#ask-mu-zero

[ask-mu-zero]

( @askmewntwo ) Mew: Your machine is quite interesting. Is there anything else you plan to build after it’s completed?

ω-1: as far as the plan goes, the current goal is to achieve multiversal travel. once that happens, i guess we’re going to explore a bit. there are no current plans to build anything on this scale, but we’re definitely going to tinker around with some stuff we find in the other worlds.

[cpirits]

🐝  *  ―  𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑷𝑷𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻.

🚢

Aldebaran & Mu - @hxdrostorms

bold = HELL YEAH italic = maybe, we should discuss

–

--do i ship our characters together?: [[yes]] | no | not yet but maybe soon

--would i like to ship with you?: [[yes]] | maybe, i’m willing to try | no

--type of relationship i could see: [[childhood or high school sweethearts]] | exes | [[engaged]] | married | long-term relationship | crushes | unrequited love | fling | long distance | online relationship | just dating | new relationship | toxic lovers | [[friends with benefits]]

--tropes i’d enjoy writing for them: friends to lovers | enemies to lovers | exes to lovers | fake relationship / dating | forbidden love | grumpy and sunshine | [[star-crossed lovers]] | [[*surprise pregnancy]] | second chance | [[soulmates]] | amnesia / mistaken identity | forced proximity | secret relationship | [[slow burn relationship]]

*ABO verse!!

--would i rather plot first or jump right in and see where it goes?: develop their relationship first | [[jump right in]] | something in between ( what specifically? )

--what now?: let’s plot something | [[send me shippy memes]] | [[i’ll send you shippy memes]] | [[write me a random starter]] | [[i’ll write you a random starter]]

--anything else i want you to know about me / my character / my shipping habits: n/a

[rowdydevs]

⭐ Republished ⭐

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟑

𝟿.𝟼𝙺 𝚃𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝

3.8k

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚟𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

📖 Rafe is your boyfriend… You just don’t know it yet.

⚠️ warnings contain spoliers ⚠️

swearing, Stalking, pet names, degradation, namecalling, public masturbation, dark!rafe, mean!rafe, perv!rafe, mentions of cum play, mentions of unprotected P in V, ownership kink, mentions of rough oral, violence, threats, blackmail, fighting, blood, gore, mentions of sextortion, Rafe sneaks into the reader’s room, panty stealing, panty sniffing, takes pictures of the reader’s private images, cum tasting, oral male receiving, oral female receiving, twist dark reader, mutual obsession, rough oral, gagging, kissing, reader doesn’t ask rafe if he wants to go further than oral but he does and she starts anyway, messy sex, squirting, praise, drinking, smoking, mentions of drug use

✨ “Just do it, baby girl,” I moan, watching as she pinches her top button. I grab mine as well, tugging it open with her. I hiss at the sensation of my rock-hard cock in my hand, feeling some relief. This is the first time I’ve touched myself all day. I was edging myself as I studied her Instagram and TikTok page, saving my favorites to my phone. When I saw her in the parking lot, I swear I could have cum untouched. ✨

Rafe’s POV:

“So, class. What does its structure contribute to the poem “Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night?” The professor drones on, sliding her reading glasses down her nose as she looks out onto the lecture hall. I shrink in my seat slightly, along with the other boys, doing my best to avoid her gaze.

Required reading, my ass. Did she honestly expect us to read this shit on a Thursday night? Barely drug my ass outta bed for class. Thank fuckin’ god. I relax in my seat as one of the front-row nerds saves the basic population who doesn’t give a fuck.

“Repetition. The poet used it to stress his key theme for his readers.”

I nod, scribbling a little line of nothingness on my paper, keeping up with the facade. That shit went in one ear and out the next. “Hey, Cameron.” My frat brother elbows me on the side. “You good for the kegs?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. What else can daddy get you?” I sneer as I roll my eyes at Billy, who laughs and scoffs. “I get paid back first, plus 10%. Get me a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle; I ain’t drinkin’ Coors, and I ain’t pickin’ that shit up either.”

“Thanks, daddy,” he responds in a breathy voice, snatching the wad of cash off my hands. “We need ten kegs between the Deltas and Phi Mu… You good for that-”

“Fuck you, ‘Am I good for that’?” I cut him short through a breathy laugh. “You’re holdin’ the cash in your hands, bitch. Stop askin’. Add an extra 5% for questionin’ me-”

“Rafe.” My stomach sinks as my professor’s eyes zero in on mine. “Am I interrupting something?” The old bird cocks an eyebrow, her annoyance visible, matching my own.

“No,” I answer simply, crossing my arms across my chest and relaxing at my desk.

“Splendid. I assume you know the answer then. Correct?” She challenges me, trying to catch me off guard. A smirk pulls on her lips as she does just that. Cunt.

“I agree.”

“The key insight about death in the poem is, ‘I agree’?” She belittles. I stare at her blankly, blinking a few times to let her know she’s wasting her time. She’s not gettin’ shit out of me. I’ve got an A in this class, bitch. What’re you gonna do about it?

She chuckles weakly, shaking her head at my resistance. “Am I wrong, ma’am? I have a bit of conversational anxiety… If you’d like to repeat the question, I’d love to try again,” I ask through a shit-eating smirk, letting my sarcasm drip all the way through, irritating her even more.

“Anyone else?” She invites in a shrill voice as she dismisses me, looking around the room to find another. Some of my frat brothers snicker in the back, making the professor’s features even more rigid. “Miss. Y/n?” Her demeanor changes instantly, shaking off my defiance, moving on to another one of her perfect pets.

Who’s that?

Holy shit. I swallow hard, feeling my mouth dry up as I see her. She twiddles her fluffy pink pen, acknowledging the teacher with a smile. Y/n? Jesus fuckin’ Christ. How have I never seen her before? I watch as a football player shuffles down the row of the lecture hall. My question, answered in a moment as his broad shoulders cut off my line of sight. No. I stretch back, cranking my neck to get her in my sights again.

“The key insight’s that death should be fought against, even though it is inevitable.” Her beautiful voice fills the lecture hall like a song. The teacher smiles at her again, praising y/n for her correct answer. Y/n grins and nods, averting her eyes as she catches the room’s focus. Her cheeks blush the prettiest shade of pink, matching her glossy lips.

Those lips… I lick my own, thinking about the way they would look wrapped around my cock, drool running down her chin as she deepthroats my dick. I’d grip that little ponytail like a handlebar, using her mouth like a toy. I chuckle at myself, still surprised that my mind went there almost instantly, but I know myself too well. I am who I am.

Y/n looks so goddamn innocent… Not for long. She’s a slut for praise. I can tell. I can work with that.

My eyes work lower, following the curve of her cleavage in her low-cut shirt. Fuck, I can’t wait to get her on top; watch ‘em bounce in my face. I’m gonna cum all over her perfect rack. Tiddie fuck her while she cries for daddy’s dick. Smear that shit- “Earth to Rafe?” I grit my teeth as I’m torn from my fantasy. “Buddy, you good?” Billy chuckles, his voice taunting as he follows my focus to her. “Mmm… Y/n,” he sighs blissfully. “So fuckin’ hot, bro. She’s a Phi Mu girl.”

“No shit?”

“Mhmm… Transferred from LSU. Smart, funny, sexy… But she’s mine, buddy. Aight? Been layin’ down groundwork all semester.” He elbows me playfully, chuckling to himself, actually believing his own words.

“All semester, and you haven’t made a move?” I spit, eyes rolling in his direction. This whole conversation is laughable. Has he been sitting on this all semester? Really? She was mine the second I looked at her, buddy. You’re done.

“Long game,” he defends himself.

“Long game?” I scoff. “Doesn’t sound like you got any game at all...”

“Hey. Fuck off… I know she wants me. Her bedroom faces mine and she doesn’t even close the curtains when she changes anymore; she texts me all the time. See?” He gloats as he thumbs through his phone. I don’t even bother myself with the semantics. Why the fuck does that shit matter? What’s he gettin’ at? “I’m gonna help ‘em after class. They have some car wash fundraiser downtown.”

Is that so? “I like the sound of that,” I smile, feeling my cock growing stiff in my jeans at the thought of seeing her in next to nothing, wet and soapy no less.

“You can’t just take her from me, Rafe,” Billy mutters in annoyance. A laugh rumbles in my chest as I take in his empty words. “I’m not fuckin’ around. She’s mine.”

My head turns slowly in his direction as he bends in mine. I mean, the guy’s big, but I’m bigger. He can fight, but he’s not willing to see that shit through. Billy’s got that moral compass that urges him to stop where I couldn’t care less. And he knows it.

He balls his hands up in fists at his desk, jaw tightening as he does his best to intimidate me one last time. My boy’s a bitch.

“Mine.”

I study her movements as she glides through the halls. Her hair bounces with each step brushing along her backpack, half-hiding her perfect ass. Her bum shakes a little as she walks, just a tease for me. Y/n slight skirt grazes just a few inches below her ass, leaving her bare legs on display.

I wonder what they’d look like over my shoulder… Spread wide on my bed as I devoured her perfect pussy. Damn. I bet she makes some pretty sounds. I can’t wait to hear that, to see her face, as she squirts all over my mouth and cock.

Where are you going, pretty girl?

She hooks a left, heading toward the coffee shop. I continue to follow my girl, watching as she strolls inside. Y/n walks toward the line, stalling next to the case of pastries, eyeing the bottom. Do it for daddy, baby. C’mon. There you go… She drops down, surveying the options. That goddamn ass… Does she know I’m watching? She’s gotta know. The paisley material tugs higher on her thighs, a peek of her round ass poking out the bottom.

She stands up again, taking another step, moving with the traffic flow. Y/n reaches into her purse, pulling out her phone. She smiles as she looks at the screen. Billy Hargrove 💕. I feel my heart pick up pace, my breathing quickening; rage boils inside me.

I gave him an order. This shit’s not up to him. I roll the tension out of my neck, fingers twisting into fists of my own. Where’s the fucking loyalty? She bites her bottom lip and smiles at the message, making me physically ill.

I’ve got distracted by her… Say somethin’ to make her forget about that.

“Uh, hey,” I rasp. Y/n continues to type up a little message. “Y/n?” I reach out, resting my hand on her arm.

“Oh, hi… Umm, Rafe?” She says my name, making everything stand still. I look down at the beautiful eyes and soft, pouty lips, the corners of which curl into a sweet smile.

“Uh, yeah,” I answer, trying to level my tone. “We’re in class together.”

“Yeah… She’s kind of a bitch. Right?” Y/n asks weakly as her eyes soften on mine, showing me pity like my feelings might have been hurt by that little exchange between the professor and me.

“Yeah, she sucks,” I laugh lightly, tossing my head down in fake shame. “The boys and I got a little rowdy last night. I didn’t read that shit. Did you? I mean, obviously-”

“On my way to class,” she giggles as she looks around playfully for our professor.

My mouth falls into an open smile. “Naughty girl. Coast is clear, by the way,” I rasp through a little laugh.

“Good,” Y/n sighs as she tucks some hair behind her ear.

“You’re really smart.” I praise, watching her cheeks blushing again, this time closer than before, making my heart bang in my chest.

“Thank you. Oh, umm, you’re a Delta. Right?” She asks, solidifying her answer as she eyes the embroidery on my polo.

“I am. And you’re Phi Mu?” Y/n grins as she nods in reply. “I’m headed over to your car wash after this.”

“Awesome. Yeah, Lyndsey was worried that the University might question where the money came from if we made anything off selling beer tonight.”

“A cover-up?” I smile down at her as I stuff my hands in my jeans.

“Mhmm,” she breathes. “The party’s gonna be huge. Do you think we’ll get busted?”

I chuckle at the sweet nativity of her question. “‘Course we will. Over 500 students in one place… But it’s a block party. Right? So they won’t be able to pinpoint anybody. Not usin’ the frat’s money directly. Cash. The boys are gonna pay me back as they sell cups. Untraceable.”

“Aww. That’s so nice of you,” she smiles. Her demeanor hasn’t faltered since we’ve spoken. She doesn’t seem to care about the material shit; my Breitling watch, the gold rings on my fingers. Her face didn’t light up when I dropped the fact that I would buy beer for the masses. She just said it was nice… Fuck, she’s perfect.

“I try… But, if we get busted, I’ll blame it on some beautiful Phi girl I know.”

She gasps playfully, smacking me in the chest. “You wouldn’t!” Everything tenses in my body as I fight back my arousal, covering the growing excitement in my slacks with my notebook.

Y/n looks over my shoulder, catching the girl’s eyes behind me as she tells us to move forward. “Sorry,” Y/n sighs apologetically, clearing the open space between us and the register. Y/n steps up to the counter, ordering a latte and a muffin before reaching into her purse.

“Oh, shit. No. Sorry! Let me,” I breathe as I hurry to her side. “I’ll pay for whatever she’s havin’ and a coffee for me: one cream, one sugar. Thank you.”

“Wow. Thank you, Rafe. You didn’t need to do that,” she coos.

“No problem, y/n.”

Gifts… That’s what my girl likes.

Well, shit. She’s gonna need a grand gesture. I can sneak into her room tonight. Check the essentials: dress size, music taste; the little things she enjoys.

I’ll take a look at her nightstand. How could I not? Gotta know what she uses to please herself so I know what I’m working with and what it takes to get her there. I want to know her better than she knows herself.

I follow along, trying to keep my eyes on her face, but I can’t help but roam her body. I’ve never seen anything like it, never seen anything so perfect for me. I never wanted anything so bad.

The barista walks over, setting down my coffee. I suck my teeth, regretting my choice, knowing if I got the same shit as her, I could have stayed. But I shouldn’t. “I’ll come by. Yeah? Don’t kill me… I gotta big ass truck, and she’s dirty as shit.”

“No worries,” she smiles sweetly. “I’ll see you there, Rafe. Oh, and thanks for the coffee again.” She reaches out, resting her hand on my arm.

“Of course, sweetheart.” I test a pet name, watching her smile widen. Just gorgeous.

I step away, walking towards the door. Looking over my shoulder as Y/n pulls out her phone, that same smile for Billy setting on her perfect lips.

He’s fucking dead.

I pull up toward the parking lot, falling into the line of cars; a caravan of dicks with their windows already rolled down. Fuckin’ dogs. I lean out as well, surveying the scene looking for her. Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I watch the gaggle of girls prancing around in their bikinis, excitement building as I frantically look for her.

My heart skips as I see her sporting the most clothes, donning yet the sluttiest outfit of them all. She’s an absolute fuckin’ tease in her cut-off jean shorts and white t-shirt, soaked with water. The material clings to her curves, teasing me with her little triangle top, gathered slightly, barely covering her tits.

She leans over and reaches into the bucket, pulling out a sponge before ringing out the soap. A guy rolls down the window of his Mercedes, bending his neck to watch as she washes the side. I can already tell where this is goin’. He smirks, watching her ass as she leans down, cleaning the rear fender. “Aww, sweetheart,” he soughs, “Uhh…You missed a spot.” Y/n smiles sweetly, lowering to where she was before, making me huff out an aggravated breath.

Her friend walks over with a hose, spraying down the suds that y/n left behind. Tori Clarence, a late-night Delta regular. She says something that makes Y/n laugh. Y/n claps back, teasing her sister through a wicked smile. Tori lifts the gun, spraying y/n with a stream of water, hitting her directly on her tits.

Y/n gasps as her shirt turns from milky white to practically see-through, the chilly water running down her perfect body, making her nipple hard. She panics to get warm, reaching for the bottom of her shirt. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. She pulls it over her body: soft skin, perfect boobs, and wet hair. Little lines of water cascade down her bare skin, rounding her curves catching on the denim of her shorts. Her eyes fall down her body, eyeing her damp state.

“Just do it, baby girl,” I moan, watching as she pinches her top button. I grab mine as well, tugging it open with her. I hiss at the sensation of my rock-hard cock in my hand, feeling some relief. This is the first time I’ve touched myself all day. I was edging myself as I studied her Instagram and TikTok page, saving my favorites to my phone. When I saw her in the parking lot, I swear I could have cum untouched.

I start to fist my cock as she leans over the trunk, her body perfectly positioned like I’m taking her from the back. Goddamn. I’d snake my rough hand up her soft skin, following the curve of her arched spine, drifting into her hair. I’d pull it back, feeling her pussy clench around my big dick. I’d spank her, cracking her tight little ass with the palm of my hand, leaving her red and bruised. Just one of the many ways I’d mark my girl. “Fuck, Y/n,” I moan her name as heat radiates through my body.

She walks along the side of the next car, letting me see her little triangle top: light blue, thin material, the blush of nipples visible. I roll my hand over my tip, whimpering at the sensation, imagining myself hitting the back of her throat as tears pool in her pretty, innocent eyes. Y/n looking up at daddy, mascara running down her cheeks as she throats me like the slut I know she can be. I’d hold her head in my hands, using her mouth to stroke my cock. My perfect little toy…

Fuck. I got a Fleshlight with her name on it. I’m gonna use those pictures when I get home… Gotta get myself ready for tonight. She has no clue what she’s in for. What I wouldn’t give to have my cock in her hand instead of my own. I’d make her jerk me off as she pleaded for my dick deep in that pretty tight cunt. I bet she’s so goddam wet. So, so fuckin’ tight.

“I know, baby. Daddy’s gonna give you his dick. Don’t worry,” I mumble, feeling my breathing start to increase with my pleasure. I thrust into my hand, fucking up into my fist as I watch her undo the loosened side strings of her bikini, tightening it again.

I eye the sign, catching the time. 11-4 PM. Yes… They’ll be here all afternoon. Just need to make a pit stop. Grab a pair of panties. Whatever I can get. I need to taste her. Stuff ‘em in my mouth as I study my prize. My hips stutter as I feel myself about to bust, imagining just how sweet she’ll taste. I work myself quicker, taking hold of my steering wheel as I rut into my hand.

‘Rafe. Rafe. Rafe.’ I can hear it now. See my little whore creamin’ on my cock as I give it to her over and over again.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby girl. Where do you want it?”

‘Deep in my pussy… Please, baby’. She’ll whimper and beg, pleading to get stuffed full. I’m gonna brush my fingers over her swollen clit, making her gush all over my cock and thighs, wetting everything around us until I’m pumping her full of my cum.

I’ll watch it drip out of her puffy pink hole, fucking it right back in, cleaning the rest off with my tongue before spitting it in her mouth.

My perfect cumslut.

I need it drippin’ out of her for days. Watchin’ my little angel walk into class, knowing just how good I dicked her down. I’ll watch her from my seat as she cleans the little cum tear off her inner thigh, slipping it between her lips as her eyes flick to mine, sucking it clean.

No one will have her again. “She was made for me.” The thought alone has my hand faltering; jaw falling slack. My stomach sinks, eyes doubling as she looks in my direction, matching my gaze. “Fuckkk…” My eyes roll back in my skull, toes curling, head thrown to the headrest as I cum harder than I ever have. Shit. I don’t even care if she saw. If she’s any girl of mine, she’d want to see it anyway.

My dirty little whore.

I look down at my jizz covered hand and lap. Goddamnit. I clear the gap between my car and the next before ripping off my shirt and wiping away my mess. I flip my hat on, snagging my protein shaker bottle from the passenger’s seat floor as I try to disguise the real reason I’m covered head to toe in sweat. I do my best to control my breathing, still running high from my climax, hit with the post-nut clarity that she may have seen it all.

She looks happy to see me… Real happy. Y/n smiles, making my heart race again as I meet her gorgeous eyes. She greets me happily, trotting up to my truck. “How are you doin’, sweetheart?”

She dunks her hand into the soapy bucket, grabbing a sponge. “Livin’ the dream,” y/n smiles, moving closer than expected. I take in her perfume, already so familiar to me, the smell of it revving me right up again.

“Sorry. I’m a sweaty mess,” I sigh. Her gaze falls down my body, studying me with a bashful smile.

“Just got done with a workout?” She asks.

“Mhmm…” I smile and nod in reply. “Pay now? Pay later?” I invite as I snag my wallet.

“Now,” she sings. “Donation based, so whatever you’re willing to give.” I thumb through my wallet, plucking out $200.

“Rafe…” She breathes, taking it off my hands. “Are you sure? This is a little much.” Y/n looks down at the cash in her hands before meeting my eyes again.

“Positive,” I assure.

“Well, that is very nice, Rafe Cameron,” she coos. Y/n uses my last name, making my stomach drop. She wouldn’t have known my last name unless she did some digging. I didn’t give it to her; I never said anything in class before today. She must have looked me up on Instagram or Snapchat… Maybe she asked one of her sisters about me.

I fight off a wide smile as she gets started on the car. She takes her time, putting in a little more effort than the cars before. She walks to the front of the cab, leaning over, breast jiggling as she swirls and circles the sponge on the hood. She rises a little higher on her tippy toes, unable to reach the rest.

“Here you go, babe.” Her friend sets down a ladder for Y/n. She bends over once more, the angle alone making my cock rock hard again as I imagine us fucking raw. Tonight… I’ll bend her over on the bathroom counter, just like she is now, the bass of the party on the street not even loud enough to cover her cries and my moans. I’ll pound into her as the slaps of our skin fill the bathroom. Her eyes shift to mine, catching my stare. She doesn’t drop focus, keeping her eyes on me as she continues to scrub. A smirk spreads on her lips, mirroring my own.

Baby girl…

Y/n steps down from the ladder before walking to her friend, grabbing the hose off her hands; taking her job instead. She sprays down the truck, cleaning off the suds. The light breeze catches the flow of water, sending little beads of it flying, catching on her perfect skin. My mouth waters as I imagine licking the glaze of it off her skin. Fuck… I don’t think I can take this.

“Alright, Mr. Cameron. You’re all set,” she smiles as she eyes her work. I bite my lip and nod.

“Thank you, princess. See you tonight.”

I pull forward, watching her from my wing mirror as she greets the next car. Her excitement fades as she welcomes the next. Good fuckin’ girl.

Next stop, Phi Mu.

tag list and masterlist on my pinned post

@starkeysprincess @rafesthroatbaby @gri959 @loserboysandlithium @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @akobx @darlydixon83 @hyperfixationgirl @savayvayblr-blog @oxpogues4lifexo @rafesgiirl @sleepiibunniiii

[captain-huggy-bear]

Scratchy

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, smut - lil' spicy, lil' racy, lil' bit of Lottie is feeling touch starved and it shows 😅 Not for the kiddos at all! Get off my lawn!

Summary: Quinn will do most things to make you laugh, his favourite thing about growing out his beard is the fact that it's a weapon of mass destruction when breaking that laugh out of you. It also makes you a little weak at the knees and hot behind the collar too which is a bonus.

Notes: I haven't kissed someone in 3 years, okay? I miss the scratch of a beard and Quinn has such a good beard at the moment, leave me alone! Don't judge me, just enjoy the fruits of my imagination.

Also Merry Xmas/Happy Holidays for tomorrow, this is my present to you all :) xx

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It's a still sort of evening, the sort of dim, cozy quiet that only ever seems to happen when the night is dark, and you've made your way back to Quinn's apartment after a date to the silence of his apartment.

The lights are low, but warm because Quinn had changed all the bulbs to a soft amber after you expressed how much you missed the warm glow of the old street lights from your childhood. You're curled up underneath Quinn's arm on his white sofa, both of you pretending you're watching Home Alone but really it's just white noise as the two of you cuddle up together. The TV taking a background role to the two of you, the main actors in this play.

Technically, you should consider getting your shoes on, grabbing your jacket and going back to your apartment, the clock ticking closer and closer to 11pm, but you both know that's not going to happen. It's a Saturday and Sunday means no work for you, Quinn has a bit of a gap before he has another game, and there's absolutely zero urgency or desire from you to leave the spot you're in. You've never been more comfortable.

Every date night goes the same way. Quinn picks you up from your apartment, bringing flowers to the door and wowing over your outfit. Looking at you like it's the first time as he calls you beautiful or pretty or any other compliment he can think of, before taking you to dinner somewhere the two of you have been wanting to try. Dinner is always fun, the two of you bantering back and forth, feet hooking together under the table, and hands twisted together on the tablecloth whenever you're not eating. Then Quinn always asks if you want to come back to his for a movie, every single time you say yes as he helps you into your coat and into his car. Like clockwork you always end up curled up together on the sofa, something playing in the background that neither of you are really paying attention to and like always you end up staying the night, the spare toothbrush now not spare, but yours, and a couple of drawers holding your essentials for the inevitable sleepover. Sometimes Quinn jokes that you might as well move in, except it's not really a joke and you both know that the minute your lease is up you'll do just that.

Quinn's cheek is pressed into the crown of your head as you lay back together across the sofa, your legs are tangled like tree roots, one of his hands resting on your thigh that's slung over his lap, the other wrapped around your shoulders, fingers brushing soothing circles into your upper arm. Your eyes feel heavy in that soft, comfortable sort of way, not sleepy but relaxed as you lean into the crook of his neck, pressing the odd kiss to his shoulder every so often - lazy, content, sweet.

He loves moments like this, where he's not captain, just Quinn, just your boyfriend. Where he can watch the way your shoulders relax around him, feel the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips, the press of your lips to his shoulder. It's that sort of slow intimacy that has him tilting your head towards him, hand cupping your cheek as you rearrange yourselves to face each other.

"You're so pretty, baby..." It's a mumble, soft and sweet, his bottom lip poking out just ahead of his top. You're tempted to catch it between your own but don't get a chance before he's pressing his lips to your forehead, dragging them down across your temple and cheek.

The scratch of his beard tickles slightly and it has you twitching and pursing your lips to contain a giggle. That little shake of your shoulders as you try to hide it has Quinn stopping just shy of your lips, hovering in place with that delectable smirk of his that he gets from time to time (but not often enough).

"Does my beard scratch, baby?"

"Nooo..." You deny it even as he teasingly brushes his cheek against yours, purposefully brushing the bristles of his beard against your skin until you squirm in his lap, twisting yourself up and above him to avoid it. Your hands planted firmly on his chest as if that will keep him away from you and keep your skin free of beard burn. As if you're strong enough to stop him if he truly wants something.

It's not a sensation you actually dislike despite the way you scurry out of his reach, in fact, he knows you love when he grows out his beard. The scratch of it always sends little shivers down your spine, but it sets your nerve endings off in a way that always makes you giggle like a little kid. It's cute, has been since the first time he kissed you and you pulled away laughing in such an endearing way he couldn't even be offended.

Quinn doesn't let you scurry away for long, flipping the two of you until you're on your back underneath him, he shifts a pillow under your neck as he does so. A small gesture but one that speaks volumes about his priority of making sure you're always comfortable. His hands bracket your head, nose brushing against yours as he stares down at you under his lashes, big eyes softening at the corners. He's so beautiful that you think you might combust in that moment, having all his attention on you like that makes you squirm.

"You're such a liar. This doesn't scratch? At all?" He doesn't give you much time to answer. Long fingers and wide palm of his hand gently encircling your neck, thumb hitting just underneath your jaw, holding you in place as he scrapes his face against yours roughly, the scratch of his beard across your cheek forcing a giggle from your throat that has him stopping briefly just to savour it. It's one of his favourite sounds.

The reprieve doesn't last long, Quinn moves, rubbing his cheek down from your own to the sensitive skin of your neck. Your legs kicking out at the sensation, fingers grasping the back of his shirt as you laugh harder, despite all protests you lean your head away to give him more room.

"Oh, yeah, this totally doesn't scratch! Not a tickle, huh? Such a liar, pretty girl." He rubs his beard across your neck and shoulder, the sensation has your toes curling, a hand sliding up his neck and into his hair, fingers gripping tight to silky brunet strands.

"Quinn!" You laugh it out, but there's a hint of desire riding your tone, eyelids fluttering closed. The scratch of his beard, one of your guilty pleasures, a secret you think you have kept well, but that Quinn knows all about. Has ever since the first time he shaved and your eyes held nothing but disappointment that you tried your best to hide, same way he knows you love when he keeps his hair a little longer. You're terrible at poker.

"Nuh, this is your punishment for lying to me!" He stops briefly to press a kiss into the underside of your jaw, even then his beard scratches as he does it, an inescapable sensation that has your fingers tightening in his hair, "Not really a punishment though is it, baby?"

"Shut up..." You mumble it out, embarrassment riding your tone even as your toes curl and your back arches into him, a leg rising to wrap around his and pull him closer.

"Oh, what? Cause you're embarrassed? My pretty girl's embarrassed that she likes my beard?" He brushes his cheek back against yours again for emphasis, nose trailing across your cheek.

"Quuiiinnnn..."It's an embarrassed sort of whine you let out as you turn your head into the pillow behind you, cheeks warm as a squirm out of embarrassment and something like desire winds its way to your stomach.

His fingers grip your jaw, turning your face back towards him, not allowing you more than a moment to hide away from him. Quinn's lips find their way to yours, open mouthed and soft as he captures your bottom lip between his. He lowers himself down to you, body squishing yours into the sofa, hips rocking against yours in a targeted fashion. You pull at his hair as you writhe beneath him, legs trying to pull him closer, a sigh breathed against his mouth like a prayer.

"You were saying?"

"Shut up..." It's an absent sort of mumble, unable to really think of anything else to say when he's this close to you, this warm, when all you really want is for him to kiss you again.

"Is that the only thing your pretty little head can come up with right now?" He's being mean as he squishes your cheeks together, lips a breath from yours as he mimicks you, "'Quinn!' 'Shut up!'"

"You're being mean..." You pout even as the familiar burning twisting sensation stirs in your gut, even as you struggle not to wiggle your hips against him and pull him in for a kiss.

"I guess I should get off you then, since I'm so mean?" He starts to move away, your head shaking vehemently no at the illusion of distance, "Oh, no? Thought I was mean?" Quinn attempts to push off and move away from you, arms defined and strong, straightened up next your head as he pretends to pull off you.

"Stay, please?" Your legs lock around him like a vice as he attempts to back up and put distance between you under the pretence of leaving, teasing you even as he has absolutely no intention of actually going anywhere.

"Is that all you want, sweet girl? Just me to stay right," he punctuates the end of his sentence with a roll of his hips back between yours "here?" He's rock hard against you, but he doesn't really care, this isn't really about him, it's about you and all he wants is to get you off. He could care less if he cums tonight. Not when you're whining into his neck and looking up at him like you might cry if he pulls away from you right now. Clingy and needy, desperate for him in a way that has his heart. He loves the idea that its him you want, only him, that no one else can fill that space.

Your neck almost cracks with how rapidly you shake your head, because as much as you want him to stay pressed against you, warm and heavy and delicious, you're not sure if that's enough anymore. Not when Quinn's commanding your attention, domineering over you like the captain he is.

"Use your words, baby, 'm not a mind reader, can't read that pretty little brain of yours." It's breathed out against the shell of your ear, the first stop before his lips trail down the side of your neck. This time the scratch of his beard is anything but funny, a little whimper leaving your throat as he sucks a hickey into your neck, one he's determined to make stay for at least a week, next to the beard burn you're definitely going to have as well.

"Want you, Quinny" Your fingers make their way back to his hair, its grown out so far in the season, long enough for you to tug on it when his own long fingers slide between you and tap your sternum.

"I'm right here, baby." It's frustrating and even more so as you squirm because you can feel his smirk against your neck, know he's purposefully acting like he doesn't know that you want his fingers in you.

"No, want you." you try to emphasis the point without words, too shy, always too shy to say what you're actually thinking and wanting and it always gets to Quinn. God, you're so fucking cute, how you refuse to tell him even while you're rutting against him and tugging on his hair.

"Here?" His fingers slip further down, hand pressed against your belly before slipping around to your waist, grip tight but not enough to leave marks.

You shake your head again, frustration building as you try to wiggle his hand lower.

"No? Mmm.." A kiss lands on the front of your throat and down to the dip where your sternum starts, while his hand moves again this time to your outer thigh, pulling you leg tighter against his hip, "Here?"

"Baby..." your voice actually cracks and breaks and when he pulls back to look at you there are tears in your eyes, frustrated tears that get to him and make him more than a little weak for you. He loves you too much to keep teasing you, pressing a kiss to your lips before mumbling against them.

"Oh, I see, you want me here instead, huh?" Quinn presses his thigh up between your legs, pressing firm against your cunt. You really can’t help it as you roll your hips against the intrusion, the fabric of your underwear brushing against your sensitive clit with each roll. It's an attempt, an effort to find some sort of friction, some sort of relief from the desire that burns in your belly and has your panties slick.

"Sweet girl wants to ride my fingers till she gets off? I got you, baby, don't worry." He doesn't expect a response and he doesn't get one, not really, just a babbling mess of words that broadens his smirk because you’re so pretty rutting against his thigh as you lie underneath him. You tug at his hair so hard he nearly hisses, but he's taken worse hits in a game before and he'd let you pull all his hair out to hear the way you whine under him.

Quinn's mouth covers yours at the same time as his hand slides up your thigh, long fingers pushing your panties to the slide quickly. Even quicker is the way he slides one finger into you, thumb seeking your clit in double time, as you moan into his mouth, hips wriggling against his hand.

"You're so fucking wet, baby, this all for me?" He murmurs it against your lips, thumb circling your clit as he presses a second finger into you, curling them until he finds that spongy little spot inside you, the spot that has you crying out his name and gasping for air, back arching off of the sofa and towards him.

There's not much mercy from Quinn as he thrusts his fingers into you, each time determined to curl against that same spot, his lips kissing from your mouth to behind your ear, sucking and licking hickies into your skin like your his own personal Monet painting.

It’s a third finger stretching you open, eased by the sheer amount of wetness that you drip with, and the way his beard scratches at the delicate skin of your neck, creating a shivery sort of delight through you, that has you cumming so hard and so fast that you think he might have broken a world record. You're gripping so tight around Quinn's fingers that he worries he might lose circulation in them.

You whine and moan his name so loud that he’s grateful he lives alone, no roommates, no brothers, no parents. Your body shivers and rolls, tensing and relaxing as your orgasm rolls through you in waves, as Quinn works you through it, thumb rubbing your clit and fingers still working against you but more gently this time, careful of your overstimulated nerves. “Fuck, there we go, I got you, baby...look at you, so fucking pretty."

Your hips jerk away from his touch, overstimulated and overly sensitive, Quinn lets you push his hand away, drags it out of your panties and catches your eye as he slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking you from his skin. He hums like you're the sweetest thing he's ever tasted and in his opinion you might just be.

His hand, still wet from his spit, cups your cheek gently. You press your cheek into it, eyes blinking up slowly at him as he rubs soft circles there. Soft and tender as he waits for you to catch your breath and come back down from it all, as his eyes watch you for any ounce of discomfort.

“You okay, baby?”

"Mmm...?" Quinn can't help but chuckle at the way you look up at him a little dumb smile on your face, eyes half-lidded and hazy. He’d be worried if I hadn’t seen that look on your face before.

"That good, huh? Got you a little stupid, baby?"

"Mmmm..." Quinn presses soft kisses across your face. Hitting the high points of your cheeks, the top of your forehead, the tip of your nose and the end of your chin. Careful as he helps you come down from it all, you start coming too a little, worried as you call out that he hasn't cum yet and he just shushes you. Tells you this wasn't about him, that he's fine and really, he is. He's happy just servicing you tonight, he knows he'll get his reward in the morning, the soft sort of sex that's all tender and sweet, the best kind.

He eases himself off you, even as you whine about it, hands and fingers grabbing at him, trying to pull him close again, always clingy after you cum.

“Need to get you cleaned up and ready for bed, baby...'m not goin' anywhere, don't worry.” Quinn's hands find yours, pulling you up with him as he stands from the sofa.

He's gentle as he guides you and your wobbly legs to the bathroom, as he helps you undress fully and stand under the warmth of the shower. His hands soft as he washes between your legs and over your sweat soaked skin, pressing soft soothing kisses into the beard burn and hickeys across your neck, even as he smirks proud of himself, of the marks he's left on your skin, claiming you as his for anyone to see.

He's careful as he washes your hair and helps you remove your makeup that has smudged. He's steady and sure as he helps you into one of 'your' favourite t-shirts, one you stole from him and claimed months ago.

You breathe out a soft sigh when you finally curl up under the covers with him, his body engulfing yours in his arms, pulling you back tight against him. You feel safe, so utterly at peace that it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep in Quinn's arms, even as he keeps his eyes on you with a soft smile, more than happy to stay awake just a little longer, just to capture this moment for a little while.

[lvnleah]

Would u write some sort of like teen angsty pregnancy fic? Maybe awfc x teen reader has a pregnancy scare and is scared and embarrassed about talking about it but the team, maybe Steph and Leah and some others notice she’s not been herself for a few weeks and finally after a meltdown get her to share what’s happening and they help her through it and talk to the team doctor and realise it’s all just a false alarm and then go all big sister on her about being careful etc etc

no more secrets | no more secrets.

thank you for this request! :)

November 17th 2024

The morning started like any other day. You’d dragged yourself out of bed, already feeling the nerves and excitement that always came before training in the mornings. But this time, something was off and it had been for weeks. Your stomach churned the moment you stood up, and before you knew it, you were bolting for the bathroom.

Leaning over the toilet, you tried to keep quiet, praying no one in the house had heard. You flushed quickly, wiped your face, and splashed cold water on your cheeks. The last thing you needed was Beth or Steph fussing over you. They’d been on your case enough lately about how tired and off you’d seemed.

You’d been like this for days now. You’d missed your period too and had convinced yourself you were pregnant. 

The small bouts of nausea, the constant gnawing anxiety in your chest, and the paranoia that followed you around like a storm cloud had put you off taking a test. If it came back positive, your life and career were over. But living with Beth and Steph meant there was no hiding when something was wrong.

It wasn’t like you had anyone else to turn to. Your relationship with your parents had always been strained, the kind of distance that wasn’t just physical. Beth and Viv had taken you in after things got tough at home, and they’d become like family. Now you were living with Beth and Steph but even with them, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk about what was happening.

The breakup with your boyfriend a few weeks ago had been messy, leaving you feeling raw and exposed. And now, the terrifying thought that you might be pregnant was too much to bear. Every time someone on the team asked if you were okay, you’d plaster on a fake smile and mumble something about being tired. But you weren’t fooling anyone.

When you made it downstairs, Steph was already in the kitchen, pouring herself a coffee. She glanced up, her brow furrowing as she took in your pale face and the way you were avoiding eye contact.

“Morning,” you mumbled, grabbing a banana to avoid her scrutiny.

“Morning,” Steph replied slowly, her eyes narrowing. “You alright? You look a little…pale.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, taking a bite of the banana to prove your point. “Just a bit of match-day nerves.”

Beth wandered in, still in her pyjamas, and immediately zeroed in on you. “You sure you’re okay, Y/N? You’ve been acting weird for days now.”

“I’m fine!” you snapped, a little too harshly. Both of them exchanged a look, but thankfully, they didn’t push it.

At the stadium, you thought you’d gotten away with it. Warm-ups were rough, you couldn’t focus. Your legs felt heavy, and the nausea lingered but you powered through. Until it all became too much.

During a passing drill, you doubled over, hands on your knees, trying to steady your breathing. Leah jogged over, her face a mixture of concern and confusion.

“Y/N, what’s going on? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, straightening up too quickly and swaying on your feet. Leah caught your arm, steadying you as she called over Kim.

She crouched in front of you, “Y/N, talk to me. What’s going on? Are you sick because if you are, it's okay to sit the game out you know?”

You shook your head, tears pricking your eyes. “I… I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Bullshit,” Katie said bluntly, from beside Kim. “You’ve been off for weeks, and now you’re about to keel over in training. What’s really going on?”

The pressure was too much. Before you could stop yourself, the tears started falling. Kim guided you off the pitch and into the locker room, Steph, Beth and Leah following close behind. The rest of the team stayed back, their worried whispers fading as the door closed behind you.

In the quiet of the locker room, Steph sat beside you, her hand on your back. “Y/N, you don’t have to go through whatever this is alone. Just tell us what’s going on.”

You hesitated, your chest tight with fear and shame. But the concern in their eyes finally broke down the walls you’d built.

Through gasping sobs, you told them everything. The breakup with your boyfriend, the fear that you might be pregnant, and the days of sleepless nights wondering what you’d do if the test came back positive.

“I-I didn’t know how to tell anyone,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared. And embarrassed. What if I am pregnant?”

Kim knelt in front of you, her hands on your knees as she looked up at you. “Y/N, first of all, you’re not alone in this. We’ve got you, okay? Second, we’re going to figure this out. One step at a time.”

Leah nodded. “We’ll go to the team doctor. She’s discreet, you know she is, and she’ll help you figure out what’s going on. No judgment, no pressure.”

You nodded hesitantly, wiping at your face with trembling hands. “I-I just… I don’t know how I let this happen,” you whispered, your voice breaking again. “I’m so stupid, I should’ve been more careful and—”

Beth crouched in front of you before cutting you off, “Hey, none of that. You made a mistake and guess what? You’re human. But now you’ve got us, and we’re going to deal with this together.”

Steph pulled you into a hug and squeezed you. “And if it’s negative, we’ll have a little chat about being safe in the future. But no lectures until we know, yeah?”

A small, shaky laugh escaped your lips, and Leah gave you an encouraging smile. “There we go, there’s that smile,” she said. “Now come on. Let’s get this sorted. And after, we’ll eat some ice cream and watch those awful MTV shows you like. Sounds like a plan?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you murmured, feeling the first bit of relief you’d had in weeks.

The trip to the doctor felt like a blur, Beth, Steph and Leah stayed by your side. The test itself was quick, though waiting for the results was agonizing. Steph kept a steadying hand on your knee, while Beth cracked silly jokes to keep your mind occupied. Leah was just as nervous as you. 

Finally, the doctor returned, her expression calm and professional. “It’s negative,” she said simply, “I think you might’ve pushed yourself a little too hard lately and that’s why you’ve missed your period. A bit of stress.” 

Tears spilt over again, this time from a mixture of relief and overwhelming gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whispered, looking at the girls who had been with you every step of the way.

Back at the house, Leah did exactly what she promised. Ice cream in hand, terrible reality TV playing in the background. But later, when you were curled up under a blanket, Steph gently brought up the conversation.

“Alright,” she said softly, sitting down beside you. “Now that the panic is over, we’re going to talk about being safe, yeah? We’re not judging you, Y/N, but you need to look after yourself. You’re young and talented, and you’ve got your whole career ahead of you. This kind of scare? Let’s make sure it doesn’t happen again, yeah?” She said gently. 

Beth chimed in from the kitchen. “And if you ever feel like you’re drowning like that again, you come to us. No matter what. We’re here, Y/N. We’ve got you.”

You nodded, feeling more secure than you had in months. “I promise,” you said, meaning it this time. 

“No more sleeping with stupid boys, yeah?” Leah added, “Never liked him anyways, you having to have him in your life forever would be hell.”

“The sex wasn't even that good,” you laughed, “faked the orgasm and everything.”

The room erupted into laughter, the tension breaking completely. Leah nearly choked on her ice cream, Beth leaned against the counter, shaking her head with a grin, and Steph fell back against the couch.

“Wait, wait,” Beth managed between laughs. “You faked it and still thought he might’ve gotten you pregnant?”

“I know, I know,” you groaned, covering your face with a pillow. “Don’t rub it in.”

“Oh, we’re absolutely rubbing it in,” Leah teased, her smirk widening. “If you’re gonna put yourself in this kind of drama, at least make sure it’s with someone who knows what they’re doing!”

Steph, recovering, wiped her eyes and patted your leg. “Alright, lesson learned, huh? ”

You laughed, finally feeling light again. “Maybe you need to interview them for me next time.”

Beth grinned. “Oh, don’t worry, we will. Applications will be reviewed by the whole team. If they survive Katie grilling them, then maybe, maybe, they’ll get past us.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you said, still smiling. “No more bad decisions, I promise.”

Leah leaned back against the couch, a smug expression on her face. “Good. Because we’ve got your back, Y/N. No matter what. But also, no more fake orgasms, yeah? Let’s set the bar higher.”

You threw a pillow at her, laughter filling the room again. For the first time in weeks, the knot of anxiety in your chest loosened. You knew things wouldn’t always be easy, but you now knew you always had Steph, Beth and Leah in your corner. 

[ficsiwontwrite]

!!! System! Shen Yuan AU !!!

Airplane wasn’t changing things, and no matter what tasks the system tried to put forward the only difference in the world was that the An Ding Peak Lord was more stressed and overworked

So a new variable was needed, and since the system tasks have been completed perfectly chances are the problem is in the system… so the solution is to shove the work to someone sentient who would be invested into changing the story!!

So yeah airplane gets a notification that the system is being upgraded and suddenly his terrible system has a personality

System Shen yuan would consume (?)all the information the original system had and before going online would have created an entire tasks tab that include daily/weekly/monthly/yearly/unlimites tasks plus main tasks and as soon as he was online he would great airplane with a passive aggressive message and send him to work

Shen yuan would be much more generous with points but he hates the shop system, the dumb things that can be bought there will them have descriptions like “this scenario pusher will make clothes tear like in a bad horny donghua” being 100% ready to turn it into sqh himself if he dared to be a scum and use it on some unsuspecting woman

The first time sqh failed a s!sy task he was full of dread, punishments are very trauma inducing after all, but them the worst punishment sy can bare to deal is making him 1st pov some of binghe’s more tame suffering, like hunger, bullying and the tea spill first meeting… which could have been bad if the senses and feelings where in sync but it was all toned down to zero… SQH them understands the new system as some kind of softie tsundere lmao

S!sy would feel bad about the harsh punishment and send some easy task with a high reward the next day….. “there needs to be a carrot, not only a stick!” (I do love me a dumbass shen yuan)

They of course would banter and end up caring about each other, everytime sqh says/does something sy thinks is stupid he’ll give tasks like “read 10 books about x and write a 10k words essay about x” or when he is tossed around in a mission or by mbj he’s send missions for Jim’s to get stronger…

By the second month there’ll be missions like “eat 3 times a day”, unfortunately for shen yuan sqh already trusts him and feels safe enough to bend the tasks, so not only he will half-ass boring tasks to get the hide of y magical beast and making a coat (sending liu qingge to do it, mostly) which sy approves for being smart BUT he would also eat like melon seeds instead of stopping to eat full meals

Shang Qinghua will end up having to scroll detailed 1k worded self-care tasks…

This au would be focused mostly in cumplane dynamics yes but I thinks it would be really hilarious if sy started to make sqh do tasks that would take him close to xxx because sy wants to see them (choose the SQH x SY x ??? of your preference)

Of course s!sy would be making his mental gymnastics and justifying his tasks as totally no homo “wdym i want to look to lqg’s pretty face? I just want you to be strong enough not to dumbly die!” “Yes you do have to ask for a book on monsters from Shen Qingqiu himself, he’s so greedy he must have hidden away the best one” “you get hurt so frequently, you simply must go to Mu Qingfan and get personal classes on first aid” “No, you can not send a disciple with a mensage to Yue Qingyuan, it’s important to communicate face to face with your sect leader in such matters” etc etc

[azzo0]

Mug Cakes

Summary: you and Touya bake mug cakes at one a.m. Pairing: Dabi x reader wc: 1k

You sighed, adjusting your head on the fluffy pillow, trying to get yourself to sleep, which was proving difficult with every ticking second. You came to see your boyfriend, Touya, at his parents' house this afternoon. It was fun seeing him bond with his younger siblings now that he was finally released. It had started raining sometime in the evening, which is why you were spending the night here.

You faced the ceiling with a groan, hoping this position would be easier on your back. Yes, the futons were comfortable, but you weren't used to sleeping on the floor.

"Can't sleep?" Touya asked, his voice low. You turned your body to him with a sheepish smile that answered his question. He hummed, taking a hand out of the blanket and placing it on the floor. Your fingers drifted to his, tracing his fading scars.

"I can't sleep either," he admitted. "It feels weird being here again."

"I'm here if you want to talk about it." You kissed his knuckles.

He smiled that mischievous smile of his, and you knew he was about to say something silly, "I'm craving chocolate mug cakes, actually."

"It's one a.m." You deadpanned.

"Mug cakes are the perfect one a.m. dessert."

You laughed softly, careful to keep your voice low to not wake the others up, "And do you know how to make mug cakes?"

"No, but I do have a recipe saved on my phone," he sat up, kicking the blanket off his body. "You up for it?"

You knew he had zero kitchen experience, but you agreed because it was not every day you got to bake with him, even if it probably meant eating burnt mug cakes.

You guys tiptoed past Natsuo's room, stifling giggles like teenagers, when you heard him snore loudly. You had to shush Touya when he stopped by Shoto's room to slide the door open and snicker at how he slept looking like a log. You pinched his arm and dragged him towards the kitchen.

You got the ingredients ready while Touya scrolled through his saved videos, looking for the mug cake recipe.

"Hm, this should be easy." He cracked his knuckles and opened a cabinet to look for two large mugs.

He began shifting plates and cups around, and you had to remind him to be quiet, "Careful, Touya. You might wake someone up with all that that noise."

He found two large mugs and set them out. You took one mug for yourself and stood beside him to look at the recipe and keep an eye on Touya's measurements because the last time he tried baking cupcakes, he measured the flour wrong, and they ended up looking like clumps of rocks.

You and Touya cracked jokes and suppressed giggles as you combined the ingredients with a fork. He lay on the floor with a hand clapped over his mouth, trying not to let the laughter escape his mouth after you told him about your co-worker falling off a chair in the middle of an important meeting.

You froze, watching tears escape his eyes as he curled into himself, letting out a few snorts. You smiled at the sight, a warm feeling of contentment taking over your insides. You never thought you'd see the day where Touya openly laughed his heart out over something that wasn't even that funny.

"Ah, man, I would'a loved to see his face." He finally stood up with a hand on his stomach, a big smile plastered on his face. He wiped his eyelashes and sighed.

"Didn't know you found people falling off chairs so funny." You grinned with a shake of your head.

"It's the funniest thing ever." He stirred the batter in his mug some more before putting it down and looking at it thoughtfully, "It's missing something."

You looked at the recipe on his phone again, "Nope, we've added all the ingredients."

"How could we forget chocolate chips." He tutted, going towards the snacks cabinet and returning with a pack of Oreos and chocolate chips. He threw a handful of chocolate chips in both your mugs, followed by two Oreo cookies in the centre.

"That's a lot of chocolate." You muttered.

"It's gonna taste so good." He put his mug in the oven and fiddled with the settings.

In the meantime, you washed the measuring cups and forks, not wanting to make a mess for Rei to clean in the morning. You dried your hands and crept behind Touya, who was busy staring at the microwave, his face glowing from the orange light behind the glass. You hugged him, cheek mushed on his back.

He turned around and kissed your eyebrow, resting his head on yours as you guys watched the mug spin in the microwave. He took out the mug when the oven dinged, handing it to you right away. It smelled sweet and divine, making your mouth water. You grabbed a spoon and helped yourself to the mug cake while Toya popped the other mug in the microwave.

"Oh, this is so good," You moaned. He took a spoon and scooped out a giant chunk of your mug cake.

"Touya, no fair!" You gasped, holding your mug away from him.

"Oh, shit, this is good." He reached for your mug again, but you hid it under your shirt.

"Nuh-uh, I'm not giving you more."

"Fine," he chuckled and lowered his face down to yours, dragging his tongue on your lips to pick up crumbs of the cake. "Damn, it tastes good on your lips too."

Your face heated instantly, and Touya barked a laugh at your reaction. You huffed and took out the mug from under your shirt when the oven rang again. Your mug cake was safe now. Not long into your guys' relationship, you had learned to never offer your food to him because he always took giant bites and spoons out of your food.

"You wanna watch a movie in the room while we eat?" You asked.

"Is it going to be another boring space movie?"

"Space movies are not boring, but you can pick."

"Sure, let's go."

You got off the stool and turned to the door, almost jumping when you found Natsuo staring at you guys with betrayal and shock in his eyes as his mouth hung open, "You guys baked mug cakes without me?!"

[totallynotsloughjykk]

ask and you shall receive. here's another rant I love love LOVE the way complicated situations are set up in TGCF. they're so well thought-out and genuinely hurt. the characters are all really fleshed out and the relationships between them? favorite thing in the series I know this is my 3rd time bringing up mu qing but this was the first thing I thought of. the 33 gods scene was a shitty situation for xie lian and mu qing's relationship because: 1. xie lian was at his lowest point. he had barely any support and he was trying to cultivate in hopes of regaining his position in the heavens or at least some peace of mind. 33 gods come to kick him out and he sees his (2nd after feng xin which will be saved for another rant) closest childhood friend among them which brings him some relief only for him to support them 2. mu qing was barely building up his crumbs of a reputation and he came across the worst possible scenario while trying to form some connections within the heavens. he's not heartless so he probably also felt like an asshole for what had just happened (also the parallels between them. sob.) but he couldn't actually do shit because his reputation would just go back to zero in an instant if he tried to take xie lian's side it was a lose-lose situation in the end + mu qing's poor communication skills. another one of my favorite examples is quanyin as a whole yin yu doing his best to be kind and fair only for it to backfire terribly. the command he gave quan yizhen while he was wearing the brocade immortal was a moment of fury of frustration that cost him his entire godhood. he grew mixed feelings for him after the whole incident and.. pretty much quan yizhen's entire godhood on the other hand, quan yizhen had no idea what happened or why yin yu avoided him. he cannot possibly hate him and it's frustrating for yin yu. he never understood or got the hints yin yu was desperately trying to give him. imagine your most reliable, loved person telling you to go die and avoiding you for something you don't even know

in conclusion, mxtx is amazing at putting characters through terrible things

[mediocretosubpar-soup]

so postcanon, hua cheng ascends as god of true love. xie lian is delighted. hua cheng is like mehh been there done that except danxia is so genuinely happy for him that he ought to do this right. how hard can it be, the cult can't be all that big. cue hua cheng opens his new palace door and immediately is buried beneath prayer scrolls. it's a lot but hua cheng is no pushover. unfortunately, most of the the gods don't share xie lian's enthusiasm and do their best to stonewall him. sure, xie lian, mu qing and fengxin (the latter two with lots of schadenfreude) would help but hua cheng will die again before he admits, he needs help especially not from mu qing or feng xin. he could make he xuan help but just imagining that asshole's smug, judging face gives hua cheng hives. so it's prayers in heaven, prayers in ghost city, prayers at home. whereever hua cheng he is answering at least six prayers at the same time.

until one day, hua cheng is toiling away at his prayers at the xie lian's temple, while xie lian's gone out and shi qingxuan arrives. moments later, one of ling wen's gormless middle officials shows up to heave more prayers onto hua cheng. the poor sod dumps them all over the temple, it's total chaos. hua cheng is ready to tear their head off. shi qingxuan steps between them, refers by the middle official by name, assures hua cheng that they didn't mean it and they'll sort the prayers for him. the middle official tries to abscond but shi qingxuan baits them with a conversation. after they're done and the middle official has left. hua cheng tells shi qingxuan that the official is going to tell everyone who wants to hear about the miserable life of the formerly, mighty wind master. shi qingxuan is like maybe so but all of this is sorted now. then he gives hua cheng three names of middle officials and what they can be bribed with and explains ling wen's filing system. hua cheng thinks to himself that shi qingxuan really knows what they're talking about. answering prayers is much easier. he's still thinking about it when he xuan visits and he is struggling again. so apropos of nothing, he asks he xuan whether he got any plans for the former wind master and he xuan says something like i don't care what they do with their life. hua cheng kind of asks, so if some god asked him to become their official you wouldn't care? he xuan thinking that no god will do that, says no idgaf. hua cheng is like ok.

and then he asks/coerces (begs) shi qingxuan to become his middle official because shi qingxuan is really good at that.

he xuan lied, btw, he doesn't have zero feelings about that.

[youhideastar]

Why you should watch Story of Yanxi Palace

It seems ridiculous to do a promo post for literally the most-watched television show on the planet, but I follow a lot of accounts that post cdrama gifs, and I don't think I've ever seen a single Yanxi Palace gif, and that's a tragedy.

Story of Yanxi Palace is a 2018 period drama with 70 episodes, set in the harem of the real-life Qing Dynasty Qianlong Emperor and featuring some real-life events and characters from that period. Our heroine is Wei Yingluo, a teenager who enters the Forbidden City as a maid, seeking to solve and then avenge her sister's murder. It was a smash hit when it was released, although it was later censored. You can find it on Viki.

If you liked Nirvana in Fire, you will probably like Yanxi Palace: Wei Yingluo is very similar to Mei Changsu in all the best ways, in that she is devious, ruthless, occasionally very funny, driven by revenge, and possessed of a fundamental core of decency despite her scheming ways. She is also a fifteen-year-old girl. (At the beginning of the show, that is - the drama spans more than a decade.)

Wei Yingluo's relationship with the primary love interest, Fuca Fuheng, is also just *chef's kiss.* She suspects him of her sister's murder, tries to secretly off him a couple times, and he then confronts her about it and hands her a knife, saying, "If you really think I killed your sister, you can kill me now. I won't stop you." We've all seen this scene a dozen times in assorted movies and shows; she loves him so she can't bring herself to do it; she'll drop the knife, they'll embrace--

Reader, Wei Yingluo takes that knife and STABS HIM IN THE CHEST. She stabs him in the chest!!! How can you tell she likes him? Because he survives the experience. Barely.

After that, you think this is a Mei Changsu/Mu Nihuang pairing where there's a relatively normal person who loves their devious little meow meow--and then Fuheng turns around and gaslights Yingluo with zero remorse and you realize that this pairing is actually 100% deranged 4 deranged. The shit these two do to each other and for each other is completely unhinged. At one point, she kills his wife and the two of them never talk about it. Not before, not after, not ever. Legendary. He calls her his zhiji. They will convince you that the height of romance is marrying other people but knowing one another so deeply that you can coordinate intricate political schemes without ever communicating with each other because you can predict one another's moves with perfect accuracy.

Also, the costumes, sets, and props are ridiculously beautiful (and historically accurate!), the characters are like 20 incredibly intelligent and complex women and then like 4 hot dudes, and the score is incredible.

Is there queer rep, you ask? Nothing explicit. But there are a lot of female characters who have very intense, passionate relationships with other female characters. Also, there's a subplot where the Emperor suspects the Empress is having an affair with one of his consorts and you can see his point; finally, there's a character who is intentionally set up to have a very ambiguous sexual orientation: I think you could plausibly argue that he's ace, that he's bi, that he's gay, or that he's straight. I'm not sure even he knows.

There's a lot more to love about it, but when a show's been streamed more than 15 billion times (yes, with a b), I feel like I don't have too much to add. 😂 Give it a try!

[ask-mu-zero]

(@askthecosmicprince ) The small mew tilted his head as he stared at the strange machine the other mews were working on. “Hello there, what exactly are you building? It looks very impressive!”

µ-0, excitedly: Yay! The holograms are working!

µ-0: Anyways, to answer your question, we made this machine to utilize the power of this universe to hopefully give us a better connection to the multiverse, and potentially achieve multiversal travel!

ω-1: you might want to explain the holograms

µ-0: Oh right! You see, with the exception of a select few individuals, whenever somebody would come here we wouldn’t be able to see them, like they were in a different plane of existence. So we made some holograms to transfer the images to us so we can see you!

[princelylove]

Part two of my interpretations of la squadra esecuzioni. 

Ghiaccio is like a smaller Risotto. He doesn’t have a very distinct waist. He’s so picky with his food that it’s a wonder he even got that much distinct muscle- or maybe it isn’t, cutting is effective (in moderation, starving will only set you back on your progress). He mainly works out for his job, Ghiaccio doesn’t really care what he looks like. 

He has a strong nose, and although his lips are small they aren’t quite in the thin category, he has really nice bone structure… He just doesn’t realize it because he’s horribly insecure and feels inferior. He copes by not trying, so he can always rely on the ‘Well if I actually tried it’d be better’ type of logic. Once a year Prosciutto gets to wax his eyebrows. 

Not only does he know what mogging is but he knows where it originated. Because he was there. I’m dying on the hill that Ghiaccio knows what green text is. He’s appealed countless bans that all sounded like “I’ve never even fucking been on /mu/ you stupid fucks” (that all got approved the night of). He fills his mind with toxic masculinity, but isn’t into alpha male bullshit. Somehow he thinks hunter eyes are a thing but he draws the line at “smooth brained jock bullshit.” 

I cap Ghiaccio’s height at 5’9” or 175 cm. 5’10” or 177 cm with his shoes on. He’s got fantastic posture for someone that sits at a computer all day. Ghiaccio’s sensitive about it, teasing him about his height is a death sentence. What a good way to end up in a freezer. 

While he has a horrible temper, he cools off the second he gets it out of his system. Just moves on after smacking the shit out of his designated rage pillow like nothing happened. At least he’s coping. Not well, but an outlet is an outlet. It’s the same when you piss him off- he gets upset, says things he doesn’t mean, and then moves on. He apologizes like a father would- none at all, but brings you a snack or buys you something you’ve been asking for. He’s a big fan of the “Check if there’s mail.” approach. He genuinely does feel bad, but he’s not a little bitch that’s gonna tuck his tail in between his legs because he made his darling a little sad. 

He smells like absolutely nothing at all. It’s actually a bit frightening. Zero smell presence. 

Melone keeps every medicine known to mankind in his room, under his bed. He’s a great person to befriend if you find yourself in the hands of one of his roommates, but to be entirely honest with you, he’s selfish. He doesn’t really care about your agony because it’s got nothing to do with him, how does it benefit him to give you meds when he doesn’t even know you? (He budges if you belong to Prosciutto or Ris- he’s not pissing off his pseudo mom and dad.)

Melone is thin and mainly gets his exercise from running. His stand takes care of hits for him, he just needs to worry about the set up, so it isn’t really an issue. There’s no need for him to lift heavy, or really lift at all. Doesn’t really matter if he’s stronger, he just needs to be faster than you are. Sure, bash his head in, pick him up, aren’t you getting tired, though? Real sleepy? Go to sleep, it’s gonna be ok. 

Mel’s stand is possessing an actual computer he modified. He runs tests consistently with the blood samples he’s managed to store in his room- he knows the best combinations to get him what the boss wants, and as long as he’s got ample blood left over, what’s wrong with killing a few juniors off in the name of science? 

I classify Melone as apathetic and a bit mean. He’s an asshole. He gets a lot better once he’s comfortable with you, look at how much he plays with the rest of his ‘family.’ It’s just that he doesn’t know you, and doesn’t want to waste time on you if you’re going to get in his way long term. When you do spark his interest, of course, he gets obsessed and oh-so-curious. 

He’s still very playful- Melone likes to hang off of Formaggio’s shoulders and tease Ghiaccio, but he’s calm. He’s not very smiley, he’s not very giggly, he just can’t force himself to react in the ‘correct’ way most of the time, but he’s totally having fun! Melone loves you a lot, he just doesn’t look like he’s having fun most of the time. It’s hard for him to care about things, but you quickly rotted his brain- isn’t that testament enough? 

His seemingly cold nature makes it hard for him to form genuine bonds. Melone thrives with other difficult types- he shares a room with Ghiaccio (alternatively Formaggio) because they’re short on space and Prosciutto won’t share a room since The Incident they get along surprisingly well. 

In the beginning of your new life, it isn’t uncommon to hear Formaggio gently push Melone in the right direction. “Come on, Mel, you’re scarin’ the poor thing. Smile a little.”  (Which is normally met with “I’m running tests, go away, Formaggiooo…”) Melone’s shy- he’ll just stay off to the side, and speaks to you in a very formal manner. You might feel like you’re being tested on by a medical student. Which is wrong! Melone doesn’t have any medical experience! I mean, he’s taken classes, but he’s a genetics student. Oh, yeah, he’s in university. 

Once he gets used to you, he falls into his normal, playful routine. He still doesn’t smile too much, but he’ll speak more openly, which… is it better to not know what the iv in your arm is, or to fully understand? Melone’s quite the talker, and is happy to (over) explain. 

Melone doesn’t hide you like the others would- it isn’t shameful to him to kidnap a whole person, and he needs them to keep you here when he isn’t. Morals aside, you need to be socialized. It isn’t good to keep someone isolated and cramped in a room they don’t like. If you don’t want to talk to him, talk to anyone else. You’ve got options. Maybe not Prosciutto, or Illuso, they’re not going to play host as easily… (Although Prosciutto might ask what Melone’s “little friend” is gonna be having for dinner)

Formaggio’s body type is similar to Guido’s. He’s fairly bulky. Formaggio spends all of his free time playing whatever sport he can think of, neglecting to do his chores (You’re starting to think he likes Prosciutto yelling at him), annoying Melone, and blowing your phone up. He spends a lot of time working out, but he considers that to be more of a daily ritual than a hobby. 

Since his only real responsibility is taking care of his cat and his job, he’s not stressed at all. He’d be a lot more stressed if he had to cook, and clean, and, I don’t fucking know, be an adult or whatever- like the shit Pro and Ris do all day!

If you ever ask him about it, he’ll go “I mean, it sucks that Boss is watching us and all, but to be honest, who cares? You don’t like being on camera? It loooves you.” and leaves it at that. 

His psychology is a bit odd. He seems like a typical, immature guy- the type of guy you meet at college that does sports and seemingly nothing else. No interest in philosophy, religion, general culture, etc. While I think that his personality is close to a casual type like Guido or Squalo, he seemingly lacks any depth at all. There’s no “Oh, he’s actually very smart!” thing going on here, Formaggio is painfully average. There’s no reason for him to be a mafioso other than bad timing and a lack of drive to get away from it.

He’s actually pretty simple. He’s just a guy that wants to relax and have a little fun- who doesn’t like fun? But Formaggio is crazy insecure. He takes almost every negative reaction as a jab- neutral ones, too. If you’re not into his lifestyle, what, he isn’t fuckin’ good enough? Huh? You think he’s some fuckin’ nobody that doesn’t have the real talent it takes to be where he is? 

You can calm Formaggio by stroking his ego, and by that, I mean stroking him. He’ll forget about any transgression if he finishes a few times. 

He only speaks italian, and will “Huh?” you to death if you do not. He’ll buy you an italian-english dictionary to help you understand him, but won’t make any real effort to learn english.  

Formaggio’s kitty was a stray before he snatched her up. She’ll try to comfort you while Formaggio is gone- but she’ll abandon you if he comes back. Little traitor. He calls her a ridiculous amount of pet names- sometimes he’ll reuse whatever name he calls you on her, and will pretend he’s always called her it. Awww, my little pwincess, my cuuuutie, my baby, my angeelllll. He treats her very well- she’s a bit pampered.  While Formaggio’s cat is able to relax fully in his arms, you probably will not, unless you’re a masochist. He loves good, old fashioned sadism- no prissy mind games or punishments, he does it for absolutely no reason other than how funny your reactions are. He’s like that asshole boyfriend that throws a basketball into your face and laughs when you groan. Come on, it’s just a ball, don’t be such a baby. It’s just a joke. Aw, your face stings? You want some ice? Hey, that’s a great idea, why don’t you go get him something from the fridge?

[eomayas]

new thing (pt. 6) • pcy

pairing: chanyeol x f!reader, age gap, established relationship

synopsis: your break with chanyeol lasts longer than expected and you try to make something work.

genre: heavy angst, smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!! bit of fluff

warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!! lots of angst and unspoken feelings, swearing, pwp (kinda) p in v, mentions of alcohol and drinking and being drunk

a/n: bruh yall inspired me to writeeee so here you go! i love reading all of your messages omg they’re so funny and sweet! i hope you like this 🩷 thanks for all of the support

series masterlist

a ‘little while’ turns into 2 weeks. the school year begins within those 14 days, and you throw yourself into your courses, occupying your time with 1 credit classes so you don’t have time to think about anything other than graduating and your education. when you do have a moment to yourself and to think, you force yourself to think of everything but chanyeol. it’s hard, since nearly everything reminds you of him. you’ve thought about texting him but resisted, chickening out at the last second.

it’s a friday night and you have no set plans. seulgi is going out with her boyfriend, so you have the house to yourself and a movie queued up on your laptop. ideally, you’d have someone to spend this quiet friday night in with, but alas. you’ve been single before; you’ll survive a movie night alone.

looking through your cabinets, you sigh at the lack of snack options, and things you want to eat. it’s been awhile since you’ve been shopping, having gotten used to being around somebody who constantly cooked for you, or took you out to eat. it’s the little things about not being with chanyeol that you feel like you took for granted. in this case, it’s grocery shopping.

grabbing your keys and purse, you throw on a sweatshirt before heading out of your apartment and down to your car. you hop in and make the short drive down to the corner store.

a quick glance around the parking lot would’ve told you to stay in your car, but it slips your mind as you’re here for a snack run, not expecting to be here long.

you beeline for the chip aisle, grabbing a bag of chips for yourself and another bag for seulgi. you stay there for a second, scanning a few other options before feeling satisfied and going to the coolers. there, you grab an iced tea and a water before getting ready to close the door, but a voice makes you freeze and stiffen, the door stuck mid-swing in your palm.

“bro, stop fucking around,” you know that voice better than you know your own. you’ve dreamt about it constantly, wishing for it to call on you, to say sweet things to you, like it used to. but now, it’s not yours to even want in that way.

slamming the cooler door, you quickly spin on your heel, racing down the aisle, not paying attention to where you’re going, but knowing that you need to get out. but you slam into a hard body, nearly knocking you backwards. “holy shit!” the man says, quickly turning around and reaching out an arm to steady you. “are you okay?” he asks.

footsteps round the corner, curses flowing from the mouth that belongs to the one you want more than anything, more than these snacks in your arms. “what the fuck did you do now? sorry for my cousin, he’s an id-“ his voice cuts off when he gets closer, stopping a few feet behind jongin. you raise your head, your eyes zeroing in on chanyeol.

“it was my fault,” you mean to say it to jongin, to apologize for not paying attention, but you can’t rip your eyes away from chanyeol. but now you’re apologizing to, technically the wrong person, but they both deserve two different types of apologies. “i wasn’t thinking.” you say, wondering if he can read between the lines and take it as an apology for the end of your relationship.

“he’s an idiot,” chanyeol says, making jongin scoff. there’s that glimmer in his eyes, the one that doesn’t fail to make you smile every time, but now you hold it back. you almost forget jongins there, until he mutters that he’s going to leave you and chanyeol alone.

there’s an awkward silence before chanyeol takes a single step closer to you. “hey,” he says, offering you a small smile. your heart hammers wildly in your chest, feeling like it’s going to crack through your bones and beat right out of your chest. “how’ve you been?” he asks, his voice softer than usual.

“fine. and you?” it’s like making small talk with somebody in an elevator; it’s terrible. you want to scream and run out of here, but you’re rooted to the floor and don’t trust your legs. you wonder if he can see your trembling hands, or if the snacks in them are doing enough to obscure their shaking.

“i’m good!” he says, and he sounds like he means it. it breaks your heart again, because there’s been countless nights where you’ve lain awake with thoughts of him running through your mind. you’re not even to being ‘good’, barely surpassing being ‘fine’.

you mumble a ‘that’s good’, and he says he’s going to go find jongin. “it was nice seeing you, y/n,” and you could call to your knees in tears, because it’s the first time he’s said your name in 14 days and you miss how it sounds coming from him.

“you too,” you squeak. he glances down at your arms full of snacks and gives you a small smile. you’re about to return it until you glance down at his hands, and feel your blood run cold.

chanyeol follows your line of sight to his hands and tries to indiscreetly hide the box of condoms, but you’ve already seen them. he can feel his neck heating up and feels the need to explain himself, that no, he has no intentions of using them soon, but the words don’t find him. your throat burns and your eyes sting, but you manage to not any tears fall, or let your voice give way to what’s happening inside of you when you say, “i’m gonna go,” and speed walk away on shaky legs.

luckily for you, there’s nobody in line at the check. you throw your stuff down on the counter and glance over your shoulder to make sure you don’t see either chanyeol or jongin. you pay as quickly as you got in line, thank the cashier and grab your bag of stuff.

chanyeol and jongin are walking towards the checkout as you’re taking your stuff, and you practically sprint out with how fast you walk and the strides you take.

outside, your eyes come in direct contact with his black corvette and you scream internally, wondering how you missed it when it’s right there, practically in front of the doors and not too far from you own car.

you feel like some sick joke is being played on you, and you throw your stuff into the backseat before speeding out of the parking lot and down the road. you drive half a mile before your eyes start to well up with tears, and drive another 500 kilometers before turning on a random street and pulling over to bawl into your hands.

you allow yourself to let go, to let nasty, ugly sobs from feo within your chest escape. you shake against the steering wheel, wishing you never went out for food you have no appetite for anymore, so that you could avoid seeing him. by the looks of it, he’s truly no longer yours because the two of you rarely, if ever, used condoms. there’s somebody else who’s going to get to experience him in ways that you long for.

when you get back to your apartment, you forego your movie plans and instead text some friends and ask if they’re busy. they tell you they are, that they’re going out (like most people you know), and ask if you want to come. you don’t hesitate to say ‘yes’, and start getting ready. chanyeol isn’t going to ruin your night, and you’re not going to sit here and mope and be single.

nearly two hours later, you’re ready and your friends wait for you downstairs. you wear the littlest black dress you own, one that barely covers your ass and is backless. it’s cowl neck is low, showing a good amount of cleavage, and your heels are high. you don’t intend to go home with somebody, but you plan to get attention in whatever way it comes.

shortly after you get to the club, drinks are practically thrown your way. decent enough men buy you drinks, and in return get a bit of your conversation before you always dismiss yourself to your friends. every time a man comes up to you, you make a mental list of every way he is not chanyeol, comparing everything down to their finger nails. of course, no man is going to compare to him, at least for now, so you drink until you start to forget what he looks like with your eyes closed.

you do cut yourself off, though, not wanting to vomit all over everything and everybody in this club. you take a seat in your section and go on your phone, checking your instagram to see all the photos and videos you’ve been tagged in tonight. you repost all of them to you stories, smiling as you type out silly captions for all of them.

one of your friends comes over to you, drunk and slurring as she tells you to come dance. you abandon your phone and get into the circle with your friends, dancing sensually with whatever the DJ decides to play.

by the time you call it quits for the night, you’ve sobered up enough to make it safely into your apartment. you stumble down the hallway to your bedroom as quietly as you can walking in heels on wood floors, and fall onto your bed. you lie there for a moment before you remember to wake yourself up and at least take your shoes off so you can go to bed.

plugging your phone into the charger, you look at your screen and see you have an instagram dm from chanyeol. your stomach flips as you unlock your phone and click on the notification, biting your bottom lip.

he’s replied to a video on your story, one of you dancing. but you’re not dancing alone, you’re dancing on a man, his hands holding onto your hips and lower back as you throw your ass on him. you don’t remember doing this, and the man doesn’t look familiar but it definitely happened.

real_pcy: so this is what we’re doing now?

11:53pm

you: we’re not together.

1:31am

real_pcy: lmao alright.

1:35am

you wake up hours later with a raging headache, a terrible taste in your mouth, and the feeling that you did something bad. you pat the bed next to you to make sure there’s nobody there, and sigh in relief when it’s empty and just pillows.

you can barely remember anything that happened after you got in the uber to the club and before you got into your bed. you remember bits and pieces, but they’re muddled and incomplete.

a frown takes over your features as you try to remember, but nothing solid comes to mind. you glance over at your digital clock that reads 12:12pm, and sigh, sitting up and groaning when your head feels like somebody is stomping on it.

grabbing your phone, you gasp and let it slip out of your grasp. it’s a bad idea to scramble out of bed to get it, but you do anyway and pick it up from the floor. you frantically open it and go to your messages, expecting to see chanyeols name at the top, but you don’t. you frown again as you try to remember where you messaged him, or if you made it up.

an instagram notification pings on your phone like a lightbulb going off in your brain, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you check your dms. again, his account isn’t at the top, and your frown turns into a scowl. “what the fuck?” you mutter. you go to the search tab and type in his username. it pops up, but when you click on it, it says ‘follow’, rather than ‘following’ like it should.

your brain rolls around in your skull as you realize what’s happened, what he’s done. even during your little break, you guys remained mutuals on social media. of course, you never messaged each other, but no blocking transpired. clearly, he made the first move and removed you from his account entirely, making you an outsider.

you decide to do one better, and block him completely. you block him everywhere else, but hesitaste on his number. that’s different, feels more personal. you still want him to have access to you and vice versa, assuming he didn’t block you first.

backing out of his contact, you leave his number untouched and sigh. if you thought it was over before, it truly is now.

fourteen days turns into twenty-six, but you’re not counting. it’s been school, school, school, for you, and if you’re not on campus then you’re most likely asleep, unless it’s the weekend. you find things to occupy your two days off, like doing things with seulgi when she’s not with her boyfriend, or taking yourself out. you’ve been getting your hair done lately, wanting to change something in your control.

you drain the last of your coffee and rinse out the mug in the sink. an unfolded bag of laundry waits to be put away, on the couch, and you saunter over to it and pick it up and take it to your room.

you dump the bag onto your bed and start separating your clothes into piles. you get into a zone until you pick up a tshirt that is far too big and not yours, and purse your lips. you toss it into its own pile and search for the rest of the clothes in the pile that belong to him, which is a lot more than you care to admit.

folding everything neatly, you snap a picture and open your messages with him. your stomach roils at the thought of texting him, your last messages being nearly a month ago, from the night you ruined everything.

you chew on your bottom lip for a while before saying ‘fuck it’ and sending him the picture of his folded clothes and a message.

yn: hey these are yours. can i drop them off later?

chanyeol: yep. i can give you your things too. does 4 work?

yn: yes

chanyeol: see you later

you blow out a breath. you didn’t think he would respond so quickly and be so complying. had it been the other way around, you would’ve hoped he’d ship you your stuff in the mail so you didn’t have to deal with him. but now you have 6 hours to stress about seeing him since that fateful day at the drug store.

and those six hours roll around quickly, so quickly that you’ve changed your outfit twice, unsure of what you should look like when you see him. you decide on jeans and black cropped tshirt, and some sneakers. you figure it’s a regular enough outfit, and stuff his clothes into a tote bag before leaving your room.

“i’ll be back,” you say to seulgi, who sits on the couch, painting her nails. she looks up and waves, her eyes traveling to the full bag in your hands. “dropping off some stuff to chanyeol.” you clarify.

she raises an eyebrow. “you’re dropping off stuff?” she questions. you nod and her eyebrow manages to go up higher. “you sure that’s all?” she says, almost like she can see right through you, and the fact that you put on a matching set underneath your clothes—just in case.

“and i’m picking up my stuff,” you manage, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“do you plan to go inside?” she asks, and you hate this interrogation, but she’s seen you mope for nearly a month over him. you shrug and she sighs, going back to her nails. “just be… careful. i’ll call if i get worried, you know.”

you smile a small smile at her words. “i know. bye,” you leave after that and head down to you car. you take a deep breath before you put the key in the ignition, feeling many things at once. your stomach flips wildly and your hands are clammy at the mere thought of going to his house to see him.

you drive too fast for somebody who is supposedly just going to drop off items to their ex. you really shouldn’t be this… energized at seeing him, since you two didn’t exactly end on good terms. you told him to get out the first time and the second time you solidified that you’re both single. sometimes you wish you could bite your tongue more.

his neighborhood comes into view quickly, and when you hook the left onto his street your heart leaps into your throat. you drive slow down to his house and parallel park you car on the curb in front of his mailbox. this is one of the few times you’ve been here alone to see him, your toyota looking out of place in a neighborhood where the average car owned is a mercedes.

getting out, you grabs the bag of clothes and hold it tightly in your hands, taking ginger steps up his driveway to his door. you suck in a breath when you knock three times, and clutch the bag to your midsection.

the door swings open and you feel your knees buckle when you see chanyeol. mild shock passes on his face like he forgot you were coming over, and then he checks his watch. “hey, sorry i lost track of time,” he says, awkwardly standing in the door way. he looks at you, eyes quickly giving you a once over before they land on the bag in your hands. “shit, let me grab your stuff. do you want to come in?” he asks, already moving out of the way before you have the chance to respond.

your feet take you into his house before your brain can process what’s really happening. “i’ll be right back,” he says, jogging up his stairs while you stay in place in the corridor. you peek your head out to look in the living room to note any major changes and see one. you feel like there may be something different about his kitchen, but he’s already bounding back down the stairs when you think about looking. “here you go.” he says, extending the clothes to you.

you pull open the tote bag and try to grab his clothes, but the bag isn’t wide enough so they fall back in, most of them unfolding. chanyeol takes the bag from you and holds it open so you can grab them easily. it’s not even been 5 minutes, and you’re already embarrassing yourself.

“sorry,” you cringe when you hand him his unfolded clothes before you put your own in the bag.

chanyeol gives you a small, reassuring smile that makes your pulse skyrocket and you avert your eyes. “it’s fine,” he says but it only makes you flush more. “how are you? how’s school?” he asks.

“uh, fine and fine. i’m taking bullshit classes for the credit, so,” you say, shrugging. “you?”

chanyeol shrugs too, a small smile still on his face. “same old stuff; i’m helping kai produce some songs, getting sehun in the studio more now,” he says. you nod awkwardly look around, not really knowing what to say. chanyeol leans against the wall and slots his clothes underneath his armpit and presses it to his side so they don’t fall. “you seeing anybody?” he asks suddenly, making your eyes snap up to him, narrowing immediately.

“is that really any of your business?” you question, defense all in your voice. chanyeol shrugs, as it to say ‘i’m just asking’. “we’re not together.”

“obviously not,” he laughs, but he doesn’t find it funny. it actually makes him mildly sick to be reminded of it, for it to be said out loud by you of all people, because he had every intention of coming back to you until you seemingly called it quits for good. “but i saw that video.” chanyeol adds, his tone more serious.

“and i saw you buying condoms,” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

“okay, but you’ve never danced with me like that,” he says, a hint of jealousy in his voice that you are definitely not imagining. you scoff at his words and shake your head.

“we’ve never gone out together, and the one time we happened to be out at the same time, we’d just met and then fucked in your car.”

chanyeol gives you a look that makes your face fall, one that makes you want to ball your hands into fists. he rubs underneath his lip and glances down at his feet. “what?” you ask, daring him to say what’s on his mind.

“nothing,” he says, brushing you off. you stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to look at you but he doesn’t.

“i’m not like that,” you say, frowning.

“i know,” he lifts his eyes to you and your draw your bottom lip in. it’s gets silent again, and you wonder if this is a good moment for you to make your escape, but you don’t really want to.

“are you seeing anybody?”

“no,” his response sounds honest, but you don’t completely believe it because of what you saw.

“i saw you buying condoms, chanyeol,” you say, pressing your lips together. he rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair.

“yeah, because i plan to practice safe sex in the future, y/n—whether that’s with you, or with somebody else,” your cheeks flush at his words and a knot forms in your stomach. you don’t know whether to be semi flattered, or gutted knowing that there will be others after you, like there were before you.

“well, we’re not having sex,” you declare, and chanyeol shrugs.

“that’s fine.”

it’s fine, but somehow you end up face-down-ass-up on his bed, his palm pressing on your tailbone to give you a deeper arch as he pounds into you. with every thrust into you, a desperate mewl leaves your mouth.

chanyeol has a right grip on your hips to keep you in place every time you try to run away from him. he yanks you back and tells you to stay with him, to take it because he knows you can, and you’re not used to me anymore? you only cry out his name in response, tears prickling in your eyes.

“fuck,” he spits when his shirt keeps getting in the way of seeing where you to connect, whenever he pushes into to you. his momentum barely falters as he puts the hem in between his teeth to keep the material out of the way. both of you aren’t even fully undressed, that’s how rushed it was; you’re still in your top and thong, the tiny material being pushed aside so he can enter you, and him his tshirt. it’s the first time—other than the night you met—that neither of you are fully bare, and you can’t tell if that’s a sign that he doesn’t deem you worthy of getting undressed, or if it’s a sign that you’re about to start over.

it’s also one of the few times he’s started with doggy first. chanyeol alwyas liked to look at you; always liked you on top of him or under him, but he liked to see your face the most. you don’t know if it’s a slight that he has you turned away from him, or if he just wanted to watch your ass move.

“ch-chanyeol—fuck!” tears stream down your cheeks and you grip the sheets tightly, trying to pull your body away from him but he yanks you back in place. you cry out his name and hate how desperate you sound, like you’ve never been fucked a day in your life. you bury your face into a pillow, but he rips that away from you too.

“wan’ hear you,” he mumbles, continuing to slam into you. you can only curse and clench around him in response, the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter as he goes on with his mission to touch your spleen (at least that’s what it feels like).

“g-gonna c-cum,” you hiccup, whining out his name when he snakes an arm around your front and starts flicking on your clit. the stimulation makes you clench your eyes shut and tense around him, gasping before crying out his name as you gush all over him.

you expect him to stop, but he fucks you through it, never stopping his ministrations on your clit. “please, yeol!” you beg, feeling your legs start to shake as another wave of deep pleasure comes over you.

“you can do it, baby,” he grunts, running a hand up your back before gently pressing down on your spine. the pet name makes you whine dramatically and release once again, white liquid running down your thighs.

he finally pulls out when you beg him again, feeling too hot and overstimulated. you crumple onto the bed and roll onto your back, trying to regain your breath. you hear chanyeol shift next to you and then he taps you on the knee. “you alright?” he asks.

“give me a minute,” you croak, licking your dry lips. your body feels like you’re running a fever, and you sit up to pull off your top before flopping back down.

chanyeol gives you a literal minute before tapping you again. “are you gonna be okay?”

“yes, i’m just so fucking hot right now,” you say, blowing air into your face.

“you wanna take a break?” he asks and you crack an eye open to look at him. his shirt is off and his dick is still hard in the condom. you take his comment as a challenge, being that he’s never asked if you’ve needed a break before. maybe he thinks you can’t handle it and have gone soft on him, but you’ll show him otherwise.

“no. come here,” you say with authority. he obliged and crawls on top of you. you pull him down to your mouth and make out with him, hooking a leg over his back. chanyeol kisses down your jaw and to your neck before kissing down through the valley of your breasts. he pulls back and looks down at you, pulling at your bra strap and letting it snap back against you.

“you’re matching,” he comments, glancing down at your underwear. busted.

“so?” you say, reaching for him.

“you said we weren’t having sex,” chanyeol points out, making you let out an exasperated sigh paired with an eye roll. “you wore a thong.”

“i always wear thongs.”

“and we always fuck.”

you roll your eyes again and sit up to take your bra off, tossing it close to his head on purpose. “just shut up and fuck me,” you say, pushing down your underwear. chanyeol pulls it down the rest of the way for you and wastes no more time positioning himself in between your legs.

“y/n,” he groans when he pushes in, tossing his head back. you mouth falls open and you let out s few breathless pants. “shit.” he grunts, looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows. you can only stare up at him with wide eyes, clenching right around him like he didn’t just fuck you so hard you felt like you needed an ice bath to recover.

chanyeol pulls in and out of you slowly, trying to hold back from coming too soon. you can see it in his face, the concentration, and it clicks for you. he can’t handle looking at you while he fucks you because he’ll finish too fast. your sex in the past was never quick, but the effort of restraint he’s putting in is something you haven’t seen.

“y-yeol,” you moan, putting a hand on the back of his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. but he just presses against your lips, his breath fanning your mouth. “faster.” you mumble, tangling a hand in his hair.

he whimpers and pushes himself up on his arms and speeds up just enough to keep himself under control, but you still want more. “more,” you urge, wanting to watch him fall apart because of you, even if you don’t get off before or with him.

“baby,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut as he gives you what you ask for. your cry out his name and part your legs wider for him. you lift one onto his shoulder and hook it around the nape of his neck to pull him closer to you, a grunt leaving his lips. “y-y/n, im c-close,” he whimpers, holding onto your thigh that rests near his head.

“yeolie, you feel so good,” you manage, grabbing a handful of the sheets. his hips stutter and he lets out a groan before he cums, his muscles flexing.

you almost smile as he falls apart on top of you, especially knowing that it took looking at you to get there faster.

chanyeol pulls out of you and drops down onto the bed next to you. his chest heaves up and down rapidly and you push hair back from his forehead. “you didn’t come,” he mumbles, reaching out and putting a hand on your stomach.

“no,” you admit. ever the gentleman, he gets up and discards the condom before settling his face in between your legs to return the favor.

after what feels like an eternity, you two decide to give it a rest. “shower?” he asks you, sitting up on the bed. you nod, your inner thighs sticky from all of your shenanigans.

you follow chanyeol to the bathroom on shaky legs and latch yourself onto him once you’re under the water. your arms wrap around his middle and you rest your head against his chest, sighing into him. chanyeol places a kiss on your forehead and you nearly whimper, missing the domesticity of it all.

you two wash up and then he gives you some of his clothes to wear. you smile to yourself at him knowing that you weren’t going to leave so soon. he tells you he’s going to order takeout, since he doesn’t feel like cooking, and passes you his phone to choose what you want to eat.

it’s easy to fall into that old rhythm like no time has passed, and like you didn’t let this whole thing crumble right before you.

while you wait for the food, you ride him on the couch, and then after you eat he fucks you lazily on the counter. your body feels beat up and tired in the best way, and the familiar limp you start to walk with feels good again.

you wake up to the smell of food, your limbs sore as you stretch. the bed is empty next to you, and it takes you a moment to realize that this isn’t your bed or your house. the realization makes you bite your lip, and you slip out of his bed and make your way downstairs.

“good morning,” he greets when you walk into the kitchen, a smile on his face. you return it and he pulls you into him, placing a kiss on your lips that leaves you feeling dizzy and slightly confused, but you don’t say anything. instead, you accept the plate of food he hands you and go sit down at the table.

chanyeol sits down beside you and pulls your legs across his lap, and your fork stills in midair. it’s all overwhelmingly familiar, and you still have yet to discuss where your relationship stands after last night. it wasn’t just sex for you—it never is with chanyeol—and you don’t know if he feels the same way.

you let him talk through breakfast, your mind swimming with thoughts that wonder what this all means. you don’t know if he was just testing you out again, but you don’t think he’d allow you to sleep over, and then cook you breakfast in the morning. you feel lightheaded, like you just got flipped upside down one too many times.

“you alright? what’s on your mind?” his voice takes you out of your head where you feel yourself drowning. he raises his eyebrows at you and you wave your hands in the air vaguely.

“just… thinking,” you try.

“about?”

you let out a breath and scratch the back of your head, pulling your gaze away from him. “um, us,” you say. chanyeol sits back in his seat and clears his throat. “i dont… what does this mean for us? what are we?” you ask helplessy, finally looking at him. chanyeol opens his mouth but closes it almost as quickly.

“i dont know,” he answers. you slump in your chair because you have no idea either.

“well, what do you want?”

you can see the gears turning in his brain and him weighing each response. the tension builds in the room as you stare at him, waiting for his answer to see if it’ll align with yours. “well… i dont really know if i want a relationship right now,” your stomach drops and you blink once, twice. “i like what we did last night, though.” and without actually saying it, he wants you two to be friends with benefits. he wants you, but not all of the extra baggage.

“okay,” you say, discreetly wiping your face and swiping away the tears pooling in your eyes.

“yeah?” he asks, and you nod even though it’s far from what you want. you just want him, and you’ll take what you can get.

you hold back tears as he fucks you on his bed again, but not because it feels so good and like too much at the same time, but because he’s stomping on your heart and doesn’t even realize it. your heart can’t handle a FWBs situation with him since you’re already way into deep with him.

it becomes too much as you think about it, your mind not in the present moment of him thrusting into you. the tears start to fall, one by one, until you’re full on sobbing and covering your face. “w-what’s wrong? am i hurting you?”

“yes!” you cry, and he immediately gets off of you. you roll away from him and curl yourself into a ball, feeling disgusted with yourself that you were willing to let him use you in such a way, dangling your heart on a string in front of you.

“y/n, talk to me,” chanyeol says, putting a hand on your shoulder. you shrug him off like you did during your initial break up, and he feels like he’s getting deja vu again. “please, y/n. talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.” his voice is full of concern because he knows there’s something else that’s really upsetting you.

“i cant do it,” you know you’ll probably lose him for good, but you’re willing to take that risk if you can’t have him the way that you want. you want him next to you in the mornings and calling you in the middle of his day. you don’t want to be a late night though, a booty call, to him. “i just can’t do it.”

chanyeol knows that you’re talking about your little agreement. he knew you’d end up backing out at some point, because he himself can’t even take it that seriously. he knows he’ll just wind up with feelings for you again since they never left.

“that’s okay,” he says, and he means it. your heart is heavy as you sit up and look over at him. chanyeols heart breaks to pieces when he looks into your eyes, feeling guilty for what he’s done. if only he could just confess and be honest about his feelings this time.

your goodbye is quiet and awful, and you feel like digging a hole and putting yourself in it the entire time. you leave feeling empty and hollow, and like you just got ran over by an eighteen wheeler. but hey, at least it wasn’t your fault this time.

[fairytaehl]

lgief rewatch eps. 4-5

okay, this is definitely the final in my little triology of posts here. i shared ep. 4 here and most of ep 5. here but tumblr has a photo limit and i cant speak without my visuals! and i wont make gifs, i want stills. so this is the last big post for ep. 5~

ep 1 / ep 2 / ep 3 / ep 4 pre-festival / ep 4 festival / ep 5, 5 part 2 / ep 6 / ep 7 / ep 8 / ep 9 / ep 10

STARTING OFF STRONG WITH THE BEST SCENE. oh, you guys dont even know how many times i replayed this on my FIRST watch. 10 times? 15 times? way more than necessary. whoever directed this deserves every award possible. i mean, COME ON.

she's desperately looking for her dad, in an absolute fire hazard of a costume, and who grabs her to save her? MU SHENG!!! the way he grips her arm and stares so intensely. oh my gosh, i could not believe this was 0%. 0%? HOW IS THIS ZERO PERCENT? and i wont dive much into it here but when i read this post about yaos it made me totally think his 0% has to be much different than what humans would feel at 0%. (my friend also said his measured in celsius instead of fahrenheit.)

"are you out of your mind?" YEAH. SHE IS. logically she should've caught on fire and had to backflip into the river like one of the guards.

going as far as to beg him to help her, even knowing he planned on doing something to get her dad punished for justice, grasping him and pleading, meanwhile hes looking at her like she's crazy.

he looks just as hot as the scene around him... jesus.

and the way he sees how frantic she looks and forcibly turning her around, hands on her shoulders. oh we're in deep, arent we?

i wont include it, but then her saying "why is it full?" and him looking away, i think he had the same question too, but i wonder if he felt weird because even she was questioning it...

sorry, the way he sneaks up here... gosh he has NO bad angles. and then confronts him about why he seems disappointed, ugh, we love a justice-seeking baddie.

moving on to much later, as even though we had some physical contact between the two from here with her stopping him from destroying all of the funds her dad used, i dont know if i have that much to say! i mean, him and fuyi having a tense moment with the crates was symbolic of their relationship, ill mention.

his head tilt... so cute... and miaomiao looks extra adorbs too. i know we compare him to a cat a lot but this was very puppy-like of him.

wiping his hands after burning the fake accounting book and acting like it was nothing when she stares at him. uh huh, sure, it was just for justice, totally.

oh please, her calling him out on being a softie... you got him down already, cause he really is! acting so tough because he suspects her, but lets be real, you cant hate her now that you know her. again, knowing when shes looking, and asking "what are you looking at" as if he doesnt know!!! this whole scene i couldnt help myself but say "tsundere, smh"

and even after saying "this isnt over since you stole my precious sisters snack from me" hes STILL just baaaaarely got a smile on his face... yes, the percentage changes next ep back to negative but... he was already falling here, lets not get it twisted.

would you believe i still hit photo limit? sigh... life as a shipper is so hard. i love these two. i might keep doing this, not because i have any true analysis of anything deep (though i could), but simply because i love how ding yuxi portrays ziqi, and how esther yu portrays miaomiao. they sold it so well, where every expression and movement matters, and you can see the characters (mostly ziqi) changing based off how they react. oh its so good...

[lobotomy-lady]

Asking this with literally zero judgement, i love you and you’re brilliant: are you addicted to opioids? how do you take them recreationally and not get hooked? (also where can i get some)

thank u anon I love u too ♡ yes I am addicted to my reddit opiates but they arent real opiates since theyre derived from kratom lol, they just operate on the same receptor in ur brain. its not like "has to be high every waking moment" level addicted but I take at least one dose every night, sometimes 2, & I get bad withdrawal symptoms if I go more than a day without them. I also fiend very hard when I'm waiting for them to arrive in the mail & end up checking the USPS tracker like every hour for days. I can fully control my WD with regular kratom powder tho

I buy the 7-OH tablets from kratomheads dot com . I take the 30s but you should start w/the 18s or you'll throw up like I did my first time lol. also if you dont live in the US & in one of the states that hasn't banned it yet then I'm afraid u are fucked but it's probably for the best bc this shit is so addictive. the good thing is since it only partially binds to the mu-opioid receptors in ur brain, it can't cause respiratory arrest & kill u the way anything derived from poppies can.

but yeah if u have addictive tendencies beware bc it feels extremely good. i can legit nod on it which is wonderful it feels so relaxing & warm & falling asleep on it is so easy & I actually sleep rly well through the night . this is just my DOC, I can go without alcohol or weed easily but 7OH gives me exactly what I want I ♡ it so much

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Dying Light [Chapter Three] Red Line [Bi-Han/Sub-Zero]

A/n: I didn't go too into detail with the wedding ceremony here, but it is based on a Han Chinese Wedding Ceremony. Please enjoy.

Tag list: @genesiswrld, @cherryblossomly, @dilf-destroyer-04, @louis2gobrrn, @umbransister

Warning(s): Family drama, uneasiness, female reader, wedding ceremony, arranged marriage au, Bi-Han being a tease (if you look closely 😋), bed-sharing, awkward moments.

No Minor's Allowed!!

The next morning is hectic.

You are awoken by servants, rushing you from your bed and into the bath. Their hands are like restraints, holding you down in the warm water as they wash you in soaps and scented oils. 

Then when you are done - skin rubbed raw and fingers wrinkled - your mother takes over.  

She guides you to her room and urges you to sit down at her vanity so that she can doll you up. Her enthusiastic yacking, as she brushes the knots from your hair sounds like a foreign language in your ears, but you are forced to endure it. You stare in a daze at your reflection in the mirror, focused on what is to come next. 

It is a bit too much to take in so early in the morning. But when it does hit, the sad reality of the situation, you are horrified. 

“What is that look for?” Your mother asks. She stares at you in the mirror and sighs. “You had best get used to this. Men are fickle. A beautiful woman will keep their interest. You do not want your soon-to-be husband to drag in strays, do you?” 

You do not even know what to say to this. Does it matter? You are not in this for love. Tightening your jaw, you avert your eyes from the mirror. 

“Is this not sudden to father?”

“It is not sudden enough,” your mother counters in annoyance. “The former Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei wanted his eldest son to lead before he was meant to take a bride. You should have already been wed.” 

At least you are now aware of why this union took so long. But this is not what you meant by sudden. 

I barely know him for a day and already I am meant to become his wife.

You opt not to mention this to your mother. She would point out that sometimes arranged marriages work this way, that at least you had met him before standing as husband and wife. 

“Could it not be moved to a later date?” You ask, choosing your words wisely.

Your mother scoffs. 

“It is far too late for that. Today is regarded as lucky. We would have to put the wedding off for another week and your father would not accept that.”

Of course. He might lose his chance to gain riches from this. 

“I'm sure Bi-Han will bring lots of gifts for him.” 

Your mother gives you a heated look and then returns to the task at hand. You groan as her brush strokes become a bit harsh. 

“With that attitude, this marriage is doomed to fail.”

You almost turn up your eyes. It is not like you want this. The only reason you are going through with it is because all your life the importance of the clan has been forced into your head. It is as though your parents wished to brainwash you. The fear of failure that paralyzed you as a youth crept up your spine even now like a monster bound in shadows. 

Taking a deep breath, you ignore the dread in your stomach. 

For the next two hours, you sit in awkward silence as your mother does your makeup and styles your hair. Both are relatively simple in technique, yet the time she takes to perfect them is time-consuming.

When both are nearly done, she saunters over to her closet and removes a garment bag from within. 

“Get dressed.”

You sigh. Standing, you take a moment to stretch your sore back, and then you retrieve the garment bag from her. Inside is a red dress with fine stitching, decorated with golden phoenixes. It looks familiar. 

“Was this yours?”

Your mother nods. 

“I wore it on my wedding day to your father…and today, you will wear it.”

“I– thank you.” 

You honestly did not know what to say. Quietly, you redress. The material is soft and surprisingly breathable. It fits you well; she must have made the adjustments during the night. 

“We are nearly done,” your mother states. 

She returns to the vanity and retrieves two items from a wooden box. One is a golden comb ornament and the other is a red line. Both she places in your hair. 

“During the ceremony, the groom will untie the red line, which means that he will take you over from your father and me. And then by tradition, a lock of hair from each of you will be severed and tied together using this line. That represents that your body and heart will stick to each other,” she explains.

It sounds romantic. If only this marriage were built on that.

Your mother stands in front of you and looks you over. She then smiles.

“You are ready.”

Turning your eyes to the mirror, you do not recognize the person staring back at you. She is elegant while you are not. 

Is this the person you are destined to be? You are not sure you like her.

A knock on the door averts your attention. A servant quickly comes in and bows then addresses your mother. 

“The groom is here, madam.”

“Right on time,” she utters. 

Resting a hand on your back, she urges you to press on. Though you are hesitant, you take an uneasy breath and walk towards the door. In the foyer, you see Bi-Han for the first time since yesterday. He appears almost as out of place as you feel, wearing a red robe adorned with gold dragons. His hair is half up, cascading down his broad shoulders in dark locks; it suits him.

As you draw near, his keen eyes turn to you, taking in your appearance; his expression softens. You are not sure how to feel about this. Standing beside him, you awkwardly wait for the main doors to open. A red mat awaits.

Bi-Han offers his arm, whether out of courtesy or because it is expected of him. Nevertheless, you take it and walk with him outside, following the mat from the main house to the shrine in the Western wing. Had it been exactly traditional like your mother had wanted, an ornate bridal chair carried by porters would have escorted you.  

It did not matter in the end. The results would not change. 

Continuing through the wing, servants open the doors to the shrine, and upon seeing the altar and your fellow clansmen, you tense up, hesitating a moment. It feels as if by some cruel twist of fate you are about to be sacrificed. 

Feeling the muscles beneath your hand tighten, you turn your eyes, meeting Bi-Han’s curious stare. 

“Steel yourself,” he orders. 

You take an uneasy breath. He is right, you must find your courage. Continuing to the altar, you kneel with Bi-Han to pay homage, and then you face him, as a low table is seated between you. 

It is time. 

The rest of the ceremony feels like a blur. After completing the food and wine portion, symbolizing unspoken vows, Bi-Han removes the red line in your hair and as explained by your mother, a lock is severed to be combined with his.

It is not until you are prompted to stand and join hands with him, do you become fully alert. His skin feels cold like ice and his expression shows no emotion. It seems he had taken his advice. Your face heats up as you stare into his eyes. 

The room is eerily silent as you make your pledge. 

“No matter death or life, (we are) near or far, we pledge our word–”

“Hold your hand and grow old with you together,” Bi-Han wraps up.

Releasing his hands, the two of you face the clan and bow; the ceremony then comes to an end. You are now wed. It feels bittersweet, like a dream you can not wake from. You almost can't believe it. 

In front of you, your parents seem satisfied. It is a shame that you do not share their sentiments. 

–

As the afternoon progresses, your parents move the merged clans to the dining room where a lavish eight-course affair is waiting. Each dish is symbolic, but it is not until you are served sweet lotus seeds for dessert, do you feel a bit uneasy. Perhaps it is simply a tradition, but this dish is meant to represent fertility. The idea of an heir or an heiress never even crossed your mind before. 

You ignore it for now and stomach the rest of your food.

For the next few hours, you are forced to listen to your mother chatter to Bi-Han about you. The man listens but he does not comment. You honestly wish that you could have brought your amulet along with you. The thought of her dropping into a portal mid-sentence makes you snort.

“Is there something on your mind, daughter?” Your father suddenly asks over her. 

You are caught off guard by his question. To your annoyance, your mother pauses a moment to look at you, raising a brow in curiosity. Even Bi-Han spares you a look. 

“It is nothing,” you utter. 

Your mother tightens her mouth into a thin line, then continues where she left off. You on the other hand give Bi-Han a look of sympathy, returning to your food. 

The banquet concludes shortly after and you opt to escape the fiasco by retiring for the night. In exhaustion, you excuse yourself, but when you enter your room, the state of it takes you back a moment. 

Your sheets and pillowcases are red, and resting on top of them is a mix of dry fruit and nuts. The sweet scent of persimmons and red dates permeates the air as you walk over to your closet to find something to dress into. Once the bridal dress is put away and you are in your nightwear, you saunter over to your vanity. 

Pulling the comb from your hair, you pause as the sound of your door opens. A servant walks in and behind them, much to your dismay, is your husband. Your eyes widen. 

“Allow me to retrieve your belongings, sir,” the servant offers. 

Bi-Han dismisses them with a gesture.

“A night robe will be enough.”

They leave the room, shutting the door behind them. In the meantime, all you can do is stare in shock as Bi-Han gauges the room; your room.

“Why are you here?”

“You are my wife,” he simply states. 

You frown. Of course. You feel ignorant for asking. Even so, you did not expect to share a bed with him so soon, or at all.

Ignoring him for a moment, you continue with the task at hand. Using a cleansing towelette, you remove your makeup, peeking at him from your mirror. 

“Should I call for an extra set of sheets for you?” 

Bi-Han hums.

“There is no need.” 

He struts over to the bed and begins to remove the dried fruit and nuts from the sheets. 

I suppose he means to share. 

You are not sure what to feel about this. Brushing the tangles from your hair, you stand and face him. For an awkward moment, you stare as Bi-Han clears the bed, not sure what to say. Thankfully, the servant returns with his night robe. You retrieve it, sauntering over to the bed to hand it to him.

“I will finish. There is a divider in which you can change behind across the room.”

Bi-Han grabs the robe from you and takes your suggestion. In the meantime, you clear the bed, taking the mess over to your vanity. 

“If it were not for tomorrow, I would resume our conversation from yesterday,” you hear Bi-Han state.

You turn to face him.  

“What happens–” The sight of his bare muscular chest makes you pause. Gods, he is gorgeous. 

Bi-Han ties his robes closed and then raises a curious brow. You turn away from him, ignoring the heat in your face. 

“What happens tomorrow?”

“We leave for Arctika. My brothers will arrive with the bridal gifts early,” Bi-Han answers. 

You frown. Everything is happening so fast. 

“I should rest then.”

“Unless you desire to consummate our marriage, then that is best,” Bi-Han retorts. 

Your face heats up. What are you meant to say to that? He does not look like a man to tease, but perhaps he is trying to get a rise out of you. Opting not to comment, you prepare your side of the bed. 

Bi-Han situates himself beneath the sheets, so you turn out the lights and hesitantly join him. Turning your back to him, you listen to the silence, feeling uncomfortable.

“Sleep well,” you utter. 

For a moment, you assume that Bi-Han is already asleep, but then he shifts.

“You were humored by something at the banquet. What by?”

You grin. 

“I thought about dropping my mother into a portal. Her enthusiastic yacking is irritating.”

“I share your sentiments,” Bi-Han admits. 

For the first time, you agree with him entirely.