way to do it," Nolan replied, shrugging his shoulders and walking out of the liquor store with his friends right behind him.

"God, I knew we were best friends for a reason." Travis sighed, as he got into the drivers' side of his car, Nico in the passenger side and Nolan in the back with all of the alcohol.

Nolan dug into his front pocket and brought his cellphone out, unlocking it and opening Instagram. He didn't feel the need to scroll down the feed filled with empty smiles of the people he followed, nor did he pay any mind to the red number over in the top right of his screen showing just how many DM's he'd received from the many girls who vied for his attention and the endless amount of fans who congratulated him on the season. Nope, he went straight to your profile and scrolled down to find what he was looking for.

He didn't know how many times he'd stared at this picture, millions perhaps. Or however many times it takes for it to bur a picture into one's mind further than it already was. It was the last picture you and him had taken together, about three weeks into the new season. You had come out and stayed with him and Travis for the weekend since it was your fall break. He could still see you sitting there, wearing his jersey and talking amongst the other WAGs at warm-ups. It had been the best weekend of his life, he thought that nothing could get better than this very moment.

After that weekend, you flew back home to return to school and he couldn't wait till you could come down again. He was already planning your second trip, not paying any mind to the fact your facetime calls had gotten shorter, the texts didn't come in multiples and you both were playing a consistent game of phone tag every day. A week after you'd gone back to school, you broke up with him. And when the Flyers came up to Winnipeg for a game, you still showed up with his family, only this time you weren't wearing his jersey, and when the Patrick's invited you out to dinner after the game, you didn't go out.

And Nolan was pissed. Not only because of the fact that you had broken up with him a week after just spending hours in bed together, cuddling and talking about the future, but because you hadn't spoken a word to him or even given him a full reason as to why you broke off your 2-year relationship. All he got from you, hours before the game was that you didn't think that being in a relationship was healthy for the two of you right now. When he asked you what you meant by that, you just said that you would 'tell him later.'

Well, here he was, five months later at home and still no explanation. It fucked him up bad five months ago, he wasn't afraid to admit it. Travis had called him out on his shitty appearance once or twice and even Nico had noticed his different behavior whenever they were able to get in a talk. Yeah, you had fucked him up real bad and truth be told, he hasn't been able to get it completely out of his mind since.

"Nolan, you good man?" Nico asked, waving his hand in front of Nolan's face and causing him to jump.

Nolan turned to see that it was Nico and sighed, locking his phone and sliding it back into his pocket. "Yeah, I'm good." He brought his solo cup to his lips and took a long drink, the vodka numbing his mouth for a partial moment as the burning feeling traveled down his throat.

Nico sighed and shook his head as Nolan turned around to face him. "Why don't you just talk to her, Nolan?"

Nolan took another sip of his drink. "Two reasons. Reason number one," he said, holding up his index finger. "She hasn't reached out to me in months. And reason number two," Another sip as the burning feeling followed soon after and he held up his middle finger. "She's not even here, so I couldn't talk to her even if I could."

"Well it looks like it's your lucky day buddy," Nico said, bringing the cup to his lips and nodding in the direction behind Nolan. "Because she's making herself a drink right now."

Nolan turned to see you standing at the designated liquor counter, making yourself your signature drink– captain and coke. Nico patted his shoulder and stood next to him. "It's now or never," Nolan went to say something but Nico waved him off. "And no, never is not an option."

"Well, you can't say it's not an option AFTER you give it as an option!" He yelled out as Nico waved him off and walked towards a beer pong table.

Nolan took a deep breath again, exhaling before bringing the brim of his cup back to his lips and chugging the rest of his drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood a bit taller before making his way to the counter. As he neared you, he hesitantly reached out for your arm, only to back out at the last minute and turn around. "Nolan?" He stopped in his tracks and took another deep breath before turning around and putting on his best 'happy' smile that he could. "I thought that was you."

"What gave it away?" He asked, putting his empty cup onto the counter.

"Honestly? The hair," you replied, looking up at his hair. "It's gotten longer. I don't think there are many guys in the world who could pull off that length of hair."

"Yeah, my mom says I need to get a haircut soon," He laughed, running his fingers through his hair.

"What's your poison for the night?" You asked, bringing the orange solo cup to your lips.

"Belvedere," He said, grabbing the bottle off of the counter and pouring it into his cup, filling it. "As suggested."

"Well, at least you'll be sure to remember your night then," you laughed, brushing the hair out of your face.

Nolan nodded and put the cap back onto the bottle, setting it back down onto the counter. He took a sip, pondering his thoughts on just how he could get you alone to talk about why you split up. You were looking around the room and sipping from your drink, smiling and waving at just about everyone you knew...which was just about everyone in attendance. The only person that you couldn't seem to keep your eyes on for more than a few seconds though, was him– and he took notice.

He couldn't help but wonder how it got to this point. How the once comfortable silence between you two that could be there for hours on end, suddenly flipped a switch and no longer seemed comfortable. Had it been something he did? Was it the way he approached you? But you had seemed so comfortable when he came over, open to conversation. "Hey, I was wondering if–"

"Hey over here!" You perked up, raising your arm into the air and waving it before looking back at Nolan. "Sorry, hold that thought. I'll be right back though, okay?”

Nolan just nodded and took another sip of his drink as you smiled and disappeared into the crowd. "You fucking idiot," he mumbled, downing another sip as he nerves began to take over the more he thought about talking to you. 

After you first broke up, he was set on needing to see you. He needed for you to tell him in person that this was all a mistake. That you didn't mean to break up with him. And then a few days later, he found himself never wanting to see you again. He always knew that it would be near impossible to do, never seeing you again, especially since you shared all of your friends and every hangout around town and he had nowhere to go in the summers BUT home. So he kept that plausibility in the back of his mind, which is why he was so shocked about seeing you in the store so soon. He thought that he'd at least have until the end of the summer– but he was a damn fool, that's for sure.

He took another long sip of his drink, feeling less of the burn this time around. He looked around the room, spotting Travis and Nico playing beer pong against two girls that Nolan couldn't make out. As his eyes wandered more, he found himself more focused on trying to find where you had gone, wondering what was taking so long and who you went to see. When his eyes landed on the front door, he felt his stomach drop into his shoes. His lips tightened and he turned back to the counter, grabbing his unopened bottle of Black Cow and pushed himself away from the counter and through the crowd.

"Nolan, hey! Dude where are you going?" Travis yelled, his voice still a mumble among the loud music.

Nolan had heard him, sure. But he didn't care to stop and look to see what he wanted. Nope, he was on a mission and that mission took him towards the glass back door and into the backyard.

There weren't as many people out here, but he kept walking until he hit the old playground set- taking a seat onto one of the swings and opening the bottle. His breathing was heavy as he replayed the image in my mind again and again. A mix of anger, hurt and betrayal was running through him at a higher level than he knew what to do with. So he did the only thing that he thought could help it. He brought the bottle to my lips, taking a long hard swig- no longer feeling the burning in his throat.

He always knew that there was a big chance that he'd see you around town, or that you'd move on from your relationship. But he never thought that you'd move onto someone he knew...someone who was one of my close friends back in school and spent countless of hours with on the ice growing up. He took another swig and looked at the night sky.

Yeah, I never expected that bullshit.

He hadn't walked back into the house since he saw you. He could barely get himself to move, so on the swing he stayed. He brought the bottle back to his lips and tossed his head back, taking all the alcohol it had left to offer. When the bottle was empty, he stood himself up the best that he could, only to stumble a bit to his left. He reached out for the chain of the swing and kept himself from falling down. "Nolan, hey!" Nico called out, jogging over to him from the porch.

"Dude where have you been for the past hour?" Travis added, following behind him.

"Drowning myself i-in vodka and feelings," Nolan slurred, holding up the empty bottle. "Not really the b-best mix."

"Holy shit Patty, did you drink all of that?" Nico asked, his eyes wide.

"Yep!" Nolan yelled, throwing his arms in the air and laughing. "And i-it was delicious."

"What the hell were you thinking? You're going to be throwing up for a week!" Travis reached for the bottle and Nolan pulled it back. "Give me the fucking bottle Nolan."

"I had to drown out the image man. I can't stop s-seeing it." He slurred, holding the empty bottle tight in his grasp.

"What image? Seeing what Nolan?"

"Y/N AND NOAH!" Nolan didn't even recognize his own voice as it echoed against the night sky, barely a blip on the radar of anyone in attendance of the party. "I went to talk to her and she le-left to get someone," he hiccuped again, looking at his two best friends. "I saw her kissing h-him!"

It was then that the began to notice the slight churning of his stomach. It only began to escalate when he saw the look on his two best friends faces. He expected them to look surprised, but imagine his own surprise when he noticed just how casual they looked instead. He opened his mouth to say something, yell something at them, but he couldn't bring himself to.

"We know, Nolan. That's why we've been kind of pushing you so hard to talk to her." Nico said, reaching for the bottle.

Travis gave Nolan a guilt-ridden look. He knew he fucked up by not telling Nolan, but he also didn't expect for you to be at the party either.  "Yeah man, we didn't want you to be caught off guard by it.."

"Well, it didn't fucking work you assholes." Nolan threw the bottle down and swallowed the horrible gut feeling he had before standing tall. "I'm going to talk to her."

"Oh no you're not," Nico said, grabbing an arm and pulling him back as Travis grabbed the other one. "We're taking you home."

"Let go!" Nolan yelled, snatching one arm free and working on the other. "If you were my best friends you'd let me do th-this."

"We are your best friends Nolan, which is exactly why we're not letting you do this."

Nolan glared at the two of them with a look that could send them both six feet under if at all possible. He opened his mouth to yell a bunch of obscenities at them when he felt his stomach begin to churn again, only this time it was much more violent. He grabbed onto the swingset and bent over, dry heaving until his stomach began to empty himself. As the first wave ended, he felt supportive pats on the back from his two friends. "Feel better?" Nico asked.

Nolan went to speak again, only to throw up even more. "I'll take that as a solid no," Travis mumbled, continuing to pat Nolan on the back.

"Hey Travis, is everything okay? Did you find him?"

"Yeah Y/N, we're–"

"Actually we're not," Nolan said, wiping his mouth and standing up as straight as he could, putting some weight against the swing set so he could seem like he was a tad bit sober.

"Nolan, I told you Black Cow always made you throw up," you laughed, bending down and picking the bottle up from the grass.

“Well, at least you told me something."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked, letting the bottle fall to your side as you looked at the hot mess that was Nolan Patrick. His hair was sticking to the sweat on his forehead from puking and the splotches on his cheeks had already turned tomato red.

"You know what I'm talking about Y/N." He sneered, waving his hands around.

"I really don't Nolan...." You looked at Travis and Nico for support, only to get shoulder shrugs and confused looks. "We're going to take you home."

As you walked towards him, it was all Nolan could do not to run into your arms. This had been the very thing he'd dreamed about and wanted for the last five months. For you to be there with him. But not like this, this wasn't how he had imagined it going– drunk on a bottle of vodka with bad breath. "No! Not until you give me a reason!"

You were starting to get mad. You couldn't understand what the hell he was drunk rumbling on and on about. "A reason? Nolan, what the hell are you talking about?"

This was it, he was going to throw up again. He could feel it in his chest as he opened his mouth to speak. "The reason why you broke my heart!" He yelled, a bit shocked at just how loud and assertive his voice had sounded. He noticed the way your face fell and that you had taken a few steps back, and he felt proud for a moment because he could see that you remembered.

"Yeah, now you know what I'm talking about. You said you would give me a reason and you never did. And now here I am, wanting to talk to you and see if maybe you could tell me something– ANYTHING! But no," he dropped his hands to his side and looked at her, shaking his head. "Instead I see you all over Noah."

You looked at him with the most gut-wrenching look he had ever seen in his life. A look that could cause even the person with the coldest heart in the world, to cave. And for a moment, that proud feeling he had turned into regret. He could see the tears begin to build in your eyes as you stared at him. He wanted you to be angry at him, to yell at him. He wanted you to feel something the way that he had felt these last five months...and yet you showed nothing. And that hurt him more than anything ever could...he couldn't help but wonder what the hell he had become.

"Nolan, I think it's time we go..." Travis said, standing in front of him clearing his throat as Nico turned his attention to you.

"Do you still love me?" Nolan croaked, looking over Travis's shoulder.

"Nolan I–"

"Just tell me Y/N, I need to know. Do you still love me?" He stared at you, searching your face for maybe even the slightest insight into what you were thinking and what your answer would be. "I need to know the answer so I can prepare myself for when I see you around town every summer. Because Y/N it's going to be so...fucking hard to see you at every stop light, every store. To see your car driving down the block and realizing that you're not mine anymore. That there's someone else's house you'll be going to for midnight dates. Someone else's arms you'll be crying in whenever you watch 'The Last Song.'" You stared at him, mouth dropped from his confession and tears stinging in your eyes. "Just tell me...please."

You took a shaky breath and hugged yourself, trying your best to keep your tears at bay. "Nolan, it's– it's complicated, okay?"

Nolan ran his tongue against his cheek and laughed to himself as he looked up at the sky in disbelief. "No, it's not. You just gave me your answer." He looked at Nico and stood up fully. "I'm ready to go home."

He stumbled his way by you, brushing against your shoulder and keeping his focus on the back gate. "Nolan, wait!" You called out, the desperation in your voice loud and clear to Nolan.

He took a deep breath and kept on walking as Nico and Travis joined him, each with an arm over his shoulders. "You okay buddy?" Travis asked, looking at him.

"I don't feel too hot," Nolan mumbled as they walked along the outside of the house.

"You'll feel better soon Patty, no doubt in my mind you won't."

"Ha, GOT YOU FUCKER!!!" A faint voice yelled as a slapping sound followed it.

Nolan opened his eyes slowly and saw that he was in his bedroom. He sat himself up slowly realizing very quickly that it wasn't the best decision to make since his world literally began to spin. He closed my eyes tight and sat there for a few moments before hearing a few more yells coming from outside his room, but too faint to really hear what was being said. When his case of the spins ended, he stood himself up and shuffled his way to his bedroom door, opening it and walking down the hallway. The closer he got to basement stairs, the clearer the voices became.

He pushed open the door to see Nico and Travis all sitting on the couch playing NHL '18. "Dude, are you even trying?" Travis taunted, throwing his arms in the air. "GOAL!!! LOOK AT THAT FRESH CELLY."

Nico rolled his eyes and looked up, clearing his throat. Travis looked at him and saw his eyes looking in Nolan's direction and then looked at Nolan. "Good morning sunshine, how are you feeling this morning?" He asked, smiling.

"Like I got ran over by a truck," Nolan said, his voice very hoarse. "How long have you guys been down here?"

"We slept here, dude," Travis said, looking at him. "Didn't really want to be in your puke stench of a room honestly."

"Yeah, no offense. But we still checked on you throughout the night." Nico added, shrugging his shoulders.

The doorbell rang and Nolan took a deep breath, looking out into the hallway expecting to hear his parents or his sisters move towards the door, but hearing nothing. "And my parents and sisters?"

"Your mom and sisters went out to brunch and your dad went golfing with a work friend," Travis replied, looking away from the tv. "So it looks like you'll be the one answering the door."

"Don't fuck up my man-cave," Nolan said, leaving the man-cave and walking further down the hallway until he reached the living room. He walked around the couch and over to the front door, looking through the peephole and not seeing anyone on the porch. Weird, but he didn't dwell much on it before he unlocked the door and opened it, looking out and not seeing anyone in visible distance. He shook his head, it was probably just some neighborhood kids messing around with the Nolan Patrick. 

God, kids were annoying sometimes.

Nolan went to turn away when something on the ground caught his eye. He bent down and saw an envelope lying face down on their welcome mat. Picking it up, he flipped it over to see it had his name written on it....in your handwriting. He opened the envelope and tilted it to the side, letting everything that was in it, slid into his hand. There was a letter and a Polaroid picture of the two of you and on the front, "always & forever" was written in your beautiful cursive handwriting. He flipped it over and instantly recognized the chicken scratch on the back...it was his own handwriting.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. ||  2/14/17

He remembered that picture perfectly. It was a few months into your relationship and you had flown in to surprise him for Valentine's day. He hadn't expected you to come in, so he had absolutely nothing planned. The best part is that Claude and Ryanne had you two tag along on their Valentines day plans– which included a dinner and a stroll through some of Philly's landmarks. You were most excited to see the Rocky statue and Nolan could still remember the way his heart skipped a few beats when he saw you running up the steps, laughing on your way. You had asked Ryanne to take a picture of the two of you, handing over your polaroid camera he had gotten you for Christmas. And when she laughed and told you to pose, Nolan remembered looking down at you and smiling at just how goofy you looked– like a kid in a candy store.

The memory came to an end as he held the picture in his other hand with the envelope and unfolded a piece of paper that looked like it was from a journal. It had deep creases as if it had been unfolded and refolded multiple times as well. He flipped it over to the other side and saw your handwriting and on the top right corner, a date. But it wasn't just any date...it was the day after she broke up with him.

11/18/2018

N,

I don't know if I'll ever get the guts to actually give this to you, but you asked me for the reason why I ended things and this is the way you're going to get it. It seems selfish, I know. You deserved so much more than what I've already told you and I hope one day I'll be able to truly tell you why I did what I did. We spent two amazing years together and there's nothing in this world that I would trade them for and I never thought that we would end up where we are today...never in a million years. But things happen and things change and we can't fast-forward time to know if it's all really worth it, so we just trust our hearts and hope it turns out right. And I never really minded putting all that trust into my heart because with you, I didn't have to think twice or question myself- I kind of already knew what I wanted. 

I'm rambling now, I know, but I swear I'm getting to the point. Things got so hard once you left Nolan and none of it was your fault, so don't you dare ever think it was. I just missed your a lot more than I thought I would- and it's really hard when you miss people. But you know what they say; if you miss someone that means you're lucky. It means you had someone special in your life, someone worth missing. The Skype calls and text messages and snapchats only partially filled the void, so when I flew out to visit you... I thought that everything would be okay, that everything would be perfect and wonderful again. But that last night with you, God I swear it made it worse. And I still remember that night. The night when everything fell together so perfectly and I wished it would last forever because I felt like everything was normal again...but it didn't. 

So when I flew back home, it dawned on me N, it dawned on me that maybe this is supposed to be the end of us, maybe we're not meant to be together anymore. Maybe we were here to teach one another a lesson and once the lesson was taught, we were supposed to leave. Maybe you being on this amazing journey is teaching us a great lesson in life, one that we both needed to learn; that sometimes growing up means letting go of the dreams you aren't able to achieve...like those dreams of growing old together, the ones we talked about when we'd lay down on a blanket in your backyard and look at the stars.

 You've got so many dreams and achievements ahead of you N and I want you to go out there and achieve them and be free while you do. I want nothing more than to see you succeed because that's what loving someone is all about. Putting them before yourself so they can flourish. So me breaking up with you has nothing to do about not loving you. It's not that we didn't love each other, it's just that love wasn't enough. So I think I have to let go...we have to let go. I really believe you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me N. And no matter where we go in life, you will forever be the person I'll never stop looking for in a crowded place.

Always and Forever, Y/N

He bit the inside of his cheek and sighed, looking up from the crinkled paper and wiping his face on his t-shirt sleeve. He took a deep breath and looked back down at the paper, folding it back up and putting the picture back into the envelope as well and walked back into his house, closing and locking the door behind him. "Hey Nolan, who was at the door?" Travis asked, his voice making Nolan jump.

       "Oh uh, no one. Just the paper." He said as he opened the fridge. "Can you toss me a soda please?"

       He tossed him a soda and grabbed himself one, then closing the door and meeting him in the living room. "Paper huh? Where is it?" He asked, looking down at the envelope in his hands.

       "Oh, it's uh-" Nolan scratched the back of his neck, trying to come up with a lie.

       He laughed and plopped his hand onto his shoulder. "It's 12:30 dude, your parents already got the paper. But I'm sure whatever it is, must have been worth the read."

       "Yeah...it was," Nolan said, looking down at the envelope in his hands.        "What do you say? Let's watch me kick Nico's ass in NHL '18 for the hundredth time huh?" He smiled, walking ahead of him and down the stairs, back into the man- cave.

       Nolan nodded and followed him, stopping just outside the door and opening the envelope again and pulling out the small polaroid. He ran his thumb over your handwriting on the front and smiled.

Though it still hurts, he finally got his reason...and that's better than nothing.