#anyway enough with gushy mushy

[ember-knights]

I am seeing less people talking even though the situation is more dire than ever. I know we are all tired. It is understandable.

Keep it up though. Put your frustration and pain into work and use it. Turn to your family and friends and support each other through it.

To quote Shreen abu Aklaa: “The cause needs a lot of endurance. Keep your spirits up”

Art work by : Sally Samir

We are lucky to be alive and well. Use it.

[rebeccccccaaa]

Poker Face!

_______________

Spencer Reid x Reader

:: It’s game night at Rossi’s, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emily’s place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::

:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda you’re playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...

:: authors’ notes :: i didn’t realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, he’s literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3

WC~ 3.1 k

________________

“Ok, ok! That’s enough!” Emily shouted, swinging her glass around. 

“Careful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,” Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him. 

“You guys are relentless,” she continued.

“I can beat him, I know it!” you shouted, your eyes comically wide. 

“No shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?” Derek commented.

“I may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,” you argued.

“Honey, you’ve lost eight games in a row!” JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach. 

“Nevermind that! I’m gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.

“I hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but I’m kicking you out. It's late and an old man’s got to get some rest,” Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of ‘Boo’s’ and groans. 

“Come on, come on. Call your DD’s, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,” he bargained. 

Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles. 

“I assume you’re gonna take a cab?” he asked you.

“That’s the plan.”

“So we can share since I don’t live far from you. I’ll walk from your place,” he suggested. 

“Oh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,” you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, “We’re going to your place and finishing what we started.” 

“Oh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. We’re gonna be up all night!” Spencer laughed, and you gasped. 

“You’re an asshole,” you shoved him, before calling a taxi.

You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, you’ve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldn’t? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice. 

You walked into Spencer’s apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasn’t going to cheat. You knew he wasn’t, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked from the kitchen.

“Whatcha you got?” you asked.

“I’ve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,” he told you.

“Oh! Bring the wine! We’ll drink the beers later,” you winked at him, “Let’s get the fucking party started.”

It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times you’d lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope. 

“Ooh,” you cooed, mischievously.

“What?” Spencer questioned.

“Oh, nothing, just had an idea,” you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter. 

“This can’t be good,” he mumbled, shaking his head. 

“Why don’t we spice things up, shall we?”

“No, no way,” Spencer already knew what you were going to say. 

“Strip Poker!” 

“No!” he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.

“What, you scared? Scared that suddenly I’m starting to beat you and you’re gonna have to take all your clothes off?” you teased.

“No, I am a gentleman and I’m not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,” he argued sassily.

“You are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re just chicken.”

“Ok, fine then. You dealer, or am I?” he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup. 

“Why don’t you hit me this time,” you said. 

“You got it,” he responded, “Care to shuffle while I grab the beers?”

“Of course. About time we crack those open,” you smiled widely. 

Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldn’t help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesn’t know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe he’s always felt this way about you. 

Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent. 

Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.

But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didn’t know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer’s breath hitched. 

You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow. 

“What? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?”

“No,” he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again. 

“I swear to-” you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.

Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didn’t, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat. 

Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly. 

“We don’t have to keep going,” Spencer cleared his throat.

“And why would I do that?” Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can. 

“Ok, then,” he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.

Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and you’d hit blackjack, or you could build up; but that’s risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted.

“Hit me,” you egged.

“You got it,” he responded. 

A five. Fuck. 

Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him. 

“One more time, boy wonder,” you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts. 

“I stand,” he mutters, probably knowing he lost. 

“Let’s see those cards, baby,” you teased.

“You first,” he told you, and placed your cards. 

“Blackjack, baby!” 

Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering. 

“I did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!” you shouted taunting him and he couldn’t help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment. 

“I- I was distracted,” he shuttered. 

“Damn right you were,” you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face. 

“It wasn’t fair game,” he bantered.

“It wasn’t fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and you’re being a sore loser,” you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue. 

Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath. 

“I told you, I was distracted,” he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear. 

“Blah, blah,” you whispered.

“Don’t give me that.”

“Now, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?” you whispered.

“What’s that?” he bantered.

“You lost.”

“Right, unfairly I might add,” he joked.

“If all you’re gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,” you told him. 

“Be my guest.”

Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.

“I thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,” he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.

“Like that’s gonna happen,” you rolled your eyes playfully. 

Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek. 

He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him. 

You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he told you.

“Let me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?” you taunted him.

“God, no. I couldn’t wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,” he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you. 

You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully. 

You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.

“Oh jeez, I feel like I could come already,” you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencer’s cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t realize you craved so much until this very moment. 

“I’m a bit embarrassed to admit the same,” he chuckled breathlessly, “If you don’t start moving, I’m not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencer’s hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and that’s when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencer’s small apartment. 

“Shit. You feel so good,” he breathed out, “I thought I’d last longer.”

“Please, please don’t come yet,” you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencer’s name dripped from your lips like honey. 

“Oh, that’s it,” Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that your’s wasn’t also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers. 

“I’m close, fuck I’m so close, Spence,” you whined.

“Let go, sweetheart.”

“Ngh!” you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the other’s breath and slowly you began to match each other’s erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencer’s one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you. 

When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you. 

“That was really good,” you giggled.

“It really was,” he agreed.

“I’m gonna tell everyone about this,” you whispered wickedly. 

“What?” Spencer questioned fearfully. 

“I beat you in Blackjack,” you reminded him, making him laugh loudly. 

“Give it a rest you would?” he sighed. 

“No way. I’m gonna tell everyone. And everyone’s gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,” you teased.

“Alright, you won fair and square,” he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.

You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever. 

[scaredpigeons]

Aqua Regia VII: Saturate me, I can’t get enough.

Previous chapter // First Chapter

Neuvillette x Fem!reader

Warning: SMUT NSFW 18+ MDNI

Word count: 5.7k

Conifer forests quake in fear at the way you two pine. What do you get when you cross a very pent up dragon and the object of his affections? So much fucking love it will rot your teeth.

CW: sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (fem rec) neuvillette has a dragon tongue, claws appear but no wounds are made, Neuvillettes nest™️ nicknames: my dearest, my darling, love, pretty girl, perfect girl, very gendered language, im sorry :( unrealistic first time sex, multiple orgasms, implied multiple rounds.

Authors note: this is so fucking mushy gushy heavy fluff heavy romance. I literally couldn’t write his first time being any other way. He’s obsessed, okay? There is a lot of declarations of love, devotion, very flowery and flattering language. There are not many things hotter than an all powerful being declaring their utter devotion to you and then fucking you until the sun rises. I left it a little open ended, so maybe an epilogue chapter, if y’all are interested? Anyways, remember to reblog and comment your thoughts! It’s my literal favourite thing to read your opinions and compliments, even if you’re shy, just send an anon ask! I love you all, thank you so much for your support on this piece.

————————————

The sound of little pearls scattering onto the floor accompanied the press of your spine against the inside of Neuvillette’s front door as his mouth consumed yours. 

You were panting, hands roaming over each other as your tongues danced. You’d never kissed like this before. The polite pecks you’ve given men after failed dates were nothing compared to the way Neuvillette drank in your lips like they were the finest water in the world. 

His large, lean body pushed you against the fine wood of his door, hands pressing up into your hair as he pulled your face ever closer, scattering more little pearls along his entryway. 

“Do you…” he panted, lips never leaving yours for more than necessary. “Truly want tea?” He asked.

You smiled as he continued to kiss you breathless. “Tea can wait.” 

He picked you up and hoisted you against him once more, your bottom resting on his forearms as he twirled you around, making you giggle and squeal. 

“Your perfection knows no bounds.” He murmured against your lips as he began to move towards the stairs. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you up the stairs and down the hall, but he hesitated before bringing you into what you guessed was his room. 

“Ah…” he said, a deeper blush working its way into his pale skin. “I forgot about my… well you see…” 

You smiled, pulling him closer to press a peck to his lips. ”What? I can hardly imagine your room is messy, Neuvillette.”

He closed his eyes tight, opening the door to set you down inside. You turned, looking around the room. 

A very large four poster bed was the main focal point of the room, lush sheer curtains hanging from the tall frame, making it seem luxurious and inviting. But the piles of silks, pillows and blankets surrounding the mattress making a large circle in the center was what stood out the most to you. Taking a step closer, you could see there were little things scattered throughout the barrier, the gloves you’d gifted him last month, a few shirts and coats, little trinkets and things here and there. 

Your brow furrowed before you turned to look up at him, finding him looking between you and the bed with a hand covering the lower half of his face. 

“It looks like…” you glanced back at the bed. “It looks like a nest?” 

He breathed, nodding, pinching his temples in embarrassment. “When you were last here, we spoke of some subtle changes I’d been experiencing since gaining my full dragonhood, yes?” 

You nodded, walking towards the bed to run your hands along the fabrics making up the walls of the nest. 

“I’ve been experiencing strange urges, instincts I cannot seem to control no matter how hard I try.” He said lowly, somewhere behind you.

The blanket you ran your hands across was soft, fur of some sort, and it felt so luxurious you wanted to bury your face in it and never leave its soothing embrace. 

“Urges?” You said, feeling a heat pool between your thighs at the thought. 

“Yes.” His voice was suddenly right by your ear, his heat pressing up against your spine. “For example, right now, seeing you next to my bed, admiring my nest— it makes me want to pick you up and place you within it so that I may crawl over top of you to do deplorable, feral and unspeakable things to you.” 

A deep, spine tingling shiver raced through you. You knew the general direction of where this was headed when you begged him to take you to his house, but never in your wildest dreams did you expect Neuvillette to admit something so… dirty… so openly. 

You turned, meeting his eyes with a gasp as you came face to face with a version of your leader you’d never seen. 

He was flushed, panting, his eyes glowing in the moonlight streaming into his dark room. His horns were glowing too, their blue hue radiating behind him as he loomed over you. To anyone else it might’ve been intimidating, but you felt so safe in this moment, so satisfied to know that he wanted you. 

“I…” you wondered how you should phrase this, how to make him understand that you were not put off in the slightest by any of these changes in him. To you, he was still Neuvillette. His draconian quirks made him all the more desirable because it was just another part of him. 

“I’d like to help you satisfy those urges, if you’ll let me.” You said, looking up at him through your lashes. 

Very suddenly, he dropped to his knees, his hands clutching at your dress. The act startled you, and you stumbled back, bumping into the walls of fabrics lining his nest.

”I am undeserving,” he whimpers, and your legs nearly give out at how broken he sounds in this moment, looking up at you. “I know not how to pleasure you in the way you are so deserving, I only have these instincts, these feelings pushing me to take.” 

He stumbled forward, almost blindly on his knees as his eyes kept yours locked to him. He pushes his face closer to your core, inhaling deeply against the fabric of your dress, his eyes fluttering back. 

“And you always smell so sweet, it eats at my very soul to not taste you at every moment of every day.” His eyes look like they’re watering, begging and pleading as he keeps talking, keeps sending waves of pleasure to your core with every word spoken. 

“You deserve more than this animal I’ve become, but I cannot help that you undo me. You unravel the very stitching that I have woven over these past five hundred years and the thought terrifies me because—“ he’s panting, chest heaving, hands gripping the crushed velvet of your gown. “Because I want you so completely, so entirely. My want for you consumes my very being.” 

Your heart sings, because how could it not? You didn’t have very much experience with anything like this either— really none at all. And he was worried? He was worried he was too much? Not enough? This man was the sovereign ruler of a nation. The elemental dragon of your land, a primordial being with more power than you could even begin to fathom. 

“Oh, Neuvillette,” you brought a hand to cup his cheek, the very same action you made the last time you were in his home, comforting him. “Will you do something for me?” 

He clutched you closer, pupils nearly consuming his irises. “I would drain the seas if you told me you did not favor the way they glimmer in the sunshine. I would blot out the sun if you told me you did not enjoy the heat on your skin. Anything, my dearest. Anything for you.” 

“Give in to it.” And you swore you could feel the breath catching in his chest. “Take me and give me everything your heart desires, because I am already yours.”

”Truly?” He pleaded, seeming so small below you.

You nodded, speaking softly to him as you ran your fingertips across his cheekbone. “From the moment I entered your office Neuvillette, I’ve been yours.”  

Your world flipped upside down as Neuvillette lunged, tackling you over the wall of his nest and into the bed. 

He kissed you so deeply it stole your breath away, you gasped as he pulled back to mouth across your jaw, nipping at your throat. 

You noticed his teeth had grown sharper during your fervent kissing, but feeling those teeth drag like little daggers against the delicate skin of your throat made you shiver with something like fear— but it was laced with arousal, with anticipation. 

You moaned as he licked and sucked on your neck, and he whimpered above you, clutching your waist as he went. 

“I'm sorry, I’m sorry—“ he said between kisses along your skin. “I can’t control myself, I can't—“ 

You reached up, grabbing his face in your hands, making him look at you. 

“Neuvillette, listen to me.” His eyes fluttered between yours, searching. 

“When I told you I love you, that means I love you without conditions.” You said, leaning up to kiss his lips gently. “Which means I will love you when you are poise and regal, when you are the perfect gentleman, but I will also love you when you are not.”

You could see iridescent blue scales rising into his skin, framing his eyes so beautifully. You could see them form around his throat, and his horns continued to glow. When he told you he was becoming undone, you knew he was serious, but you didn't realize what exactly that would entail. 

He was beautiful. Raw and open and completely yours. 

“I will love you even if you are rough, or crude, or selfish. I will not watch you suffer against your instincts when I so desperately wish to see you dive headfirst into them.” 

The subtlest of tears formed in his eyes, and the rain continued to batter the windows outside, pouring down around you— the perfect symphony to accompany this moment. 

“I love every aspect of you, Neuvillette. Even this. Please,” you whispered, pulling him ever closer to your lips. “Please, just take what you need. Take me.” 

———————————

He does not remember how your dress and petticoat managed to find themselves sprawled across his bedroom floor, or when his gloves and shirt followed, but he does remember the delightful squeak you gave when he tore them from your body. 

You were shy, of course you were— but he was having none of that, gently and selfishly pinning your arms against the bed as his eyes consumed your body, your naked skin. 

You squirmed and whimpered underneath him, and part of Neuvillette worried that you weren’t enjoying yourself— but the closer he came to your lower half the more he realized that the source of that mouthwatering smell was coming from between your legs, and his mouth did indeed water. 

You had told him to let go of his restraint, to give in, but he had the sense to keep part of himself in check, knowing he needed to be somewhat gentle, attentive to your needs. 

What knowledge he did have of this process was from books, and even then, he thinks the last time he read a romance novel was likely over a century ago. 

He knew basic anatomical structures, their functions, but putting it all into practice was another thought entirely. 

Through his lust filled haze of admiring your naked body, he swallowed the drool pooling in his mouth— so barbaric. 

“Tell me,” he panted. “Tell me how to make this pleasurable for you.” 

You were so red, it fluttered down to your chest, and he watched as your breasts heaved with each breath. He wanted to wrap his lips around them, suck on the delicate skin, so he did. 

You whined as he leaned down, and he loved the feeling of your hands mussing up his hair, pulling his golden circlet away and tossing it into the void that had captured the rest of your clothes with a clattering sound. 

“You, ah—” your breaths were heavy. “You have to work me open. So you don’t tear me.” 

He gripped your waist again, licking and sucking gracelessly across your chest, just enjoying the taste of your skin. 

“How?” He asked, tonguing his way down to your navel, slipping his tongue around the skin of your adorable stomach. Your skin tasted like pure relief, calming the aching fever inside of him one motion of his tongue at a time. 

“F-fingers?” You said, looking down at his hands. He looked too, and you both seemed to notice at the same time that his hands weren’t exactly… normal anymore. 

Those pesky scales had wound up coating his hands too, he could feel them aching around his eyes and throat, his nails forming long black claws that dragged the faintest red lines along your perfect skin. 

“Hah— yeah,” you breathed a panicked laugh, making his chest flutter with anxiety. “Maybe no fingers this time.” 

“What about my tongue?” He said, looking between your eyes and the apex of your thighs.  He wanted so desperately to make this good for you, but he couldn't deny that the thought of tasting that delicious smell directly from the source was a more than appetizing idea. 

You groaned, throwing your hands up to cover your flushed face. “You say it so casually, too—“ 

“Would you enjoy it if I used my tongue, darling?” 

He watched your thighs clench the best they could with him between your legs, and your hands started shaking.  

“Yes,” you whimpered, hands still covering your heated face. “Yes please.” 

Your thighs quivered as he shifted down, his nostrils flaring as he came face to face with your covered core. 

There was a small damp spot on the soft cotton covering you, and he brought his nose directly to it, inhaling deep and groaning as you whined. 

He was truly drooling now, and the desire to taste you became too overwhelming for him to wait any longer. 

The cotton was shredded off your body in delicate ribbons in the wake of his claws, but before you could react, his tongue was already swiping over the entire length of you. 

“Oh!” Your back arched sinfully off the bed, your hands gripping into his hair as he swallowed and sucked and licked over you. You tasted like perfection. No water in the world could taste as crisp and pure as you did— like sweet ambrosia, like everything he never knew he needed until now. 

He tongued over your clitoris, and you seemed to like that the most, keening out as he increased the pressure. But you said you needed to be worked open, which meant…

He pressed his tongue lower, circling it around your twitching hole. You jumped, your nails scraping his scalp— making him moan into you. Your fingers flexed around the base of his horns, and his whole body shuddered as he listened to you whine and keen. 

He pressed in then, eyes blowing wide as a warm, tight heat enveloped the tip of his tongue. His hands gripped your thighs, pushing them further, pulling himself closer to press more of himself inside you.

”Neuvillette!” You gasped out as he pushed in further. Even so, He couldn't help but feel like it wasn’t enough, like you needed more. 

Just as that thought crossed his mind, his tongue seemed to expand, thickening and rolling out into your twitching walls even further. He’d never felt a change like that before, but he kept going, moving and undulating it within your tight heat and savoring the taste of you so deep.

”Holy—“ you screeched, “Oh my Archons!”

A deep, chest rumbling growl reverberated from where Neuvillette was pressed into your core, and even though he knew it wasn’t truly a problem, something inside him did not enjoy hearing those words slip from your precious lips.

But you told him to let go, so he truly did lean into his instincts. 

He pulled his tongue from within you, letting its new length dangle from his mouth a bit before licking up all the slick that had smeared across his face, delighted at the way your eyes popped and your mouth gaped open. 

“There are no pathetic gods here, little one.” He growled, that primal aching welling up in his chest. “Only me.” 

“N-Neuvillette,” you stuttered, hands grabbing at his hair as you tried to pull him between your legs again. “Please—“ 

“Better.” 

He dove back in, using the new length of his tongue to thrust in and out of your dripping hole. He could feel your soft walls relaxing, and a deep, rumbling purr pulled from his chest as you writhed and moaned beneath him. 

Tasting you like this, feeling you move and cry out beneath his hold… it was slowly soothing the ache inside of him that had been tormenting him for months. He could feel himself twitching in his pants, his cock pressing against the confines as it leaked all over the fine material of his pants and briefs. 

In the back of his mind, he was grateful he had enough of a grip on his form to not be sporting one of his more… alarming draconic features, surely that would frighten you far too much to continue. Well, perhaps another time. 

He continued his thrusting, working you open and relishing in the wetness coating his tongue, in the way you cried out his name, your fingertips brushing against his horns as you pulled at his hair. It only served to make him drool more, soaking you even further. 

“Neuvillette—“ you keened as he arched his tongue upwards, feeling your walls clench and quiver around him. He repeated the motion, making you slap your hands down to the bed beside you, grasping at the sheets as your eyes popped wide. 

He continued to press against the spot that seemed to make you fall deeper into your pleasure, his eyes never leaving your face as he thrust his tongue with vigor, watching as you quivered. 

Yes, something inside him purred, watching you lose yourself. Keep going, take it from her. 

He felt the moment your walls tightened so completely that he thought something might be wrong— only to watch as your face shattered into a broken sob of pure delight, your whole body twitching as you cried out. Your thighs tried to clamp around his head, but he pressed further, working you through it with his writhing tongue. 

After a few moments of him working you through the height of your pleasure, you grasped at his hair again, only now you were pushing him back, gasping as your body violently twitched. 

“Too much—“ you squeaked. “T-too much!” 

He pulled back from you, licking your remaining juices from his lips as he watched you regain your breath. 

You threw an arm over your eyes, your every breath heaving in your chest as parts of your body twitched in the aftershocks. 

He crawled over your body, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he purred and murmured against your skin to comfort you.

”Your taste is divine,” he whispered. “Better than I ever could have dreamed, and my dreams were always drenched in your image.” 

“I—“ you sighed, finally pulling air into your chest unlabored. “I dream of you too.” 

“Oh?” He purred, smiling against your skin as he ran his hands down your arms. “And what exactly do you dream of, dearest?” 

You smiled, staring up at the ceiling and avoiding his gaze with flushed cheeks. 

“Your eyes.” You whispered, glancing down at him. “I dream of the way you look at me.” 

———————

You knew this was going to be a lot. 

Neuvillette is not a small man by any stretch of the imagination, but you always figured he would at least be a reasonable size — whatever that may be. 

Clearly your expectations were a little on the small side, because when he unbuttoned his trousers, pulling them down and off his body, exposing his naked skin in all its glory, your eyes ached with how wide they were staring openly at the apex of his creamy white thighs. 

Flushed a ruddy purplish red at the tip, it was literally leaking as he knelt between your spread legs. It twitched—he must’ve noticed your staring, and you chewed on your bottom lip, wondering how in all the abyss you were supposed to fit that thing inside of you. 

Neuvillette was panting. He looked irrevocably desperate, like he was ready to burst at the seams at any moment. 

“Neuvillette,” you whimpered, spreading your thighs further for him. 

He hadn’t touched you since he took his pants off, just staring down at you as you drank him in, watching your reactions. 

“Are…” he seemed strained, like the words themselves pained him. “Are you sure?” 

“Please,” you whined. “Please, inside me, I want you inside.”

He seemed to bite back a groan, eyes roaming over your soaked core, your blush traveling down your chest. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

It was delicate, loving, nothing like the unrestrained devouring before, but it still seemed like he was holding himself back. A beautiful bowstring pulled taut, ready to snap. 

“Neuvillette,” you murmured against his lips. “Please, I want it. I trust you, I want you, please.” 

Your pleading seemed to stir him, and you could feel the hot press of his length against your aching hole. You didn't know what it would feel like, the anticipation making you tense up and hold your breath. 

“Breathe, my love.” Neuvillette said, though he himself was shaking as his hands held him up above you. “Relax, breathe.” 

You released a breath and the tension from your spine, melting into the pillows as he chose that moment to breach your entrance, the slick pooling out of you allowing him to slide the crown in with no resistance. 

You keened, your back arching as you felt the first push. “Ah, fuck! Fuck!”

Neuvillette was still shaking, his voice quivering and yet he still found it within himself to chuckle, low and deep as his eyes fluttered across your face, drinking in your pleasured reactions. 

“Such vulgar language,” he breathed. “Where’d my polite little assistant go?” 

You swear your eyes were about to bulge out of your skull as he pushed another inch in, slowly, his body vibrating above you in restraint. 

It wasn’t hurting, but the stretch was so intense it was turning your brain into mush. You never swear in front of Neuvillette, gods, you never curse in front of anyone but Wriothesley, but your brain seems to short circuit as Neuvillette enters your body one delicious inch at a time.

You were thankful you told him to stretch you out, thankful for that gods forsaken tongue that just came out of nowhere, long and thick and surprisingly serpentine.  

“P-politeness isn’t really…” you tossed your head back in the blankets as he sunk in further. “Isn’t really my main focus… r-right now.” 

“Ah, yes.” Neuvillettes words spoke confidence, but his voice was shaking, his arms vibrating as they held him above you. “We have more pressing things to focus on at the moment, don’t we?”

You groaned, half in embarrassment at his wordplay and half at the way he pulled out a bit just to press back in further. 

He just licked up the column of your throat, that ridiculously long tongue making your whole body shiver in delight as he pressed in further. 

“Holy f—“ you grabbed his forearms, leaning up the best you could to look down at where your bodies were connected. “How much more is there? It’s so… so…”

Your stomach flipped at how much you still had to go, how little your brain could comprehend that this weapon was supposed to fit inside you. 

“Do you need me to stop, my darling? Is it too much for you?” Neuvillette breathed against your neck. His words spoke one thing, but it was like his body was screaming for you to say anything but. 

“No!” You panicked a bit, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him against your lips, kissing him filthy. “Please, don’t stop.” 

It took a couple more minutes of gentle thrusting, the rough texture of this thumb swirling against your throbbing clit and some very messy kisses, but when his hips finally pushed flush against yours, your eyes rolled back in your head, mind finally vacating all thought in favor focusing on how blindingly full you felt. 

“Oh,” Neuvillette breathed. “—My darling. My sweet, sweet girl.” His hips were frozen, probably taking in how you clenched around him, because you could feel it— the way your walls fluttered and squeezed around his length as he remained motionless. 

He twitched, and you keened, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring his face level with yours, panting into his mouth. “Please,” you whined. “Please move.” 

He shuddered before hesitantly bringing his hips back, watching your every breath as he pressed forward again. 

The deep, guttural moan it pulled from your chest must have flipped some kind of switch within him, because all sense of hesitancy seemed to drain from his body as his hips began a desperate rhythm, smacking against yours. 

“Ah!” Your back arched, eyes rolling into your skull as he finally, finally fucked you. “Neuvi— Neuvillette!”

His eyes seemed glazed over with emotions, looking down at you with so much wonder. His expression was strained, breaths coming short as his hands snaked down to your hips, leaning back up and away from your grip.

The change in angle, though minuscule, drastically altered the way his cock pummeled your insides. It was intense before, your mind was nearly floating in the clouds— but now his cock bullied itself along your most sensitive spot and pressed so deep within you, you were sure you could nearly taste it.

”Perfect,” he breathed. “My perfect, perfect girl. So warm and tight— it's like you were made to take me.” 

Your brain had exited the atmosphere, and was now drifting away into the deep nothingness of space. You swore you could feel your orgasm welling in the pit of your core, making your legs shake where they were perched on Neuvillettes hips. 

“It— it feels so good,” your words were starting to slur, your vision hazy with unshed tears of pure ecstasy as you blinked up at him. “I n-never— I never wanna stop. I want this forever.” 

His hips never faltered, not even once as he shuddered and groaned, the sound making you clench down around him even more. His hands gripped your waist tighter, the black claws digging into your skin, sure to leave marks. 

A possessive sort of noise rumbled from his chest, his eyes flaring with need. 

“I’ll give you all of myself until the end of time,” he murmurs, voice full of deep, rasping need. “Tell me you’re mine, I’ll give you everything.” 

Your heart welled, your eyes blinking tears as your legs shook harder. 

“I’m yours,” you cried. “I love you, Neuvillette. I’m yours.” 

He pushed at your legs, hands grabbing your thighs to press them up and forward, nearly folding you in half as you sobbed out in pleasure. Your body ached, your orgasm now on the very precipice as he managed to fuck into you even deeper than before, and you didnt know how it was possible. 

“Again.” He growled. 

“I’m yours!” You keened. 

His hands pressed harder into your thighs, his face leaning closer to yours. Through your haze, you could see how his pupils were blown wide, consuming all of his otherworldly irises. You could see how deeply he looked at you, drinking in your trembling form. 

“Mine.” He whispered. 

And that was all it took for the fraying cord inside you to snap. 

You screamed into the darkness of his room, writhing and shaking as it pulsed through you, all consuming and more intense than anything you’d ever felt in your life. He gasped, muttering something in a language you didn't recognize as his hips stuttered. He pushed you through it, the mind melting pleasure pulsing out into your limbs, making you go limp into the bed. 

His eyes were wild, and his pace slowed, hands holding onto you like you would slip away if he didn’t. 

“My love,” he moaned, desperate as the fluttering aftershocks worked through you, your body twitching in the sensitive overstimulation. “My love, I want to— I need—“

“Inside me,” your voice cracked, hoarse from how loud you’d been in your revelry, but it only seemed to spur him on. “Please, inside me.” 

And within the last three stuttering strokes, he was gone, his forehead pressing into yours as he leaned forward and moaned, long and wrecked and obscene. It made you flutter around him, milking him absolutely dry as he filled and filled and filled you. 

You could feel it, hot and heavy— each jerk of him inside you coating you further, marking you in white, in the deepest places as his. 

He was mumbling, his face moving to press into the curve of your neck and shoulder. Dazed, you couldn’t tell what he was saying— whether he was speaking in another language or if you were just too out of it to register his words. 

You lifted an arm to rest on his back, feeling the heat and the sweat of him. Unfazed, you drag your hand up and down his shoulder blades, relishing in the feeling of his skin, his breath as he murmurs against your neck. 

As your breath finally steadied in your lungs, no longer struggling, you ran your hands through his long, luscious hair, fingertips ghosting his horns. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally said aloud, clear and in a language you understood. “I’m sorry.”

”What for?” You smiled, trying to get him to look at you. When you finally pried him from the crook of your shoulder, your heart skipped a beat at how flushed he still was, how guilty he looked. 

It was then that you realized he was still inside you, still hard as before, twitching and throbbing as he held himself above you. 

“You begged me to take you,” he breathed, clawed hands pulling at the sheets. “And I can’t help but crave more.”

————————————

The sun had just begun rising over the dewy cypress trees by the time Neuvillette sat in the warm bath, cradling you in his arms. 

You twitched and groaned in displeasure as he ran the washcloth along your heated skin, but he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride at the marks scattered along your body. 

He’d been too afraid to hurt you, but after the moan you let out when his teeth accidentally scraped across your collarbone during the second round, (or was it the third?) he’d lost all sense of decency. You seemed to like them as well, and you certainly liked when he ran his tongue across the red and purple splotches to soothe them. So, c’est la vie. 

Your head lolled against his shoulder, you were barely conscious at this point, and he wanted to feel guilty, he really did. But you’d begged and begged and begged for him to take what he needed, how could he refuse? 

He pulled the glass bottle he’d brought from the cooler to your lips, stirring you a bit to prompt you to drink. 

“Please, my love. You need to rehydrate.” He smiled at the way you pouted, But opened your lips to take tentative sips anyways, your eyes still closed. 

He watched a trail of water slip past your lax lips and run down your chin and throat, his eyes carefully following the movement. He swallowed deeply, willing away the erection that was still threatening the dark corners of his willpower. 

He could honestly keep going, he couldn't get enough of you, but you were still so fragile, so incredibly mortal. He knew that he had to stop, give you a moment of reprieve. Force himself to behave until your sweet voice would sing to him again, begging him for more. He licked his lips at the thought. 

“Are… are your urges… satisfied?” You mumbled as he pulled the bottle away. You cuddled up to him, so sleepy. 

He thought very carefully on how to reply to you. 

“For now, yes. They are, darling.” He finally said. “But I believe I will always desire you as strongly as I did then— as I do now, still.”

You gave a sleepy smirk, your eyes still closed as you snuggled closer to him, your bare skin pressed so beautifully against his. 

This— this was perfect. He didn't think anything else could compare to the feeling of being inside you, so connected to your body and in tune with your emotions. But this… being with you, holding you and caring for you… it was just as beautiful. His heart felt full, and for the first time in months, he didn’t feel restless.

“I meant what I said, you know.” He said, kissing the top of your head. 

You sighed wistfully. “Which part? Because when you said you were going to ‘spend the rest of your existence finding new ways to make me shatter into millions of delicious little pieces,’ I was rather inclined to believe you.” 

He felt his cheeks heat a little. “Ah, well. I meant all of that too. But I’m referring to something I said earlier on in the evening.”   

Your voice was wavering, and he could see sleep pulling at you, tugging you into its embrace one sleepy blink at a time. “Which part, my love?” 

His chest still fluttered at those words, despite both of your endless proclamations of devotion and love last night, he was still so blissful at the prospect of being yours, of you being his. His love. 

“The bit where I told you that I would give you all of me until the end of time. That I’ll give you everything.” 

“Mm,” you said, eyes closed and words loose. “I know.” 

He ran his hands along your back, his skin finally calmed down closer to the end of the night, his scales and claws retracting and freeing his fingers for nefarious purposes. But now, he was enjoying feeling your smooth skin against his own. 

“I have things I must do, duties to this realm beyond that of my role as Iudex. It will be a long and perilous road, a road uneasy for myself and those I love. But in this, as in every other aspect of my life— I feel as though if you stood beside me, it would lighten the burden. You make every part of my life better, and I would be honored to have you beside me for the rest of time.” 

He wasn’t sure how, but if he could free the people of Fontaine from their curse, surely he could find a way to keep you with him, if you so wished. 

“Your voice is pretty,” you sighed. “I love you,” you were mumbling, and he realized you were already rather deep in the clutches of sleep, likely not even hearing a word he’d said. 

He smiled, breathing out a sigh as he kissed the top of your head once more. 

“Sleep well, my darling.” 

La Fin.

—————————————————————

Authors Note: remember to drop a comment with your thoughts! I love you guys so much 🖤

[volturissideslut]

dating mattheo riddle hc?? pretty please 🥺

𝕸𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖔 𝕽𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊

He doesn't have much good in his life, being the dark Lords son and all. He also doesn't trust easily

This means that when he finds you, someone good, who loves him, and he trusts. He's never letting go.l

Would genuinely die for you if push came to shove

Let's not even get into the fights he would get into defending you. He cherishes you, really, and has a dangerous lack of self preservation when it comes to making sure you're treated well

Though his grades are bad, he's actuattky really smart. It's just that he doesn't try

Seriously good at magic, especially DADA. If you're not good at it, he'll teach you. If your amazing, you'll duel.

If you win and beat, he gets really turned on. If you lose he'll teach you to be better

You're everything to him, he's going to make sure you can defend yourself

Gets all soft and mushy gushy when you're alone

He just becomes baby

Literally the embodiment of "🥺"

Wants you to pamper him, but he'll act tough and scowl. It's a cover up for his smile as he sits there with a panda face mask and you paining his nails metallic green.

You know that tiktok thing where draco gives you his ring? He does that. Puts it nice on a necklace to show the other guys you're his

But it's not a one sided thing. Nobody would dare say shit to him anyway, so he'll put on one of your jewelry pieces or scrunchies.

(please please please buy him a nice bracelet of give him one of yours. He LOVES them but would never tell or ask)

Give him flowers, please. He'll cry.

He'll call you princess and treat you like one.

But give him princess treatment back I beg

Is your personal hype man

BUT I MUST REITTERATE: IT TAKES A LONG TIME FOR HIM TO GET COMFORTABLE ENOUGH WITH YOU TO GET TO THIS POINT

[paintbrushnebula]

Just now realized that we're gonna get to see what Gwen intentionally *trying* to flirt looks like

bc like the few times when she said really sentimental things to Miles in ATSV weren't her intending to be romantic. Like the part where she said "What I always think: You're Amazing" was the most affectionate thing she's said to Miles so far, but that was her being unusually candid out of the heavy emotion she was feeling at that moment, not genuine flirting (at least not to her).

But if she's gonna be trying to make up with Miles and maybe doing some mmhmmhmm rizzing...

And I just think that will be Very Funny to watch.

Because you see the thing with Gwen is that she's not used to being open and vulnerable, so she isn't used to just saying how she feels about someone. I think that's why her love language is physical touch.

This is probably totally me projecting, but I always interpreted that physical touch is Gwen's default way of showing affection because expressing affection with words is much more difficult for her to do. It's like her way of expressing love where words fail her. It's kinda all she thinks she's capable of giving.

(Anyone who knows me knows I'm rather touchy too. With my siblings, parents, family, etc. It's always kisses, hugs, gentle arm squeezes, all that. So I relate to this aspect of Gwen's character a lot)

But obviously, physical affection isn't enough anymore. It's cute and highly appreciated, but it won't reveal everything that lies in the heart, or explain what she believes. It's pretty clear by the end of atsv that Miles will need some words from her. Some good words.

Now what's funny to me about Gwen's rizzing potential is that we've seen what it looks like when Gwen is trying to impress someone without knowing how good her chances are. She tried to make a good impression with Miles' parents, but got really awkward and cringed at herself after every attempt at banter or friendly conversation. This was different from how she interacts with the people at the Spider Society because superheroing is her element. It's something she knows she's good at, so there's no self doubt. But Gwen's a fish out of water in domestic situations. I mean, think about the scene where Gwen invites Miles for a swing around New York. The scene that follows very clearly resembles a date, despite the fact that it's not what Gwen meant when she called him out of his window. I think that Gwen had thought about how this could've looked like she was asking him out, then proceeding to shut down any thoughts like that, denying herself that they were on a date, despite that that might've been where her mind had been. Sidebar, I headcanon that during that scene, Miles did allow himself to pretend they were on a date. But anyway, this moment still has Gwen in her element because she's calling him out to swing around the city as spider-woman. It's certainly not the same as asking to casually hang out in civilian clothes to grab a bite or whatever, which would've been much more domestic, which would've been much more difficult for Gwen to attempt at. Gwen knows what the odds are when she's Spider-Woman, but she doesn't know the odds when she's Gwen Stacy.

Gwen not knowing the odds of something working out is what actively keeps her down throughout ATSV before she returns home. She acted with pessimism, and if the chances weren't high, she didnt want to commit herself to trying something that might not work out in the end--a similar outlook I had and still kinda do have, albeit toward my creative endeavors, not romantic relationships (I don't really have experience in that arena tbh)

But now after ATSV she's throwing caution to the wind with Miles, she's gonna face the music and use words this time. And some of those words, might be romantic! Gwen is gonna have a lot to say to Miles, there's so much she'll want to express to him--has been wanting to express to him for 2 years now! A lot of gushy mushy sweet stuff perhaps! Perhaps some rizzy words, yknow? And knowing Gwen, they're probably gonna have a hard time coming out the way she'd like! And it'll probably be very funny!

for us anyway

Ahh, the mythic struggle beauty of being an introvert.

[nofingjustaninchident]

Hi, I just saw your Jason Grace general headcanons and I was wondering, can you do a Jason Grace boyfriend headcanons this time?

Jason Grace boyfriend hcs

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: jason grace boyfriend material

warnings: f1 references, one direction references, other than that just mushy gushy fluff

a/n: yk what? i absolutely hate writing hcs. i prefer one thousand times to write fics. the problem is, i don’t have creativity enough to write a fic, and neither do i have time. when i have inspiration, im usually in class and i hate writing fics in my notebook but whatever. i hope you enjoy?? lmk!!

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

He. Is. The cutest boyfriend ever. In the whole world.

He’s literally the sweetest person

With you? My gods

My boy’s whipped.

He’d do absolutely anything you asked him to do, and it’s kinda cute

But also kinda scary cause he’d kill someone if you asked him to

He memorized all of your favorite artists’ songs so you can talk about that together

Frequent dates!!

Lots of gifts in absolutely random occasions

At the beginning of, he was so touch starved it was almost pitiful

But he started to loosen up the more you got into the relationship

Now he just can’t keep his hands away from you, doesn’t matter how

Interlocking pinkies or hands? Check. Hugging you from behind if you’re talking to someone? As long as you don’t get uncomfortable.

He’s just super clingy, and it’s the cutest thing ever.

He looks just like a lost puppy.

He just needs a little bit of love

Cause it’s all too much for little Jason Grace

F1 joke sorry i can’t help myself

ANYWAYS

Back to my man

He loves when you braid his hair or just spend time with you in general.

He always seems to know when you’re down

Cause he usually does know

And when you’re with your friends and he notices you’re not feeling well

He gives an excuse and pulls you with him

When you get to his cabin he just cradles you into his chest and whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

He’s a great listener, and his favorite part of the day is when he gets to come home and listen to you

If you’re not the talker type, he can talk for you

He just wants you to feel comfortable around him, always.

He feels so bad when you’re mad at him or he knows he did something that probably hurt you

Even if it didn’t, he’ll apologize for the next weeks

And some days you’re just cuddling together in a totally allowed sleepover (Aphrodite threatened Mr. D to let you sleep together, but that’s not the point), he’ll just sniffs in your hair and mumble soft ‘i’m sorry’s and ‘i love you’s into your head.

He’s just the cutest person in the world.

You know that song “In a world of boys he’s a gentleman”?

It’s him. Momma Taylor wrote it for him. I know, i was there. I was the pen.

Sometimes he just gets super clingy out of nowhere, and it’s super cute in your opinion

Even if he’s embarrassed of it later on.

If you have curly hair, he’ll ask Leo how to style your curls so he can help you

He also learns all your skincare steps so he can help you with it when you’re too tired to do it yourself

He loves when you just lay on his chest and falls asleep, he can keep reading and caressing you

He’s so in love with you it’s gross

You can bet your life that he has a picture of you in his wallet

And if demigods had phones, his wallpaper would be you & him

Oh, i just know he loves listening to one direction with you

I’m not gonna elaborate. He just does.

He’s a very smart man, so he studies a lot

And he absolutely loves when you’re there with him

But in the end he doesn’t study, he just admires you as you scrunch your nose and pouts, trying to understand something.

He loves loves LOVES going on double dates, like you & him and will & nico. It’s like his two favorite people in the world and Will as a bonus

Hehehe sorry he loves Will too

But not as much as he loves you and his younger brother Nico

If you have younger siblings in the mortal side, he’s always asking to go to your house cause he LOVES kids

He just loves to take care of them

And deep down he’s also a little bit scared that maybe he’ll not live enough to have his own

But sometimes, in the middle of the night (when the wolves come down) he finds himself staring at the ceiling and imagining how you and his kids would look like

Would they have your hair and his eyes? Maybe your freckles and his personality?

He just likes to imagine how would it be like, your family

For last, your mortal parent immediately likes him. Like, sure, there’s that whole “if-you-hurt-my-daughter” blah blah blah

BUT

they know that he’s super protective

But he’s a great boyfriend.

And if you’re happy, they’re happy too.

And Jason fits in that list.

a/n pt2: I. MADE. IT. LONG. AND I CANT BELIEVE IT!! but look, i promise that im writing a real thing, it’s just that im drowning in homework and my mom is gonna give birth soon and. i feel like jason rn tbh

[blakelybeau]

Am I the only one who loves Maxvid having a huge power imbalance but reversed?

Max would be in charge and likely initiate it.

I can see David not reciprocating and feeling like he has no choice in this unhealthy relationship.

It would probably start off as a power trip. Max doesn't really care about mushy gushy things, he likes knowing that he has control over an adult. If he wants David to be miserable, then he's miserable. If he wants David to be happy, then he's happy. But it's all at Max's discretion.

Picture this:

Maybe it started to escalate from humiliation. A taunt or tease because David is such a wet towel. A door mat. We know Max is empathetic but it's something that develops during the series. Early seasons? Literally tried to kill David episode 2.

Max pushes David just hard enough and the counselor just breaks down, curls into himself and sobs against the dirt.

He's gross, and his tears are muddying his cheeks. But for some reason Max can't help but feel so damn bad.

And he hates that, he doesn't feel victorious like he usually does. It's not the same as taking control of an adult. He liked knowing David's mentality is dependent on him. He's finally calling the shots and he's the one in power despite being up against an adult.

And okay, maybe he's been a little harsh on David. Maybe there really is only so much one guy can take. But David's put up with everything else, so what gives?

When Max wants his phone, he takes his phone. When Max wants David to get hurt, he makes sure he gets hurt. When Max wants David to be happy, he'll amuse him and reign in his gang.

David takes all of it. He takes it when Max ties him to the flagpole, he takes it when the other kids attack him, he takes it when everyone belittles him; David's built to take it.

And at first he thought he wanted to break him. He wanted David to see how fucked up the world is, it's not good and if you're weak-willed and gullible you're just easy pickings. Like David.

He just didn't realize how easy it was to pick him apart.

How was he supposed to know the final straw was something as stupid as The Order Of The Sparrow?

David put up with everything else, it wasn't just Max who made his life hellish anyways.

Everyone degrades David. Everyone hurts David.

He's finally got this man where he wants him, fingers dug into soaked grass and body heaving with sobs. There's nothing near a smile on that perpetually haply face. There's no chiding or annoying quote from what he could only assume was some sort of Facebook post by some white soccer mom who unironically uses the #blessed sign.

No, David's groveling, unraveling right before him in the dirt and rain and Max can't control this because he isn't sure he can fix it.

And maybe it's when his hands grip into stupid gelled red that he realizes how uncomfortable he is. He knows why, he knows an unpredictable David takes away his security.

And it's hard, it's so hard to proceed. David's eyes look miserable, face caked in mud and tears and rain and saliva and

And he actually snapped him. But it wasn't rage like he expected because let's be honest, David's definitely a fucking time bomb waiting to go off. Max has seen it, he's seen some of that anger slip. Anger that slips when Max decides it can.

David is grief stricken, like this was the most devastating outcome. Like someone had come and slit his own fucking mothers throat in front of him.

Which is stupid, it's just a fucking bonfire.

But there's nothing left. David doesn't have motivational words, he's not getting up. The only reason he can see his face is because Max forced it with a grip to red locks.

And in his indecisiveness, Max is reminded of his father and mother.

His mother who would threaten to leave until Max's father beat her black and blue, and then she'd cry against his hands when the man would whisper those sweet nothings after.

A toxic fucking cycle, Max knows. But he can't care about a woman who puts her shit husband before her son.

It always soothed her though, despite the inflicter being the source of comfort. And it's gross, but he's already wet and gross from the rain.

When Max sits down and yanks David's head against his thigh, he understood by the lack of reaction just how out of it this guy is. Which is fine, Max can deal with malleable. That's all David fucking is; putty in the hand of any keeper.

David's built to take things. To hurt. To handle anything. But he doesn't look prepared when Max loosens his grip on his mussed fringe. He's not coherent enough in his weird fucking mental freak out to get up or question it, but Max can tell by the furrow of his stubby brows that he's confused. Lost. Psychology is a stupid fucking degree, but it's not a stupid field of study. You can make or break a person with shit like that.

He's read all about it in the novels at the library. How you can impact the psyche. He sees it with his parents, when his mom finds solace in his father despite him being the abuser.

And he finds that in David too, when he presses his fingers against David's cheek and strokes against skin.

The way his eyes lid over, the way those miserable sobs quiet down into gasping little huffs. A reminder David isn't cured by Max's generosity, but that the affects are instantaneous.

And here he was, sitting with the counselor who so pathetically lays crumpled in the mud. His only reprieve being Jean clad thighs of his camper.

He's at Max's mercy.

Max doesn't know when he starts talking, but it's nothing above a low murmur.

Things like "It's okay Davey, sometimes your best just isn't good enough." "You're going to cry over assholes who left you in the mud?" "If you'd listened to me in the beginning, this wouldn't hurt so much."

It doesn't sound like him, it's not even good comfort. David doesn't seem to care though, not when his shaking seemed to subside despite the heavy rain. Not when bloodshot eyes finally close.

And Max realizes why he likes controlling David. His content is rested solely on Max. The one who was really in charge.

It feels good to be the one in control, but especially to be in control of someone who's bigger than him. Older. Someone who should be in charge.

Max likes feeling like the grown up, and he likes making David feel like a child. Helpless, out of control. Dependent.

Maybe Dad's onto something.

[regretfulcorrine]

Heeey everyone! So little explanation as to where I’ve been— I kinda took a dive for a while 🥲 Really sorry about that! ((tw// mentions of mental health and mushy gushy emotional stuff under the cut))

In terms of content, I’m sure y’all have seen my Hazbin spiral kinda take a front seat for a bit but I miss my Drarry boys. They have infected my heart too much for me to part from them for too long 😔 And I may or may not have joined/finished a special project filled with amazing people coming out soon involving them 👀

So on Insta and here you’ll see me dive back into my love for them more than on the bird app! I love the amazing people/Drarry artists I found on Twitter, but it’s also a very big place for the fandom to just hit the fan unfortunately 😭 And it’s small enough to where unlike a bigger fandom, it can be hard to avoid. Doesn’t help the anxiety so for now at least I post my boys more here. I honestly wanna just post more on here in general!

I of course will still post my Hazbin stuff but it’ll be just more of a mix on here in terms of what I draw is all 💃 Thank you for still being here 💖

I’ve never really mentioned my health too much before but I have pretty bad crippling anxiety. It’s hard to do a lot of stuff (go outside, talk to people, etc.) and it even at some points has affected me physically. Whether that’s me worrying myself sick or being so paranoid I don’t even wanna really do anything besides watch like silly videos. And because of that I’ve only been really able to focus on one platform and that for some reason just happened to be Twitter (which in hindsight may have…contributed to the anxiety due to the nature of Twitter….ANYWAYS) I have meds and have finally decided to participate in regular therapy, but of course there’s always those breakout episodes!

Idk if anyone else has this thing but it had been such a long time I was afraid. That so much time had passed people were mad for some reason or there would be issues 😭 BUT I’m very happy to have finally just bucked up enough to come back, if you’ll have me!

Ive really missed you guys, and the second I opened this app and decided to post it was literally like a breath of fresh air. It’s weird to say in our great year of 2024 that Tumblr of all places has become calming but here we are lmao

Thank you for reading my rambles and excuses I’m gonna make it up to y’all with some good old fashion boys kissing 💖

[dreemurr-skelememer]

late ask BUT director's cut for a home for two?

fuck, anon. you don't know what can of worms you just opened.

i was going to keep this concise to one point but upon rereading it for the first time in a while i just....have too much to say about a home for two.

it's my all time favorite fic ive ever written, if it's not obvious.

firstly, i want to bring up these snippets (STARTING OFF STRONG....SORRY)

these were the moments where error finally started opening up to paperjam. and they mean a lot to me.

his personality is finally starting to shine through; his stubbornness and hotheaded-ness. it's the moments where it was clear that this kid wasn't as closed off as paperjam thought and had a personality masked by trauma and anxiety.

after so much struggle, seeing his personality finally peak through sends pj (and hopefully the reader) into fondness.

i love the little details. I KNOW I WROTE IT. but i love the little details.

these snippets were the moments where error started expressing his safety and trust towards pj

he's really made a lot of progress over the course of the few days in the fic, and seeing him finally feel the safety and love he deserves makes me so....AGH. AAGRGRGHG.

the entire fic is so tense and mildly stressful that finally writing down error's new found stability makes me so mushy and gushy!! god

i didn't emphasize it a lot but paperjam really didn't talk to error like most people would towards a four-year-old.

and that's not a bad thing! in fact, the opposite!

this is partly because paperjam is unprepared and does not know how to talk to children, but talking to kids like real, actual people and not dumbing everything down for them is actually really beneficial to their learning and growth process! (iirc, that is)

this scene and the dialogue earlier in it also really showed paperjam's frustrations. he's not perfect in any way, and he almost took it out then and there on error through a stern talking.

neither of it was their fault, of course. just a lot of misplaced love and stress from everything.

i like making my characters feel like people. and pj is such.....a person. i love him dearly.

i could gush about toriel forever in any instance about the way she acts like such a mom, not just this fic. but mostly this fic.

i love toriel. if i could grab every toriel scene in the fic, i would. but one example is enough, and this one shows the best of her.

her fondness, her motherly attitude, her jokes, and her pride towards pj. god i love toriel in this fic i LOVE TORIEL DREEMURR!!!!!!!!!!

i just think this is important. :p

"holy shit they said the thing"

i think title drops are funny lol

ANYWAY YEAH. i had a lot to say about it LOL. i love a home for two and i reread my fics a lot, and this one is the one i reread the most. im so so so proud of it.

[hellohannie]

Hits Different | lc

“𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 ‘𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪”

it was no secret that you had dated many people in your past. when you were with them, you believed you loved them and they loved you. when you broke up, you realized that they didn't truly love you. but you still believed that love was real. then, you met lee chan. when he broke up with you, you started to question if love truly did exist after all. part of the taylor swift x seventeen collection

♡ PLAYERS - lee chan x f.reader

♡ WORD COUNT - 7.5K

♡ TAGS - exes to lovers au, rockbandmember!chan, fluff, angst, alcohol use, mentions of one night stands, reader is bisexual, reader gets called sexist things (not by chan))

♡ INSPIRATION - Hits Different by Taylor Swift

♡ NOTES - guuyysss, i had the hardest time writing the mushy gushy scenes in this one and i have no idea whyyyy so please forgive me if they are cringy T_T anyways, i hope you enjoy this one!!

p.s thank you so much for all the kind comments on MA&THP! you are all so sweet!

You could feel the bass beat through your feet as you swayed on the elevated surface at the club. The lights formed a kaleidoscope of colors behind your closed eyelids as you swung your hips back and forth, stumbling a bit in your heeled boots. You were long past the point of being conscious of where your limbs were, heavily dependent on the boys around you to keep you upright. 

You felt a light squeeze on your hand, and you wrenched your eyes open to look down at Hansol who was standing on the ground in front of you, ready to catch you in case you pitched yourself off the stage in your drunken haze. 

“Are you ready to go?” The music was too loud to hear what he said, but you managed to make out the movement of his lips. 

“No!” you gasped, backing into Seungkwan, who tightened his grip on your hips. “I love this song!”

Hansol looked over your shoulder, having a wordless conversation with his friend. You felt Seungkwan sigh, his warm breath tickling your ear. “It’s alright, we’ll stay for one more,” he reassured you. You relaxed, allowing him to guide your bodies to the rhythm of the music. Hansol kept a grip on your hand, making a face when he caught your eyes. You laughed, looking past his shoulder at the crowd, when a blonde head caught your attention. 

The boy threw his head back to laugh, and you jolted. Was that…

“Chan?” you mumbled, standing still. 

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Seungkwan came to stand next to you, as Hansol turned around, trying to figure out what caused the anguished look on your face, but you paid them no mind. 

Your heart was racing. Chan was here. With another girl. It shocked you completely out of your daze, enough to where you started to focus on your surroundings again. That’s when you heard it. The speakers were blasting yours and Chan’s song. The song he would play in the car as you drove down the city streets at midnight. The song he would play after dinners in his apartment as you danced together in the kitchen. It was your song, and here he was, dancing to it with someone else. 

“I need to get down,” you choked out, squatting down to get off the stage.

“Y/N that’s not him,” Seungkwan was repeating frantically. He must’ve noticed what caught your eye. “That’s not Chan.” 

But you were past the point of listening. 

Hansol gripped your waist and helped you down, trying to steady you as you swayed on your feet. You shook his hands off and sped towards the exit, feeling too suffocated in the musty nightclub. 

You stumbled outside, chest heaving as you allowed the chill air to clean out your lungs and clear up your mind. 

That boy in there wasn’t Chan, but you didn’t feel relieved. Your intoxicated mind ran scenarios of Chan laughing like that with other girls. Scenarios of Chan with other girls. 

“Y/N,” Seungkwan grabbed you by your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. Hansol stood behind him, head bent over his phone, probably ordering an Uber. “That wasn’t him.”

“I know,” you nodded, arms clutching your stomach. Your mind just wouldn’t stop thinking. “Oh God, I’m gonna yak,” you groaned. Seungkwan’s arms retracted at lightning speed as you spun around, throwing up onto the street. Then, you stumbled back until your body hit the brick wall of the building, sliding down until you were sitting like a marionette doll on the concrete sidewalk, legs splayed out in front of you. Your head was throbbing and tears stung your eyes. You vaguely heard Hansol sigh and say “I’ll go get her some water.” They were used to this. After all, this wasn’t the first time you had made a scene like this at a club.

Seungkwan sat down next to you, gently guiding your head to rest on his shoulder and petting your hair. 

“I miss him,” you sobbed, pathetically, the melody of your song playing faintly from inside the club.  

“I know babe, I know.”

“Love is a lie,” you had once said to Seungkwan and Hansol after your first major break up, post high school graduation. Your boyfriend at the time did not want to pursue a long distance relationship, and since neither of you wanted to give up attending your dream universities, the relationship had met an inevitable end. 

You had moved on pretty quickly however, getting into a serious relationship with a girl in your sociology class freshman year of college. That was until she moved away junior year to join the national swimming team full time. 

“Love is a lie,” Seungkwan had said as you sat in his embrace, Hansol handing you a mug of comfort hot chocolate. You sniffled and nodded. Sure, your friends would tell you love was a lie, but you didn't really believe that. It was just something you said to get by. To help your heart move on.

It was a pattern from that point forward. You would meet someone you thought you loved more than your previous partner, then you’d break up for some unavoidable reason. Your best friends would assure you that your partner didn’t love you, that love was a lie. You’d mourn a bit, then move onto the next. After all, it’s easy to move on from something that wasn’t true love, especially when you believed that your real love was waiting for you somewhere. 

Then, you met Lee Chan. It was at a dive bar near your college town, where they held the annual battle of the bands. Hansol’s band was competing, and you and Seungkwan went, half for moral support and half to scout for post-graduation flings. 

“Oh my God,” you grumbled. “Just go talk to him instead of sitting here and drooling everywhere!”

Seungkwan squawked in indignation, “I am NOT drooling!” 

You rolled your eyes in disagreement.

“I can’t just go and ‘talk to him’,” his fingers formed air quotes. “He is so hot, and-”

“Totally your type,” you interrupted. 

“Exactly,” Seungkwan protested. “Which is why I know his type is not me.”

You glanced at your friend, who looked genuinely defeated, shoulders hunched forward and lips slightly pouting. You sighed, tossing back the rest of your drink before hopping off the stool and grabbing Seungkwan’s hand. 

“C’mon,” you tugged. “Let’s go.”

Seungkwan’s head shot up, eyeing you in confusion. “Go where?”

Now you were trying to pull Seungkwan off his chair with both hands. “We have 5 minutes until Hansol’s set, which means we have 5 minutes to get you a date with Mr. Total Hunk over there.”

Seungkwan was resisting, playing a game of tug of war with you. “Are you crazy?” he practically shrilled, drawing the attention of the people nearby. 

You looked over your shoulder to see that Seungkwan’s crush and his companion were both looking over in your direction, eyes alight in amusement. You whipped back around, stamping on Seungkwan’s foot to throw him off balance. “They are looking over here, stop embarrassing yourself,” you hissed. 

After taking a moment to compose yourselves, you once again yanked Seungkwan in the men’s direction, your friend following willingly this time. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N! And this,” you subtly tugged, “is Seungkwan.”

Your full attention was on the tall brunette Seungkwan was eyeing, trying to figure out if he was interested in your friend. 

“I’m Mingyu, this is Chan.” A large hand stretched out towards your friend first, and you smirked. Perfect. It seemed like Mingyu did swing that way, which meant it was time for you to leave, taking his friend with you. 

“You know, I am just so thirsty-” your breath hitched as you truly looked at the blonde boy for the first time that night. Oh no, he’s beautiful. 

The boy, Chan, smiled at you, a big grin showing perfectly white teeth. “I can get you something at the bar, my treat.” He stood as you nodded, utterly speechless. You shook yourself out of your stupor and followed him to the bar. No Y/N, you thought, you are taking a break from dating. Just distract him for Seungkwan, that’s it. 

“What would you like?” Chan leaned against the bar top, left arm propped on the counter. 

You hummed. “Surprise me.” You eyed him up and down as he rattled off an order to the bartender. It was clear this man knew how to dress, from the leather jacket that enhanced his broad shoulders and the white tank underneath that showed off his sharp collarbones, to the extremely ripped jeans that did nothing to hide his thick thighs-

You subtly fanned your warm cheeks, hand shooting down to your side when the boy turned back around.

“For you,” Chan handed you a clear drink. 

You took a sip and crinkled your nose. “Vodka soda, how creative,” you droned. 

“Well,” he shrugged, though it was so graceful you’re not quite sure if it could be called something so inelegant. “Guess you’ll have to stick by me so I can get you another drink later.”

You raised an eyebrow. Ok, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just flirt back a bit. 

“What makes you think I would want to be in your company for that long? If your drink of choice is any indication, you don’t seem all that interesting.”

Chan scoffed, bracing his hip against the counter as he crossed his arms. Your eyes shot to his biceps straining against the sleeves of his jacket before shooting back up to his face. A smug look took over his face. “Is being part of the town’s best band interesting enough for you?”

Ah, he’s one of those guys who’s in a band just to pick up girls. You were barely able to contain an irritated eye roll, choosing to fake an impressed look instead. 

“You’re in a band?” You cocked your head to the right, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind your left ear. The dangly earring you exposed laid gently against your skin, showing off the slope of your neck. You watched Chan’s eyes linger there before taking a gulp of his drink. You tried not to get entranced by the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. 

“Mhm,” he nodded in affirmation. “We’re competing tonight. You’ll vote me,” he leaned in closer, using the tip of his index to nudge your earring. “Won’t you Darling?”

If the fluttering of your heart at that moment made a noise, it would be similar to the tinkling of your earring, light and dreamy. As flustered as you were, you refused to let the cocky man in front of you know that. 

“I would,” you replied in a sing-song, “but…” You traced a finger along Chan’s (ridiculously) sharp jawline, applying a little pressure to turn his head towards the stage. “That band up there is my best friend’s band and considering they are running four years undefeated,” you gripped his chin, jerking his face back to yours. The two of you were so close together, the tips of your noses brushed against each other. “I’d say you should spend less time flirting for votes and more time worrying about your performance.”

Your words were cruel, you knew that, but you suddenly felt the need to defend Hansol and his bandmates. Especially from someone who didn’t seem to care about music, and rather chose to use it as a means to pick up dates. You expected Chan to feel so slighted that he’d step away from you, maybe hurl some not-so-kind words your way, then leave. Except, he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he glanced at your mouth, leaning his forehead against yours. “I think you underestimate me,” he whispered. His breath smelled like mint, warm as it tickled your lips. You were about to respond when a loud voice appeared behind Chan.

“Lee Chan, let’s go! It’s almost our set!” 

You jumped back, startled out of whatever bubble you and Chan had created around yourselves. It wasn’t clear to you if you should be cursing Mingyu for ruining the moment or thanking him. Chan on the other hand squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a disgruntled sigh. Clearly, he felt the former. You pinch the space between your thumb and index finger on your left hand, the pain a reminder that your heart could not handle another failed relationship. You were waiting for the right one, your forever person. There’s no way this man was them.   

By now, Mingyu and Seungkwan had made their way to your sides, the taller one grabbing his bandmate’s elbow. Chan had slipped the smug mask back onto his face. “Guess a bet is in order. If my band wins tonight, you let me take you out on a date.”

You crossed your arms, one eyebrow shooting up at the sheer audacity of this man in front of you. “And if you lose?”

Chan started walking backward, allowing Mingyu to tug him towards the stage. He shot you a smile, but this one was different from the ones he gave you every other time tonight. This one was not so perfect or staged. It was slightly crooked, the left side pushing deeper into his cheek than the right. It caused his eyes to glitter. “Don’t you worry your pretty little mind about that Darling. I won’t lose.”

Later that night, as you looked up at Chan on the stage, who winked at you as he held his trophy up in the air, you thought to yourself that maybe you wouldn’t mind if you got your heart broken by someone like him. At least you would’ve had the privilege of loving him.

You slip your sunglasses onto your face, laying back onto the beach towel, letting the sun rays warm your skin. You could hear the hollers of your friends from where they played in the water. It was a miserable day.

“Y/N c’mon! Come get in the water, it’s a beautiful day!” Soonyoung shouted.

You stayed laying down, simply lifting an arm to wave him off. They were trying so hard, your friends, to distract you from what the date signified, but you wished they’d just let you wallow in your misery. 

Suddenly, a shower of sand struck your face. You sputtered, shooting up into a sitting position as you scrubbed the sand off your glossed lips. 

“Seokmin!” You shrieked, ripping your sunglasses off so the exciting man standing over you could clearly see your glare. “What the hell?”

He was undeterred, gripping your forearm to pull you up. “Let’s go!”

“Where?” You allowed yourself to be pulled up, too depressed to put up a fight. 

“The ocean! We didn’t drive all this way just so you could create a Y/N sized dent in the sand.”

You huffed, dragging your feet along the sand as you followed Seokmin to join the rest of your group. The ocean water was chilly, but you were too distracted to notice. 

The last time you were at the beach, it was with Chan, just a month after your fourth anniversary. Chan’s band had successfully recorded their first demo and sent it off to recording agencies, and you brought him here to celebrate. Little did you know, that just two months after that, he’d be breaking up with you. It’s not your friends’ fault that they didn’t know. They thought they were doing a nice thing, bringing you to the beach to distract you from the fact that today would’ve been yours and Chan’s fifth anniversary. It’s not their fault that it was as if Chan had touched every corner of Korea, to the point where every place reminded you of him. 

A pinch to your waist snapped you out of your reverie. You slapped Jeonghan's hand before taking note of your surroundings. Somehow, you had waded your way deep enough into the ocean that the water was grazing the hem of your bikini top. 

“How kind of you to join us, Princess,” he quipped. You simply stuck your tongue out at him before splashing his face with water. 

“I wouldn’t make that face if I were you,” his voice took on a conspiratory tone. 

You shot him a confused look. “Why not?”

He jerked his chin in a direction just past your shoulder. “There’s a guy there who cannot take his eyes off you. Maybe a potential summer fling?” 

Jeonghan was the first person you ever had a one night stand with. You met him at a party during orientation week in university, and while you both had a good time, you both decided you'd be better off as friends. Soon after, Jeonghan found a long term boyfriend in Joshua, whereas you…well, let’s just say the couple was well versed in being your wingmen. Though, once you started dating Chan, Jeonghan and Joshua figured they could officially retire from their unofficial jobs, and so did you. Now, here Jeonghan was again, trying to find you another notch to add to your bedpost. 

You glanced just once over your shoulder at the man Jeonghan pointed at, giving him an awkward smile when he noticed your gaze and waved. You turned back around towards Jeonghan, giving him a doubtful look. “Seriously, you want to set me up with him? He looks like a Ken doll.”

“What, I thought you liked blondes?” Jeonghan laughed, teasing you further. “Or is it just the bleached ones?” 

Your mouth dropped open, dumfounded. Jeonghan’s eyes widened, as if just realizing what exactly it was that he said. “Y/N, I didn’t mean-”

“Not cool, Han. I thought you of all people would understand what it is I’m going through.” You didn’t stick around to hear a response, choosing to start making your way back to the beach instead. 

Jeonghan, like you, used to have a habit of sleeping around, switching out partners like dolls. Joshua was Jeonghan’s first real partner, so when you told him how you felt about Chan, he understood. Chan was not just any other partner, he was the love of your life, like Joshua was his. 

Tears began to sting at your eyes, blurring your vision so much that you didn’t see the person in front of you and ended up running right into his chest. You stumbled back, almost falling backwards into the water. 

“Woah,” hands grabbed at your elbows. “Sorry I thought you saw me.” It was the guy from earlier. Somewhere from the time you left the boys’ spot in the water to here, the guy had approached you. 

You swiped at the tears brimming your eyelids, “Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“Is everything ok?” His hands stayed on your arms. “You’re crying.”

He leaned down to level his head with yours. You stepped out of his grip, having to jerk your arms back to make his grip loosen. “I’m good, thanks.” Your tone was clipped, but apparently the guy in front of you couldn’t (or didn’t) take the hint. 

He stepped closer. “Are you sure? Doesn’t seem like you’re ok? Maybe I can help?” The further you stepped back, the more he came forward. “I came over here because I thought…”

Shit, shit, shit. This guy was crowding in way too close to you, and you felt incredibly unsafe, but there wasn’t much you could do. You couldn’t run in the water, or swim fast enough away, and the faint voices of your friends were indication enough that they were not close enough to help you, let alone notice something was wrong. 

“...listening? Um…hello?” Your eyes snapped back to the man in front of you. “Were you listening?” It was clear from his expression that he was annoyed, the false kindness from before completely gone. You were in trouble.

You stuttered, “I…uh…sorry, I was-” 

The guy scoffed. “Of course, here I was trying to be a nice guy and check up on a cute girl that looked sad, but you zoned me out. Bitches like you like guys who treat you bad don’t you. Should’ve known from the way you’re dressed that you’re nothing more than a dirty-”

“Hey!” a hand slipped around your waist as two bodies appeared on either side of you. You sighed in relief. 

The guy in front you stepped back, eyeing the two men who interrupted. “Who are you guys?”

“I’m her boyfriend,” Wonwoo said, tugging you closer to his chest.

“And you are?” Jun asked, lazily. 

The guy in front of you was tall and broad, but not as tall and broad as Wonwoo or Jun. Clearly he noticed that as well, as he started to scurry backwards, away from your large group as the rest of your friends began to join. 

He started to laugh slowly, as if trying not to show that he was intimidated, but failing greatly. “All these guys,” he pointed at your circle of friends, “are your ‘friends’? I knew it, you are a whore.” 

Wonwoo took one menacing step forward, and it was all the guy needed to trip backwards into the water before quickly making his way onto the beach and away from you. 

Jun placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Are you ok, Y/N.”

You nodded, suddenly too exhausted to do much else. “I want to go home.”

Quickly, the boys began to run onto the beach and pack up all of your things to load the cars. You followed behind slowly. A few months ago, the beach filled you with happiness and a sense of freedom. Now, the sun felt like it was burning your skin, and the sand was scratching at the bottom of your feet. Who knew the absence of just one person could make an environment feel so different.

You whined as a hand snatched the red solo cup out of your hand, “Wasn’ done w’that.” You lifted your head off Jeonghan’s shoulder to give Seungkwan (what you hoped) was a glare. 

“Babe, there was nothing left in the cup anyways,” the former commented. “You’re wearing your drink.”

“Oh,” you responded, oh-so eloquently. 

By the time your group left the beach and made it back to the little cottage you had rented for the weekend, it was sunset time. Everyone quickly showered and set up a bonfire in the back. According to Seokmin, s'mores and alcohol were the best pick me ups. You had not wanted to join at first, still disoriented from your less that ideal experience with the guy from the beach. Jeonghan however had begged you to join, clearly very apologetic for unknowingly putting you in that position. After you had a few drinks in you, you had completely forgiven him, leading to your position now, half in his lap as you both squeezed into a lawn chair by the fire. 

“Here Y/N,” it was Joshua, handing you a well assembled s’more from the other side of Jeonghan. 

“Thanks Joshie,” you mumbled, while taking a bite. You stared at the burnt marshmallow as you chewed slowly, tears starting to stream down your cheeks. 

“Y/N! What’s wrong?” Soonyoung called from the opposite side of the circle. His voice caught the rest of the group’s attention and suddenly, everyone was fussing over you. 

“It’s just that…Channie liked his marshmallows burnt like this,” you had started full on sobbing. “I miss him!”

If you were even the slightest bit sober, you would’ve noticed the exasperated looks the boys sent one another. It was yet another event where you got drunk and started slurring Chan’s name. While the boys were sympathetic to your plight, it was only so long they could stand a fun night being brought down by broken-hearted crying. 

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, swiping at your face. “I’ll go inside. You guys can enjoy the rest of the night.”

“No, Y/N, it’s ok-” 

“Seriously,” you lightly shook off Jeonghan’s fingers that had circled your wrist as you stumbled onto your feet. “Good night everyone.”

A chorus of pitying ‘good nights’ followed you as you made your way into the house and to the room you shared with Seungkwan and Hansol. As you laid in bed begging the world to stop spinning, you had a sinking feeling that you would not be receiving any more invitations to go out. At least, not for the time being.

Let it be known that you and Chan did not break up for lack of love. Let it also be known that you didn’t see it coming because you both had loved each other so much.

It had been one of your regular weekly date nights, where you and Chan would eat dinner at your apartment and then watch a movie afterwards.  

Chan had been oddly silent that night, and you could tell something was bothering him. Still, you decided not to ask, knowing he’d confide in you if he chose to. What tipped you off that the issue must be serious was when he didn’t ask you to dance when the speaker played your song. 

“Channie,” you started, hesitantly. “Is everything ok?” At this point, you were sitting on the couch as he paced anxiously in front of you. “Here, come sit.” You grabbed his hand and guided him to sit next to you. 

Chan was silent for a long time, the clicking of the wall clock’s second hand indicating that it had been a full 30 seconds before he spoke. “My band signed a record deal.”

“Oh my God! Darling, that’s amazing!” You threw your hands around his neck, giving him a tight squeeze before kissing his cheek. “Which agency did you guys choose? SM, JYP…”

Chan mumbled under his breath. 

“Hm? I didn’t hear you.” 

Your smile started to fade when Chan reached up to unhook your arms from his neck, choosing to hold your hands in his lap. His thumbs drew circles on the back of them as he said again, “Republic Records.”

You bent your head to try and catch his eye. “Like Taylor Swift’s label, Republic Records?” 

He nodded, and said nothing else. 

“But, they are based in New York. How will you guys work with them from Korea?” 

No response. 

“Chan?” 

Still nothing. You were getting anxious.

“Lee Chan!” You ripped your hands away from him, forcing him to look up at you. Your breath hitched when you saw his red eyes, rimmed with tears. No, you thought, please don’t say-

“I have to move. To New York.” 

You knew it. 

You bolted up from the couch. “How…how could you make this decision without at least talking to me?” You were standing over him, screaming at the top of his head. Little dark spots started to stain the beige couch where Chan’s tears dripped. “Long distance relationships aren’t so easy that you can just decide without me!”

Chan looked up at you, cheeks glistening with tears. His breathing was shaky and uneven. He didn’t say anything, not even an apology. “We won’t do long distance.”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. If Chan meant that as ‘we won’t do long distance because you’re coming with me’, he would’ve definitely told you about this before signing the contract. Which only meant one thing. 

“No,” you started to step back, away from him. “No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening to me. Not again.” You were vigorously shaking your head. 

“Y/N,” Chan was scrambling to his feet. 

“No! Don’t do this, please-”

Chan seized your shoulders and pulled you into his chest as you began to sob. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating, as the two of you eventually sank to your knees. 

“Why? Why are you break-” you couldn’t say the word. “Why are you doing this,” you whispered, throat too sore to yell anymore. “Is it because I got upset? I didn’t mean to get angry, I support you, you know I support you.”

Chan pulled you away from his chest, cupping your face with both hands. “It’s not that. I know you support me. That’s why we have to do this. Break up.”

You heaved another sob. 

“Y/N, I love you. I love you so much, which is why I can say confidently that no one knows you like I do. You hate long distance relationships-”

“That was different!” You insisted, gripping his wrists as tight as you could. “I didn’t love him like I love you!”

“I know Darling,” he swiped at a tear with his thumb. “It’s because you love me more that long distance won’t work. You need consistency. You need someone who will combine Google calendars with you and stick to a schedule you create together. That’s the only way you’ll feel reassured that you truly have someone. I can’t give you that abroad. I can’t call or video chat with you at the same time every day. I can’t give you consistency. Long distance won’t sustain our relationship, it’ll just prolong our inevitable breakup.” He placed the most delicate kiss on the bridge of your nose. “It’s selfish, but I wanted to be able to cut it off while holding you, so I could tell you that this isn’t ending because we fell out of love. I wanted us to have a clean break.”

You were angry again, this time choosing to punch at his chest. “This is anything but clean! You think after you leave, I’ll just forget about you? That I’ll just move on, like this is a normal break up? How dare you leave me here alone, thinking I’d just get over you? You’re a jerk, Lee Chan!”

“Chan? Y/N? What’s going on?” It was Seungkwan with Hansol trailing behind, both wearing similar looks of confusion on their faces. 

Neither you nor Chan acknowledged them. “You won’t be alone. You have them.” He leaned in to place a singular kiss to your lips. That kiss would be forever ingrained in your mind. Your last kiss with Chan, one that tasted of salt and despair. “Take care of yourself, Darling.”

“No!” You started weeping again, desperately trying to grab onto Chan as he stood up and stepped away. 

“What the hell is happening?” Seungkwan demanded, sharp eyes pointed at Chan. He simply shook his head, as if saying sorry, before leaving. You could only see until he reached your doorway because by then, Seungkwan had fallen to his knees in front of you, blocking your view. 

Hansol followed Chan out the door, stopping him halfway down the hallway. 

“Chan, what happened? Why did you tell us to come here?” he asked rather calmly.

The boy in question turned to face his friend, eyes once again filling with tears. “We got signed by a record label in New York. I broke up with her.”

Hansol nodded just once. While he didn’t quite understand why Chan made the decision he did, Hansol knew that he didn’t do it to hurt you. In fact, this must be hurting him just as much as it was hurting you, if not more. “Good luck.”

Chan’s shoulders dropped visibly, as if he felt that he no longer needed to hold himself together. “Hansol, I know I’m probably not in a position to ask any favors from you but,” he cringed as another sob echoed down the hallway, “can you make sure she understands that I never lied to her when I told her I loved her?”

When Hansol made it back into the doorway of your apartment, he heard Seungkwan say, “Love is a lie.” 

You agreed like every time before, but Hansol could tell from your face that it was different this time. You really did believe it.

The warm summer air faded away to welcome the crisp autumn breeze, but that didn’t mean you weren’t still sweating buckets at the slightest amount of physical work. 

“Seungkwan, push!” 

“I’m trying, you little witch! I still don’t understand why you insist on jam packing suitcases with your winter clothes and sticking them in a storage room when you could just leave them in your closet!” 

Seungkwan had offered (read: been bribed) to help you switch out your warm weather clothes for your cold weather clothes. Unfortunately for you both, the elevator in your building was broken, leading to the two of you lugging suitcases up and down three flights of stairs. 

“Finally,” he grunted, flopping down on your couch once the last of your bags had been brought into your place. 

“Thank you, Kwannie,” you sang, voice extra sweet. 

He rolled his eyes fondly, “Yeah, whatever. You should be thankful Jihoon has been dragging me to the gym with him.” 

You giggled, moving to unzip one of the suitcases when Seungkwan’s phone rang, indicating that he had received a text message. 

“It’s Hansol. We are out of groceries, and God forbid someone sends him to the store alone. Once, I told him to bring home fruit and he brought back a bag of tomatoes insisting I should’ve been clearer. Who thinks of tomatoes first when someone mentions fruit?” Seungkwan ranted as he made his way to your door. “Anyways, I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N!” The door slammed shut. 

You were silently glad Seungkwan left so suddenly as you fully opened the suitcase in front of you. You had forgotten that this was the one filled with all of the clothes Chan left behind in your apartment, as well as your own that held memories connected to him. 

Placed right on top was a denim bucket hat that he used to wear when you both would go for bike rides along the river bank. Tears pricked your eyes, as you contemplated what to do. Hansol and Seungkwan would tell you to throw everything away, that keeping these items wouldn’t help you get over him any quicker.

You cursed as memories came flooding back. It had been nearly a year since he left, and you still couldn’t figure out why. You felt like there were so many options besides simply breaking it off. Hansol kept telling you what Chan told him, but you couldn’t believe it. If he loved you, truly loved you, then why did he leave?

You thought of the creases by his eyes when he smiled at you, his soft hair that brushed your cheeks when he kissed you. He believed that the world was inherently good, that people don’t do things for the sake of hurting others. He made you believe too. How could you have possibly guessed that that boy would shatter your heart beyond repair. 

You huffed, rushing to the bathroom to splash water on your face. You needed to stop crying over him. 

Over the sound of the sink, you thought you heard the lock twist on your front door. You turned the faucet off and paused, trying to listen for any more sounds. Nothing. You shrugged, patting your face with a towel. Great, guess I’m hearing things now. 

Then, another noise. This time, it was the door creaking open. 

“Seungkwan…?” you called out hesitantly. He was the only person who knew about the key under your mat. Well, except Hansol, but he makes it a point to not use it and bang on the door instead. 

“Seungkwan,” you repeated, louder this time. Still no response. Now you were scared. Quickly, you grabbed your curling iron from the sink, the long wire making it a great throwing weapon. 

You peaked your head out into the hallway, trying to catch a glimpse of the intruder. 

Blonde hair. Bleached, blonde hair. 

Warm brown eyes, staring right at you, as if this person knew the layout of your apartment.

Plump, pink lips quirked in a smirk and long fingers holding onto the keys you hid under the doormat. 

“Still haven’t moved these?” 

You dropped the curling iron onto the tiles, stepping out fully into the hallway. “Chan?” Great, now you were seeing things.

“Hi Darling,” he smiled that smile. The crooked one that made his eyes glitter. The one he reserved solely for you.

Your heart was racing and beating so hard you thought Chan would be able to hear it. One step. Then two, then three. Your feet were moving all on their own. Then an abrupt stop. Your brain took over. You can’t run at Chan and throw yourselves into his arms like you did before. Like he was yours. 

Chan’s lips pursed into a straight line when he noticed you stop. “Y/N-”

“What are you doing here?” You spoke, frantically. “You-You should be in New York.”

“I quit,” he responded, looking at you expectantly as if that should answer all your questions. 

You huffed out a laugh in disbelief. “You quit? Why?”

“I regretted my choice.” 

You blinked, at a loss for words. 

Chan’s eyes flickered to the open suitcase. He knelt down, gently running his fingers over his old hat. “You kept all of my things,” he said in awe. 

You bristled, angry that he believed you would be heartless enough to throw them out. Of course he thought that, he must’ve assumed you had moved on. Just like he must’ve. 

“I was about to trash them-”

“You still love me,” he looked up at you, light brown eyes twinkling with joy. 

You were caught off guard. “No, I don’t, I-”

Chan rose to his feet, starting to walk towards you. You stood in your place. “You kept my things because they remind you of us. Because you still love me. You never threw them out because you never got over me. You love me.” He was laughing now, eyes forming crescents on his face. Chan was standing barely two feet in front of you, but you moved your eyes to the ground. If you looked at him now, when he was standing so close, you’d kiss him, and you couldn’t do that because he wasn’t yours to kiss anymore. 

“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” your arms were wrapped around your torso, as if they were holding you together. “It doesn’t change the fact that you left.”

“And I’ve regretted it ever since,” he whispered. “There was a time when the greatest love in my life was my music. It was all that ran through my veins. It was what kept me feeling alive. Then, I met you. Darling-” his voice cracked, forcing you to look up. A lone tear slipped from Chan’s eye, but he didn’t wipe it away. Instead, he lifted his hands to cup your face so gently, as if you would disperse like a cloud if he squeezed too tight. 

“The more I knew you, the more I loved you, you became my music. My greatest love. You kept me feeling alive, but I didn’t realize it until I left. I thought I was doing the right thing, leaving you behind, but I was wrong. I should’ve never let you go,” his hands began to slip. “I know I have no right to ask for a second chance but-”

You grabbed his wrists and pressed your lips to his, cutting off his words. You tasted salt, and it reminded you of the last time you had ever kissed him. Your eyes began to burn, and soon you were both crying softly as you kissed.

“I forgive you,” you mumbled, lips brushing his as you spoke. “You deserve a second chance. You taught me love is true.” Your foreheads touched. Chan wiped your tears with his thumbs as you spoke. “All those heartbreaks led me to you, my one real love.”   

You made a strangled noise of surprise when Chan’s arms circled your waist and picked you off the ground. “I love you, fuck, I love you.” You giggled into his kiss, legs wrapping around his waist as he stumbled over to the couch, falling onto it with you sitting on his lap. 

You kissed and kissed, the feeling of familiarity and love settling comfortably in your heart. When the two of you eventually pulled away, it was to catch your breath. You ran a hand through his soft hair as Chan brought your other hand to his lips, brushing gentle kisses over your knuckles. 

“Missed you,” he mumbled. “Missed your voice and your eyes,” he raised his head to look at you. 

“Your hair,” he tucked a lock of it behind your ear.

“The smell of your perfume,” he leaned in to press a kiss to your neck, then trailed his nose along the slope of it until he could whisper into your ear.

“Your body,” he nipped at your ear lobe. 

“Channie!” you squealed, pushing at his chest. He fell back with ease, his loud laughter echoing throughout your apartment. 

“Even missed that, the way you say my name.” Your stomach fluttered like it was filled with butterflies. Only he could be so shamelessly flirtatious one minute and so devastatingly sweet the next. 

You laid your head on Chan’s chest, his heartbeat playing a soothing sound to your ears. “What now?” You asked as his hands gently rubbed your back. 

“What do you mean?”

“What are you going to do now that you left New York? What about your band and your music?” To be honest, you felt a bit worried. If Chan’s future was ruined because of you, you’d never get over the guilt. 

You felt lips pressing against the crown of your head. “There’s no need to worry your pretty little mind about that Darling. Turns out there’s a pretty successful band in the area that’s looking for some new members. Mingyu even came back with me because of it.”

It was his sly tone that made you sit up straight and give Chan a skeptical look. “Really…what band?”

He smirked.

You were sitting at a table in the familiar dive bar with Seungkwan, having a serious case of deja vu. “Why can’t you talk to him this time?”

“Because Y/N,” Seungkwan snarked, “you weren’t the only one left behind. Mingyu had the nerve to leave for New York without even saying goodbye, and then doesn’t even have the decency to let me know he’s back? I refuse to go back to such an inconsiderate, unmindful, callous-”

“He’s staring at you like a kicked puppy.”

Seungkwan chanced a look over his shoulder, sighing when he saw the hopeful smile sent his way. “He is pretty cute isn’t he? Maybe I’ve made him sweat enough.”

You nodded, amused. 

Seungkwan groaned before tossing back the rest of his drink. “God,” he looked up at the ceiling of the building, “I am NOT your strongest soldier.” Then, he hopped off the stool and strolled towards Mingyu, who was visibly perking up with every step taken his way.

You were giggling at the scene when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned to see a cup being held out to you. You raised an eyebrow before accepting the orange drink and taking a sip. “A Mai Tai? Looks like your drink orders are getting a lot more creative.”

 A flirty smile. “Told you I’d get you another drink if you stuck with me.”

You laughed loudly before pulling your boyfriend in for a kiss.

Tonight was the night of your town’s annual battle of the bands and you’d been reminiscing the whole time. After all, this dingy little bar held all the memories of the first time you met Chan. This was where it had all started, and it seemed that Chan was insistent on replicating those memories.  

“You know, my band is competing tonight. You’ll vote for me,” he smiled wide, “won’t you Darling?”

You put on a thoughtful expression, trying your hardest not to break character. “Well… I heard the band up there right now is this year’s defending champion,” you traced a finger along Chan’s jawline. “I’d say you should spend less time flirting for votes and more time worrying about your performance.”

“Yeah?” Chan leaned into your ear, his soft hair tickling your cheek. “How about a bet? If we win, you’ll spend the rest of your life with me.”

You turned your head to face him, your nose bumping his. “And if you lose?”

Chan smiled, hands resting on your waist as he brushed his lips against yours. “I have my good luck charm right here. Just like last time, I won’t lose.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh before clutching the front of Chan’s shirt with your fingers and pulling him in for a searing kiss. He tasted like alcohol and home.

“Lee Chan, quit making out with my best friend and get over here! We’re next!” Hansol yelled from halfway across the bar. 

You pulled away, proud to see that Chan’s cheeks were just as flushed as yours probably were. “Good luck, my love,” you placed one last peck to his soft hips. 

“Don’t forget the bet,” he called as he walked away, smiling a real, crooked, smile.

Later that night, as you looked up at Chan on the stage, who winked at you as he (once again) held his trophy up in the air, you thought to yourself that you truly didn’t mind that you got your heart broken by him. It led to this moment and now, you were looking forward to spending forever loving him.

[wipcreamontop]

Danger Notes Challenge 3/?

Enjoy as I challenge myself to stretch my writing muscles by writing for at least five minutes nonstop under threat of starting the fic over

Fic 3: Kuraryou Drabble

1119 Words M/M Daiya no Ace

“You’ve been off all day. What’s going on?”

“Just having an off day is all,”

“Oh really?” Ryou quirked an eyebrow. “Can’t be helped then, I guess I’ll have to find someone else to join batting practice,”

Kuramochi stopped. “I can still practice, you know,”

“Let’s go then,”

The two collected a bin full of baseballs and got to work batting each other’s tosses. Neither was keeping track of time, but eventually the batted so much they laid on the ground for a brief rest. Having cleared his earlier blunders from his mind with the physical exercise, Kuramochi felt lighter, relieved. Usually no matter what, batting helped clear his mind, but for whatever reason, it worked best whenever Ryou was there. The shortstop had gotten used to his presence, and while he worked well enough with Haruichi, it would never feel quite the same once Ryou graduated.

There it was again. Graduation. Knowing it was inevitable didn’t mean he wasn’t going to miss playing baseball with Ryou. The team was solid even without the third years, but Kuramochi couldn’t help but be bothered. Though he would admit, being stubborn about his feelings probably did not help him at all. But what was he supposed to do? Get all mushy-gushy and wreck his last few months with Ryou before he graduated? Ryou would be in medical school afterwards anyways, and there would be no room for dating once he started. Kuramochi wouldn’t want to distract him, after all.

But at least he had this.

Seeing the time, he got back up and began picking up stray baseballs. Ryou didn’t take long to join him. A moment later, a baseball heading in his direction snapped him out of his thoughts. He caught it on instinct, then turned to Ryou.

“The heck, man? Warn me next time,”

“I did warn you, you just didn’t hear me,”

“Wait, really?” He dropped the baseball.

Ryou glared daggers in his direction. “Whatever funk you’re in right now, shake it,”

“I’m trying, but it’s not that easy, you know,”

“What could possibly be bothering you this much? You usually don’t let your baseball suffer for anything,”

“Well, it’s… something that’s been bothering me for a long time now, I can’t just stop worrying now,” Kuramochi could feel his cheeks turning pink with indignation.

“But you know what it is, don’t you?”

“Doesn’t mean I know how to deal with it,” he turned his gaze away.

“Since when did thinking ever go well for you,”

“Excuse you?!”

Ryou punched his arm. “You’re not good at dancing around issues, so don’t dance around them,”

“But what if-“

“No matter what you do, you’ll be better off with whatever it is off of your chest, so let it out already. The team is waiting on you,”

Kuramochi groaned and scratched his head in frustration. There was no getting away from Ryou when he was like this. It was time. His arms fell to his side as he accepted what he had to do. But he’d be a coward if he ran now. He stood up straighter and took a step forward.

“It’s because I like you, okay!” Ryou’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’ve known it for a while now, and I- well, you’re special to me, and I didn’t wanna mess things up, because spending time with you makes me happy and I didn’t want that to change if I said anything and I know you’re graduating soon too and I know you really want to focus on college afterwards so I-“

“Kuramochi,” Ryou put a hand on his shoulder.

“Ah, sorry, I just…” he averted his eyes again.

“Do you see my face right now,”

Kuramochi looked back over to see Ryou’s face, freshly covered with a shade of pink that complemented his hair. He was so surprised he shut up right there.

“This is because I like you too, you lovable dumbass,” The shade of pink of both of their faces intensified.

Kuramochi stammered in response, words failing him. He stammered so badly that Ryou couldn’t help but laugh, and before Kuramochi knew it, he started laughing too. All his worries from the last few months, gone. Just like that, because Ryou felt the same way he did. He felt like a dumbass for wasting all that time by staying quiet. Happy tears fell from his face, and through his blurry vision he could see Ryou with happy tears too. Wiping his face, he wrapped Ryou in a big bear hug and held tight. He felt dampness on his shoulder as his shirt dried Ryou’s tears. As the tears died down, Kuramochi broke the silence.

“Shit, I owe Miyuki twenty bucks now,”

Ryou looked up at Kuramochi, a small smile on his face. “Why? Did he bet you wouldn’t say anything?”

Kuramochi groaned. “No, it’s because he bet you’d say something first because I was being a dumbass and he wanted to egg me on so he didn’t have to hear my lovesick miseries anymore,”

“To be fair,” Ryou reached into his pocket and presented a ticket. “I did get you a ticket to come to prom with me, and actually wanted to give it to you today,”

Kuramochi excitedly accepted the ticket. Seeing the shortstop so excited made Ryou’s smile bigger.

Then he stopped and pulled a face. “Miyuki will never let me hear the end of it,”

Ryou chuckled. “He’s the one who’s gonna be looking to bring Sawamura with him next year, he will eat his words, he’s worse than you are at this stuff,”

Kuramochi had a retort on the tip of his tongue before he started laughing again. “I guess I signed up to forever get roasted, huh,”

“You bet,” Ryou gave a mischievous grin. “If I can’t roast my boyfriend then what is the point,”

Kuramochi froze. “Wait, wait, wait, hold on, did you just-“

Ryou turned to pick up the crate of baseballs. “Unless you don’t think you can handle it,”

“Are you kidding me?!” Ryou looked over at Kuramochi and his determined grin. “Bring it on!”

The two finished cleaning up and headed back to the dorms. As he walked away from Ryou’s dorm, he couldn’t help but grin like an idiot with the ticket in his pocket. After paying up to Miyuki, who was definitely lying in wait and vehemently denied his own scenario, the grin never left his face

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Hiii,

Not sure if you are taking any request but would you mind writing a Chris Evans request for me you can either use Chris Evans or (Andy barber) 😭🥺🫶🏼

I'm getting my wisdom teeth removed next week on Wednesday and I'm scared shitless like scared 😭happen to be in my late 20s and deathly by afraid of needles, doctors, anything to do with medical things in general.. feel like I'm about to walk into a lions den.. l'd rather jump of out a plane than do this surgery 😭 sorry for the long introduction thing I'm really nervous... and sorry for wasting your time if you don't even do requests or this isn't your cup of tea :(

But I was wondering if you could write a long image 2k plus or it doesn't have to be 🥺... something along the lines of the reader getting her teeth out and her in recovery and he's there with her through everything and super supportive... mushy gushy fluff husband vibes... takes care of her and just good comforting vibes... and comforts her when she needs to be put under for the surgery... I love your writing style.. your page is a beautiful comfort piece of happiness in my daily life. I understand if you can't but it was worth a shot 🥺😭🌷🎀 I just was wanting something to read afterwards or before to calm my nerves ... and can't seem to find an image and neither are my writing skills any good...

Anyways I hope you have a good rest of your day regardless 🥺🫶🏼🌷☺️☀️

Thank you so much for your request, sweet Anon! You can find the completed request right here! 💙

I hope everything goes well for you tomorrow and that the fic has brought you all the love, comfort, and support you need to get through it all! 💙

Lastly, I cannot even begin to thank you enough for all your kind words and support. It means the world to me to hear you say these things! The fact that my blog brings you comfort and happiness in your daily life really warms my heart because I'm glad that my work brings you the joy you are looking for.

If you ever need someone to talk to, please don't hesitate to reach out via my asks or DM. They'll always be open! 💙

[skullfck]

@unpossession​ SAID:   Dear Hawk,

It’s late at night, you’ve just left (about an hour ago) and I keep wishing that you hadn’t; a letter will have to make up for the loss of your company. I’m still drunk, so please forgive my messy handwriting-

editors note: her handwriting is perfect. neat, girlish swirls for o’s, loopy l’s and perfect polka dots punctuate the i’s. each letter connected by a seemingly effortless swoosh of her pen. black ink barely smudged. she must be shitting him.

-and please also forgive any mushy, gushy talk that might come out of this. By morning I might have come to my senses and decided not to post (mail) this at all, but knowing me I will. I think it’s important to be earnest. When you care about somebody you should say it. Also, apparently I am just a fan of embarrassing myself out of commitment to the bit. Anyway. Feel free to skim read. I’m sure all this is going to be very silly in the light of day.

I tried reading after you left but I was too distracted by the empty space on my sofa where you were sitting, so I moved to that side hoping to fill the void and started to wonder what it’s like to be you. I started trying to take up more space, spread my legs (not like that, perv) in that way that guys always seem to without meaning, broadened my shoulders and slouched a bit. I tried to imagine myself where I was sitting but couldn’t seem to grasp my own face. You’re the first person I’ve had over since I moved in here, I wanted to know if I look happy here. I’ve been trying so hard to make it a place I will be comfortable in my own company. Now it seems I’m just chasing your ghost. Which is something I do. Obviously. I’m trying to stop that, too.

I have this problem where I never feel close enough to people. I wanted to say thank you for carrying me home tonight but it isn’t enough. I feel like I use words so much that they lose all meaning. I like that you don’t use too many even though you know how. I know you know how. I might take a vow of silence or something just to see what it’s like. There I go again, copying you. I’ll try to cut that out now. It’s almost impossible to go back to where I started once I get too into it. Somehow I don’t think I’ll pull it off the way you do.

I hope you’ll come back soon. I’m sorry for the things I said on the walk home. I meant all of it but I didn’t mean to say all of it. Things will be different here, I think. But I said that about New York and I said that about the old apartment and I let things inside and it ruins it all. I get lonely, and it’s not like I go looking for trouble but it seems to find me and swaddle me and make me feel safe in the chaos. I feel like if I lose myself in the dark then i won’t be me, and I’m really sorry, I know you like me and you think I’m sweet but I cannot stand being alone with myself. I’m not

You’re so handsome. I wish you’d stop smiling at me in my head. I wanna make you smile all the time and you’re so stoic most of the time. I was sitting in the bar waving my arms around like an idiot for that bartenders attention but really it was for yours, just to see if I could make you laugh. I made you laugh a lot tonight. Mission accomplished.

I can’t keep a thought straight. This is gonna be such a shit letter. Oh well. I’m gonna see you real soon, probably, and I’ll try not be in need of any carrying next time but I like being close to you, so maybe if you could just pretend I do, that would work out just fine.

With love,

Wednesday’s Child, full of whiskey.

Ps. I still think about that poem you wrote me when I touch myself.       ✠   send a MESSAGE?

The letter rests face-down on his chest, keeping him company during the high. Occasionally, he’ll lift it up and read it again, finding new meaning in every word and reopening a wound he didn’t even know he had. The drugs keep him from crying the same way he did when he first read it, but they can only numb so much. The ache is persistent, unyielding. Sometimes he has to change positions just to breathe. 

He wrote something, too, that night. Came home and scribbled some bullshit out onto a piece of paper that was promptly crumpled up and thrown away. You’re so handsome, I wish you’d stop smiling at me in my head, battling it out with the half-remembered fragment She thinks I’m handsome because / I don’t look her in the eyes too long. He’s so fucking worthless. She never should have sent this to him—she never should have written it. It’s a waste of talent, a waste of feeling, on somebody like him. 

He’s clinging to it like a lifeline, though. He’s wrapping himself up in the words like a warm blanket that still has the smell of somebody long gone. It’s such a human letter, full of human thoughts and ideas, and that innate goodness he always saw in her—so pure and raw and terrifying—bleeds all across the page. 

When he shuts his eyes, he goes back to that night and he doesn’t leave her house. He goes into her bedroom and he throws her on the bed like she’s been wanting him to do, cutting the clothes off her with a knife. When she parts her lips at the feeling of him he whispers into her mouth promise me you won’t let him inside, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. She whimpers for him but doesn’t say anything so he says it again, growling this time, promise me you won’t fucking let him inside—

He comes to with the phone against his ear. It’s ringing, once, twice—and then she answers, because she never leaves him waiting long. He smiles sleepily. 

          “Hey, baby.”

[holocene-sims]

15 oc questions!

i was tagged by @stargazer-sims - thank you so much!! ❤️ i've never done one of these tags in a character's voice, so it's fun to get extra practice writing as them 😊

i'll tag:

@dandylion240 @bl-sims-anime @idyllicephemera @elderwisp @nectar-cellar @minty-plumbob @crazykissim @mangosimoothie & anyone else who wants to do it!

ANYWAY i'm doing this for grant! idc if y'all have heard enough about grant, the honor goes to him

are you named after anybody?

my actual legal first name is joseph, which is my grandfather's name! so, uh, somehow yes, i am named after somebody! but i'm 99.9% sure it was out of laziness and not out of love. well, no, i'm 100% sure of that. it's not like my mom has ever respected her parents...but that's a whole different thing, we're not going there.

when was the last time you cried?

i'm a crybaby, come on! i'm known for being very emotional. i mean, sad animal commercials make me weepy. externally weepy. like tears running down my cheeks weepy. but the actual last time i cried? hmm, maybe like a week ago? i don't know if i could tell you why, though. i probably blocked it out of my memory! i'm great at that.

do you have kids?

do, uh, do cats count? because i do have a cat who i love and put sweaters on. sweaters! and he loves it.

do you use sarcasm?

it depends? sarcasm usually feels mean-spirited to me, so i'm not super into it, but then again, that's half the conversations i have with my family. i know in that case, though, that it's all bullshit humor and not serious. anyway, i think what i'm saying in a roundabout way is it depends a lot on context and audience. i don't want to hurt anyone's feelings or be a dick. i like being nice.

what's the first thing you notice about people?

okay, listen, in the most normal and not at all weird way possible, people's hairlines are always what i see first. i've been the first witness to so, so many fake blondes accidentally showing their dark roots or to dudes going bald. i'm sorry! i'm just freakishly tall! i can't not look down at all your heads unless i'm kneeling down on the ground. i'm not trying to spy on or judge the state of your hair, i promise.

what's your eye color?

brown! justice for brown eyes, the best eye color. i love being able to go out in the sun and not have my eyeballs bleached by the light. also, there's really not that many brown eyes in my family, so that's kind of fun. i'm a special boy.

scary movies or happy endings?

why not both? i love a good blair witch project, final destination moment. i also love a nice mushy gushy romantic movie with a happy ending. hell, i'd watch both in the same evening. start off with a fucked up horror movie and end it with pride and prejudice. sounds like a perfect night to me.

any special talents?

probably not anything relevant? i mean, i've played skyrim on survival mode without dying before. oh, and i guess back when i was still playing hockey, uh, a decade ago, i could score with the michigan goal pretty easily, which isn't all that common. in high school, i got my school the state championship win with that skill. but meh, i don't know how many people in the world know enough about hockey to care about that.

where were you born?

michigan! the part everyone forgets about, aka the upper peninsula, aka diet canada.

what are your hobbies?

i like to think i'm a well rounded person. i enjoy the super basic stuff like listening to music, but i'm also into into video games and tabletop RPGs like d&d. cooking and baking are fun for me, too. i did get into art semi-recently as well. i kind of had to have something i could do while laying down, like, 24/7 after i had spinal surgery.

if you're ever bored, just go fuck up your spine. you'll have SO much time on your hands to get new hobbies. actually, don't. please don't. i've been suffering for years and will continue to. i'm dying. don't be me. pretty please. pinky promise.

oh, duh, i also forgot that i'm into astronomy and um, planes. look, i'm not a car guy, i'm a plane guy. that's more fun, right?

have you any pets?

he's a cat named turtle, so, like, you know, the best cat in the world. sometimes i think about getting him a cat friend to hang out with but then i worry he'd get jealous, so i haven't done it. who am i to say whether or not he wants to live with a friend? or a sibling? being alone is so valid. i respect that.

what sports do you play/have you played?

oh, well, like i said, i played hockey for a really long time, like from, hmm, i think kindergarten and on! i even got a scholarship in college to play hockey. i'm glad to be done, though. some things ruined it for me. long story. but these days, uhh, i don't play any real sports anymore. i like hiking, you know, and i do work out at least every other day because it makes me feel better in a lot of ways, but that's kind of it. my sports days are over. i don't even skateboard anymore and i used to do that all the time.

how tall are you?

like 6'7" - though, i am rounding down a little bit. yes, down. not up. also, don't ask me how i ended up that tall. i have exactly one relative who is also tall. hi, chelsea! anyway, i am an accident or one hell of a joke. i'm laughing, i swear. it's very funny.

favorite subject in school?

i was overall a good student because i studied pretty hard but i was for sure a science and math kid. i loved physics in high school. and then in college, i got some way more fun science and math classes. just so you know, i am really holding back right now from rambling like a total nerd loser about my college classes...

but i mean, if you wanna learn about, i don't know, quantum mechanics or flight control systems, hit me up.

dream job?

that's such an easy question! when i was really, really young, i wanted to be a weather man, but then i changed my mind and wanted to be a pilot because, i don't know, i hit that time in every child's life where they have to become obsessed with a form of transportation. but then i never let that obsession go. my parents wanted me to be a doctor the whole time, though, but eww, no, i'm good. anyway, the dream of flying planes never died and somehow it worked out. now if i could just, uh, you know, go back to that job soon, that'd be sick.

[scaredstupid]

Hey baby! It's me, the one and only ghost with the most! Wanted to check in with ya, you know? See, I dunno if I tell you I love ya enough! So ta-da, here I am! And here I go- I love you a whole drop-dead BUNCH! I think that qualifies as enough mushy gushy sweet talking for ya, hey? Say, we should spend some more quality time together soon... I've got a whole buncha pranks that would be perfect date ideas! Whaddya say? Anyway, love you lots, I gotta go now- so much to do over here! Hope all's good on your side.

~ Your very own BEETLEJUICE 🪲

me when i

[myautumnrose]

Name: Phlox Oakwood

Age: 17

Book of Origin: “It Lives in the Woods”

Race: Black/Kenyan-American

Sexuality: Straight

Religion: Agnostic-almost Atheist

LI: Ava Cunningham

Bio: A gothic nerd who loves to research theories and the supernatural.

Phlox was born to a Kenyan mother and a Black father as the second child. He can speak most Swahili, but is more familiar with English. He tries to honor his Kenyan heritage as well as honoring regency heritage. Although, his parents and Petunia disagree with his hairstyle, saying that consistent hot combing could lead to hair damage.

Growing up, Phlox has been blunt honest and doesn’t care about feelings. He believes a ugly truth is better than beautiful lie.That being said, he had no problem “saying” no when the events of Mr.Red showed up. He was actually trying to convince Jane and Petunia not to go but after being called “chicken” he went through with it anyway. Phlox is also honest with his older sister Petunia. Even saying that he was a little creeped out when Petunia and Lucas started dating. But he got over it as he believes no one else is good enough for his sister.

Jane’s death deeply traumatized Phlox and lead down a dark path of research and questioning EVERYTHING! From finding out what causes such events to if there’s even a afterlife? Phlox is almost fully atheist because he also believes in quantum physics. So something had to make our universe? Right?

To comfort himself, he takes pleasure in dark humor! I mean really dark like even more offensive and sad than your average white guy trying to be edgy. He also plays “Dungeons and Dragons” . He plays as a elf!

When the events of Mr.Red resurfaced, Phlox basically said HELL NO! However, since Petunia wanted to face it he went just to make sure she didn’t get killed. This soon became a obsession to put Mr.Red down once and for all! With Noah’s betrayal, Phlox dropped ALL sympathy for the guy only to replace with pure rage and hatred. If Noah hadn’t take James place, he would of gave Noah two black eyes. He wouldn’t forgive Noah until ILW.

Phlox has a thing for the ladies and is known to be a flirt. He tried his luck impressing Erica Vine, a overly sweet girl with an interesting family, but she moved to Cedar Cove so that failed. He then realized he had feelings for Ava Cunningham, not just for looks but her personality, her rebellious nature, and her ability to wield a knife! They date and Phlox is still nervous about one day proposing. He thinks Ava is not the mushy gushy married type.

During ILB and ILW Phlox is a part-time community college studying to be a medical examiner. Practically, every thing he went through, a still, dead body is the least of his concerns. He takes classes online. When Noah resurfaces from being the monster, Phlox immediately flew in with a knuckle sandwich!

Phlox may be nerdy goth boy. But he realized that he is very unique and smart. He is also a hard ass and willing to fight against any evil!

(While Phlox follows the MC route, if possible, his alternate death would be Jane holding him up then repeatedly smashing him head first into the ground!)