#and i have absolutely no clue how i came up with that name

[hazel-jane]

A very old oc of mine.

[larrycommitsarson]

Guess who made another Cometkid and made him essentially a Cometcare self insert? That's right gamers, it's me

Honestly if it weren't for the fact I'm not very good at setting up side blogs and shit I would make an ask blog for all my Cometkids (I've currently only gotten eleven in total, and that's just how far I've gotten right now)

So yeah prepare for most of my posts to be about whenever I finish my Cometkids lol

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: The Radio Demon proves to be quite a doting husband as he and his doe expierence many firsts together. Exploring his softer sides, may bring out a more posessive side of Alastor in the process.

☒ Warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns used, doe!reader, the reader is shorter than al, implied size difference, soft!alastor, posessive!alastor, lots of tooth rotting fluff, sexual themes but i wouldn't consider this smut, first times, alastor in a rut, knotting, breeding, pregnacy, many domestic moments between reader and alastor

☒ Word Count: 2,337

Alastor was drawn to you the moment you crossed paths. The spotted ears planted atop your head, heart-shaped antlers, and a plush tail to match were striking. The Radio Demon hadn't ever seen a fellow deer hybrid in hell until you. But Alastor just knew that he had to have you all to himself. 

Since your first meeting, the two of you were inseparable. It didn't take long until you wed, and anyone who dared to try and cozy up to The Radio Demon's darling doe joined his next broadcast. Alastor was insanely possessive of you. He always had you tucked underneath his arm, crimson eyes following your every move. The only time they weren't on you, was when The Radio Demon was busy... taking care of business.

You were timid and pure. Alastor had no clue how you even ended up in hell. Surely, the gods were mistaken by not taking you. But alas, that softness you carried only made The Radio Demon's obsession for you all the more extreme. You were his weak spot, his darling wife. The love of his afterlife. 

You adored waking up next to Alastor each morning. He didn't rest often but snuggled into you each night to appease you. Which just made your heart flutter with delight. The only time you awoke to an empty bed, was when your husband slipped away to make breakfast for you. 

For the most part, you would sleepily wobble into the kitchen. Wrapping your arms around Alastor's waist from behind while he cooked his heart out. Alastor would hum a soft tune while he finished making your breakfast. Reveling in the warmth his cute wife emitted.

The Radio Demon would often spin on his heel. Encircling his large palms around your waist. He loved lifting you, so the tips of your toes planted flat against the top of his shoes as he spun you around the kitchen. Your laughter and his singing filled the sacred space you shared. You may have been in hell, but anywhere you were with Alastor was heavenly. 

Alastor never failed to notice how flustered you got as you gazed up at him. The man was over seven feet tall, so typically, he was taller than most. However, you were adorably short in comparison. His hands blanketed yours entirely. Alastor absolutely loved to bend down before you. Treasuring how your ears tipped back coyly as he met you at eye level. You were so easy to read. You couldn't hide anything from your husband. Even if you tried. 

You came to notice that physical touch wasn't something Alastor particularly liked. Except when it came to you. Your husband was constantly all over you. Holding your hand, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap anytime he sat down. You name it. Knowing that you were the only exception made you feel special.

But even still, you never pushed the matter. If anything, you waited for Alastor to initiate the physical intimacy, which happened more frequently than one might think- considering The Radio Demon's reputation. 

Sex wasn't something you discussed much at the beginning of your relationship. Alastor briefly mentioned that he never desired such things when he was alive. But once he became a demon, a deer hybrid at that- he started experiencing ruts. He explained that he would usually tuck away from the world until his rut passed, but that was as far as the conversation went. Relief washed over you, knowing that you weren't alone in that aspect. Your periods of estrus always made you feel shameful but, most of all... unbearably needy.

Alastor prided himself on knowing that he was a man of great composure. However, when his routine rut hit after you both had tied the knot- he expected to be able to control his urges. But that proved to be impossible for The Radio Demon. At the start of his rut, he kept his distance. Avoiding all physical contact with you. Naturally, you understood and tried to support him the best you could from afar. 

But it didn't take long for Alastor's poise to completely crumble. Your scent was all over your shared home, and any glimpse of you had him throbbing in his pants. 

Before you knew it, your husband was on you. Nipping and kissing up the expanse of your throat. Grumbling and groaning against your neck, begging you to help in through his heat. Your body trembled with need as Alastor's hands roamed along your frame in a way he never had before. 

His touches were prompt, frantic, and perverse. You wouldn't dream of denying your darling husband during his time of need. Knowing that Alastor would be your first and last lover; as you would be his, sent your heart pounding against your ribcage.

As desperate as your husband was for release, his touch was undoubtedly gentle. Alastor was slow to undress you, laying you flat atop your shared bed. He placed chaste kisses on every square inch of your skin, making your ears twitch with delight. Your husband whispered sweet nothings into your skin as he worked a finger into your tight heat for the very first time. 

Alastor's deft digit stretched you out slowly. The copious amount of slick dripping down your thighs made it easy for him to add another finger. You were on cloud nine being touched by your darling husband in such a way. You could feel the need he had for you, and it only added to the pleasure. 

Your husband was a bit hesitant the first time he pushed himself inside your welcoming walls. His hands were trembling around your waist as he buried himself to the hilt inside you. You could tell he was unfamiliar with such things; it was endearing. Alastor's face loomed over yours as he beckoned into you slowly. He gazed down at you with so much adoration as he succumbed to pleasure. 

You didn't fail to notice the tears of merriment trickling down Alastor's flush cheeks as his pace quickened. Carefully, you wiped them away. Moaning in pure ecstasy as you and your husband reveled in the unforgettable moment you shared. A gasp escaped you as you felt him begin to swell from deep within you. 

From the look on Alastor's face, you could tell he was just as perplexed as you were. The base of your lover's length swelled so much, that he could hardly pull back. You were quite literally stuck together. It didn't take long for you to understand what had happened once Alastor released his seed deep inside you. 

The feeling of your husband being so close, enveloping and marking you as his, pushed you over the edge. Once Alastor's knot deflated inside you, finally allowing him to slip out of your heat, his eyes averted from yours. He was uncharacteristically quiet as he attempted to regain his composure. 

Slowly, he explained that he had no clue that he was capable of knotting until only moments ago. You couldn't help but flush as you admitted to liking it more than you probably should have. Your confession unlocked something from deep inside your husband's psyche. Safe to say that you both shared a long night of exploring one another's pleasures and eccentricities. 

Your husband began craving you sexually even when he wasn't in a rut after your first night together. Alastor seemed to have developed a fixation with breeding you, which you weren't opposed to. The thought of starting a family with your doting husband plagued your mind often. 

So it wasn't a massive surprise to you when you discovered you were pregnant only a couple months later. When you broke the news to Alastor, he was elated. Your husband lifted you in his arms, spinning you around the kitchen as you both grinned brightly. Alastor wasted no time pitching name ideas for your fawn, melting your heart entirely.

You were about seven months along when your husband informed you of his next prospect at the Hazbin Hotel. Happily, you joined your husband in his endeavor. At first, the people you met who resided at the hotel didn't believe you were Alastor's spouse. For crying out loud, he was the infamous Radio Demon. The ruthless overlord that moved up the ranks faster than ever before. 

But to you, he was simply the doting husband that took pride in loving you. Who rubbed your feet from how much they swelled during your pregnancy. The man who hummed his favorite tunes to you as you dozed off each night, caressing your ears lovingly in the process. 

It took a good while but over time you developed a good relationship with the residents. Charlie was so caring and helpful. She did tons of research on pregnancy to be able to aid you. The Princess of Hell loved rubbing your belly, feeling the little kicks, and humming happy songs to your little fawn.

Vaggie was overly protective of you. Not to Alastor's level- but certainly up there. She acted like your bodyguard at times, even in the safety of your and Alastor's room. It made you giggle, but you appreciated it nonetheless. 

Angel was a hoot. At first, he would ask you indecent questions about your and Alastor's sex life. But Husk always put him in his place at times like that. Eventually, Angel became somewhat of a brother to you. He and Fat Nuggets would sit on your bed with you late at night while Alastor worked in his radio tower. Angel would put on all the best rom-com movies, laughing and crying alongside you.

You knew Husk beforehand, having a civil relationship for the most part. But as more time passed at the hotel, he began to warm up to you. If anything, Husk feared for you. He didn't like Alastor in the slightest- and he didn't want you to get caught in The Radio Demon's crossfire. So he kept a watchful gaze on you, especially now that you were pregnant. 

A small smile etched into your features as you heard the bedroom door swing open. Alastor was home early, something that didn't happen often. You sunk lower into your bubble bath, letting a soft sigh escape you as your husband's footsteps got louder. A moment later, the bathroom door swung open. Revealing the one and only; Alastor. 

"How is my darling doe and fawn doing on this wonderful evening?" Alastor boomed, approaching the tub swiftly. Wasting no time kneeling beside the tub. You giggled as your husband slipped his gloves off, dunking his palms beneath the water to caress your plump belly. 

"Hmm, better now that you're here," You whispered. Rubbing your palms over the back of his hands. Alastor craned his neck, giving you a chaste kiss. You couldn't help but smile against your lover's lips as your little fawn kicked right at that very moment. "See! Our little one is happy too, now that daddy's here." 

Alastor gazed at you with much adoration as he felt another kick, further solidifying your words. "Well, in that case! I suppose I should strive to get home earlier from now on, hm?" Your husband remarked, slowly pulling his hands from the tub. Alastor didn't miss a beat as he grabbed a washcloth. Lathering it up with your favorite soap before dipping his hands below the water once more. 

"Miss falling asleep next to you, Al," You sighed, eyes fluttering shut as your husband washed you. Alastor was so gentle as he scrubbed you clean. Making sure to massage your sore muscles in the process. "I know, my dear, I know." He cooed. Humming a gentle tune as he slid behind you from outside the tub. Working the knots out of your tense shoulders. 

"Our little fawn will be here soon... you nervous?" You asked softly, letting out a pleasant hum as Alastor massaged your back. His lips ghosted along the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Quite the contrary, my darling! I'm over the moon with excitement. I simply cannot wait to meet our little one."

Alastor's words caused your heart to flutter against your ribcage. You were the nervous one. You just hoped your child would be happy and healthy. "Don't worry your pretty little head, my dear! Our fawn is in good hands. Don't you see how much the patrons here adore you and our unborn child?"

Your husband always knew when you were nervous. It was as if he could read your mind. The sound of the soapy water sinking down the drain caused your eyes to flutter open. Alastor now stood with a towel outstretched in his arms. He beckoned you toward him, wrapping you in his arms as you stepped out of the tub. Your tail wagged with joy as your husband dried you off. 

"You're right... thanks for reminding me, my love," You smiled, tilting your face up against your husband's chest. Alastor took the hint, craning his neck to press his lips against yours. The kiss was warm and loving. Making you feel safe in his embrace. "No need to thank me, my dear! Come now, let's get you tucked in."

You squealed as your husband scooped you in his arms. Carrying you bridal style toward your shared bed. Alastor softly placed you under the duvet, wasting no time getting you warm and cozy in one of his button-up shirts. It smelled just like him, your favorite scent. Your husband stealthily removed his overcoat and shoes before making himself comfortable beneath the sheets.

Alastor cuddled up into your backside, wrapping his slender arms around your waist. He caressed your tummy lovingly as he kissed the top of your head, pulling your back flush against his chest. "There, now my darlings are ready to rest!" Your husband quipped, allowing his droopy eyelids to flutter shut. All you could do was hum in agreement as sleep overtook you. "Night, Al... love you..." 

"I love you more, my dear."

tags; @danveration @celestial-vomit @jyoongim

comment if you're intrested in being added to the taglist^^

[apricotgojo]

Protection be gone! ʚ♡ɞ

ׂ╰┈➤ Some Choso and Gojo headcanons (Separate) on how they would be when they fuck you raw for the first time! I might write some for other characters too later on ;) Tags: unprotected sex- obvi, cum ᐢᗜᐢ , whiney choso, creampies!, Gojo has a weak pull out game.

Satoru Gojo

his face lit up when you told him that you're ready to try it without protection - and the most devilish smile formed on his lips.

He's never pressured you about it but god DAMN was he happy to finally get the chance to properly feel you.

You were nervous of course, praying to god that his pull out game was as strong as he said it was - spoiler it wasn't .

he had your legs spread out and resting against his shoulders and his eyes were glued on your pussy as he put the tip in.

"Oh my fucking goooood~" he shamelessly moaned out loud, his mouth agape as he watched your pussy basically swallow him whole.

You could barely keep your mouth shut too. His cock felt so good inside you like this, you swore you could feel every twitch and vein.

You were so tight, so wet around him, so warm. Your pussy was making him feral.

The sounds he let out were like none other. He was a swearing, growling mess.

"You take my cock so-fuck-fucking good baby", "You like how fucking deep inside it is baby? you like how good my-hah- cock feels?"

How long did he last you might ask? 10 minutes tops. He couldn't control himself when he put you into a mating press. He was plunging himself so deep inside of you that it felt like he was trying to go deeper but he physically couldn't.

His head was buried in the nape of your neck as he pounded into you, moaning your name and talking about how good he's gonna cum.

You didn't have the time to protest because all you could hear is a muffled, "fuuuuuuuck" and he was cumming inside you, basically balls deep.

and it was A LOT.

Your mind was too hazy at how utterly amazing it felt to be filled up by him to complain.

His head lifted up from your neck, revealing a disheveled, grinning, gorgeous face that belonged to the love of your life. You couldn't even be mad at him when he looked like that, but you still shot him a glare.

"Oopsie"

Choso Kamo

The idea sparked through your head while you were riding him.

"Choo~" You whispered into his ear, kissing the shell. "Let's take off the condom this time."

Choso - bless his soul, actually froze and he cocked his head towards you, eyes wide and lips parted.

"A-are you sure?" He stuttered out before gulping and you simply nodded.

Choso was nervous. he's never fucked without protection before and he had no clue what it felt like. He didn't think it was any different than fucking with a condom on.

And oh, was he wrong

He basically gasped when you slowly sat down on his cock and he covered his mouth to stop himself from making embarrassing noises.

His grip on your hips tightened and it was like he was at loss for words.

But then you start moving up and down.

And then he absolutely lost it.

His moans were so loud and whiney.

"yesyesyesyes" "mmm please go faster baby" "I love your pussy."

He was a man possessed. gripping your hips roughly and pounding into you like you were his own personal fleshlight.

Thankfully, you were on the pill so it didn't matter if he pulled out or not and you kind of didn't want him to ;)

His cock felt bigger than ever - you didn't even think that was possible with the size of him already, and he was hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

Poor Choso couldn't even last 5 minutes - but you took it as a compliment.

His head was thrown back in pure euphoria muttering out little, "ahh fuckfuckfuck" 's and talking about how much he doesn't want this to end.

With one big thrust inside you, he came bucket loads, shivering beneath you and panting.

To your surprise though, he was still hard as fuck after he pulled out.

Probably because of how lewd it was to see your pussy gushing out his cum, - he wanted to fuck you again

And he did fuck you again, and again.

and again.

"I think your pussy put a spell on me"

[jazzyoranges]

Can you write a friends with benefits situation Wednesday or Tara has with gp reader? Wednesday or Tara enforces a no strings attach policy but of course reader has to catch feelings and admits their feelings. It freaks Tara/wednesday and causes her to push them away and ghost them effectively hurting the reader who after a while tries to rebound with another girl causing major jealousy from Tara/Wednesday. You can choose the ending I just wanna see some jealous smut and angst mix in there 😩

She’s my Collar

Wednesday Addams x fem!werewolf!reader

Words: 4.6k (whoopsies)

Warnings: gp!reader, definitely ooc Wednesday, heat cycles, unprotected sex, knotting, explicit smut, everyone is 18+, Wednesday calls you a mutt and a puppy, breeding kink, is it really pet play if you’re actually a pet?, italian/spanish pet names and phrases, possessive Wednesday, fluff, angst i think

A/n: so sorry it took so long for me to write this anon who requested 😓 could be read as a prequel to this fic, but not specifically written as one. also i kinda strayed away from the original request, sorry about that too 😭🫶

MINORS DNI!

Wednesday didn’t want to admit it, but she was feeling a certain emotion that was completely undesirable. You’ve been out sick for an entire week. Wednesday hadn’t seen you in the last 8 days, 17 hours, and 42 minutes. But who was counting? Definitely not the Addams girl

Others would say Wednesday looked the same as any other week, but Enid’s roommate senses were tingling. Constantly fiddling with her rings, the very prominent scowl on her face that was meaner than usual, and the common frustrated grunts when Wednesday would make a mistake with her writing. Something was up, and not even god herself couldn’t stop Enid from figuring it out

While Wednesday was smart in every aspect except social, Enid’s people smarts came in useful every now and again. It really didn’t take long for her to piece two and two together. Angry roommate while someone she frequently hung out with was out sick? It was child’s play, really. All she needed to do was have Wednesday come to the same conclusion as her

Easier said that done, really. Wednesday was a knucklehead not so smart when it came to emotions. Any emotion other than creating despair, Wednesday struggled with. Luckily Enid was dedicated and also a knucklehead

Currently Wednesday was seated at her desk, simply staring at a blank piece of paper without moving. On any normal day her fingers would be speeding across the typewriter with ideas constantly coming to her. Now she was met with absolute digital silence from her mind, which proved to be discouraging and inconvenient to say the least

“Alright, Wednesday. What’s going on?”

“I have not a clue what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been different this entire week. Spill the beans”

“As I’ve just said, I don’t have the information you want.”

“It’s because you haven’t seen her all week, right? You miss her, don’t you?”

“Why would I miss that mutt of a werewolf? I do not miss Y/n.”

“I never said her name, yet you know exactly who I’m talking about. Funny how that works, Wednesday” Enid teases. Her roomie has been caught red handed

“If you want your tongue, I’d recommend you stop talking.”

“Cmon, Wednesday, I’m being serious. It’s not weird to miss a friend. How about you check up on her?”

“First, I do not miss her. Second, she is definitely fine. I do not need to check up on her.”

“She’s been out sick for an entire week. She texted me just today the sickness isn’t showing any signs of stopping”

“Why has she not called the nurse, then?”

“She told me they ran out of the medicine she needs. The sickness is werewolf specific. I’ve gotten it before and it hurt like a bitch without medicine”

“What kind of school clinic runs out of medicine?” Wednesday says under her breath while getting up. Presumably to check on you, Enid assumes

“It’s really high in demand right now. It only infects werewolves, so you won’t catch it”

“I suppose I’ll ask Y/n on the specifics of her current condition. Perhaps it could be a part in my writings.”

“I’m sure it will be, Wednesday. Tell me how it goes!” Enid waves goodbye to Wednesday as she exits, and the Addams misses her roommates wolfish grin

Luckily your dorm isn’t too far away from Ophelia hall but it’s still a considerable walk to and from. The walk there gives Wednesday enough time to really question why she was doing this. She did not care for you, that was most definitely certain. At least that’s what Wednesday kept telling herself when she neared your room

The Addams girl hesitated before she knocked on your door. She could hear you whimpering and whining in pain, your tail quickly thumping against your bed. The shorter girl bit the bullet and held her fist against the door, quickly knocking on it

“Open up, Y/n or I’ll be forced to axe down your door.”

“Go away, Wednesday” Your voice was muffled

“Either I pick your lock or you open this door. Make your decision.”

Wednesday hears your feel shuffle to the door, and you open it just enough for your eye to peek out. Wednesday immediately notices your flushed skin and dark eye bags. You’re only wearing a tank top and boxers, trying to hide your lower body behind the door

“What do you want?” You spit out a bit more aggressively than you mean to

“I’ve come to check up on your illness”

“I’m uh- I’m okay. You can go now, Wednesday”

“You obviously aren’t, you haven’t gone to your classes all week.”

“Listen, I’m not actually sick. If I tell you what’s actually happening, promise you won’t freak out?”

“I promise.”

You suck in a breath to calm your nerves. “I’m in heat. The school clinic ran out of suppressants, so I haven’t been able to come to classes”

Wednesday looked you up and down, and in a split second she felt something she hadn’t before. Something about how your wolfish features came out. Ears were pressed against your head, tail hung low and swaying softly, and Wednesday noticed your fangs poke out when you spoke

“Let me help you.”

“W-What?” You momentarily stoped holding the door, and Wednesday let herself inside. Wednesday was immediately hit with a musk that was so… you. Werewolves weren’t her major, but she could tell you’ve marked your entire room with your own scent. Something about it made Wednesday’s mind think of all the unspeakable things she wanted to do to you

“Uh, sorry for the mess. And sorry for the smell, I know it’s bad…” You shift on your feet, and it’s only then Wednesday notices the tent in your boxers. Quickly mumbling out apology after apology, you move your tail so it covers your growing erection

“Stop apologizing, it’s getting quite annoying. I said I’d help you, did I not?”

“Help me like..?”

“Yes. Help you as in having sexual intercourse”

Your cheeks flush red and you have to actively stop your tail from wagging in excitement. Wednesday takes a step closer, but you take a step back

“A-Are you sure? You’re human, and I’m a werewolf. Your body isn’t designed to handle our heats”

Wednesday takes another step closer to you, grabbing your neck to make you look straight in her eyes. You can’t stop the whimper that escapes your throat

“I decide what I can handle.” The shorter girl firmly gropes at your clothed erection, and you moan at the contact

“Wednesday, I-”

“A dumb puppy is what you are. Why didn’t you tell me you were in heat?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t think you’d care” When Wednesday starts to massage your clothed cock more roughly, she earns another moan out of your throat

“Please, please make it better, Wednesday. It hurts so fucking much” You whimper, and Wednesday wonders if you’d look good in a collar with her name on it. She’d have to save that idea for a different day.

“Puppy.”

“Wednesday?”

“Take everything off. I want to see all of you.”

Wordlessly, you start to strip, which doesn’t take long since you’re barely wearing any clothes. Your mindless obedience made Wednesday happy. You start with your tank top and the Addams chooses to observe every part of you. Wednesday notices you’re considerably more furry than usual, your happy trail showing just above your boxer briefs

“Are you sure?” You ask nervously when you reach your boxers, and Wednesday is getting considerably more impatient

“Do I have to do everything for you?” Wednesday mutters while she takes off your boxers instead. The shorter girl sucks in a breath when your hardened cock slaps against your stomach

Wednesday didn’t expect you to be so… lewdly big. Looking at the size of your erection only reminded her your body was meant to breed. You were designed to reproduce, and the thought turned Wednesday on more than she liked

The shorter girl pushes you onto your bed, and she takes a second to look at the state you’re in

“Please, Wednesday…” You whine

“Be patient, Y/n. You’ll get there eventually”

“It hurts so much, please I can’t wait” Begging harder, Wednesday doesn’t likehow her first instinct is to give you what you want

“You’re lucky I tolerate you. If you were any other person, I’d think this was dehumanizing.” She pushes you further back, licking a stripe up your tip and across a vein. You have to stop yourself from cumming embarrassingly quick

Wednesday keeps giving your shaft long kitten-licks and you’re in heaven when she finally decides to suck your tip with a new type of hunger.

And due to previous attempts at suppressing your heat by yourself, your cock was absolutely raw at how much you masturbated. It only made Wednesday’s tongue feel even better

She hollows out her cheeks, making your tip hit the back of her throat. This earns a groan from the back of your throat. You didn’t know if touching was allowed due to her track record of broken arms and hands, so you decide to play it safe by just holding onto your bedsheets for dear life

“F-Fuck, I’m about to-“ Before you can finish your sentence, Wednesday pulls away from your cock. The look on your face is something Wednesday would like to cherish. Your penis was twitching like crazy. It was drooling with pre-cum and the shorter girls saliva. She couldn’t help but admire how you shook under her

“Why’d you stop?” Whining seemed to be a strong suit of yours

“In me.” Wednesday wipes a bit of her saliva off her chin, and you swear it’s the most attractive thing ever “Now.”

“Huh?”

“You know what I mean. Really, do I always have to spell it out for you?”

“You have to cut me some slack here, Wens…”

“I suppose I could provide an understanding for your view. You’re nothing but a dumb pup, are you not? Your kind is known to follow orders.”

“I think you’re confusing me with a domesticated dog, Wednesday”

“If I were to demand you pluck stars from the night, you would, would you not?”

“I mean I would, but for different reasons…”

“My point still stands.” Wednesday mumbles, sinking down on your erection. You don’t remember when she got naked, but you’re also not exactly complaining

The Addams holds onto your shoulders for support, and you hesitate before putting your hands on her hips. Luckily you made the right choice, your warm hands directly polar to Wednesday’s.

It takes a little effort for Wednesday to completely take in your cock, but the stretch is worth it when she sees your labored breathing like she’s the best pussy you’ve ever had. Which, Wednesday wouldn’t admit she was proud of. She could feel every vein on your cock and every twitch made her spiral into thoughts of you

The sight is funny, you think. The Wednesday Addams is impaled on your cock. The Wednesday Addams that saved Nevermore. The Wednesday Addams that was notorious for being gorgeously scary. That Wednesday Addams was riding your dick like her life depended on it.

Skin slapping together was music to your ears, and the feeling in your lower stomach you recognized well was rapidly building up. Wednesday came with a hitch in her breath, and you reluctantly pulled out before releasing your own cum with a groan. Both of you are left breathing hard.

“There will be a silver bullet in your skull if you so much as think about telling anyone about this.” Wednesday mutters in between breaths.

“Duly noted.”

—

You’ve been in this arrangement with Wednesday for about 4 months, now

The first month consisted of a casual fuck here and there. After a particularly hard week, teachers being annoying, or a hard test. It wasn’t difficult to keep your situation away from your friends. For all they knew, you two were still the platonic match-made-in-hell duo that were strictly friends

The second month was a little harder to keep your situation away from your friends. Wednesday would randomly pull you into any empty closet or classroom she could for a quick orgasm to get her through the day

The third month was rough. You two went on dates as you liked to call it, but Wednesday would call them study sessions or hangouts. Trips to Jericho on the weekend, Wednesday helping you with botany, it was practically impossible to separate both of you. Unfortunately your friends became suspicious

So during the fourth month, a new vampire transferred to Nevermore. You were assigned to give her a tour of the school and her classes. When Wednesday saw you two hang out when you’d usually see the Addams, she suspected the tour went better than anticipated. What Wednesday expected to be a minor inconvenience for one day, caused her many unwanted thoughts. It made a vein pop out of her neck. (not literally, but that’s what it felt like)

Wednesday noticed how you two started spending more time together after and during school. Of course there was definitely a reasonable explanation, you were her only friend. Unfortunately a very minuscule part of her brain is telling her you like the new vampire more than the Addams. The thought didn’t sit right with her

You were supposed to be Wednesday’s. You were supposed to only have eyes for the Addams and not some vampire that doesn’t even make you half as happy as her. You would always be Wednesday’s. When you finally realized the vampire wasn’t enough to satiate your needs, Wednesday would be there. She would be there to catch your fall, and the thought made her uncomfortable.

Wednesday Addams, a feared individual that wore her heart tucked under enough layers of blunt sarcasm and a deathly scary look, yet once glance from you sent her spiraling into something between fear and love. She hated it. She hated you. Wednesday hated you for bringing this side out of her she swore to be kept away from the surface of her character.

The Addams couldn’t afford this. You were her weakness. You definitely knew this as well. Unwanted doubt flooded her mind. Thoughts that ended up with you exploiting her only weakness made her heart ache, and not in a way she enjoyed.

You would end up breaking off your relationship with the Addams, leaving her to be made a fool as you were the only one that could do it. The worst part is Wednesday couldn’t even be angry with you. She knew you deserved someone of your own kind. Another werewolf that would understand and satiate your needs. Wednesday would end the arrangement the next time she saw you.

—

“(L/n).”

“Wednesday?” You open up your door with a smile on your face. A sight for sore eyes is what you were.

“We cannot continue our arrangement.”

“What? What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Wednesday wished she could take back her words, but she was doing this to keep herself safe. To make you happy.

“Our late night meetings can no longer continue. I’ve grown uncomfortable with your presence.”

“Wednesday, I-“

“A nuisance is what you are. You’re needy, and you can’t do anything by yourself. You really are just a dumb mutt. You are incapable of doing anything except cling to me like a lost child.” Wednesday spits out, and something akin to regret dawns on her face

Stray tears leave your eyes and you wipe them up as quickly as they fall, but Wednesday notices. She can tell you’re trying to be strong, your quivering lip giving you away

“I’m- I’m sorry you feel that way, Addams.” You say before turning your back on Wednesday, closing the door. Broken sobs escape your throat, and Wednesday brings her hand up to your doorknob. She thinks a little longer before a single tear falls from her eye. She turns to leave instead.

—

Three weeks, nearing four since you’ve last talked to Wednesday. You’ve been out for a week and a half and Wednesday knows exactly why. Since the Addams has been helping with your heats for the past few months, you haven’t needed to request for more suppressants. Neither you nor Wednesday knew why your heats were commonly hell-ish and lasted for weeks without the suppressants you desperately needed

Really, she could picture you right now. You would’ve found the boxers that created the least amount of friction, and you’d be whimpering and whining while your tail rapidly thumped against the bed mattress. Finding the nearest thing to bite, which usually happened to be your bed frame, you’d sink your teeth into the cold wood and find a splinter on your tongue the next time you brushed your teeth. Rinse and repeat until you eventually fell asleep or Wednesday saved you from your own body

It was pathetic how much you constantly needed Wednesday…and consequently, how much Wednesday needed you.

Disgusting is the only word Wednesday can choose when thinking of how much space in her mind you took up. She was seated in the Quad while eating an apple and contemplating her life. Which, was not in an ideal situation.

“I know you want to talk to her, Wednesday” Enid takes a seat near the shorter girl

“I do not.”

“I know for a fact you didn’t mean what you said. Unfortunately, you’re too stubborn to realize it”

“She has that new girl, does she not?”

“For the last time, Wednesday, they aren’t dating”

“They may as well be. The two are practically attached at the hip”

“So were you two, but then you decided to fuck it all up and haven’t talked to her since” Enid groans. This is was going to be harder than she thought

“Wednesday, you know how much I love you, right?”

“Annoyingly so.”

“Not-so-respectfully, you fucked up really bad. I know you didn’t mean it, but would you rather see her kiss another girl, or would you rather be the girl she kisses?”

The question makes Wednesday hesitate, and relief washes over Enid. Did she want to be with you? She mentally scoffs at the thought. The Wednesday Addams uncharacteristically soft for a girl. Outrageous. Disgusting. Absolutely unheard-

“Well, it seems you have your answer. Talk to her right now, ‘kay?” Enid knew her roomie would do the right thing even if it was gut wrenchingly difficult

The shorter girl only responds with a grumble, but it’s enough of an answer for Enid to skip away and continue being the social butterfly she was. Wednesday was going to… apologize to you. Just thinking of the word made her recoil, but it was you she was going to. As much as Wednesday didn’t like apologizing, she didn’t want to admit the thought of being away from you any longer was the worse option

She was almost in the same exact situation almost five months ago. Only this time you were sad, and it was Wednesday’s job to make you feel better (in more ways than one)

It didn’t take long getting to your dorm. She knew all of the correct routes and shortcuts to take. Wednesday was met with a tightly locked door and a knob that had collected dust after the past week and a half. She brought a hand to the door, knocking loudly

The Addams was only met with silence. That is, silence, with the exception of stray whines and whimpers

“It’s Wednesday.” Silence again.

“I know you’re in there. Ignore me and I’ll find other means to see you.” More silence

“You’ve made your decision.” The shorter girl sighs, taking a lock pick from her uniform pocket. Why she had a lock pick? For important situations like these, of course

When Wednesday finally managed to unlock your door, she noticed how you looked considerably worse than the first time the Addams decided to help you with your heat

What Wednesday didn’t expect was you fully naked sprawled on your bed. Bite marks littered your bed frame and a chew toy Wednesday bought to mock you, but it ended up being somewhat helpful. A low quality fan spun, only making your scent waft around the room even more. An air freshener was mentally added to her list of things to buy

“Go away, Wednesday.” You growled. You never growled. “If you’re here to mock me and call me a nuisance, I’d recommend you leave”

“I came to help.”

“You’ve full of bullshit, aren’t you?”

“I’m not lying, Y/n.”

“Go away, Wednesday, I’m not going to say it again.” The Addams only took this as an invitation to step closer to your bed where you were laying face down and a light blanket to cover your ass

When you only heard footsteps near, something inside you snapped. You were a werewolf. Not a puppy that said please with a tail between your legs. No, you would make Wednesday leave. Also you were sexually frustrated while in heat, so that was definitely fuel to your sour mood

Before she could register what had happened, you pinned the smaller girl to the floor. Your pupils contracted into small circles while there was a permanent snarl on your face

“I said, go away.��� Your erection accidentally brushes against Wednesday’s thigh, and she was suddenly aware of how much self control you had for not already relentlessly stuffing the shorter girl full of your cum

“Knot me, cucciola.”

When the words leave Wednesday’s mouth, something in you changes. You’re overcome with sinful thoughts, and your cock starts to drool with precum at the image of Wednesday being full of you. It’s sinful, truly

“Is that why you came here? Just to be bred?”

“No, but it seems my words are working. You’re incredibly hard.” The shorter girl grabs your erection, jerking you off roughly

“Puppy.”

“Don’t… don’t call me that.” You say in between moans. Wednesday starts to sit up, and your back meets the side of your bed frame

“Cucciola wants to breed?”

“F-Fuck you.”

“We’re getting there, mi sol” The pet name accidentally slips, but you’re far too blissed out to notice

“She can’t make you feel as good as me, can she?”

“W-What? Who are you talking about?”

“You know who. The vampire that can’t get her hands off you.”

“Wednesday, we’re no-“ The shorter girl only started to stroke you faster. Her hand barely fit around your cock, but it still felt like heaven

“I don’t- I don’t like her that way” You say in between moans. Your orgasm was nearing and Wednesday knew this. She slowed down her pace, and you whined at the sudden loss of stimulation

“Knot me.”

“Huh?”

“Show me you don’t like her the way you like me.” You only notice your proximity after she speaks. Your noses are only inches apart. Wednesday’s eyes flick down to your lips, and you quickly close the distance

Wednesday was an addiction. Nicotine, acid, weed, none of it compared to how you felt while kissing Wednesday. You’d get drunk off her taste and crave it until she was in your arms once again. It was hell without her

When the shorter girl accidentally grinds on you, a surge of lust runs through your body. You quickly pick her up with your lips still attached to hers and take off her skirt. You couldn’t go another second without being in Wednesday

Sinking her onto your hardened erection, you let out a gasp of pleasure when her velvety walls stretch at your intrusion. You’re holding up her body by her thighs, and Wednesday just wishes you’d go faster.

“Cucciolo, ti amo.” The Addams moans when she looks down to see she’s only taken half of your length in her pussy. The sight is rather lewd, Wednesday thinks. Your cock is absolutely dripping with pre-cum when you push yourself further in her

“Mierda. Más, cachorro. Tan bueno para mi.” Wednesday slips into her native tongue. You haven’t seen her like this any other time she’s… helped you out

Bringing your lips to hers again, you decide to be in control when you push your tongue into her mouth. Eyes half lidded, bangs sticking to her forehead, and hair a bit disheveled, you think she’s never been prettier.

You let Wednesday rest a bit before sinking your cock deeper into her cunt, and the Addams ends up scratching you hard enough small amounts blood start to drip down your back. The sensation takes you by surprise. Accidentally bucking your hips up further into Wednesday, the girl lets out a groan as she fully takes your length in her pussy.

Placing her on the bed, you notice a tiny bulge in her stomach. You decide to be bold. Pressing your thumb against the intrusion, you hear a sound you’ve never heard before

Wednesday whimpers at your touch.

You do it again.

Her cunt squeezes around your cock, making it harder for you to keep thrusting. But you’re a wolf in heat and Wednesday is incredibly horny, so you continue your movements.

“Sh-She’ll never- she’ll never be as good as you, Wens…” An unexpected growl comes from deep within your throat

“No one can take my cock as good as you…” You’re thrusting considerably faster when Wednesday looks back down at where you two meet. The scenario folding out is a sight for sore eyes, the Addams thinks. You, feeding into your primal urges like it’s an unstoppable beast; and Wednesday willingly taking it in however she can.

“Cara mia.”

“Mine… mine all mine. No one else but mine…” You whimper a little pathetically, but the girl below you is only focused on your thrusts. Her cold hands find their way to your back again, leaving a trail of blood behind

“Yours, puppy. All yours.” Wednesday feeds into your possessive behavior. She knows she shouldn’t, but with you thoughts of reason leave her head and are replaced with thoughts of you

“Were you serious about the knotting, Wens?”

“Deathly.”

“Are you- mph~ sure? It’s kinda big…” The girl under you looks down again, and your ever growing knot seems to just be getting bigger and bigger. Even horny out of your mind, you still wanted to make sure your mate was alright.

…you decide to ignore that thought.

Your eyes were trained on how your erection stretched out Wednesday. Her pussy would be yours, and yours alone. Nobody would make her feel as good as you did. You’d make sure she wouldn’t need anyone else’s cock but yours.

A breathy moan erupts from your throat when you start to actively try to push your knot into Wednesday

“Relax for me Wens, it’ll never go in unless you want it too” You feel her tensed under your touch, but your words are enough for her to relax

Every thrust you get closer, until you eventually start to reach your peak. You can tell Wednesday is too. Her hair is messy and both of your bodies are littered with marks of possession.

“I-I’m so close Wens…” Are the last words you say before succeeding in pushing your knot into the Addams girl. You cum inside of Wednesday’s pussy, and the swell of your knot inside her is enough for Wednesday to cum impaled on your cock. The feeling of being full is an experience Wednesday wished she did with you far sooner.

You wiggle your hips to seemingly get more comfortable inside of Wednesday, but the movement only makes her moan. She was sensitive as hell.

“…was that enough proof I like you more than I like her?”

“More than enough, (Y/n).”

[bigfootsboytoy]

Part two of this story, where Robin discovers Steve’s type. A lot of people seemed interested in more, so here you go! 

The conversation doesn’t go quite the way Robin is expecting it. She’s fully prepared for Steve to launch into saying how confused he is because he’s feeling weird pants feelings for Eddie, but how does that work because he likes girls? She’s been mentally preparing herself for that exact discussion since she watched Eddie Munson call her best friend ‘Big Boy’ in the middle of committing grand theft auto. So when Steve starts talking, curled up on the gross linoleum tile of Family Video, she’s taken by surprise. She doesn’t even get the chance to answer his question before he’s throwing her prepared speech out the metaphorical window. 

“That’s stupid, you already told me that. Sharon Parker in the 5th grade, holding hands for Red Rover, blah blah blah, I know that. But like…Have you ever acted different around a girl, and then one day, you realize it’s because you like her? Like, you had a crush on a girl without even realizing it? Does that make any sense?” 

It takes Robin a second to reboot, but the second she manages, Steve throws her even further off track. 

“It’s just, Tommy H came by the other day, and he said some stuff that really has me thinking and-” 

Robin can’t stop herself. As soon as she hears a name other than Eddie Munson, she has a hand out covering Steve’s mouth. He gives her a look, surprised and confused. Maybe a little annoyed. She valiantly ignores him because what he just said has her head spinning, and she needs to put a stop to it right now. 

“Steve. My best friend in the whole universe. I’m here for whatever you need and whatever you might be figuring out about yourself. You know I’m going to support you 100% no matter what happens but…Please. PLEASE tell me that you didn’t just discover you have a crush on TOMMY H! He isn’t even your type, Steve! He isn’t even in the ballpark of your type! He’s so far off it’s honestly kind of laughable and-” 

Now it’s Steve who puts a hand over her mouth. 

“Jesus, Robin! First of all, gross. I’m not into Tommy, okay? Never gonna happen, not in a million years. And second, what the hell do you mean ‘my type?’ What the hell would you know about my type?” 

Robin carefully removes his hand from her face and shakes her head. She has absolutely no clue where this conversation is going, but there’s still a chance it can work its way somewhere good. Somewhere Munson-related. And she owes it to Steve to listen to his crisis properly. 

“Nevermind, forget that. What happened with Tommy?” 

“Okay well, he came over, like I said. He was super wasted, and I guess he and Carol broke up? And he started talking about when we were friends, and how he always used to try and get closer to me. He said he almost asked me if I wanted to practice kissing once? And he talked about like, trying to touch me all the time, trying to make me laugh? Basically saying he had a crush on me, which was super weird.” 

Robin nodded, because really, she had no idea what to say to that. 

“And then he kissed me. Which was kind of gross because he tasted like whisky and he was being all sloppy, like he wanted to eat my face. But…” 

“But?” 

“It wasn’t as gross as I would have expected I guess.” 

“I thought you said you didn’t like him!” 

“I don’t! It just, wasn’t a totally horrible kiss okay? Only a little horrible.” 

Robin sighed and let her head tip back against the wall. 

“Okay, I’m not seeing your dilemma yet. Tommy liking you and kissing you is kind of weird sure, but it doesn’t change anything about you.” 

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed, and he let out a puff of air. He looked small in this bathroom, scared in a way that Robin hated. They had faced down monsters, torture, long shifts with Keith. A conversation with his best friend should never have Steve looking that afraid, ever. 

She reached out and took his hand in her, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Hey, it’s okay Steve. Tell me what’s going on in that head.” 

“It’s just…Some of what Tommy said. About how he tried to get closer to me, to touch me and make me laugh and shit? I guess I realized that I’m doing that stuff. With somebody else. And if Tommy did it because he liked me then…” 

“You think it might mean you like this person. This…guy?” 

“Yeah. This guy.” 

There it was, the Eddie Munson of it all. Because Robin only knew of one guy that Steve spent his time with and would be trying to be touchy and close with. She had watched it happen with her own eyes, the way Steve would look for reasons to lean past Eddie, to put a hand on his shoulder, his back, once getting brave and putting a hand on his waist. She’d watched Eddie do the exact same things around Steve, too.

Part of her almost just comes out and tells Steve, that she knows who he’s talking about. Except he still looks unsure. He looks like he wants to throw up a little, and Robin has to fix that. 

“You know it’s okay right? For you to like this guy?” 

“I know. It’s just weird, to realize I might like him that way. Normally I can figure out when I’m into someone.” 

“Well, normally you aren’t friends with the people you’re into first. That makes it confusing.” 

“And I’m normally into people with boobies.” 

“That too.” 

Steve lets out a tiny laugh, and it makes Robin beam. Something about Steve is lighter now, like somethings been lifted off his chest, something that’s been there for a really long time without him knowing. She wants to tell him how much she’s loves him. How much she cares about him and supports him. She wants to tell him about all her research, and fully explain to him her findings when it comes to ‘his type.’ 

She wants to tell him that she knows the guy he likes is Eddie. That she thinks Eddie might like him too. 

The ‘ring for service’ bell ruins her chance at saying any of it. 

She and Steve both clamber off the floor, adjusting their vests before exiting the bathroom to greet whoever keeps ringing the stupid bell over and over again. Robin can’t decide if it’s the best luck in the world, or the worst, when it’s Eddie Munson himself standing at the counter. 

She leans towards best luck when she sees the way Steve’s cheeks go red.

A few people asked to be tagged if I did a part 2, so hopefully I do that right! I’ve got a few more parts planned, so if anybody else wants to be tagged let me know and I’ll do my best!

@kaiscove​ @wolfstarlights​  @awkwardgravity1​ @anonymousbandgirl​  @f1ct1onwh0re

[soobnny]

classmate au | sim jake

❝ i’m sorry we only got 26/30 on this worksheet ❞

heeseung | jay | JAKE | sunghoon | sunoo | jungwon | ni-ki

jake…

oh jake.

student athlete and math genius jake

you’re in the same class but he feels so far because he hangs out with his rly pretty friends

u can only look from afar

he’s always a tiny bit late to class

always drawing attention to his pretty boy face 😞

at 7:30, the bell rings and classes start

at 7:31, jake walks into class late

but the teachers always give him a pass bc how could they not when he smiles at them like that and apologizes like that

even ur teachers are down bad

he probably becomes your class representative for that one strict teacher’s class bc they always have a soft spot for jake

u want the deadline of the homework extended? ask jake to message them

he sits in the middle seats

not too prim and punctual to be at the front

but still likes school enough not to completely goof around at the back

sometimes your math teacher lets you do quizzes and worksheets by pair

(it’s the only way some of you can get a passing grade)

by statistics and some type of sampling, you end up getting partnered up with jake

“hi, good morning,” he’d greet with his infamous smile

now you get why all the teachers swoon for him

he’s so cute. this is going to be a problem

this is going to be a BIG problem

you were already bad at math, and now there’s a big pretty distraction sitting next to you

though, tbh, you were also relieved when you heard your name with his bc he’s ltrly known as a math genius

he’s one of the students that teachers excuse for their math contests

and wait 😭 did he just say something to u? did he ask about a formula bc u honestly have no clue

“(name)?” he’d shake your shoulder gently and it’s enough to bring you back on earth

“sorry, did you ask something?”

“oh, i’m done … if u wanted to compare answers? or if u trust me enough?”

you trust him enough

he’s ltrly THE carry

jake will speedrun differential calculus like he’s writing the alphabet

uh oh.

why does he look so HOT with his pencil and the way he writes numbers

you’re going insane

you should never be paired with jake ever again

but by some twist of fate, you always end up as jake’s partner in numerous activities

lab work and experiments and communication reports?

“jake and (name),” the teacher would announce

ofc… typical of friends, they HAVE to push you around as you walk to your seat beside jake’s

while you’re of great help with anything else, you’re starting to feel bad about his literal carry in math tho

“are you sure it’s ok? i’m just rly horrible i’m sorry,” you’d apologize

he would just laugh and dismiss your concerns

“nooo, it’s okay. i’m fine! i can tell you didn’t get enough sleep last night”

(you spent the night binging a new show that came out)

your stomach doesn’t feel so good after that one.

who gave him the right to NOTICE things now???

when your teacher returns your paired worksheets, he has the GALL to apologize

a big fat 29/30 will be written on top and he’d say “oh i’m sorry we had one mistake 😕” like BOY SHUT UP !!!!

after your partner shenanigans, you’d start talking more in the classroom

he’d give u a fist bump if u bumped into each other in the hallways while walking with ur respective friend groups

sometimes even shout your name to get your attention only to wave at you

“why are you smiling like that?,” sunghoon would ask accusingly

and you know what? jake has no shame

“(name). she’s pretty cute, no?”

BYE absolutely no shame

so now, when he speedruns an activity, you’ll find him hovering around you until he starts to make conversation

if the teacher leaves early ?? suddenly he’s transported to the seat next to yours and flirting

being friends with jake is chaotic…. bc that would automatically mean being friends with HIS loud ass friends

pretty friends have upgraded to pretty LOUD friends

they’re so annoying too

“jake and (name), can you buy us water?”, heeseung would ask

WHY R U BUYING WATER FOR HEESEUNG

but jake’s already taking your hand and dragging you away bc he will take every opportunity to hang out with you alone

BTW computer science god idk i just got the vibes

during valentines that year, he codes you a little website please end me

mind you, you aren’t even together yet

he just codes for you as a friend 😂😂😂 as if anyone’s believing that

oh and he also avails those anonymous services so you’ll just be receiving flowers from the student council throughout the day

“oooooh, who are those from,” he would be smiling like it’d be so painfully obvious it’s from him

“do you like them?” NOOOOOOO he just wants to know ok!!! tell him you love them please

OK back to normal no more valentines

when class dismisses, you’d find him lounging around the basketball court with heeseung

sweaty….. wet hair…. oh dear

jake is a sight to see when he’s playing basketball

u usually sit at the bleachers anyway bc ur friends enjoyed watching

he is SOOOOO annoying esp now that you’ve grown closer over the months

he’d make stupid plays and draw attention to you 100%

“if i get this shot in, will you go on a date with me?”

cue the screams and the teasing and the fake vomiting as you’re pushed around

OFC he makes the shot

he’s sim jake, math genius AND student athlete

“so, tomorrow after class?”

“huh?? i thought you were joking??”

“what? no! have i not been obvious? i ltrly flirt with you evry chance i get??”

“well… idk! maybe you do that with everyone!”

“only you”

OK WISH I WERE YOU THEN 😒😒😒😒😒

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

[bunnysbrainrot]

Blood Flow

Kinktober Prompt: Choking

Relationship: dbf!Joel Miller x Reader

Content: [i was going for something sensual and i failed.] Explicit sexual scenes, fingering, choking, squirting, praise kink, Joel’s kinda rough, teasing. No outbreak AU.

Summary: You curiously tread into the realm of choking, but you have no clue why people think it feels ‘good’. With Joel’s help, you realize that there’s simply a right way to do it.

A/N: pay attention to the last line. it implies exactly what you think it does. **ALSO! part 3 for this is out, it’s called Daddy’s Girl!

this scene is so weird, why is he choking her???

Your fingers flitted across your phone screen, texting as you watch a new show. In this scene, the two main characters finally broke their tension, and things were growing heavy. You watched the actor’s hand wrap around his costar’s throat, watching how her face contorted in bliss.

Cause it feels good, sweetheart, Joel replied.

Bringing your own hand to your neck, you pressed against your windpipe and choked, like really choked, but it didn’t feel like you thought it would. And your face definitely did not make those same expressions as the woman in the show.

Clearing your throat, you replied to Joel. A few years ago, this kind of conversation would earn you an intervention with your parents. This was your dad’s best friend, and you shouldn’t be texting him about being choked, of all things.

But fuck, was texting Joel a wonderful time.

A single message could have you squeezing your thighs together. Every baby girl, sweetheart, and honey was imagined in his voice as if he were there, whispering them into your ear. You would imagine his fingers dancing across your skin as he showered you with those sweet pet names.

tried it on myself, and i can confirm that it feels awful. coughing my lungs out right now

Joel read your text and let out a hearty chuckle, quickly replying back. He knew you were a tad… inexperienced with things like this, and that you wouldn’t ask just anyone about this. He had you wrapped around his finger, as you did him.

Baby doll, you’re probably pressing on your windpipe. It’s a little tricky to do it on yourself

You groaned at the text, still frustrated at your little mishap. The reply you gave him was rather bold, but you anxiously sent it anyway.

maybe you could show me

The two of you had flirted a lot more since you came back home from college. Four years of hard schoolwork had you taking a break back home with your parents to choose your next big step in life. At first it started small - little compliments on your clothes, on your intelligence, on how much you’d come into your own. Your glances at Joel lasted too long to be friendly, and it didn’t help when you ran your foot along his leg under the table at big family dinners.

In short, you were driving each other absolutely wild, pulling the tension taught between you, waiting for it to snap.

But Joel wanted to go slow. This was dangerous territory, and he needed to take his time.

Maybe I could

You stared blankly at the phone screen, reading over the message with a fluttering heart behind your ribs. A wave of warmth spread over you with a beeline between your thighs. You clenched your legs together as you texted Joel back.

right now?

J: Door’s unlocked, I’m just watching TV. If you want to join me we can watch that show you were telling me about

Like an alarm went off you shot out of bed, hurrying to your dresser and closet to find a more impressive outfit. Joel wouldn’t care all that much - he liked seeing you in anything. It didn’t matter how much or little you had on, you were always beautiful to him.

headed out now!

Joel have a swift reply that buzzed in your pocket.

Someone’s eager.

You trekked over to the neighborhood next to yours, practically skipping with each step up to Joel’s house. Thankfully, his daughter, Sarah, would be at a friend’s house this evening, leaving you and Joel all to yourselves.

Joel’s head perked up when he heard you knock. He, almost too excitedly, shot up from the couch and headed to the front door.

He was an effortlessly handsome man. And now, in a simple pair of sweatpants and v-neck shirt, he looked more stunning than ever. For you, it also didn’t matter what he wore - he always looked handsome.

“Hi,” you said, offering him a small smile.

Joel raised an arm and leaned against the doorframe. His lean muscles shifted under his tan skin, hardened by those years under the Texas sun, and caught the light from inside to accentuate his bicep. He caught you ogling, and laughed.

“Sweetheart, I’m not just eye candy,” Joel’s voice was soft after the long day he had, “You comin’ in, or what?”

Your smile widened as you stepped in, dipping under Joel’s arm to step in the living room. He had already closed the blinds preemptively to shield yourselves from any prying eyes. You sat on the couch and waited for Joel to join you.

He slowly made his way over, “So, what show were you watchin’?”

You sighed dramatically, “Well, now it’s just embarrassing. We can watch something else, instead.”

Joel shook his head at your offer, gesturing to the TV, “Not embarrassing at all. ‘Sides, I got a plan for it.”

He snatched the remote from the arm of the couch and chose a spot right next to you. After a series of questions, you began to play the show you’d seen, found the right episode, and played the scene in question.

Joel remained silent the entire time, glancing between you and the TV. His stare bore into you, but it was unclear as to what was going through his mind.

But the scene, to your relief, ended, and the shyness you’d felt could be over. Joel paused the show in the middle of the next scene and finally met your eyes.

“Alright, I think I know where ya went wrong,” he commented. You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“It’s all about controlling the blood flow, not pressin’ on the windpipe. That’s a one way ticket to the man upstairs,” Joel laughed and brought his hand to your cheek, cupping your face carefully. His thumb passed over your cheekbone before he shifted down toward your neck.

He placed his thumb and index finger on either side of your throat, right under your jaw. The pressure was uncomfortable at first, pressing into you in a way that sparked some faint nausea. You cleared your throat and swallowed to dull the feeling.

“Pressin’ here,” his grip tightened, “reduces the blood flow. It’s still a lil’ hard to breathe, but it doesn’t risk your safety.”

A lightness began to creep through you as Joel pressed into your throat. Blackness clouded the edge of your vision, blurring Joel’s features, though you could barely make out a lazy smile.

After a few long seconds, he let go, and you could freely breathe once again. The rush of blood back to your brain throbbed at your temples, though the brief headache was nothing compared to the rush of pleasure it delivered.

To your surprise, the rush went straight to your core, leaving you shifting your legs together.

Joel leaned forward and planted a kiss on your cheek, his voice was a low whisper.

“See? Feels good when someone does it right, don’t it?”

You nodded, still held securely by his hand around your throat. His lips traveled across your face, to your temples, to your jaw, and finally finding your own, flush and fluid with your own movements. Joel tightened his grip again, and the same rush came flowing through. It was tricky to keep kissing Joel at the pace he set. Instead, your mouth slacked open as a moan escaped you, swallowed eagerly by Joel.

He spoke slowly against your lips, nipping at them between his words.

“How is it, baby doll? Still feel good?”

It was wonderful. Had you not messaged him about this, you would’ve been completely in the dark about this whole new world of pleasure. So wonderful, in fact, that you could feel a new slickness in your sex, about to soak into your panties. Instinctively you ground your hips, pathetically pressing your aching pussy into nothing substantial.

Joel moved his other hand lower, raking over your shifting thighs, “Tell me, sweet girl, does it make you feel good down here?”

His hand cupped your clothed sex, pressing against your slit and slowly massaging your core. Your breath trembled as you gave him another nod - a small sign of permission to take things further.

“Joel… Joel,” you whispered, fighting against his grip on your throat. Amidst the rush going through your head you could barely hold onto what he was saying, let alone reply coherently.

His lips had wandered to your jaw, peppering a trail of kisses around his rough fingers, “What is it, baby girl? Tell me whatcha need.”

You choked out your reply, “In.. inside.”

A low laugh danced across your skin, “That’s my girl. Always needing something fillin’ her up. ‘Least when I’m involved, anyway.”

He pressed harder against your aching sex - the abrasion of the fabric turned you into a whimpering mess in a matter of seconds. You needed more. You needed him.

Joel groaned against your skin when you tugged his hand past the waistband of your pants, pushing him lower toward your core.

“Need me to make you feel good, sweet girl?” his voice thrummed through your chest. You nodded, urging your lungs to take in sweet, fresh air amidst the constriction. Joel loosened his grip ever so slightly, letting you catch your breath.

He hummed against your jaw as he adjusted his hand with his fingers teasingly at your entrance. A single finger played with your wet hole, swirling around carefully, not fully giving you what you need. Not yet.

You mewled a slurred version of his name, eyes rolling back when his grip tightened around your throat.

Joel’s fingers didn’t stop, but rather pushed further, sinking past your soaked folds and into your tight pussy. A small whimper from you made him smile, carefully eyeing you as he moved his fingers, curling them up to brush your sweet spot.

“Joel… fu-fuck,” you choked.

His fingers plunged deeper into your warm cunt, curling harshly to draw a long-awaited moan. Until now, Joel hadn’t had the joy of hearing you utter anything above a whisper.

You cried out, straining against his grip, but was sent back to fighting for that sacred blood flow back to your brain.

You brought your hand up to meet the one at your neck, tapping against the back of his hand. A beat passed before Joel realized the mistake. He swiftly released you and cradled your head, slowing his movements between your thighs.

“Sorry,” you rasped, “that was just a little too hard. I couldn’t really make any noise without coughing.”

Joel leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. He broke away with the softest tone you’d heard all night.

“You ain’t got nothin’ to apologize for, honey,” he replied, spreading his kisses to your cheeks. “Got a little too ahead of myself there.”

He kissed you until you were left breathless and panting. By now your lips were plump from the bites and nips Joel had given them.

“Maybe we could try a different position, whaddya say?”

After a beat of thought, you nod in agreement and follow his lead. He removed his hand from your pants, lightly sucking at his soaked fingers, and moaning at your taste across his tongue.

This was the closest he’d been to truly tasting you. Words escaped him as he tried to describe the feeling of heaven on his very lips.

You stood from the couch and watched Joel taste yourself on his fingers. He was completely entranced, and monitoring your every movement as you waited for his direction.

Darkness filled his eyes, “Y’might need to take those pants off, sweetheart. Need a good angle for this.”

Now right in front of his legs, you urged Joel to spread them apart and stood between them.

He took this as a silent request for his help. Joel gave you a smile and sat forward, letting his hands climb up your thighs, taking their sweet time to cover as much of them as he could.

Joel hooked his fingers on your waistband and gently tugged, unwrapping you like it was Christmas morning.

Your bottoms dropped to your ankles, and all was left was your soaked panties, the last barrier between Joel and what he’d wanted to see most. Joel leaned further, leaving a trail of kisses from your mid-thigh to your hip, alternating to the other side. Each touch of his lips set you ablaze. His gentle touches paled in comparison to the heat roiling through your belly, trickling right down to your aching pussy.

At long last he peeled your panties off of you, slowly sending them down your legs until they joined your pants. Your lower half was bare for him now; you were a gift unwrapped, the best present he could’ve asked for.

“Christ,” Joel muttered. His eyes scanned over your half naked form, giving you a curious look at your chest.

He wanted nothing more than to wander up there, letting his hands dip below the fabric and slide up to your chest. Your tits were selfishly hidden from him, with your perfect, perk nipples poking through, enticing him to search for more.

You wrapped your legs on either side of him, pushing Joel back against the couch so you could get into position. His legs stayed spread open, thus making you open yours across his.

Spread perfectly wide for whatever he had planned for you.

Joel cupped the back of your neck and pulled you in for another kiss, working his hands over your thighs in the process. You could feel a couple of damp fingertips from where he’d fingered you before. Those same fingers now crept toward your needy hole, teasing you ever so slowly.

You bucked your hips and positioned them over his hand, whining at the lack of touch.

“Joel, please,” you mumbled, keeping your lips in tandem with his own. Joel grumbled out a reply you couldn’t discern before a hand made its way to your throat.

Joel pressed down on either side of your windpipe to deliver that sweet head rush of elation.

“I’ve got you, baby girl, I’ll take care of you.”

And that, he did. His hands moved with pure greed at your neck and pussy, sending two fingers up into your tight cunt. You cried out against his lips as he slowly pumped into you.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Let it all out.”

You were relieved you could make at least a little noise. It was better than it was at home, where you’d spent countless nights touching yourself, moaning against your hand or a nearby pillow.

But here… here you could cry out as Joel touched you. You could freely show him how good he was making you feel.

You let out a soft whine, but it was not well-received by Joel.

“I wanna hear you, baby.”

A louder moan drew from your throat. Joel’s fingers curled inside of you, pressing into the spongy part right past your entrance. Your walls fluttered gently around his fingers, pulling him in further.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” said Joel, still mumbling against your lips. You offered him a smile, proud that your body was to his liking. It was all you’d hoped for, to be perfect for him.

“Not sure how this little pussy’s gonna handle me, though,” he continued in a cocky voice. “But I think you could do it.”

He curled his fingers harshly, causing you to slur your words together. Something about Joel, and harder, and please.

“Such a good girl. Bet you’d take anything I gave you, huh?”

You nodded slightly, constricted under his grip to move any further.

Joel pushed his fingers deeper, picking up his pace until the wet sounds of your ravaged cunt filled the room. Your juices flowed from your pussy and onto his hand, leaking down from his fingers to his palm, pooling your sweet slick before it trickled to the floor below.

His pace became relentless, though the grip on your throat loosened. You let out a shuddering moan as he furiously pumped his fingers, making your cunt squelch with the most obscene sounds you’d ever heard.

“Attagirl,” Joel praised, “Just keep still. I gotcha.”

The reassuring tone kept you conflicted - it totally contrasted from what he was doing to your body.

Fuck, if this is how it was with just his hands alone, you silently prayed that you could handle what else he could give you.

There was a new tightness in your abdomen, pooling around in your sex, but it was a deeper sort of pressure you’d never felt. It felt like…

“Joel,” you protested, “I think I gotta pee.”

He laughed against your lips, “Just work with me here, darlin’.”

You squirmed on his hand as this new sensation spread through your pussy. This kind of pressure wasn’t something you could’ve gotten from your own hand, let alone any toy.

No, this was the masterful work of Joel Miller’s fingers, unraveling you around him.

He struck deeper, twisting his wrist to get a better angle, curling each thick digit against your sweet spot. You choked on a gasp as the pressure in your abdomen built, threatening to break apart.

With a flurry of swift motion the tension broke, and a beautiful symphony sounded - the rush of your juices that poured onto his hand, the strangled moan that fell from your slacked mouth, followed by the pleased groan Joel drew out.

“What… hah… was that..?” you panted. Joel kissed your cheekbone as he worked you through your high.

“Did I just… did I sq-“ you could barely make out the word.

“You did. And you did such a good job, sweet girl.”

The praise roiled through your gut. A soreness flooded through your sex, trailing toward your cervix. You swallowed nervously at the thought of anything bigger, and what it could do to your insides.

Joel slowed his pace and released the hand that had been trained to your neck. You both worked through your climax, coming down smoothly to where you now laid slumped against Joel’s chest.

His hands still roved over your skin, gently kneading your ass and thighs as you caught your breath.

“How you feelin’, honey?” his Southern drawl intoxicated his words with a sickly sweetness.

You pressed your face into the crook of his neck a let out a small, content mmm, taking in his scent. The mix of his cologne and sweat sent something possessive through you, to have this all for yourself. It felt too selfish for that pining to be one-sided - for you to want him as much as you did, without knowing if he held the same ferocity about you as you did him.

“Thirsty.”

“I bet. That’ll take a lot outta ya - let’s get a glass of water and getcha cleaned up.”

You worked your legs off of his thighs and stood shakily. After sitting in that awkward position and having your senses scrambled, your knees buckled beneath your weight, desperately trying to hold your quivering thighs steady.

“Hold on, sweetheart, I’ve gotcha,” Joel said, swiftly standing on steady feet. You pouted at the unfairness - his hands tore at your sex and left you trembling while he was perfectly fine.

“You better not laugh at me,” you snapped, though the drained tone in your words had Joel chucking slightly.

He held you steady with both hands and led you toward the kitchen, “You look like you got a hip replacement.”

“You’re nearing that age, aren’t you?” you quipped. Joel gave you a firm smack on your ass as his reply.

“Better watch it, I don’t do well with brats.”

hi y’all! thank you so much for reading and supporting, and happy Kinktober!

If you’re looking for the part 3 of this, it’s called Daddy’s Girl! I would love if you gave it a read

ily xoxo

[astrae4]

A LADY’S GUIDE TO SECURING A MAN WITH BROAD SHOULDERS | park sungho

pairings — park sungho x reader (non idol au)

genre — (wc: 1.5k) fluff, romance 😼, strangers to lovers, fast-burn

warnings — ur kinda stalking him.. a bit…

note — HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY SUNGHO!!! Guys i lowk want a man with shoulders as broad as his 🙁 is that too much to ask.. ALSO DANGEROUS WAS SO GOOD!!! The song teases too omg..right in my alley. I cannot wait for the album drop 😋😋

more works: navigation | bnd!masterlist

YOU SWEAR YOU’VE NEVER BEEN this interested in gyms before. Yeah, sure, you’re sporty. But gym sporty? Yeah no—that’s another level of torture.

Right now though…man you might just change your mind. You do one more bench press, super slow with your focus elsewhere—namely, the mirror on your right that shows a small reflection of the most scrumptious man you have ever seen in your life.

Those shoulders? Good gosh, they’d be perfect for your hands to rest on, agree?

(And the crowd screams yes!!!)

This was how you started being more consistent in the gym. Currently in week three and you’re so proud that you’re broken your world record of gym streaks.

You’ve decided then: you’re going to get him.

There was just one slight problem to this equation… you don’t have any courage to talk to him.

All you know are three facts:

His name was Park Sungho (how’d you know?you overheard a friend of his call him once. You’re not a creep, okay!!)

He had the most gorgeous shoulders known to mankind.

You want him.

Okay so maybe the third one isn’t really a fact—and you swear (cross your heart!) that your infatuation with him isn’t merely because his eyes are as twinkly as the moon, nor because his lips were plump and not crusty like most men, nor is it also because his voice is just…

Anyways! You get what I mean.

That was how you ended up ranting everything to your friend Sanghyeok—which apparently calls himself Riwoo now because he said he felt more cool and mysterious with that name. ( ok get it our nonchalant dread head!! )

“Park Sungho??” Asked Riwoo, startled once you blurted everything, “you mean the one with the pointy nose and sweet voice?”

You paused and raised an eyebrow at him, “duh? Have you been listening this whole time?”

“No not like that—you mean Park Sungho in class 19.99 right? He’s in your calculus class, dummy.”

“Wait—WHAT.”

Riwoo threw you a deadass stare, before fishing a muffin out his pocket and shoving his face in it. Perhaps he knew you too well as you started shaking him for answers.

”Just go approach him—”

”I can’t!”

”Then stop talking to me about it!”

“Please, my-Ri-to-the-woo—”

”UGH FINE! But no promises and you buy me a dozen donuts tomorrow.”

”Deal!”

You didn’t get him that dozen of donuts, but Lee Sanghyeok, being the good friend he is, still ended up conversing with his Sungho hyung in their shared dance class for you.

Luckily for you, he managed to score a hangout—the three of you—for next Wednesday over coffee and desserts.

Finally, with all the gears set in, you could start with ‘diary entry 1: A LADY’S GUIDE TO SECURING A MAN WITH BROAD SHOULDERS’

(yes, it’s meant to be this long)

1. A lady hints, not talks

The first ever step-slash-rule to secure a man is to give hints. Yes, hints. No way are YOU the one to make the first move, you hear me ladies? 😒 If he doesn’t pick up on the clues, then you drop!

Wednesday came. And boy, it came with a lot of nervousness, I tell you! But you were ready. Dropped in the cutest fit you have—a pair of jeans with a puffy dress on top (THIS COMBO>>>)—you were absolutely ready to charm Park Sungho.

It took you a while, but you made it on time (5 minutes late) to the cafe, Riwoo and Sungho conversing already at a table near the windows. Riwoo was the first to see you, sending a wave. You returned it, and right after, Sungho sent you one too—albeit less dramatic. Your smile turned up a bit more before sending a smaller wave back to him.

”Hi guys! Sorry if I’m late.”

”It’s okay, we just came,” replied Riwoo, “this is Sungho, my friend in Dance. Sungho, this is my best friend, [reader]”

Sungho stood up to shake your hand, and you both exchanged ‘nice to meet you’(s).

”Let me get coffee real quick!” You told them, before going to the cashier.

After you ordered, you went back to your seat.

“How are you these days, [reader]?” asked Riwoo

”Good, although I think I overworked my feet yesterday, It hurts slightly,” you replied, which by the way, was a big fat lie.

“Ah, is it doing better now?” asked Sungho, who was deeply concerned.

”It should be, I think,” you replied shortly.

More small talk was made before your order number got called. You went up to get it but before you could fully stand—

“I’ll get it for you, [reader],” answered Sungho.

“Huh?” both you and Riwoo replied in shock.

“You should rest your feet since they might still be in pain if you overexert it,” he replied simply.

“Oh there’s really no need, Sungho—“ you denied at first despite the fact that you were internally giggling.

“Please, I insist,” He replied with a smile that almost melted you on the spot, before taking your receipt and heading to the cashier.

It was silent for a moment before your eyes met Riwoo’s, and his met yours. Both of you kicked each other’s feet before suppressing a big fat grin.

2. a lady takes no risks

consult God (or a fortune teller if you’re not religious) to make sure this man is for you. Use the mind, not the heart.

“Okay,” You muttered to yourself like a nutjob, “IF. And only IF he is the one…um..” you paused your prayer for a second because you had no idea what to say.

You decided to just settle for the classic, “Please send me a sign, amen.”

And with that, you fixed your hair and applied pink lip gloss before leaving the house.

Step after steps, you kept thinking of him until you reached the actual library. You took a deep breath before going in. You were early this time, but it seems that Park Sungho has a matter of showing up super early, because he’s already there—sitting in a seat near the windows.

He had his back facing you, so you snuck up on him quietly before placing your hand on his shoulder.

“Sungho,” you muttered quietly, and he jolted, spinning around to look at you fast.

Were you delusional, or is he staring at you?

“Sungho..?” you repeated.

That seemed to jolt him out of his state, “Oh, [reader]—yes, sorry for that. I was out of it—“

You giggled before taking a seat beside him, “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

There wasn’t much small talk after that, as you both seemed focused and determined to do well on your project. Mid-way, however, a crash followed by a yelp took you out of your very focused state. You turned to see Sungho—only, a book fell on top of his head.

“Sorry!” said a boy above you looking down on the rails. You both seemed to recognize him as Myung Jaehyun, who’s also in your shared calc class together.

“Why that—“ said Sungho, before he gives you a quick brb and went upstairs; probably to murder Jaehyun.

You picked up the book on the ground, and then stilled when you read the title.

‘The Sign’ by Robert Van Kampen.

Oh.

I mean, you’re not opposing now, are you?

3. A lady enjoys the reaps that she sowed

Get rizzed up all night by a nice guy (stream nice guy!!!)

“I love your shoulders,” you muttered at him, a hand on his bicep.

2 months had passed since you first dated each other.

”Oh yeah?” He replied, but his words seemed unfocused and disconnected—I mean, who can blame him when you’re sitting on him, looking so cute after you both just made out.

“Mhm,” you answered once more.

”Tell me more,” He asked.

You did, but midway you realized he was just looking over your lips—not paying attention. You rolled your eyes.

“Are you even list—“

He cut you off with another kiss. It lasted a while before he pulled away once more.

”Can’t believe I’m yours,” He whispered, smiling goofily.

You giggled. Yeah, Park Sungho’s yours. The man with broad shoulders is yours.

TAGLIST: @ja4hyvn @flwoie @sulkygyu @xiaoderrrr @ineedaherosavemeenow @lonewolfjinji @teddywonss @taerae-verse

NETWORKS: @k-labels @onedoornet

© astrae4 2024 — please don't copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!

[mire1li]

Reader as Alastor's Mother part 2

Part 1!, Part 3!

𓋼 You would absolutely decorate his microphone with a bunch of ribbons you found!

And he would absolutely allow it in fear of upsetting you, although he began to take them off later on when he had to leave, but seeing you get sad at his actions changed his mind… It did not help that the ribbons were glittery.

“Oh look, Sparkles got sparklier!” Angel had said when Alastor was passing by.

𓋼 He wants you to be happy but don't even try having feelings for anyone in hell, they'll most likely 'disappear under mysterious circumstances' and then you'll just so happen to hear their screams on Alastor's radio broadcast <3

Lucifer tries to flirt everytime he sees you outside (or once he comes back to see the hotel which… would be 'some' time later…) But it's not long before Alastor shows up bcs he has a shadow follow you everywhere

“My mother certainly would not want someone so… ancient…”

“are you trying to make me sound like a fossil?”

“Maybe~ I can’t say for sure though!”

"Y'know, I've stolen wives before… maybe it's time to steal a mother instead!"

"I'm going to fucking kill you"

𓋼 Lucifer would play silly games with you and bring you gifts by leaving them at the hotel’s doorstep, although you never received any (like he thought you did) because Alastor would always take them before you saw them. Or he would make them his own to give to you if you were having a worse day than usual!

“Mother, I had noticed that you weren’t feeling all too great so I brought you a wonderful gift!”

“Oh, thank you, darling!”

Your mood always brightened when he gave you these gifts. 𓋼 One time when Lucifer visited the hotel, he went straight to you to ask you about how you liked the gifts.

"[Name]! Hello, deer, how are you? Did you like the gifts that I left you?"

"Hello Luci, I'm fine, thank you! … Gifts? what gifts?"

"The ones… that I left on the doorstep of the hotel!"

"I dont recall seeing any gifts there… but Alastor recently started leaving the hotel more often! Not for very long though…"

And then Lucifer realised. You never received his gifts because Alastor got to them first! After that, he made sure to put a note with his signature on them. Though, that still didn't deter Alastor, to Lucifer's dismay.

𓋼 One time, Angel returned to the hotel at an unreasonably late hour, so you went to make sure everything was alright.

"Are you alright, Angel?"

"Huh? No, I'm totally fucked!"

"Why? What happened?"

"You know Valentino right? My boss?"

"Of course I do, everyone hates him quite a bit here and you always talk about him"

"Right, well, fuckin' Val made me work an extra 10 hours!"

"He what?!"

"Yeah! Absolute bitch move."

Naturally, Alastor was watching and listening to you two so you turned to him, with quite the menacing look in your eyes.

"Oh Alastor, prepare your radio broadcast!~"

𓋼 You noticed that most of the residents of the hotel all came to you for advice quite often (except Niffty, she's just an entirely different entity)

"It seems they have become quite fond of you, Mother"

"They have, haven't they?"

Alastor's expression was always one of annoyance whenever someone came to you for help. He wouldn't dare admit it, but he was most certainly jealous of anyone who even stood too close to you, let alone talked to you.

𓋼 Because of that one time that Alastor stood right next to Charlie to spite Lucifer, Lucifer decided to stand just that close to you to get back at him.

"An eye for an eye, Mr Radio!"

"I recommend you watch yourself."

𓋼 One time, when you were out of the hotel and walking around Hell with Alastor, Vox just so happened to see you on one of his tv screens, Valentino sitting by him, messaging someone.

"Hey Val, who the fuck is that with that old-timey prick?"

"Hm? No clue."

"You didn't even look, fuckhead"

"How would you know? You're too busy eyefucking Alastor."

"I am not"

"She's probably just another one of those redemption hotel idiots. It doesn't matter"

But Vox still just glared at the screen.

𓋼 Vox continued to keep an eye on you, seeing just how wonderful you are and so when you were outside the hotel alone (or so he thought) he went up to you. Somehow he didn't catch onto the fact that you're Alastor's mother.

"Hello-"

"What do you think you're doing?" Alastor, of course, suddenly appeared out of thin air, standing in between you and Vox, with an even more annoyed smile than usual.

"Alastor, is this another one of your friends?"

"No-"

"Yes, absolutely, ma'am. Great friends, in fact!"

"Ha! Well, you see, this is my Mother."

"Your what?"

Yeah, Alastor simply walked away with you whilst Vox was buffering.

𓋼 Vox constantly tried to talk to you alone but Alastor was always there to stop him, so unfortunate.

"Would you stay away from my Mother, you-! Ahem, my apologies, Mother."

"Hah! Your mother? I think you meant our mother!"

𓋼 Alastor would absolutely cover your ears when swearing at, or insulting, anyone.

𓋼 When you first met Valentino, you were so mad at him on Angel's behalf that you knocked him out and brought him back to the hotel with you. Of course, Vox was there with Val but he was like a lost duckling, just slowly trailing behind you, unsure what to do.

"I'm back!"

"What the fuck did you do??" Angel was lying down on the couch when you entered, dragging the unconcious Valentino behind you.

"A favour to you and hell!"

"No, but how?!"

"That's a secret~"

"Ok… so why'd ya bring him here?"

"Redemption"

𓋼 Back to Lucifer! He would tell you random animal facts to try and impress you! He would also unironically ask around, and search up (if necessary), how to impress a woman.

𓋼 Lucifer would suddenly start playing the violin for everyone in the hotel 'for everyones' entertainment' as he called it. (It was meant for you though). Each time Lucifer did this, Alastor told you that something important happened that required your attention. You always stayed for the beginning though.

𓋼 One day, you were baking cookies and you and Alastor left the kitchen for a while whilst they were in the oven, however, you both somehow managed to forget about them… so when the smoke alarm suddenly rang, you ran into the kitchen, everyone wondering what happened.

"Fuck!"

"Language, Mother."

"Don't you 'language' me, young man!"

𓋼 You redecorated his room. He wasn't a fan of all the new colours, but he still appreciated the gesture. (There was a lot of glitter involved)

𓋼 After a while of you staying there, everyone definitely sees you as a mother figure (Alastor didn't appreciate this much either but he's willing to look past it for his friends)

𓋼 As small gifts, you made everyone items that resemble them and filled them with different colours of glitter and paper that remind you of them. Bonus: Behind the scenes! 1. Yuri's bad timing:

2. Vox and Val:

[lonelypep]

every smash bros character ranked by how good of a cook i think they’d be.

82: piranha plant

eating this dish will kill you instantly. turns out he spit some poison in there while no one was looking. and yeah, that sucks, but if you even accepted a meal from this guy i think you have bigger problems

81: ridley.

let’s be real, if you let this guy into the kitchen, you made a huge mistake. it’s like john mulaney’s horse in a hospital sketch: you never know what he’s gonna do next. you’re too focused on getting him out.

80: king k rool.

king k rool is many things. a king, a pirate, a scientist. but he is not a cook. he’ll try, but he has literally no clue what he’s even doing in the kitchen.

79: yoshi

yoshi will give you a dish and you’ll be like “what the fuck is this” and he’ll talk about how it was made from the finest newborns of his home planet. i’m deciding to ignore it but it’s really nagging at me.

78: sonic

sonic shouldn’t be on this list. because he wouldn’t make you any food. he’ll go to the local sonic and get a burger in about 3 minutes. it sucks. disqualified.

77: pac man

what can i say. it tastes like literal plastic. i don’t even wanna know how he made it. i’ll give it back to him but the nice thing about pac man is he wouldn’t give a shit.

76: bowser jr.

fuck this guy. he rage quit at making a grilled cheese. now there’s a literal canonball in the stove. now no one else can use it!! this is what happens when you spoil kids.

75: pikachu/pichu

these two are in the same category since they’d make the same thing. they’d get store bought french fries and fry them with lighting outside. it’s consistent, it works, just not really filling. and they don’t know how to make anything else.

74. wario

don’t get me wrong: he knows what he’s doing. he’s the burger king of smash. he’s this low because the burger is the most unhealthy shit you’ll ever have. eating it gave you chronic diarrhea, gastrointestinal issues, and permanently damaged your taste buds. but god fucking damn was it a good burger.

73. hero

he gave you a single piece of bread with butter on it. it’s not bad but…really dude?

72: olimar

he didn’t make you a bad meal, in fact it was one of the best here. but that’s because he didn’t make you something. it was the pikmin and he’s trying to pass it off as his own and the pikmin don’t know because they don’t speak english. 0/10: not fucking cool dude.

71: kazuya

honestly? i don’t trust this guy. i was too intimidated to even ask his name. from what i can gather no one even invited him to the party he just showed up and made a mediocre meal. what’s weird: someone came into the kitchen and claimed this guy killed their whole family. we never saw that guy again. needless to say, kazuya wasn’t invited to the afterparty.

70: link (botw)

don’t get me wrong here, link is a five star chef. he’s just really unsanitary. apparently he cut the meat and vegetables with the same sword he killed calamity ganon with. i don’t wanna taste that guy!! have you seen him?? not to mention he pulled the meal out of his pants. i don’t even know how it fit in there.

69: inkling

she made a pancake and i thought it was good! but i absolutely can’t condone this. inkling left so much fucking weird slime and shit all over my house. and got really competitive when she heard i was getting meals from everyone else. i hope they’re all ok.

68: ROB

it was so processed. the most processed food i’ve ever had in my entire life. it’s not his fault, rob is a great guy. but this tasted like literally nothing.

67: ice climbers

when they told me they were making dessert, i trusted them. but i let someone else taste test first. my best friend was sent to the hospital because of tongue frostbite. didn’t even know that was a thing. i made the ice climbers pay for it (they’re fucking loaded)

66: villager

he made isabelle do it. and she made something great! but i’m not giving this cretin credit for having the money to afford a five star chef. you don’t deserve it because you sold a shit ton of tarantulas villager!!

65: lucario.

dude got really mad and destroyed my kitchen. he’s REALLY lucky he got the burger PERFECTLY cooked.

64: male byleth.

like this dude knows how to cook. he can barely make chicken nuggets. he has to eat in the school cafeteria simply because he never learned how to cook a simple meal. but he’s a really nice guy. total himbo. love him.

63: ryu

i asked this guy what he likes to eat. big mistake. he then went on to say that his training regiment doesn’t condone copious indulgence (his words) and he lives off of nothing but protein shakes. you do you i guess.

62-61: fox/falco

these two went into the kitchen and came out with weird alien food. i didn’t eat it but everyone else seemed to enjoy it

60: greninja

when he first came out i was so excited. he came out with the most finely sliced food i had ever seen in my entire life. but it was soooo watered down. everything tasted like celery. how do you make crab taste like celery?? how??!

59-58: simon/richter

these guys both made the same exact fish recipe, came out at the same time, and proceeded to fight each other. i didn’t get to try any 😭

57-49: every fire emblem character.

genuinely, i can’t tell these guys apart. or their food choices. honestly, my bad. i’m sure they’re good. but where do i even start.

48: sheik

she doesn’t know how to cook. she kidnapped someone else. normally i wouldn’t put someone like that this high but a. i have gender envy b. it’s for the greater good (or so she said)

47: cloud

dude made a great sandwich but he kept screaming random noises while he did. personally, i’m just glad he managed not to destroy the kitchen. that’s a first here.

46: captain falcon

he promised he’d pick up some pizza but got into a car crash on the way there. eventually he got there after the car crash was all sorted out, but got into ANOTHER on the way back. i’m honestly kind of impressed

45: steve

steve could cook an absolutely fucking KILLER meal. he’ll even offer to do it for free. but you shouldn’t let him under any circumstances. he took 13 hours gathering materials and while the wait was, arguably, worth it, i never want to experience it again. (side note: we asked captain falcon to get some pizza while waiting which led to the aforementioned entry)

44: sora

sora doesn’t know how to cook but he’s by far the biggest name at this party. everyone fucking loves him. he’s friends with GOOFY. this dude hangs out with GOOFY. this guys has hung out with GOOFY AND jack sparrow. bad food but i could listen to this guy talk for hours about his story. i’m sure i’ll understand it all.

43-40: pokémon trainer

this guys organization is fucking atrocious. if he can actually get his shit together he’ll cook up some nice vegetarian meals, but that’s a big if.

HONORABLE MENTION: sans mii gunner

sans undertale is a world renowned, famous chef. his recipes are simple, but cooked with such love, care, and finess it turns a simple cheeseburger into a masterpiece. sans undertale would easily top this list. sans mii gunner is not sans undertale. he bought the real sans’ cookbook and thinks he’s some kind of cooking genius. and sure he’s got the recipes but none of the skill to actually make it.

39-38: samus/zero suit samus

hooray! we’re out of bad cook options now. samus is a great cook, but she’s so used to her alien delicacies she doesn’t know how to cook on earth anymore. shame, but i trust her to produce something edible.

37: shulk

he is really good at the grill. unfortunately, he refused to put a shirt on and made everyone a little uncomfy. that being said, he showed me the beach boys and i had never listened to them before. so he gets points.

36-35: pit/dark pit

these guys don’t know how to cook but the flew into the sky and killed some mythical bird for everyone to eat. i couldn’t have any, i’m pescatarian, but everyone else loved it.

34: bayonnetta

she opened a portal to a waffle house and a bunch of demons came flying out. she didn’t make anything, but honestly, absolutely legendary experience that was.

33: duck hunt

you’d think a dog wouldn’t bring anything meaningful. this would be false. that is the freshest duck i’ve ever seen in my entire life. (didn’t eat it: pescatarian)

32: king dedede

he made his legendary homemade mashed potatoes. everyone loved them. so creamy… weirdly perfect. too bad i hate the monarchy. sorry bud.

31: meta knight

meta knight is a great cook and should be higher. but i don’t want him to be. because he’s so fucking pretentious. he sliced all the food in front of everyone and wouldn’t shut up about radiohead. hate this guy.

30-29: daisy/peach

these two put all their private chefs together to make something for everyone. great catering, great food, but they didn’t technically make it. love them.

28: mewtwo

as if mewtwo wouldn’t just read someone’s mind and cook something. but it’s not mewtwo’s food…so…. sorry dude you cheated.

27: dark samus

she really surprised me here. she cooked up the most exquisite alien delicacies i’ve ever tasted in my entire life. should be higher. but unfortunately, i had to get a space parasite removed from my system by regular samus. honestly though… it was worth it.

26: ganon

he was rude to everyone about his cooking skills and wouldn’t stop bragging. asshole am i right? but surprised everyone by grilling his god damn heart out. he’s a bad try hard but like go off i guess.

25: isabelle

she’s trying her absolute fucking best and she deserves the world here. amazing cook, we need to save her from the island.

24: little mac

dude went so hard. brought new york pizza ALL THE WAY FROM NEW YORK. ok, not literally, but he made a damn good pizza

23: snake

full disclosure: snake doesn’t know how to cook. also no one knows he’s an agent. but he has to cook to blend in so you BEST BELIEVE this man is going to COOK like his life depends on it.

22-20: young link, ness, and lucas

all these guys are incredibly mature for their age. surprised everyone at this party. i had deep and philosophical conversations with all of them about appreciating life. i fucking cried. oh and they made everyone sandwiches, and even took my pescatarianism into account.

19: rosalina

she brought weird space ice cream and i felt my mind expanding as i ate it. love her.

18: mr game and watch

he feels like everyone’s dad! and he’s one of those cooks who cooks in front of everyone. dude flung his meals onto everyone’s plates expertly. love him.

17: joker

originally much lower on this list, joker showed up at my house and attempted to make a grilled cheese and made the worst thing i’ve ever taste. then he said something about gru from despicable me and stood in the corner for an hour. originally i had him towards the bottom but then he doordashed five gigantic burgers, ate all of them in one sitting, and then made me an expensive curry that tasted fantastic. dude went hard.

it was at this point i realized i made a mistake with the numbers. like hell if i’m going to fix the whole thing.

22: zelda

she made some weird food but damn was it pretty to look at! crystals, magic power, i mean good vibes all around here.

21-20: pyra and mythra

i feel like i should put them here since they’re confirmed to be good cooks in the game. but between you and me, i didn’t invite them. i’d consider some entries before this to be better cooks but at this point i’ve been working on this list for 8 hours i do not wanna go back and fix things please i mean this whole list is a joke no one should take this seriously

19: banjo and kazooie

these guys can fucking cook. they’ve been living on their own for a while so it makes sense but it still surprises me. they made a really big stew and even brought free puzzle games.

18: wolf

GRILL MASTER. dude knows what he’s doing on that thing. i’ve never seen better spatula work. holy shit.

17: kirby

kirby came in with some weird blonde hair and made some FANTASTIC ribs (that i didn’t have bc i’m pescatarian). weirdly, gordon ramsey went missing the same day…. i’m sure it means nothing.

16: mario

dude made some absolutely spectacular spaghetti. but he kept talking about how great he is and it really off put some people. kinda weird dude.

15: dr mario. dude brought 50 apples to the potluck. guess he doesn’t wanna see anyone in the office. and he didn’t because we ate them all. take that.

14: min min

she brought some soup dumplings which a lot of people hadn’t had! love her. literally fantastic. she had a whole arm for cooking. that’s what we call efficient.

13: ken

he’s kenough. he is amazing at barbecue. he can cook things with his hands, juggle, also he’s just a fun presence. (i made him make fake meat burgers for me)

12: jigglypuff

she showed up with so many pastries. like so many. not only that, but they were decorative!! she put so much work into that. love her.

11: luigi

he tried to make spaghetti like his brother but a literal fucking meteor slammed into his pot and cracked it. tough luck. then he offered to pay and i refused, but went out and got me some really expensive spaghetti anyways! he’s such a nice guy!! shouldn’t be this high… but i love this guy so much. he’s trying his hardest and i respect that.

10: toon link

toon link didn’t actually make anything. but his mom came and made everyone a salad. and honestly! his mom is some great company. she had so many interesting stories about his childhood. honestly she added so much to the function

9: terry

he is the BARBECUE MASTER!!!! literally what the hell how is he so good! everyone at the party kinda stereotyped him but he’s really really progressive with his views which you wouldn’t think for a big barbecue muscle guy in a baseball cap but everyone loved this guy.

8: mega man

the MASTER CHEF!! literally. he was on master chef. he uses thin round blades to slice vegetables, heats things perfectly, has an instance knowledge of spices, just damn. this guy knows what he’s doing.

7-6: bowser and donkey kong

common misconception: everyone thinks these two would have no idea how to cook. but these are FAMILY GUYS HERE!! they’re providing for absolutely gigantic families, these fuckers know how to make a sandwich and they did. initially they started off making separate sandwiches but they have a really similar recipe and decided to work together. and i really respect that. also turns out peach is just bowser’s kids’ babysitter.

5: palutena.

everyone expected her to show up with some absolutely mystical food. naturally, she showed up with the literal ambrosia of the gods. holy shit. unfortunately, she didn’t put as much effort into it as she could’ve.

4: sephiroth.

ok this guy didn’t really cook anything amazing. but his sheer fucking commitment to the vibe is literally legendary. this man has a long as sword he cut 10 veggies at a time with. he heat them with magic world ending fire. when he was done in the kitchen he surrounded himself with fire and gazed menacingly at me. his sheer commitment to the edge lord aesthetic is truly exemplary.

3: incineroar.

THE GRILLING GOAT!! this man is a grill master. he was prepared to grill ANYTHING. and i mean anything. fish, veggies, meat, fucking grilled cheese. love this guy.

2: wii fit trainer

she made the most well balanced and healthy salad i’ve ever had. and she made it taste extraordinary. she can be a little intense about fitness but i’ve never had a healthier meal in my life. it immediately lowered my extremely high cholesterol.

1. diddy kong

he’s about ten. he made you a pb&j. he had homework to do, but he made you a pb&j. he didn’t have to. he wasn’t asked to. he just wanted to make you a pb&j. he could’ve done anything else but he made you a pb&j. what heartless monster wouldn’t accept it.

[reemieme]

SUCCESS STORY! (w photo proof)

story:

ive been in the LOASS community for around a month now, so ive been wanting a vinyl record player for like a few months and last week i was looking through amazon like “oh these are so expensive..” and then i was like im literally a master manifestor why dont i manifest it??? like i completely forgot ab the law 😭😭

anyway so that week i was just affirming to myself a few times a day like “oh yea i have a vinyl record player now!!”, i did SATS bc its fun, i talked to myself pretending i was talking to my friends bragging about my vinyl player, i searched online for new vinyl records to buy to play, and just STAYED IN THE STATE of having my record player. i didnt affirm 10k times, just everytime i thought of it to REMIND MYSELF i have it.

i ABSOLUTELY DID NOT waver. i did NOT get nervous about not seeing it in the 3d, bc i reminded myself i already have it so its fine. the law NEVER fails. so theres no room for failure. i lived in my imagination ion playing songs on my vinyl record player, (bc i LOVE visualization, if you love affirming then affirm for it instead!!) everytime i was like “i cant wait for my vinyl player” or “is it gonna be here?” or “hows it gonna come?” ECT i IMMEDIATELY flipped those thoughts with WHAT? i already have my record player wdym

tldr, i convinced my subconscious that i HAVE a vinyl record player, and since i lived in the 4d (imagination) where i have it, it reflected in the 3d bc thats the LAW. anyway, i wake up and theres a package at the door addressed to my name and i was so confused bc i dont order things. my parents had no idea where it was from and when i opened it, IT WAS A RECORD PLAYER RAHHH!!!

i literally SCREAMED yall i was like NO WAY. but i was also rlly confused so i looked at the address it came from and it was my aunt who lives a state away. (but we r REALLY CLOSE) so i called her and she was like “surprise!!! i know you love music so i decided to buy one for you because it was on sale.” and i was like OH ,Y GOD!! keep in mind she had NO CLUE i wanted a record player bc it never came up, and she NEEVR buys me gifts unless its my birthday or smthn which is in like 2 months. CIRCUMSTANCES DONT MATTER!

anyway here it is!!

i put a piece of paper w my @ next to it bc alot of bloggers r being called out for lying, and i dont want people to lose trust.

(the second pic is on my floor, first on my bed.)

if u guys have any questions feel free 2 ask!! THANK YOU SO SO MUCH TO @coquetteprincesss @nakedbibi333 @fleurlx @miracledarling @aphrodieties @blushydior @cinefairy @gorgeouslypink @heliosoll @hhtpsjup1ter @oonasempire @piercedblunt @remcycl333 @voidprincessblog YOU GUYS ALWAYS HELP ME SO MUCH!!! i love all ur blogs tysm for ur help w the law ❤️

[sunboki]

⎯ SUMMER SOLACE. a StrayKids fiction

Stray Kids x implied! fem. reader (no poly)

TROPE. friends to lovers (not really lovers, more just strangers to friends), summerschool! au, reader is in student council as class prez

WORD COUNT. 12.6k words

PLAYLIST.

WARNINGS. cursing, very troubled childhoods, han lacks parental figures, minho’s mother passed, bullies, evidence of physical violence, mentions of depression & anxiety, just overall very angsty themes, healing, sadness, comfort comfort comfort — ALL OF THE ISSUES/TROUBLES OF CHARACTERS ARE 100% FICTION

AUG'S NOTES. i hope whatever you’re going through works out in the end, and that reading this very indulgent fic can help heal a part of you and get you through summertime sadness — inspiration for the fic came from this!

SYNOPSIS. It was never your intention to be the one in charge of a summer school class—a troubled summer school class, but here you were. Eight boys in this classroom, all with their individual stories and silenced opinions. And somehow, you can’t find it in yourself to give up on them.

or alternatively :

Eight kids, one purpose. Get them to be okay with one another — with themselves — by the end of the summer.

Eight kids, one purpose.

Get them to be okay with one another.

Although, you didn’t realize that yet. That your Class President position would throw you right into such a mess (or what you referred to it as the first time you got word).

We all have the things we hate. The things we say we “heavily dislike”. But in reality, we hate it. It incessantly grates our nerves, has our patience forming into a ticking pipe bomb, enough that sometimes, we explode. Say things we don’t mean, get angry, get mad. 

The thing that sets these boys apart, according to the acknowledgements paper you were given, is that they don’t even try to be sweet, they don’t ask for forgiveness. Not towards one another, and most certainly not towards anything else. 

Your job is just as you said. Get them to be okay with one another. 

Catch? There’s a time limit. 

Twelve weeks of summer school. 

Twelve weeks for eight boys to, no, not be nice to each other, not be best friends (not even friends), but just to be okay with being in the same room, be within six feet of each other without tearing someone’s throat — or their own — out.

Is it simple? Absolutely not. 

You want to try though, because up till now, everyone has given up on these boys. People that the school district have deemed always successful have pushed them aside, called them impossible. 

You won’t be the next to give up. 

Twenty chairs in the classroom, yet not two sit next to each other, spaced out by at least three chairs per person. 

Your roster sits upon your desk, listing their names by alphabetical order. 

(Sitting on the furthest end of the classroom) Bahng, Christopher - nickname: Chan

He’s a football player (god knows how), who, despite hardly showing up to practices and arriving to random games—is always responsible for their wins. In some way you’re sure that’s the only reason he hasn’t been kicked off. 

Christopher’s an interesting case. 

He’s got amazing grades and passes school without fail, but no one has any clue about his home situation or whether he even has a home or not. You’re told he’s extremely distant and closed off, sort of void to life. He was sent due to excessive absences.

2. (Planted dead front of the class) Han, Jisung 

His record states he’s been sent to the counselor eleven times in the first two weeks of school for disruptions and inappropriate behavior. Jisung has an older brother who’s valedictorian, but they never speak to one another and don’t seem to have the best relationship. He’s said to be obnoxiously straight-forward and senseless, you wonder if it’s true.

3. (Nearest to the window on your right) Hwang, Hyunjin

Despite his popular facade, Hyunjin is regarded as the “troublesome face-card” by many deans and counselors alike. Students adore his looks, but he couldn’t butt heads more with Jisung, and they’re often sent out together. Hyunjin is believed to have a worrisome superiority complex according to the last counselor he’s been seen by.  

4. (Opposite of Hyunjin across the classroom) Kim, Seungmin

Not much has been recorded as far as Seungmin goes. He’s apparently a huge instigator in lots of illegal activity surrounding campus, but no one’s certain. His last counselor claimed he stayed silent throughout his consultation and answered suspiciously vague for almost every question. 

5. (A few seats behind Jisung) Lee, Felix

Both him and Christopher have been reported for vandalizing parts of the school in odd, incomprehensible words like “Miroh” and “Maze of Memories”. Some gossip that they’re secretly a part of an underground gang. But upon first glance, Felix looks harmle—

A hand raising grabs your attention. It’s Jisung, wearing a grin when you nod for him to speak. 

“How much for a tit-pic, Teach?”

Everyone is silent, and you hear Hyunjin stifle a snicker in the distance. 

So this is what they meant by inappropriate behavior.

The corner of your lips twitch slightly, but you successfully maintain an unnerved expression, instead, smiling back at him. 

“Let’s not ask questions like that, alright?”

Jisung amusedly huffs, still eyeing you incredulously. Although, he doesn’t say any more, and you continue down the roster’s descriptions.

Lee Minho whose info is conspicuously sparse , Seo Changbin who lashes out randomly without clear conscience (some claim he’s bipolar, you think different), and Yang Jeongin remain, bio’s dotted in unspecified theft attempts, assumed messy family situations and brief mentions of mental illness that seems to a follow a similar pattern to the rest. 

Stacking the papers upon your desk, you card eight sheets of notebook paper from the drawer, walking through rows of desks to pass each boy a slip. 

All eyes are on you now, and your breathing feels excessively loud in the stifling quietness. 

Lightly clapping your hands together in hopes of stirring some sort of sound in this stale air, you speak as fluidly and audibly as your voice will let you. 

“Today’s assignment is simple. I want you to write everything about yourself.”

Confused brows lift, primarily from Minho.

“Whether it’s what you like to do, what you don’t like to do, your favorite things, your favorite places, books, movies.”

Another hand raises. Changbin, you remember his name.

“Yes?”

“We’re not in fifth fuckin’ grade.” He growls, words booming. That was another complaint: Changbin’s explosively unprovoked opinions. 

Biting back the urge to snap back, you place both hands on the podium at the front of the class, essentially grounding yourself. 

“Yes, well this is—“ 

Somebody grumbles an incoherent sentence, and Changbin is immediately on his feet, chair squealing, eyes wild with fury. 

Second complaint: his flaming temper. 

Grabbing a fistful of Chan’s shirt (presumably the one who muttered), he sizes up the taller boy, spitting wild curses.

Inhaling deeply, you approach them, withholding the instinct to wince at Changbin’s yelling. 

“Changbin, please go back to your seat,” You usher, watching them never take their eyes off one another. Chan is eerily unmoved, though effortlessly intimidating nevertheless. 

The former spins around, shoving the other boy off to the side and resorting to sizing you up now, chin lifted, gaze belittling. 

One press and you’ll have assistance come in and help. You remind yourself, referring to the small red button residing in your pocket that sends a direct call to the other counselors. 

What good will that do? Your first step is getting them to be okay with you, not to mention each other.

No. You can do this, you’ll be fine. 

“Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” He spits, glaring as you back up the more he steps forward. That is till you stop and cause him to stop as well, leaving only a few centimeters separating your faces. 

“Because,” You ease, shoving a finger into the center of his chest sternly. “I’m your teacher now, and you’re stuck with me. So deal with it.” 

Tilting your head, you meet his eyes, hooded behind a veil of black hair. 

“I’m sure a fifth grader could understand that, right?”

And with that, you point to his seat and spin on your heel, taking a seat and watching the boys, one by one, lower their heads and begin writing. Well, excluding Changbin, who’s hands stick by his sides, staring at you. 

He chews his lip then turns around, shuffling back to his desk. 

By the time the dismissal bell echoes, you would like to say you see light in the distance, but the endless tunnel ahead tells you you’re far from even beginning.

Glasses propped on the bridge of your nose, you sort through the papers, carefully observing each one.

It’s a Friday evening, meaning you’re given a meager two days to inhale as much information as possible for the approaching week. 

There’s a variety of answers on the papers, from some stating only a song they like or others more of a list-type structure. Felix apparently bakes in his free time and has two sisters while Jeongin plays piano. Although, a certain paper in particular stands out to you. 

Han’s.

Only his name is written, nothing else. You’re not sure if it’s a matter of his laziness or carelessness toward the assignment, but clear as day, dead center of his paper, is simply his name. 

You at least anticipated some kind of response, like an offensive joke or something, but no. Just: Han Jisung.

Interesting.

A sudden buzzing redirects your attention. It’s from Chaeryoung, cheerily asking about how the first day went along with spilling details about her own day as well. 

So far, things are going well. So far. 

Not permanent. Just like how you haven’t permanently tamed the beast named Changbin. 

And, although you hate such a mindset, realistically, it’s only a matter of time until something goes wrong. 

“Chae,” You echo, the faint rustling of your papers sounding on your side of the line. She hums.

“What do you think about this one.”

A grunt of acknowledgement is heard.

You sidle to another sheet; Han’s will have to wait for another occasion.

“Hwang Hyunjin. Said to be trouble-some, argues a lot, apparent superiority complex.”

Although your senior, Chaeryoung has always been a helping hand—a soul to rely on through the rocky periods, your rocky periods.  

“Hmm..” She considers, seeming to weigh the matter for a moment. “Have you seen his grades?”

Odd question.

“Straight A student according to his records.”

Impressive. Each quarter, top-scores. 

Well, it makes sense for the superiority portion in the case he uses his grades to hang over others heads, but the rest is strange, making it unusual for him to behave so brashly.

Or, maybe it wasn’t unusual, but overlooked.

As if reading your mind, she utters the same words you’d planned to.

“Anxiety?”

Said in unison, you both burst into laughter. Her blindingly bright laugh sends warmth throughout your stomach, easing the droning headache building between your temples. 

Hours you’ve spent glaring at the same papers, determined to locate something, anything as a way to help them. A problem to find a solution.

Yet, each case was different—personal to each boy in a sense you couldn’t assign an overall solution.

Instead, you pinpointed one case at a time. 

Starting with Hwang Hyunjin.

However, his wasn’t an easy fix. As a high school student, it was virtually impossible to “fix” anxiety (if that was even the issue at hand at all).

Everyone had it in their system. Upcoming tests, pressure. 

It was also impossible to really “fix” anybody generally, meaning, more or less, you had to find a way to help them want to help themselves.

With Hwang Hyunjin though, his, stated in the page’s description saying: Cares little to nothing about grades, wasn’t a testing anxiety of a sort, but maybe a tad bit deeper, barely visible without a sharper, clearer lense. 

“Send me a pic of the sheet, can you?” She begins, startling the hypothesizing from your mind. 

Again, an odd question, but you oblige, swiping off the calling tab to snap a quick picture. 

A long silence situates itself between you, presumably Chaeryoung investigating his information.

Strangely, you feel like a detective. Climbing skyscrapers to find a solution to a problem nobody addressed until it became horridly powerful—possessing, now fallen in your hands to solve. 

You refused to let their problems ruin them. And although becoming a illegitimate teacher wasn’t the plan for your senior year, you doubt you could back away at this point, not when you had already unearthed the treasure chest.

Last step was finding the key.

Well, detectives are equipped with a magnifying glass for a reason, right?

…

“… His drawings are pretty good?”

Then do you notice the doodles in the far corner of his introductory paper, a flower, a few butterflies, and a dog.. of a sort. Chihuahua-looking. 

“C’mon Chaeryoung, take this seriously,” Lightly scolding, you sigh, wetting your lips whilst flipping to the back of the page. 

It’s a quick script of things he enjoys, accounts from students he knows or that know him, overall containing an overview of his person. 

Hyunjin gets in lots of arguments with Han Jisung. 

You know that much. 

Your finger slips down the page, scouring each sentence.

XXXX: Hyunjin likes drawing. I’ve seen him drawing at his desk before. 

Baseless information, the doodles prove that—

Hold on. 

“Chae, when you’re anxious, do you have a reliever? Like doing something, listening to something?”

She chuckles, clattering of dishes in the background causing you to cringe slightly.

“Dancing, you know this. I’m not going to Hanlim Art School for nothing.” Teasingly voiced, you frown, deciding not to egg on her sarcasm.

“Then do you think, where it says he gets in arguments a lot, he’s projecting that anxiety when arguing because he doesn’t have a reliever?”

She clicks her tongue.

“Could be. But we don’t really know Hyunjin, yeah? It could be something deeper Y/nnie. You can’t look surface level when it comes to these guys.”

You sigh, rolling back your shoulders.

“You’re right, but I’m still gonna try it. I need to get through to him that I want to help him somehow, so I might as well exhaust all my options.”

You can’t look surface level when it comes to these guys. A phrase truthful to its fullest extent. 

“…Try what?”

Ah, you forgot to mention that part.

“Drawing. I’m gonna try convincing him to give it a chance.”

The stunned silence tells you she’s likely thinking you’re crazy, her only response a breath of disbelief.

You smile.

“I’m insane, I know.”

“No wonder we’re best friends.”

Staring daggers at the papers in front of you, you prop your feet on the desk, sorting through option after option on what you plan next for class.

In the midst of learning more about each boy’s papers though, you overhear something, a few key words.

Friday. Fair.

Aha. 

The school’s annual summer fair, held as a congratulatory sort of event to celebrate moving onto a new year of school.

It’s decided. Friday, you’re taking them to the fair.

Mentally thanking whoever had brought it up outside the classroom, you’re quick in crumpling the additional papers, watching as one by one, the boys enter.

Hey, at least none of them are late.

…Not like they had a choice in that anyway.

And, through a rather painfully awkward second time teaching, the ice seems to be breaking little by little.

Any progress is good progress, you’ve deemed.

“Alright, before you’re dismissed, I wanna let you know we’re going to the fair Friday. Be there.” You hum, tapping the podium.

You swear there hasn’t been a more stifling pause in your life.

Though you’d been anticipating something adverse, this is a downright oddity.

“Uh.. what?” Han speaks up as you near the door. Morbidly quiet.

“All of you, meet me at the grounds at 7pm.”

Added into the deplorable silence, you glance over your shoulder whilst stepping into the hallway, face donning a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. “Okay, class dismissed.”

Beginning out the sliding door, the eruption of voices behind you cascade into a multitude of conversation, your clarification they had in fact heard and you weren’t discussing plans with a brick wall.

All you can do is hope they show up.

Class continues through the week, trying to get them to grow more comfortable with the atmosphere—their classmates, more specifically.

Of course, you earn your fair share of close calls and near incidents in those four days leading to Friday, but seeing the whole group turn up that fateful evening seems to make the ordeal worthwhile.

Quick to move your separate ways, you’re hasty in tagging along with Hyunjin, the boy unusually quiet as you fall into step to his right.

“So.. you draw?” You start, scorning the nervousness evident in your tone.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t interject, nor bite back something as his infograph had led you to believe.

“Yeah,” He sharply replies, eyes trained ahead, taking swift, motivated steps through heavily trodden grass.

It confuses you, in all honesty. Everything about this so-called ‘superiority complex’. From these few days you’ve seen him or interacted (though fleeting), not once has the man exhibited any form of arrogance nor shed of his assumed traits.

He’s shy, actually. Maybe you’re simply gracing surface level like Chaeryoung advised, but certain aspects could be seen in the black of night.

“Y’know, you’re pretty good.”

Despite his lack of response, you can feel his eyes dance to your face for a split second. 

“‘Think you should try it. You’ve got potential, just saying,” You shrug, merely talking without reason nor inhibition.

“You think?”

It’s his voice breaking through your barrier of unrequited cordiality that stirs the air. A final, conversational pair of words after watching him play countless fairground games in quietness.

“I do,” You hum, nodding avidly while watching Hyunjin’s eyes flicker down to the ground below before back to yours, holding eye-contact.

In those moments, you decipher two things.

Hyunjin rivals the prettiest of paintings, and whatever earlier assumptions had been stuck to his tanned skin couldn’t be more wrong. 

“Yo! If you’re just gonna stand there, move it!”

Changbin’s interjection successfully scares the living soul out of you and simultaneously wrecks your intense staring session.

Nevertheless, it’s hard even for you to explain how you ended up competing against the boisterous boy in ball toss, only that you find yourself wanting to tattoo the sight of Hyunjin laughing and Changbin shouting with defeat beneath your eyelids forever.

Granted a gift upon winning, you snag a snorlax plush amongst the scattered options hanging at the top of the booth, presenting it to the him with a smile.

“Huh?” Changbin grunts, head tilted, gazing at you as if you’ve spawned two heads.

“Take it, ‘s for you,” You urge, surveying the boy’s tentative touch against the plush’s soft fur with evident glee.

Still pouty, yes, but you take the sight of the stuffie held in his arms while the three of you walk back as a victory. 

After a quick stop by a corn dog stand, you lean against the food truck’s side, wordless as Changbin and Hyunjin head off their own ways — the only trace of familiarity near you being someone clearing their throat.

Off to the side stands Chan, quietly sparing you not-so-sneaky glances, his hands stuffed in his black jogger’s pockets. 

You cock your brows, head tipped as if silently asking: “What?”

“Waiting for you,” Is his reply, and it catches you off guard at the consideration in those syllables. 

Not that you envisioned Chan as someone cold, but you certainly weren’t expecting him to wait for you while you ate.

Granting the boy a tiny smile of gratitude, you find yourself unconsciously gravitating his way, stuck in an orbital pattern of continuous voyage, indifferent to moving away.

“Chris is an interesting name,” You offer, aimlessly walking past endless booths, people.

“From Australia,” He speaks. Short and straight to the point, yet lacking any hostility. 

“Yeah? Why’d you move?” 

Ushering him on carefully, you manage to tiptoe a bit into foreign territory, navigating rows of traps and ambushes ahead.

“There’s nothing for me back there apart from my family.” His shoes, caked in mud, shuffle to a halt, gaze trained upward toward the constantly reeling Ferris Wheel.

Almost instantly, you can sense a shift in demeanor. It nearly makes your hair stand up on end, specifically upon seeing the hint of vulnerability shed across his face.

Maybe you’re seeing things.

“I’m just.. here. Like I work so hard for a something I’ll never have.”

His nose scrunches, beautifully glossy brown irises reflecting the blinking lights. Red, blue, green, yellow, all encompassed in those eyes.

No, this is all real.

The sight steels you a bit.

After a moment, you nudge his shoulder, his head finally turning to look at you. 

“I don’t think I’m really the greatest to talk to when it comes to this but, Chan, you have to live without a purpose.”

You inhale deeply.

“Because if you keep trying to find a reason for everything-“

The shouting of an oh-so skillful interruption known as Changbin calling your name in the distance temporarily cuts you off.

“You’ll never be satisfied with a reality that won’t change unless you do, with this life.” 

For Chan, no place like home only applied when he had a place to call home. As for now, he was a wanderer. 

That, or inches from deluding himself into a comfortable, insufficient reality instead.

Making believe until something becomes real.

“Do you think it’ll be okay?”

His words catch you off guard, and you sort of stare for a moment, holding his gaze as if looking away means your demise.

For a second, you wonder if every boy’s eyes are this captivating.

Hyunjin, now Chan.

“I do,” You whisper, voice hardly audible amidst the bustling fairground.

His lips quirking into a smile serve as your indication he heard, and he reaches a hand up to gently sweep a strand of hair from your face behind your ear.

Again, unexpected, not disliked.

“Live on, yeah?” Chan hums, lifting his pinky for you to take with a mirrored grin, emotion buried within his dark chocolate pools for eyes you fear to unearth.

Maybe that’s something irrevocably agreed upon.

Live on.

It seems so, even when you regroup with an avidly boastful Changbin barking over who won at a rifle booth against him and Han. Agreed in the pinkies still intertwined behind your backs, in the shared smiles he gives you here and there as the night continues.

“Say, what is it with the both of you?”

Sidled between Han and Hyunjin on the walk back to campus, you find the question slipping from your lips before thinking.

Hyunjin grunts, and Han shrugs.

Children, you swear.

“Constantly biting at each other’s throats, yeah?” You huff, arms crossing.

Glancing over at Hyunjin after neither boy decides to respond, you raise a brow.

“As your teacher, I’m gonna assign something,” You begin, glaring at the tiny scoff Han resounds when you try using an authoritative tone.

“Next time you see each other, try to be nice.”

Another silence.

“I’m dead serious.”

“Y/N-“ Han starts, quickly silenced by your lifted hand.

“No buts. Do it, got it?” Firmly commanding, you leave no room for argument, the two responding as if it were the worst of punishments, wallowing in self pity.

Despite an onslaught of beginnings and continuations to newly opened books, you think the chapter where Hyunjin and Han sulk all the way back to campus takes the cake.

For now it does.

“I want someone to play me,” Han says, bringing the popsicle up to his lips. 

The sun beats onto their skin, warm rays causing a scrunch to appear between his brows.

In an attempt at following your “get-along” suggestion, the two found themselves coincidentally running into each other at the nearby Supermarket after school, sparing cautious glances back and forth till someone broke the silence.

Like fate, drawn together in the ugliest of ways.

Han went first, a hesitant “hey” somehow leading to the two hunkering down on bamboo flooring with a conversation in tow. 

It’s a start.

“Play you?” Hyunjin parrots, confused.

“Yeah,” He responds, fiddling with the name tag attached to his uniform. “They say nobody knows you better than yourself, but I dunno.. I feel like I don’t know anything about me. I’m an alien to myself.” 

Jisung bunches up the wrapper, the crinkling sound rivaling screeching cicadas clinging to the trees overhead.

“I bet if I had an actor play me, I’d make a lot more sense.”

Somehow, out of all the things Han Jisung has said to him, this is the one thing Hyunjin can fully understand. 

Understand that, despite living with yourself all your life, you’re still a novice even in your own body, in need of someone to tell you about yourself, an opposing point of view to help round out the sharp corners.

That’s it. The word to describe it, how Hyunjin found himself bound to art.

Your words replay in his mind on loop.

“Think you should try it. You’ve got potential.”

Understanding.

Art, in its most frustrating, brutally painful form, allows Hyunjin to understand. Himself, his wishes, life, despair. It’s his actor. An ideal perspective responsible for clearing his conscious, a contact lense to the eyes he hadn’t realized were blurry, half-open.

“What did you write on that paper about yourself?” Hyunjin ventured, beaming sunlight cast upon long fingers that peer from the balcony’s shade, highlighting cool toned veins in an almost transparent ray.

Coins cash into the vending machine, the dull cry of birds soaring to the sky in a flurry of wings echoing in his eardrums.

“The one Y/N handed out?”

Hyunjin hums.

“My name.”

The latter’s lips quirk into a clumsy smile. 

Han Jisung, that’s all he wrote. How original of him.

Hyunjin watches an ant crawl atop a leaf, simultaneously swiping a droplet of water from the popsicle’s wrapper with his thumb. 

He tests his words.

“I want,”

A pause. 

“To add art now. To the paper, as my friend.”

Jisung purses his lips curiously, brows lifted.

However, he doesn’t pester.

“Art is your friend?”

Meeting the other boys gaze, Hyunjin finds himself, for the first time when looking at Han Jisung, smiling.

“Yeah, it is.”

. . .

“Heh. What a weirdo— YAH!”

Next Wednesday’s evening consists of a plethora of instances, some more notable to mention than others.

One, getting slammed to a wall by Changbin, and two, getting screamed at right after.

Though you weren’t aware of that yet, not when you looked up from your phone after school to see the boy storming toward you, and certainly not when you smiled, an action seeming to have provoked his hand to your collar, cornered against a wall without so much as a greeting.

“Changbin..?” You manage, slightly breathless at the impact, brows furrowed.

And instantly, listening to the words he spews, it feels as if all the progress you’d made at class—nevertheless the fair—dissolved into nothing.

Back to square one.

“Who do you think you are?” He spits, looking you up and down with a wrinkled nose. “What? You think you own the world ‘cause you’re doing something good? Helping ‘troubled’ kids?” 

Before you can interject, his grip tightens on your shirt, shaking you angrily before stopping again, darks eyes burning with nothing but rage.

“We aren’t your confidence boost, Teach, so get out of your stupid headspace. We don’t need your help and never asked for it in the first place, so get lost.”

Changbin dips dangerously close to your face, venom dripping in his tone.

“Got it?”

Using as much force as you can muster, you ram your palm against his chest, effectively pushing him off of you before slamming against his shoulder and walking away.

Halfway down the street do you stop, not daring to look back at him.

“I don’t know what makes you think I’m doing this for a confidence boost, and I’m not going to try understanding. But that gives you no right to pick me apart like you know me!” You shout, continuing to head as far as you can from him, glaring ahead.

It’s fair he got that idea. Some random student infiltrating your summer all for the sake of what? Their future? Yours? What was this for anyway? Your position as Class President using this “summer school” to make you feel better about yourself, add more to a resume? 

Plopping down at a bus stop a mile or so later, you pull your legs to your chest, rehearsing just what drove you into the mess anyway. 

You want to help them. That’s it. 

Repeating the phrase like a sacred oath, it isn’t until the burning sun’s waning scorch that you’re reminded of evening’s approach, begrudgingly lifting yourself off the now-sweaty seat.

Unbeknownst to you, Chan stood as a witness, watching either of you quarrel prior to parting, you disappearing elsewhere while Changbin remained in place, burning holes into the ground with a furious glower.

Hurriedly assessing what his first move should be (or if he should even move at all), he decides upon following you when the dark-haired boy stalks off.

“Y/n!” 

The oddly familiar voice graces your senses when you look up, pausing just outside the bus stop, earbuds dangling from your pocket. 

It’s Chan, still wearing his school uniform. 

“Oh, hey Chan.” Slapping a hopefully convincing smile on, you allow him to occupy the space to your left as you head home, entertaining his occasional questions, sentences.

You’re glad it’s Chan though. 

“Um, Chan?” You pique upon reaching your door, looking back at him, question inches from slipping off your tongue.

Has anything happened with Changbin lately?

“Yes?”

No, you can’t. 

“Never mind, um, bye!” Brushing off the thought, you give him another tight smile, waving the boy off and slipping into your home with a loud sigh.

Outside, Chan tugs his lip between his teeth, watching you debate on your words. He knows what you wanted to ask, what so obviously sat heavy on your shoulders the entire way home. 

Perhaps it’s his perception that’s gotten him this far. 

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he decides the next course of action would be locating the other half of this division. 

Unfortunately for him, Chan has no idea where he could be. The likelihood he’s home is minuscule if his hunch is right, and so, the man wracks his head for any clues.

Abruptly, a past conversation hits him.

“Have you been there? The old train station below the tunnel?”

Chan, lips pursed as he tries recalling, shakes his head.

“I like that place, ‘helps me think.”

That’s it.

Racing off despite the darkness creeping across star-splattered sky, his legs carry him as fast as possible. 

Dipping below the bridge, his skin prickles at the cold air. Minimal lighting apart from a few white beams paves a clear path to his desired individual, planted in the dead center of the platform.

“Binnie,” Chan calls. 

Only he can get away with calling Changbin “Binnie”, a nickname grown into second nature as the two grew more accustomed these past two weeks.

The boy doesn’t budge, doesn’t reply. He stands there, chin down, hands firmly bunching his pants in a tight hold.

Yet, when he looks up after a lengthy pause, Chan watches his lip quiver, watches his shoulders shake senselessly as he gradually reaches his outstretched arms.

“I.. I keep hurting so many people and.. and…it’s so lonely, why is it so lonely?” 

Without an utterance, he pushes Changbin’s head against his shoulder. 

And they hug. They hug for a long, long time. Basking there, healing there. 

Changbin cries. 

There’s a lot to cry about, a lot of things he’s needed to cry about, things he couldn’t cry about before. But he does. Tonight, in this empty train station, Changbin cries in Chan’s arms, his friends arms.

Changbin’s first friend—who smoothes messy curls down in delicate strokes, holding him dearly close. 

Chan isn’t oblivious, because in those particularly tender moments, one in specific taking place right after the fair, Changbin speaks words Chan had never heard before. 

Problems. They told each other it all. Their secrets, struggles. 

Changbin’s issues with his parents, Chan’s with his home-situation, his internal displacement.

“I know things are hard right now, but we’re going to get someplace better together, okay? We’re brothers.” Chan whispers, and his friend sniffles, nodding wordlessly.

Brothers. 

Changbin is his brother now, and no blood needs to prove that. Because in times you don’t have that family, that connection, you make it yourself.

Seungmin: Y/n, can you meet me at Gokseong Hill?

You groan picking up your phone, granted a mere thirty minutes of peace after your painful run-in with Changbin and an equally painful attempt at a conversation with Chan before your phone lights up.

Y/n: Do you plan to murder me or something?

Seungmin: I’m not as creative as Jisung, so no

You crack a smile.

Y/n: I’ll be there

Fastening a jacket over your shoulders, you lock the door behind yourself, stuffing jingling keys into your pocket.

Hey, a bit of fresh air sounds tempting.

At the peak of the hill he sits, and it’s not until you follow his upward stare that you take in the stars overhead. 

The slight altitude paves way to a more than incredible view. Countless galaxies right above your head, twinkling so brightly in the sky. Far from streetlights, from civilization. 

Your staggered breathing hiking up here proves worthwhile now.

Wordlessly plopping down beside him, you lay back, admiring.

“Do you ever wanna scream?” Seungmin reaches his hand to the sky, allowing the dark blue and black hues to waltz in his grasp.

The twinkling wonder dappled above prohibit a full view of his facial expressions, but you have an idea of how wistfully he gazes into that atmospheric abyss. Aching.

You humorlessly chuckle.

Do I ever.

“When I first met Changbin, I wanted to scream every twenty seconds.”

Seungmin laughs. Pretty.

“Guys like that do that to you.”

He curls his fingers into a fist, arm remaining outstretched. 

“Do it.”

“Hm?”

“Scream.”

He looks at you like you’re insane for a moment, then pauses, fingernails digging into the earthy soul beneath you before he screams.

Screams, louder and louder, so loud you’re surprised his lungs haven’t given up yet, surprised you haven’t laughed at how comical the entire thing is. His body practically lifts off the ground, eyes screwed shut.

Then he stops, catching his breath. 

No comments nor laughter. Quiet. 

Reaching out, you give his hand, dirty fingernails and all, an assuring squeeze.

I don’t know, but I care.

A silent utterance.

“Better?”

He nods. 

You’re next, and this time, you’re first to laugh.

As the two week mark of class is pinned, you want to give yourself a pat on the back for managing - no less surviving till now.

So, it really makes you wonder how you ended up in such a predicament.

Han Jisung, someone you never anticipated to be beside you on your Saturday, resides in the drivers seat of your parent’s car, hands sweating up nothing short of an ocean without even starting the vehicle.

Well, you are aware of how this all began, but then again, your pride wants to be salvaged, if barely.

A bit of pleading on Han’s side about his parents nagging him and a pinch of your groggy mumbling at 9am to end up here, to be exact.

“Look… About what I said the first day.. I’m really sorry about that. I shouldn’t have asked that, it was rude and- ow!”

A hard flick delivered to the boy’s forehead has his face wrinkling up, an offended expression worn on chubby cheeks.

“Yes, it was rude, and I’ll ostracize you if you ever do it again. But I forgive you, you’re welcome,” You state, arms crossed.

Han’s sheepish nod seems to be the best reply you’ll get. 

“Alright, now, shift the gear to drive.”

“…That’s ‘D’, right…?”

“You’re kidding.”

No, he wasn’t kidding, and a lesson that could’ve been an hour long turns into two and a half hours in no time.

Finally, by some miracle, you end up on the road, holding on the seat like a vice, the boy mirroring your panic with nervous jittering and random comments.

“Oh wait! Isn’t the Film Festival coming up-“

“FOCUS ON THE ROAD!”

Ah, he has the attention span of a squirrel, that too.

And if you aren’t doused in gray hairs after that you’d be surprised, Han looking just as frazzled, exiting the car with wobbly legs and wide, frazzled eyes. 

From then on out, you decide teaching the boy how to drive would have to wait.

With July days away (a miracle, you’d like to say), you bury your nose into new assignments and exercises for the class, desperately gripping onto the bits and pieces of progress you’re making.

It’s meager, and certainly not sturdy, but you’ll take what you can get. 

..Even if those hard silences are crippling.

A knock ushers you away from the barstool you perch on, cautiously peering from your front door’s tiny peephole. 

Felix.

Upon opening in the door, you first notice his raw cheeks, eyes puffy and red.

He’d been crying, unmistakably.

You don’t move away when he walks forward and presses his face against your shoulder.

“Can I stay here? I don’t want to go home tonight.” The boy whispers, and you reach a tentative hand to pat his head. 

“Of course.”

Clambering the teary boy inside, you spend a decent ten minutes helping him catch his breath and calm down a bit, not wanting to stress the poor thing out with questions.

Standing in your foyer, it’s his shaky voice piercing the air responsible for your head snapping up.

“Do you.. have brownie mix?” 

.

.

.

“He was always the fearless kid,” Felix mutters, occupying himself with folding the batter in a bowl. 

Interestingly enough, Felix is a stress baker, something of which you hadn’t realized until getting schooled on the correct ingredients to use for brownies.

The topic is Minho. Or, what Felix knew of him.

“I could never read him. I still can’t. I remember he saved this cat once and it bit him. I cried the whole way to the doctor’s office and he was the one who calmed me down instead.” 

All you can do is laugh in reply, the blond sheepishly grinning.

Licking off some brownie mix, he hands you the other whisk where you lean against the counter. 

Leaning forward to smear some of the sugary goodness on his cheek with a giggle, you adore the way his eyes light up, causing his freckles to almost glow.

If past-lives were real, you think Felix would’ve been a fairy.

“You knew Minho when you were younger?”

Felix nods.

“We met in seventh grade. Our mom’s were friends through work. Although, I don’t think he liked me very much.”

He shakes the bubbles from the cooking sheet, ensuring the edges of the pan were even. You slip past him to pre-heat the oven. 

There’s a soft chuckle on his end, and it’s not until you turn around do you see the pikachu mitten he’s quite literally critiquing with his eyeballs.

Such expressive eyes, though they’re different than Minho and Seungmin. 

While Minho has something like the atlantic ocean hidden deep behind those pupils, Seungmin is more of an open field.

Though Felix, he has stars.

So many stars, in fact, that they couldn’t possibly all fit, spreading to his face instead. Down his arms, his chest. Till all of a sudden the entire galaxy found its home in the boy standing in front of you.

“Hey, no judging,” You grin, scrutinizing his innocent shrug. 

Snatching your precious oven-mit from his fingertips to load the pan in yourself, a gasp stirs when a pair of arms winds around your middle, his chin resting upon your shoulder as you close the door and set your timer.

“Thank you.”

“Hm? What for?” Stopping your movements, you allow the boy to snuggle closer.

“For reminding me of myself. I seem to get lost in other people sometimes and forget I’m here too.” At the last part of his sentence he laughs, rocking back and forth on his heels and causing you to rock with him. 

Ten minutes or so you rock. Easy, comfortable. 

Felix gives nice hugs. His clothes are sprinkled with a strange mixture of both brownies and chocolate chip remnants he’d snuck in without your knowledge.

Comfortable.

He’s a kid who never really got the chance to grow up. The one who was constantly told he’s so mature for his age, a phrase that eventually melded so far into his brain it became second nature, gum stuck to his shoe. 

Because the kid that was so mature for his age was never asked if he needed help or if he was okay, everyone simply assumed. Even when the world came crashing down, Felix was fine. Just fine. 

Until he wasn’t, and suddenly, Felix came crashing down with the world.

“..Do you like face-masks?”

You may not be able to fix his crumbling world, but you could give him some good memories to remember it by.

Which is how you found yourself roped in your bathroom, carefully applying the charcoal face mask onto his perfect skin, unblemished and definitely not deserving of the treatment. But, like you said, memories. 

You should be off to bed, already prepping for the next morning, school. June 17th, officially seventeen days into summer school. Yet here you are, greedily shoving down brownies with a new companion, Lee Felix, on the couch while looking like utter idiots in face masks. 

After seven episodes of Gilmore Girls does he wearily rise up, beckoning you with him to wash off your skincare madness only to make an equally weary trip straight back to the living room.

“Do you think Minho likes me?” Your baking partner whispers, his head resting upon your lap. Those unfairly long lashes begin to dust closed, the subtle flash of light emitted from your scented candle sending a golden gleam across the room.  

“Mm.. I’m sure he does. I’m sure he likes you very much,” You assure, not needing a response from his fallen-asleep form, not expecting one anyway. 

What occurred in the first place nor why he asked such questions wasn’t your business, but somewhere, a part of a you wanted to know. The cause of his pain, of all of their pain. 

Hardest part of your evening was definitely attempting to slip him off your lap, luckily a success after four or five minutes. 

Carefully propping a pillow behind his head and layering a blanket across his jacket-clad body, you sneakily turn off the TV, bidding the exhausted boy a hushed “good night” and placing a gentle peck to his forehead before turning off the porch light.

Laying in bed whilst your eyes resist closing, you find yourself hoping he’ll sleep well, hope this night is something he can look back on with a smile on his face.

Felix deserves that.

That morning, upon forgetting your alarm, either of you are scrambling from bed or, in Felix’s case, flopping from your couch with a loud thud!

“Minho lives pretty close,” Felix winds the straps of his backpack over his shoulders, glancing from side to side while observing the area. You follow suit, both clambering to rush out the door, jogging down the street hurriedly.

Seems the Minho kick is still here then, huh.

“But he might not be at school off and on because of his Grandma.”

The awaiting tip of your head calls for an explanation, and a light bulb seemed to bloom above him — obviously having realized something.

Either of you pause at a crosswalk.

“Didn’t I tell you?”

You shake your head, brows pinched. 

Felix pokes his tongue into his cheek.

“Well, Minho’s mom died a bit back. He takes care of his Grandma now. After she passed he got really distant and we…” His tone dissolves, and you don’t interrupt, allowing the boy to speak his mind. “Haven’t talked since.”

Apparently, there’s a corner to this billion-piece jigsaw.

One, horrifically fateful paper lay taped down onto one desk far too many boys are trying to look at.

Levanter High Film Festival. Participants will make a 25 minute short film with cinematography and soundtrack themes made entirely by themselves.

“..And you want us to do this?” Jeongin mutters, skeptically scratching the bottom of his chin. 

“Yep! We are!” You proudly announce, given quite a few confused glances in return.  

As Jisung had taken the time to so kindly mention while nearly crashing the car, July, the month in which you’ve somehow made it to with this group, means the arrival of creative festivals — or, the school boards way of enhancing student participation.

“Uh.. I’ve gotta DAW at home..?” Chan speaks up, brows furrowed thoughtfully.

“…A dawg?” Han snorts, Felix smacking his back in an attempt to quell his own laughter.

“A music birth giving machine,” Changbin offers.

“Ew, weird way to put it.”

“Shut it, Jisung.”

“Alright. Now, we’re gonna break off into departments, okay? We need director, maybe script writers? An idea of where we’re gonna film, song producers, and someone with a camera.” Murmuring with your lip tugging between your teeth, you tap your foot, the group cumulating into frenzied discourse, seemingly arranging themselves. 

And, almost as fast as you blink, you’re pleasantly surprised to find no blood had been shed over positions.

Accordingly — with obvious inclusion in every position at some point — Chan, Changbin, and Han are working music, Seungmin is working on the script, Jeongin and Hyunjin are doubling as directors and camera-providing members, and Felix and Minho have been elected as the main characters. 

You can’t help but find it rather interesting considering your prior knowledge of the situation. Their situation.

Felix’s longing, Minho’s loss.

The imperfect, perfect pair.

“What’s the name gonna be?” Jeongin piques, the eight of you squinting at his frame leant against the windowsill.

The boy hesitates. 

“Like, our label?”

Equally confused stares. 

In honorary mention of the esteemed ‘Film Festival’ introduced this summer, you decided, along with Han’s incredibly distracting tendencies, that you guys would be participating.

Then again, everyone is still getting used to being within six feet of each other, so being stuck in the old photography club room on a school night remains effortlessly uncomfortable.

And with the slow eye contact each of you exchange, a gradual cacophony of “Ohhh”’s. 

“How about Boy’s Generation!” Jisung jumps in, earning a smack across the head from Hyunjin followed by loud whining whilst burying his head in Minho’s chest (of whom looks unbearably awkward) who tries to console.

Emphasis on the “tries” part.

“Maybe.. Lost Men?” Changbin suggests, quiet hums of agreement sounding from the remainder. 

You choke back a laugh, which, doesn’t turn out to be as choked as you’d prefer by the glare you get in response.

“Lost Men? Are we sailors?” Stammering down your giggles the best you could manage, Seungmin clears his throat, attention quickly directing his way.

Seungmin has a habit, if that’s what you want to call it. He’s never outspoken, no, but he speaks, a lot. Minho is the same in that sense. Whether quiet mumbling or the illustrious expressions he makes, you’re confident the both of them could maintain a perfectly understandable conversation using just their eyes. 

Sort of scary. 

“Stray Kids?”

Five seconds later and Felix grumbles, interrupting everyone’s inner contemplation.

“Kind of fitting if you think about it.”

Minho grunts, voicing a question that extinguished the conversation beforehand. 

“Well what happens when we aren’t astray anymore?”

And, although the foreboding tension sat heavy in the air, it was easy to tell he held no weight to his words.

Because regardless of what kind of conclusion they reached at some point, it was irrevocably known they’d always be stray. Searching, looking for something they weren’t sure existed.

No reply came. No one complained. 

Chan typed up the label in the lower left corner of the doc, the laptop he’d taken from his bag propped on his lap.

You gave Minho a half-smile he sheepishly returned.

The more you thought about it, the more it matched. Not only searching, but paving. One way or another, the assumed nobodies were growing, developing into something unforgettable, if only to a few people. 

You had no doubt more would remember their names in the future, but as for now, you stay as Chan, Minho, Changbin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin, and Y/n, lodged in the school’s vacant club room, arranging ideas for the Film Festival. 

Stray Kids. 

You liked it. 

The quiet rolling of his bike gears sits between you, familiarly nostalgic chirping of crickets heightening the darker the sky becomes, dusk plowing a runway through orange clouds.

Headed back from school, you happened to run into Minho, jogging to catch up with him in the midst of his departure.

“I like my life.”

Mid-chew on a sour gummy worm, you cease your gluttonous rampage in order to catch Minho’s hushed breath.

“Being alive is nice.”

And when he says that, he turns his head toward you, expression piquing a “don’t you think so?” type of question you struggle to answer.

Zoning in on the repetitive motion of his wheel, you wrack your brain. 

“Yeah? It’s hard, but I would say it’s worth it.”

His brows raise, a barely visible, lopsided smile winding itself around his lips — chapped but still such a captivating pink hue.

All he has to do is hum, doing that habitual blinking thing he always does to know he agrees.

Minho is the small things, you configure.

He’s fixing the bulletin when a paper fell off and picking up Changbin’s Snorlax plushie when he almost forgets it. He’s reminding you to text him when you get home “just because”. He’s the little things nobodies notices, little things that show he cares. 

Lee Minho is the small things, but he’s also so much too — so many stories, people, places. He’s heartbroken but he tries, pained but still swimming in a whirlpool of an ocean that flushes him from its tides.

Perhaps somebody could be his buoy, somebody who’d keep him afloat.

You have a hunch as to who that person might be.

Bike squealing to a stop, you clamber to catch pace, backing up a bit to notice what Minho points at. 

A field.

“This would be a good place to film if it weren’t off limits.” He observes, either of you acknowledging the “No Trespassing” sign latched loosely onto a chain link fence. 

Biting your lip, a small smirk finds itself upon your face. 

“It’s not off limits if we can get in, right?” 

Minho gives you an uncertain stare, quickly tampering into downright exasperation.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a good influence?”

You laugh at this, laying your bike down to hitch each hand into diamond-shaped openings and climb, sending your suspicious audience an expectant look.

“I’m meant to be a good learning experience, think of this as part of a the process. Now c’mon, climb. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Half-heartedly, you’re joined in your risky pursuit, scaling up to the top before thumping down on the other side. 

Minho, on the other hand, is a tad bit more skeptical, remaining at the fence’s peak, glaring down nervously.

Although, with lots of patience and encouragement, the anxious boy takes a leap of faith onto uncut grasses and stalking weeds. 

Halfway into your adventure do clouds begin festering, setting the atmosphere in a gray haze the longer you brainstorm filming spots, whether that’s pointing out certain locations or deciding on specific scene placement.

“We could have Felix here, then I run in and find him?” 

“Okay— what if we make it like a huge confrontation. You run in, confront him-“

Jutting of metal against another surface redirects your mid-sentence focus, gaze averting toward the sound. 

Shit. Security.

“Hey you! What do you think you’re doing!?” 

Momentary silence and either of you go bolting as fast as your legs will go.

“Quick!” You shriek, the sky dotted in strikes of lightning, alighting into a sudden electrified cauldron of clouds and rain.

Minho is right on your heels, jackets strung over your heads in a feeble attempt to divert some watery droplets from their rapid descent.

Not only the useless fear of getting soaked, but the lingering outline of an approaching flashlight in the distance and the thumping of footsteps from behind urge you onward, scaling the looming fence using slippery fingers and wild adrenaline.

Except, just as you edge over the top of the fence does your shirt get caught in the twisted wire, effectively preventing your movement (much to your panic) while Minho shouts below. 

Luckily, in the nick of time do you manage to free yourself, having to lurch forward and simultaneously earn a stinging cut before racing to your bikes and speeding off.

Learning experience was certainly a word for it. 

“So..” You start, lingering by Chan’s doorway. 

According to a fretful, rain drenched Minho speaking to your equally drenched self, his place was the closest.

“What’s our excuse?” You mumble, Minho scoffing before shrugging off his jacket to hand to you, earning a curious tip of your head.

Wordlessly does he point to your now dampened white shirt, and you can’t help but smile at the realization.

Hm. What a gentleman.

Easing the fabric over your soaked shirt, you just finish buttoning to the bottom when Chan opens the door, cocking a brow.

“Who knew it actually rained cats and dogs?”

“You’re not funny.”

Stepping inside, you’re greeted with the chilling temperature, skin erupting into goosebumps as either of you awkwardly stand in the doorway, Chan disappearing into the other room only to return with two t-shirts.

“Bathrooms are on either side of the hall, you’ll find them,” He hums, and you give him a grateful smile before padding off to change, the sound of your squeaking steps making you cringe.

Chan’s old swim-team tee hangs loosely from your body upon stepping out, plopping down onto his couch with an exaggerated groan.

Behind you, Minho sits on an unoccupied chair, taking sips of water here and there.

“So…” The eldest of the group steps in the room, hesitant. “Care to tell me how-“

“No.” Minho bluntly speaks, and you cock a bemused brow at his forwardness.

“Got it,” Chan nods quickly, eyes zeroing in on you for a moment, honing a stare you can’t discern.

“Y/N?” He quietly asks where you lift from your spot.

“Wanna come with me for a minute?” He hums, and you curiously follow him into the kitchen, plopping on the counter he motions for you to sit on.

“Lift up your shirt,” He softly instructs, and you do a double take to make sure you heard him right. 

“Huh?”

Nonplussed, he repeats himself, appearing completely unaffected despite such a request.

So slowly, nervously, you lift your shirt as he nonchalantly maneuvers antiseptic from a medical container, your brain registering the predicament as he dabs right below your chest, bottom lip held in his teeth while he works.

Your scratch from earlier on the fence.

Leave it to him to be the ever perceptive one.

Chan doesn’t budge, shy away, nor show any reaction to the newfound vulnerability. Your heart warms a bit at the sight. 

He cares, and you’ve known that, but it’s just, it’s sweet. Really, truly sweet.

Immediately upon applying the antiseptic, you wince, your grip (which you noticed) on his arm tightening while he calmly hushed you, carefully placing a bandaid on top of the wound. 

“If you don’t dress it properly you could get an infection.” Chan explains. “Tell me next time, okay?” 

You nod as he rearranged his materials below the cabinet and ensured you’ve hopped off the countertop.

“Lix told me you used to be a restaurant’s chef in Hongdae, eh?”

At this, he looked up in surprise, chuckling lowly, lips situating themselves into a sheepish straight line.

“Lix?” He echoes, and you tilt your head, evidently confused as to what he’s asking.

“Mm nothin’, just not many people can call him Lix,” He explains, padding into the living room.

“Really? Am I just the lucky one?” Snickering to yourself, the man nudges your side with his own squeaky laugh as you enter into the living room.

“That’s.. a word for it.”

It’s hard to recall when the gears really began turning. Breaking from rusty shackles to rotate seamlessly.

Chan opening up and giving you a glimpse of the heartthrob of a personality beneath his once cold facade. Han and Hyunjin able to have a normal conversation, talking to Jeongin more and more about anything and everything.

Maybe it’s the familiarity, the routine that naturally mends. Like a new fridge you hadn’t realized you were so accustomed to until gone, until you look back at what was.

A part of you wants to give yourself a pat on the back as if you were the person responsible for this summer school’s progress. Though, you’re sure just about four hundred other things also left an imprint. 

Late nights spent in the old club room. Arranging meetups for filming spots. Headaches from the sound of a power drill where props are put together. Endless repeats of the same scene everyone keeps messing up.

And all of a sudden, it hurts. Because this is one of those moments. Fleeting. Fleeting in the sense that—as you watch Chan and Seungmin burst out laughing when Changbin fails a prop test—never again in this entire world will there ever be another night like this. 

Felix won’t accidentally spill his drink. Minho won’t throw a childish fit after he gets his twenty-fifth take wrong. 

There won’t ever be another summer like this. A summer in your senior year of high school you really don’t want to forget right now, not if it costs it all to stay engrained in your mind.

“Alright. So..” Chan begins, the nine of you clambering to get a glance of his screen as he finishes the final touches.

“We’re finally done!”

It takes a whopping three weeks to finish filming and editing, the clamorous chorus of relief sounding in unison as your group’s unofficial (though wordlessly voted) leader, Chan, taps the save button one last time.

Your film covers the tale of two. Fated, yet, unable to ever meet. A constant tug of war of souls infinitely bound.

One steps north, the other makes five steps south. Pulled together like magnets even when worlds apart in all aspects, even when it seems they’re only given more reasons to avoid each other.

..Yes, you certainly thought of what Felix told you that bit ago.

No, you have been thinking about it.

When they filmed; those certain scenes where you’d watch them make eye contact. Oh to listen to the thoughts behind those eyes.

So leaden with emotion. 

Longing.

A longing for what was, for what could’ve been.

To watch two people like that makes your ears ring. So much said in the hurried lines, the occasional eye-contact. 

Listen, listen. You’ll miss it if you blink.

How gut-wrenching to be a witness to such tragedy you never were involved in. Perhaps that’s human empathy.

You inhale and exhale, but don’t count for how long. Watching the film on the that old projector sheet makes you wish you narrowed things down to the tee, scribbled them down in a notebook to recall for eternity.

Too fast, too fast. You’ll miss it if you breathe.

No, stay forever. 

If only. 

And perhaps that’s the best part.

Stray Kids places fourth place in the festival, and to be honest, you might as well have taken home first.

It sure felt like it.

Smiles and laughter. Congratulations and many thank you’s amidst a densely packed theatre room. 

Though, something is missing. No, someone is missing. Because in the midst of a celebration intended for everyone, it suddenly comes to your attention a presence has gone awry.

Meeting Chan’s eyes, it appears he just realized as well.

Han.

.

.

.

“Jisung where the hell were yo—“ 

Having stormed through the oddly unlocked door like a madman, Chan stops, noticing how positively bruised the boy is, sharp cut veering across his nose, lip busted and bloody.

Hurriedly forcing his face between either of Chan’s hands, Han winces. 

“Tell me everything.” The older of the two demands, eyes racing. 

Quick to pull away, his mouth pulls taut. It’s quiet before Han kicks the cabinet, voice watery, breaking. 

“Fuck!” He clutches his head, biting back the prospect of crying. 

Dropping down to bury his head in his knees, he stifles a shaky exhale.

“..These guys from Class 3-B broke my bike, that’s why I couldn’t go.” 

Ah.

There’s a stillness.

Then, quietly, Chan shuffles down beside Jisung, mirroring the way his knees sit close to his chest, back flush against the wooden cabinets below the sink.

“I just.. wish I was stronger,” Jisung hardly manages, words barely audible through a trembling bottom lip.

Sparing moments of silence, Chan’s jaw tightens, attention directed onto the tile floor.

“I’m quitting the football team.”

Jisung’s head snaps to the adjacent boy. 

“But why? Football’s your forte. Plus, you kick ass every time your name gets called out onto the field.”

Chan ruffles the boys hair, giving him a tight smile.

“I have.. other priorities right now.” His voice shrinks, hand resting atop Jisung’s head, staring into those bottomless brown eyes. 

He’s grateful no other questions were asked.

“Say,” He begins, his counterpart experimentally prodding his swollen eye, cringing back with a hiss. 

“I can help you get stronger.”

Slowly, the younger’s head turns, brows raised as if asking: “really?”, to which Chan nods, a faint grin tugging at his lips. 

‘Reach for me’, and Chan reaches. 

Jisung oftentimes thought the boy foolish to trust so blindly, to pour so much into someone who could easily let you down.

Yet, seeing the fist his friend held out, he returns the fist bump with a feeble grin, head slumping onto the older boy’s shoulder.

This time, an exception has been made.

There were many weird circumstances in Minho’s life, but he certainly hadn’t anticipated this one.

“..What are you doing?” Minho inquires flatly, slowing his bike down whilst Han, dripping in sweat, jogs past, avidly motivated for a reason the bystander can’t quite understand on a Tuesday morning.

He planned to bike into town and buy extra soil for his grandmother’s garden, now finding himself unable to ignore this strange appearance.

“Conditioning! New year new me!”

Minho sends the boy a mildly disgusted, mildly annoyed expression in reply.

“It’s June.” 

“Leave me be.”

His sarcastic brow returned with Han’s entertained giggle, the older boy finding it irritably hard to resist an approaching smile, pedaling to catch up to him.

How burdensome, Minho thinks.

“Is this about the Film Festival?” 

Gliding past, Han’s eyes widen into saucers.

“Please don’t tell me Y/n’s mad I couldn’t show up, I’m scared she’ll beat me up or something on Monday.”

He grins at the sheepish plea.

“She’s not, trust me.”

“And why should I trust you?”

Minho shrugs. “Why not?”

“Fair,” Han deflates, stopping to catch his breath, balancing his hands on his knees. 

The other boy, observing his exhaustion as he pushes on his brakes, grants him a side-eye, patting the back of his bike.

“Want a ride?”

Han, looking up with sweat wrecking his hair to stick up in wild directions, gradually nods, uttering a quiet “Feels like I’m cheating” as he climbs behind Minho, legs dangling off the side. 

The ride is peaceful, rice fields flourishing, fields dappled with flowers of all sorts of hues on the way to town, breeze cooling down Han’s heated face, whipping his linen shirt in each gust.

Neither talk, simply enjoying the weather, the smells, the sounds.   

Though, the enjoyment is quelled as soon as it began, Minho lugging a bag of soil atop where the younger boy had sat on the back of his bike—said boy lingering outside the gardening shop.

Door bells clanging overhead when he exits, Han gives him a questioning look as he works on tying the soil down.

“..Where am I gonna sit?” He questions aloud, and the devilish boy can’t help but wear an evil smile.

“You’re not,” He says matter-of-a-fact, swinging a leg over the seat, watching despair cross his friend’s face. 

“New year new you, right? Good luck!”

Quickly racing off on his bike, Minho laughs at Han’s shouting while he disappears in the distance, knowing full well the silent-treatment he’ll receive later at school.

Oh the throes (and woes) of summer.

Meanwhile, you’re helping Chan hang laundry in his backyard, having reviewed more of an album him, Han, and Changbin have been working on after the festival. 

The longer you listen, the more you find Chan has a knack for curating incredible music, enough that you find yourself leaning infinitely close to the old monitor of his, craning into each note the speaker procures.

“So I was thinking,” Chan clicks his tongue, hanging a t-shirt to the close pins. “What if we had a unit name? Han, Binnie and I?”

Processing his question in your mind, you purse your lips, wiping beading moisture from your forehead.

“What’d you have in mind?” You pique, giving the boy a sidelong glance, mischief evident on your face. 

Mirroring your grin, he steps down from the stool, giving you a hand as you step from yours.

“3RACHA? Cause like.. we’re three and we’re hot like Sriracha?”

Instantly, you both burst out into giggles, smacking his shoulder at the sly phrasing. 

“No no I’m kidding—“

“I like it!” You loudly interject, bringing the water bottle up to your lips.

Chan’s eyes bulge out of his skull, tilt in his head, a hint of surprise etched on sun kissed skin.

“Really?”

“Yeah! I like it! 3RACHA fits,” Elaborating with exaggerated hand gestures, the spectator has to bite back his smile, dimples nudging at his cheeks.

“I’ll let them know,” He raises his brows, giving you a small high five before officially collapsing on the grass, you following suit.

By the time your eyes open again, you can’t even recall what happened in the first place, trying to figure out why the sky is already pitch black, not to mention why you’re still lying in the grass. 

Leave it to falling asleep to waste your day away.

Leaning over where you stretch your arms, Chan grins, extending a hand to help you up that you gratefully accept—granted an explanation as to how you ultimately fell asleep while he was mid conversation.

Waving him off upon noticing nighttime’s introduction, you begin back past school, crossing by the playing fields in the process.

And of course, lo and behold, Minho sits on the bleachers, watching an ongoing football practice while glancing down at his lap here and there, apparently writing something.

Seems today you’re running into everyone, huh?

Perks (and curses) of a small town.

Curiosity driving your feet toward him, you carefully jump up the steps, sitting beside him without word.

He obviously senses your presence but fails to speak up, simply letting you peek over his shoulder at his notes (to which you learned were for a class), occasionally striking conversation only to engulf in comfortable quietness once more.

“Hey Minho?” You inhale slowly, heel tapping again the metal bleacher plank below.

He grunts in acknowledgment. 

“Do you think I’m doing a good job?” 

The football coaches whistle blows alarmingly loud, causing either of you to involuntarily flinch. 

Minho, lifting his head from his notebook, studies your face for a moment, from the way your nose perches to your parted lips, he analyzes.

Returning to your eyes, he blinks.

“I do. I mean, we all like you whether we admit it or not.”

The statement causes a smile to stretch your cheeks, turning to face him. 

“Why?”

“Hm.. You actually treated us like human..? It’s like,” He scoffs, one brow twitching upward the longer he thinks. It’s the first time you noticed the small freckle seated atop his right nostril. 

Charming.

“Everybody else seemed to think we were animals.” 

Hearing him say that, it’s almost.. cruel. To think these boys simply needed a friend, a person to count on for a bit. 

But they didn’t. They were deprived.

Yet, in a twisted way, it worked out. Because it led them to you.

“Well you’re doing it right.. I think.”

You shift your weight back onto your hands, humid air finally cooling into an even breeze.

“Thanks Min.”

“Mhm.”

You’ve grown accustomed to accepting good things never last. It’s one of the many things keeping your grip tight on anything you get ahold of.

Though, it strikes you nearly dizzy how quickly something so good turned sour. 

As in, what was once near-conversation between Minho and Felix has now diminished into distanced glares and horrifically heavy silence like before.

Asking the more openly emotional of the two leads to nothing. No explanation, no reasoning. Just a shrug when you ask: “Hey, what’s up with you and Minho?”

More than ever with this group had you learned assumptions lead nowhere. But when assumptions are the sole thing to be made, you feel quite like you’re chasing your own tail in this predicament.

“Minho, you have to come to school. I’m responsible for your attendance.” 

Amongst the week and a half the boy had been absent, you don’t plan to waste the opportunity for confrontation.

No, it isn’t your usual approach, but any softer and he’ll slip right through your fingertips like warmed butter.

Back facing you where he’d been routinely walking his bike behind his house, you stand firm, eyes trained to the cowlick embedded in his hair.

He doesn’t move, nor budge a single centimeter—voice cut and concise upon speaking.

“I’ve been busy.” 

“You’ve been avoiding Felix.”

You can hear him inhale sharply, not daring to turn around.

“I know it isn’t my business, but there was this.. time Felix and I spoke. You two had a falling out again.. right?”

Prodding deeper into the wound, you can feel your heart constricting tighter and tighter in your chest.

“You’re right.” He whispers, tone low enough you crane to hear. “It isn’t your business.”

It’s your turn to suck in a quick breath.

“And.. it isn’t your place pretending like you know what my life is like. I… I’ll come back to school just-“

Ah. That hiccup. The shudder of his shoulders, the ache in his vocal cords.

“Let me deal with this by myself, alright?”

Who are you to disagree? Spoken seconds earlier, it isn’t your business nor your place shoving your nose into his life. 

Synonymously, you don’t blame him. Blame his irritation, his evasiveness.

Whatever this is with Felix runs deeper. It takes but a single glance to dictate that conclusion. Minho’s loss, his hurt. Bottled up feelings bubbling over in their soda can.

When so much of you is battered, you hide, hide in fear that everything will be ripped from your fingertips — that horrid feeling of helplessness; forging grief continuing to wrack you numb.

Minho distanced himself to protect himself, but most importantly to protect them. To protect his friends, to protect Felix.

And yet, he forgot to install a safety net around his own perimeter.

Jittering hands frantically reaching for his bike’s handlebars, and you spectate wordlessly as abundant tears streak down his cheeks the moment a glimpse of his face is seen, fingernails furiously digging into the aged rubber.

“Minho.”

The boy shakes his head, sniffling senselessly before you step forward and grab his collar, lightly yanking him up, redirecting once castaway focus staring down to the cracked pavement below.

“Minho.”

Just then you notice his watery eyes and the heartbreaking, trembling frown adorning his features. Stifling tears.

Thumb carefully tracing his waterline to rid of those beading tears, he leans into your hand, face breaking a bit.

“Just.. please don’t deal with this alone, okay?”

Looking into someone’s eyes had never made you feel like you were dying until now. How can a soul carry such heavy heartache? Grieve so tirelessly even the eyes form as a window?

So broken, so beautiful.

We’re all the same, are we not?

.

.

.

Ten minutes later, seated upon the playing field’s bleachers familiar to the last time you encountered Minho, a comfortable silence answers any of the unspoken questions lingering in afternoon skies.

The boy beside you, puffy eyes and swollen skin, quietly delights in an ice cream bar, your own held between your lips in contemplation before utilizing your thumb and index to speak for a moment.

“I mean, I may dance around in my room to music, but that doesn’t mean I don’t cry in the shower at night. I’m still human, y’know?” 

Curious feline eyes hang onto your words, enough of a beckon to go on.

“My days can be bright, my nights could be dark, there’s no limit to how you’re supposed to feel.”

Leaning forward, you tap his chest with your unoccupied hand.

“And there’s no need to try and reject something you want to feel. Otherwise, you suffocate.”

He tilts his head.

“It’s like.. hmm… if I hated the way I breathed—“

“You hate the way you breathe?” Minho interrupted, giving you an “are you stupid?” look you quickly shake your head at.

“No no, it’s an example,” You defend with a feigned scowl. “So if I hated the way I breathed, I can’t just hold my breath for too long or a pass out, right? You can’t let yourself get to a blackout point for the sake of others.”

The boy across from you sucks on the skin of his cheek, observing your extended pinkie before taking it in his own.

“Promise me you won’t get to that blackout point.” 

Another promise.

Chan, now Minho.

Expression knit thoughtfully, Minho gradually nods, pressing your thumbs together before cracking an amused grin.

“Y’know, that was well-said.”

You chuckle, smacking his shoulder playfully. “I know right? I’m proud of that one.”

Of course he rolls his eyes in return, but you can see the remnant of a smile in the lifted corners of his mouth, the soft, flushed skin of his under eyes crinkling when he grins.

Ah. He’s beautiful, isn’t he?

On July 31th, your summer school class officially makes a close, and you and eight other boys graduate. 

A miracle, maybe a fluke or some sort you made it out in one piece. A task proved possible after all—intentionally or unintentionally.

In the end, perhaps there wasn’t reason to stare at each sheet and pinpoint flaws.

No, Chris isn’t void of life. Hyunjin doesn’t have a superiority complex, and Jisung certainly isn’t senseless. Seungmin gets nervous ordering coffee and hasn’t participated in illegal activities a day in his life. Felix isn’t in an underground gang, and no one has stolen before. 

There’s too many sides to a cube, so most stick to 2D squares. The complexity is shrunk so it’s easier to digest. 

In the end, perhaps you forget it’s all so wondrous in a way, so intricate and raw. 3D. 

Right before you graduated, Hyunjin gave you a painting he made. ‘A thank you for motivating me to add art as my friend’ he had told you. 

Changbin still sleeps with his Snorlax plushie, and 3RACHA released their first album just yesterday. 

Han finally got his license, Seungmin and Jeongin attend Sejong University as freshman, and Felix sells baked goods on Sundays while interning at a local bakery.

Minho volunteers at an animal shelter on the far side of town, he also took up dancing again.

He and Felix began talking again too. 

In the end, perhaps it wasn’t a matter of you helping them, but for the all of you to understand that, in the grand scheme of things, you live on, just as you and Chan had promised.

There is no choice, no point, no break to the cycle. 

It hurts, it burns, it breaks. You glue yourself together, even when the pieces shatter over and over. Shards draw blood, but a glued glass can still be useful, can still be worthy. 

Bruised and battered, scraped and scorned, a connection lies within Stray Kids that sinks deeper than the anchor you planted in a sea of possibilty, a sea of what you thought was something one-sided, a sea you once believed you’d swim alone.

Maybe it’s discovery after discovery that keeps you close, or maybe it’s something deeper.

Nonetheless, your summer—a summer of hellish heartbreak and love reaping all bounds of repercussion—was one to remember.  

A summer solace, for what it’s worth. 

FIC TAGLIST. @kayleefriedchicken, @chaotic-world-of-the-j, @minhosbitterriver, @reignessance, @thatonexcgirl, @panbish-1209, @jeonginplsholdmyhand, @neviestayy, @stayinlimbo, @tenmii, @sunoosmainchick, @hannamoon143, @juliettacandy, @c0smicstxrs

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[st4rymoon]

𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐧

𝟏𝟖+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 | 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 | 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐟𝐞𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐀𝐟𝐚𝐛 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: breeding kink, love hate relationship, rough Loki, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie!, pet names, angry sex, Beat tamer Loki, ass smacking!, reader comes off as innocent (Loki loves it), some degrading, hard dom loki,

Loki was never fond of back talk and attitude but somehow ended up falling for someone who had all the qualities he resented.

“Aren’t you going to say something love?” He cooed as he had you pinned onto the desk, hand wrapped around your mouth as he pounded into you.

This was your punishment. The punishment Loki loved giving. You dared to snap back at him for no absolute reason while you got paired together; always on purpose as Tony enjoyed pissing Loki off and also found it entertaining how the both of you fought.

The second you were done with your mission Loki had you wrapped around him and bouncing on his cock as he fucked his anger out. “You wanted this didn’t you darling?” He huffed.

“The pride and joy of shield loves getting some manners fucked into her huh? You love knowing everyone despises me, they think I’m taking advantage of your sweet innocence? They have no fucking clue about how much you begged me too fuck you.” he hissed.

You let out a muffled cry as he yanked you onto his chest with a fist full of your hair in hand. He never removed his hand from your mouth as he tightly tugged your hair back “such a pretty girl with no manners. Such a shame you aren’t even answering my questions” he teased.

You shook your head as you tried to answer but were only met with Lokis cock plunging deep into your cunt messily. He was purposely making you feel guilty for not answering yet giving you no way of doing so.

Your nails clawed at his arms as Loki’s thrusts began to knock the wind out of you. Your pussy clenched around him in agony as you felt yourself slipping away from sanity.

Tears stained your face as you came around him, cock fucking into you with full force as he molded your body perfectly into his.

Your back curled at the sound of Loki’s voice rumbling through you, his loud moans causing you sink into the cold wood. “That’s it darling, I know you love it” he cooed.

His hand gave you a harsh slap on your ass before giving it a nice squeeze. He panted as he watched himself disappearing inside you while he spread you open. His eyes rolled at the sight of the white ring forming at the base of his cock, you always took him so well.

He loved knowing everyone thought you were so innocent. He loved the thought that only he knew how needy and worked up you got from the smallest things. Sometimes you even manage to shock him with your dirty little pleads while in a meeting.

Loki let out a gruntled moan as he came inside you. His seed spilling deep inside you as he held you down, hips pressing into yours. He thrusted a few more times just to make sure he fucked himself nicely inside you.

The moans coming from the both of you were pornographic, the visual was sinful.

And Loki loved it.

[wileys-russo]

hey! no clue if your requests are open but if they are how about leah x reader where leah plans a date where they go golfing, hoping to impress reader with her skills but reader actually plays golf too and ends up being better than leah at it. so leah is just completely dumbfounded and slightly annoyed (in a good way) but also impressed. also cueing some teasing from r about being better.

big swing II l.williamson

"this is where we're spending the day?" you laughed as leah pulled up to the golf course, grinning at you as she parked the car. "i told you we were doing an outdoor activity and to dress for the occasion." leah hurried out of the car and to your side, popping open your door.

"thank you, charmer." you smiled, pecking her lips as she closed the door after you. "when the hell did you pack those?" you shook your head as leah popped her boot, grabbing out a set of clubs.

"never you mind my girl." leah grinned. "oh you're a sick sick woman." you sighed, seeing the engraved LW on each club, your girlfriend shoving your head playfully before slinging the clubs over her shoulder, locking her car and holding out her hand for you to take.

she booked you both in, promising to take you out for lunch afterwards as you watched on in amusement as she made a point to greet everyone you came across, relishing in the fact they all knew her by name, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye clearly trying to impress you.

she made sure to introduce you to everyone as her girlfriend, dropping the word as often as she could with a proud grin on her face. "hey stewart, can you hook my girlfriend up with a set of clubs please?" leah leant forward on the counter with a charming smile toward the older man.

"i'm just gonna go put my clubs in the cart love." leah murmured quietly, kissing the side of your head and stepping outside as stewart brought out a few different sets for you to try.

selecting the ones you were happy with you were quick to pay for them before your girlfriend returned, earning yourself an annoyed scowl from the taller blonde as you met her outside, handing her your chosen clubs to load in the back of the cart with her own.

"today was supposed to be on me, cheeky girl." leah tutted as you slid into the cart beside her, kissing her cheek and mumbling a thank you into the skin as she started the cart, driving you to the first hole.

"you go first babe, show me how its done." you waved for her to start as leah hopped out of the cart, riffling through her clubs and pulling out her driver, sending you a wink as you leaned against the cart, dropping your sunglasses down onto your nose as she positioned herself.

you clapped politely at leahs first shot which sailed straight down the green, the blonde nodding in satisfaction as she made her way back to you. "do you want a hand picking out which club to use?" leah offered with a somewhat cocky smile, and so deciding to play into her ego you nodded.

leah selecting your club she took your hand and guided you to the tee, making a show of demonstrating where your hands go and how to swing, only stepping away once you assured you were okay.

you smiled to yourself as your first shot went straight, it didn't go as far as leah's but it did remain on the fairway and you shrugged happily. "nice shot gorgeous, must have a good teacher!" leah winked as the two of you drove down to where your balls sat.

"mmm something like that."

~

it turns out, it was something like that however not what leah imagined.

she'd taken you golfing in hopes of being able to show off, wanting you to be impressed and proud as well as giving herself an opportunity to get a little handsy with you as she showed you the ropes.

however, leahs plan was unraveling with every hole the two of you played. you'd rejected needing her help and much to leahs absolute horror you were winning.

by now she'd put two and two together that you'd clearly played before, your shots all effortlessly successful as you'd send her a smile and a wink afterward, asking if there was anything she'd have you do differently as your teacher, only winding up the defender further.

"so. did you plan on ever telling me you're secretly a golf pro?" the blonde asked moodily as you returned by her side after making a birdie with a happy grin. "you never asked." you smiled smugly, stealing a kiss and gesturing for her to take her shot.

"you never asked." the blonde mocked under her breath with a huff, only widening your smile at how much this was getting to her. her annoyance grew as she missed an easy putt, smacking her club into the ground and swearing loudly.

"hey hey williamson we treat our tools with respect here, this isn't a football pitch there isn't someone who comes and fixes the grass at half time." you teased, the blonde sending you a murderous glare as you grinned, blowing her a kiss as she tapped her ball in and made her way back to you.

"don't be a sore loser." you cooed, grabbing her face and kissing her cheek repeatedly as she pushed you off. "i love golf! why didn't you tell me you were so good, we could have played together already." leah pouted with a frown, crossing her arms over her chest.

"because i hate golf. the only reason i'm decent is because its the only way my dad ever tried to bond with me, we spent almost every second sunday playing golf and he was not a patient teacher." you laughed, grabbing her hands and squeezing them gently.

"you'd still destroy me on the football pitch lee, now stop being so stroppy." you kissed her knuckles. "we're going for a kick around for our next date then." leah decided firmly making you laugh and agree, pulling the older girl into a proper kiss.

"now, would you like me to show you how to properly swing captain?" "oh fuck off!"

[flowersforjude]

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | A night in a beautiful meadow and an innocent question leads to a startling confession.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1,422

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Literally none. Just an oblivious reader and nervous Din. Fluff rised to the max.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Guy’s, this made me weep with how cute it is. So, just fair warning I guess?

masterlist | read on ao3

Like most things, it started with a simple question.

“Cyar’ika, can you hand me that wrench?”

You were helping Din with some repairs on the Crest when you heard that word for the hundredth time.

As you picked up the tool, your mind wrestled with the wandering thoughts of what that word meant. Din called you that all the time. He’d throw some others in the mix every once in a while.

Mesh’la.

Cyar.

Cyar’ika was the most common, though. You didn’t speak a bit of Mando’a, so you had no clue what he was calling you. He could be calling you the worst thing ever, and you wouldn’t even know. But even with his rough exterior, you highly doubted that he was referring to you as anything too horrible.

With every cyar, mesh’la, or cyar’ika your curiosity grew. But you didn’t voice your questions out of fear that you’d overstep some invisible boundary. You and Din were close—well, as close as the Mandalorian would let himself get to you. He’d told you his true name, so you counted that as progress. He still had so many secrets, though. So you didn’t want to push him to reveal stuff he wasn’t ready for. You would take whatever he’d give you. You would have him, however you could.

But sometimes your interest was almost too much.

Like at daybreak when he would touch your shoulder oh so gently and say, “Good morning, cyar.” In that deep, velvety cadence his voice had in the mornings.

Or when you’d just had a close call on a mission and he would rush to you, frantic, and place his hands on your cheeks. “Are you alright, cyar’ika? Are you hurt?” The words would leave his lips in a hurry and sometimes jumble together. You knew what he was saying nonetheless.

It was those moments when he showed you gentleness, concern, and care that you found it hard not to blurt out everything on your mind.

“What does cyar’ika mean?”

“What does cyar and mesh’la mean?”

“Do you know what it does to me when you touch me?”

“Do you love me as much as I love you?”

But you kept quiet and let the thoughts mingle in your mind. You were just going to leave well enough alone. Hoping that possibly ignoring your curiosity would make it, and your developing feelings fade away. That proved to require arduous effort, which you found yourself lacking day by day. And eventually, your efforts proved to be in vain.

The night it happened, the Crest had landed on some forest planet. Din had just wrapped up a difficult hunt, so he perched the ship on the first globe he could. You and the kid had been cooped up inside for days now, so as soon as the hatch opened, you were both bounding down from the cockpit.

The kid ran into the tall grass of the field, chasing frogs and crickets with the moonlight guiding his expedition. You stood close to the ship, just watching him with a loving smile. Din came to stand beside you, quite as ever, but his presence was a comfort you relished in far too much.

The first blink of light had you curious. The second and third and fourth flashes had you in awe.

The serene meadow was set ablaze with glittering brightness. Fireflies floated high and low, strung about the tall grass like hundreds of flawless silvery stars. They blanketed the grassland far and wide, down to the glimmering lake in the distance.

“Oh wow,” you breathed. You ventured farther out into the plain, turning in a slow circle, absolutely awestruck.

You could hear the child’s gurgling laughter from nearby. You couldn’t help the giggle that erupted from your throat. The dazzling excitement from the whole experience makes you somewhat astounded. You've never seen anything like this before. Something so beautiful.

You face Din, still standing guard at the front of the ship. “Isn’t this spectacular?” You questioned.

You could hear the airy chuckle get past his vocoder. “It’s certainly something.”

You rolled your eyes in a very childish manner and tilted your head in confusion. “How could you think this is anything but…what’s the word for beautiful in Mando’a?”

You’ve caught his full attention now, seemingly catching him off guard. He appears stunned beyond words. Beyond thoughts as well perhaps. You don’t understand why. It was just a simple question, but it seemed to have knocked any rational notion from him.

What you don’t know is that while you look at him with such sincerity in your eyes and you wait slightly nervous for his response, his brain is nothing short of a mess.

“Din,” you begin. “If I’ve crossed a line somehow-”

“The word is mesh’la.”

That stops you short. Your heart thudded to a halt for several seconds as you took in the sudden confession.

“Mesh’la,” you repeat softly.

You have no idea that his knees almost buckle at the sound of your voice speaking in his mother tongue.

Your face heats at the implication. Mesh’la means beautiful. Din calls you Mesh’la. Din calls you beautiful. He thinks you're beautiful? Or was it meant as something like a courtesy? Was he just being a flirt? No, Din wasn’t the type. So he must think it if he calls you it.

“Y/N.”

You speak up before he can get another word out. “You think I’m beautiful?”

He nods. “Yes.”

A grin tugs your lips up ever so slightly. Realization dawns on you as your mind recalls all the affectionate exchanges that you fooled yourself into thinking were merely friendly.

A coo from below takes your attention for a moment. The kid is at your feet with his arms stretched up for you. You hold him in the crook of your elbow as you close the distance between you and Din. When you stop in front of him, a radiant smile is permanently placed upon your lips.

“And uh, cyar’ika,” you whisper. “What does that mean…?” You’re a little hesitant to let all your questions come to light. A small part of you still worried you’re reading too much into it.

He takes a deep breath, and you try to ignore the anxiety coursing through you. “Cyar’ika…” He’s never sounded this breathless before. “It means sweetheart.”

The blood rushes to your cheeks with a new fury, painting your skin scarlet. It terrifies you a little that you can’t see his face, that you can’t read the expressions he is wearing right now. You think you know where this is going, but not being able to sense the situation from the other person makes it hard to be sure. You can see that he’s tense, possibly waiting for you to tell him that you were uncomfortable. But you weren't; you were a nervous wreck, but you were not uncomfortable with this knew information in the slightest. You were trying to figure out how to move forward with this without seeming like a lovesick fool.

After waiting an eternity trying to get a hold of yourself, you make a decision. You slowly bring your hands up to him, gently gliding along his arms until they reach the broad expanse of his shoulders, and then the cool surface of his helmet.

You can feel his panic, but you softly sush him. Eventually, your hands still on the side of his helmet, where you imagine his cheeks would be. You picture them flushed like yours. Even through the impenetrable beskar, you feel like the heat of his skin is melting into yours. You imagine how it would actually feel to be skin to skin with him. If you ever had the privilege to experience that, you were sure you could die happy.

What happens next is a surprise. Din clutches your hands in his and brings them down between you both. He then slowly touches his forehead to yours. The shock of cold metal draws a gasp from your lips.

“Ni ganar hid ner kar'taylir darasuum teh gar par chaaj'yc too munit, cyar’ika.” A whispered admission comes from him.

You can’t help but laugh as you have no clue what he said. “What?”

He chuckles along with you. “I said that I have hidden my love from you for far too long, sweetheart.”

Your heart cracks open with so many emotions that it’s overwhelming. It aches inside you, but the pain is welcome because you’d rather have this, him, than the uncertainty you lived in for so long.

I poured over this for days, and I still feel like something isn't right. But oh well, maybe it'll come to me later. 🤷‍♀️