#but I can recognize how much effort and love goes into it

[stuckinapril]

i think the way people find ways to express love and care through long distances can be really creative and endearing. transcending what used to be impossible so you know i love you and hope you eat well, please see this silly little picture/doodle, i am having so much fun, today i saw a duck, i wish you were here, etcetera other things of that nature

My heart !! You are so right about this anon

[traumagenica]

people claim to understand that progress isn't linear and recovery can take a long time until it becomes personally inconvenient to them and then you're just a stupid lazy bastard to them no matter how you behaved before you became outwardly sick or how hard you've been trying to get better. and i will be mad about that forever

[moonstruckme]

summary: your roommate James plots to befriend a shy you

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

The apartment is loud and messy when you come home, and James immediately feels bad about it. You freeze in the door like a doe in the woods, a few of his friends pausing their conversations to greet you from where they’re scattered haphazardly about the living room. 

You give a terse smile and beeline for the stairs. You’re wearing your work clothes, dirty and rumpled from a long shift, and it doesn’t escape James’ notice that you’ve bypassed the kitchen in your hurry to get to your room. You seem to have an aversion to being witnessed. He makes a mental note to check that you’ve eaten later. 

“Oh, do you work at Rizzo’s?” Lily asks you, evidently recognizing the uniform. You stall halfway up the stairs, and James suppresses a smile at your obvious reluctance. 

“Yeah,” you reply, voice even quieter than usual. 

“My friend works there.” Lily’s friendly demeanor is unphased by your timidity. The two of you have met before, like you’ve met most of his friends, in passing. “Do you know Mona?” 

You nod, easing up a bit. James wonders at the fact that you’ve lingered as long as you have, but then he notices Sirius noticing you, and he prays his friend doesn’t say anything to make you regret it. 

“Yeah, we’ve worked some of the same shifts,” you say. “She’s nice.” 

Lily grins at the confirmation. James braces himself as Sirius angles his head. 

“What do you do there, lovely?” 

The endearment instantly flusters you. Your shoulders tighten and your hand flexes on the banister as though to keep yourself from bolting. “I’m a host,” you say. 

“That’s nice.” Sirius’ grin is intentionally disarming, lopsided and flirtatious. You look as though you’re not sure what to make of it. “I’m sure it makes for good business to have the pretty girls welcoming customers.” 

It’s your last straw. You mumble something about it being nice to see them and all but dash up to your room. James hears your door shut with a soft click. 

Sirius frowns. “Skittish thing, isn’t she?” 

“Tosser.” Remus pulls him roughly against his side, rolling his eyes when Sirius wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s torso sulkily. 

“I was paying her a compliment.”  

“She’s just shy.” James doesn’t know why he feels the need to explain you, exactly. Your diffidence is fairly obvious now, but he still feels a bit guilty for thinking you just hated him when he first moved in. After knowing Remus for so long, he thought he’d be able to tell the difference between shyness and standoffishness. Now apparently he feels responsible for liaising between you and his friends. “You knew you were going to embarrass her, prick.” 

The conversation turns to Sirius’ tendency to verbally prod at those with quieter demeanors, which he denies vehemently and Remus corroborates with pointed looks but not much commentary. 

Once they’ve gone, James goes up to your room with a sandwich. The door is cracked but he knocks anyway, waiting for your quiet “come in” before he pushes it the rest of the way open. 

“Figured you might’ve missed dinner,” he says by way of greeting, going to set the plate down on your bed. 

It takes effort not to let his eyes roam the room. He can see in his periphery that your desk is cluttered but neat and your walls covered with pictures and art. An effect of your reticence is that, aside from what sort of shampoo you use and how often you need to restock the milk in the fridge, James knows very little about you. He knows you’re a good roommate. You’re clean, you don’t bicker about the thermostat, and you haven’t even seemed cross with him for eating the rest of your oreos (which he’s going to replace, seriously, as soon as he remembers to go to the store). You’re quiet, obviously, but along with that you seem kind. 

Honestly, it makes him a bit uncomfortable that you don’t seem to want to be friends. James is only human; he likes being liked, even more so by nice girls with pretty smiles, and it seems crucial that he be liked by nice girls with pretty smiles who he shares a living space with. If you’re going to brush your teeth using the same sink as somebody, you should be on good terms. James believes this. 

And though he hasn’t had to work so hard for friendship in some years, he is diligent. He thinks he’ll bring you around yet. 

Evidence of progress: the happy-surprised look in your eyes when you spot the sandwich. 

“Thank you,” you say, a tender sort of bemusement lining your words. “You didn’t have to do this.” 

“Well, if you’ve actually missed dinner, you probably ought to eat something more substantial,” James hedges. He pushes his luck, sitting across from you on your bed. “I don’t want to be an accomplice to your snacks-for-meals agenda.” That wins him a small smile. “But I do feel bad, keeping you from your own kitchen because I have friends over.” 

Your eyes flit away at the last bit. You take a hearty bite of your sandwich, chewing to avoid a reply.

“You should know, you are actually paying rent for the whole apartment,” he says, “not just your room.” 

You look chastened as you swallow, but you wave him off. “I would’ve gone down to get something later,” you say airily. “I didn’t want to infringe on your time with your friends.” 

“You?” James actually laughs. “Never. Trust me, we see plenty of each other. They could probably use a fresh face.”

You roll your eyes. It’s a ploy to keep from looking at him, he’s certain of it. “Well, regardless, you shouldn’t worry about it. I wasn’t starving.” 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Your mattress creaks as James stands. Some of the stiffness to your posture eases, and he wonders if you’re relieved to see him go, but you look up with another small smile. Pretty. 

“Thanks for the sandwich,” you say. 

“You should really have another one,” he replies, grinning back because of forces beyond his control. He starts backing out of the room. “Do you want me to make it? Actually, don’t answer that. I’m making it.” 

Your quiet laughter follows him down the stairs. 

[t0rturedangel]

How about the Hazbin hotel gang with seraphim child reader who just somehow appeared after ep 8

╭ . . . 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎 ੭

𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ⿻  𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦??

⌦ 𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 ﹕angel dust - swearing, just him being him. Alastor - ill intent, possible swearing. Mentions of killing, mentions of blood. Nifty - she tries to kill you, dw you dont die. this too me so long im gonna cry

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ okay, firstly just know that the crew goes fucking crazy- I mean they just fought an entire army of exorcist angels and killed Adam, the first man Adam!! So they all think that you're sort of there to try and punish them all for it, so they all get ready to attack (even though you're LITERALLY a child, children are wild though)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ that's until Charlie, bless her heart, recognizes you (and depending on if you tried to defend her in court just like Emily) and rushes up to you, holding her arms out happily- thats until Angel Dust surprisingly tries to stop her

"It's you!" Charlie gasped, her eyes widening in a pleasant surprise, you were the third and youngest seraphim and much like your older sister Emily felt the need to defend Charlie and her idea of redemption- the thought of allowing those who suffered to see the error of their ways and correct them and then given their reward of eternal peace sounded brilliant, much like Emily you were horrified to learn of the exterminations. You were the first one to openly agree to what Charlie had said despite Adam's comments and facial expressions, you also helped Emily in trying to make the court see what was wrong with this method, unfortunately your plans did not work, though Charlie remembered your efforts and clearly she enjoys your presence. At the glee in her tone, you smiled and stepped forward, wanting to give a hug to the princess of hell though paused in confusion when someone looking oddly like a spider stopped her.

"Woah there toots!" the spider called out to his friend, grabbing her arm to halt her movement- Angel dust was staring both you and Charlie down- a look of uncertainty and distrust painted all over his face "Why ya going to rando angels? what if they were sent down here to finish the job for Adam?", Angel did have a point- you appeared put of no where and was just standing outside the hotel? pretty suspicious.. though Charlie is quick to cool things down "Oh no no no! They're alright, they're a friend! They mean no harm at all- in fact [name] was one of the angels who supported my idea!" she turned to you joyfully, smiling from ear to ear "We can trust them!" ... "okay but how did they end up here? in uh hell?" Husk piped up, his voice full of boredom- or annoyance (you can never really tell with husk, what an odd man) "Oh I fell! ... or rather- I threw myself out of heaven" you happily answered the question, giving everyone a quick second to process what the actual fuck you just said.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ thats how you joined the hotel! Pretty nice innit??

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Charlie adores you! you're such a sweet little thing, you're a sweetie and are just so kind to everyone!! (at least that's what she likes to think)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ she thinks of you as a little small sibling!, after all you're the youngest of the team and act just like her, plus she always wanted a little sibling so you're perfect!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ any ideas she thinks of or any redemption exorcises she runs them by you- to see if they can be more or less effective to get her friends into heaven

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Since Charlie could only stay in heaven for so long, she loves to ask you about heaven and how it was like- always being so invested in your stories, she honestly cannot get enough of them!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ also, Charlie is... painfully aware that she can never get into heaven, ever. Afterall, she's not only a hell-born but also literally the heir to the throne of hell so yeah there is no chance for her redemption, something she cannot handle- she cries knowing this but now that she has you- someone who ran from heaven, actively choosing to leave and come here gives her comfort. Now she'll never be alone, she has you and you have her!

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ At first, Lucifer was startled and untrusting of you- you're a seraphim, someone that was just like him and could possibly actually take him down despite you being an actual child.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ over time, the king of hell did grow warmer to you, after all he sees a bit of himself in you. Both ex-angels, both hate heaven.... it's like you're his second little one!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Sometimes, when lucifer isnt busy with his actual child, he hangout with you- entertaining you with his magic while you return the favor with little stories and things, sometimes you even create little gifts like flowers for him.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Lucifer vows to keep you safe, even though you can easily take down hundreds of sinners and even overlords, it's paternal instincts what can i say?

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ this man totally makes you ducks- he has enough experience in making ducks so you know own a few dozen in your hotel room- how lovely!!

𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ oh this man, this radio demon. He's out for your soul, absolutely hell-driven to get it, and it's all for power (who could have guessed)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ He doesnt like kids, in fact he can confirm that he absolutely HATES children though he will act all kind and lovely to you- remember though it's all an act! don't fall for it, he just wants your soul (if he gets your soul, your angelic soul? fuck- he'll be even more powerful than before, having an angel's soul would make him practically invincible!)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ This guy, funny fella really. HE CANNOT BUGGER OFF. Whenever you need help with anything he's the first to appear and offer a helping hand- and then in return as a favor back asks for a deal- is he serious? (yes. he always is)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Alastor though also, much like everyone else becomes a a bit soft for you- occasionally creating those little weird shadow creatures to play with you, since everyone around you are adults and are busy it's a way of keeping you entertained when they're busy

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ He, also, understands that you are more powerful than him- and knows that if he gets on your nerves enough he'll probably become dust.

𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ at first, Nifty only had one goal: to kill you (hey don't blame her! Charlie told her to stab and she's still under that impression)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ good for you though!! coz you fly up right as she even tries to stab her dagger through your chest- Charlie and Vaggie immediately grabbing nifty to stop her from moving and killing you.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ after the whole misunderstanding, Nifty actually enjoys begin with you! you're clean, and help kill bugs (well really it's you pointing the bugs out to Nifty and her killing them)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ You're, unsurprisingly, taller than Nif so she likes to climb up on you and sit on your shoulders or stand on your back while holding onto your shoulders. She finds you the most comfortable to climb- plus she can hide in your wings and be used as a secret weapon.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ she adores playing with roaches with you- while you are grossed out by it slightly, you still play to entertain Nifty (then after you sanitize your whole body about ten times)

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ angel tends to avoid you, not out of hate or spite or anything- it's just.... well he is aware of how he is and well he doesnt want to ruin you in the sense of his dirty talk and swearing.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ though occasionally he finds himself stuck looking after you, which is.... fun.... no i mean really its fun as fuck!!! Angel makes all sorts of jokes, offers you alcohol (you did almost take it if it werent for husk and practically everyone else to all collectively pry the bottle of vodka out of your hands)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ angel dust also teaches you some very creative swear words! so now, whenever you feel like talking you run around screaming weird insults at people, Alastor has heard you shout "EAT ASS AND DIE HORSE FACE FUCK BITCH!!" a few times to random sinners

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ The... star, is actually proud of teaching you those words- hey if you wanna stay in hell you gotta act like it!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ hides you away from Val- though somehow you still find out about him, and when you learnt how he treated your spider-friend.. uhm, the studio was in smithereens and val was close to death- now permanently loosing his right arm (just his right arm for now)

𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐊

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ to you, Husk is like the weird- drunk uncle who just got out of prison. Though, he's the cool drunk uncle.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Husk doesnt really speak to you, which is brilliant coz you dont really speak- so the two of you communicate through looks and gestures, leaving everyone in the hotel watching you two 'talk' very confused.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ never gives you alcohol, no matter how much you ask with 'cherries on top' and if he does catch you with any intoxicating drinks he snatches them off of you- scolds you a bit then drinks the beverage himself.... hypocrite

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Husk helps you avoid Alastor, he doesnt want to see you being under his clutches, you dont deserve that you're just a kid.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ He also teaches you how to do magic tricks just incase you ever want to become a magician... and sometimes he teaches you how to play card games- or how to gamble

𝐕𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐄

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ In all honestly, Vaggie is very much threatened by you- because like, do i even need to say it?? YOU'RE A SERAPHIM !!!!!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Buttt as long as Charlie is okay with you and you don't pull any stunts to try and sabotage the team you're alright! Just dont try anything.... please

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ she accidently treats you like a soldier sometimes- a habit from her exorcist days, speaking of you could immediately tell she was one of those angels and while you did not like her at first you grew to like her- viewing her as a second older sister

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ you and Vaggie sometimes sit and remember old times in heaven- and you'd ask about the exterminations, though quickly stopped after noting her discomfort.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Vaggies also likes to try and swap weapons with you- to see if she and you can handle other weapons (unsurprisingly you both adapt quite quickly)

[koolades-world]

HEYY GIRLIEE soo I got this idea on my mind cuz it's 11 pm and I randomly got energy so I was like thinking if you could make something like how the Brothers would treat or recognize signs of fem.MC WHO grew up Poor like not eating much too en sure the rest Got food or getting super excited when they get something as Simple as a birthday cake or more then 2 or expensive presents or being extra care full with spending money while for getting that if they asked for something from the Brothers theyd happily get it ( pardon my grammar enflish is my Third language😭) -from the awesome and amazing khaos

HEYYY KHAOS!!! hope you've been well!!! good to hear from you!

sure thing :)

enjoy <3

Mc who grew up poor

Lucifer

after hearing you’d never had an extravagant birthday party, he makes it his mission to make it happen

after all, everyone deserves at least one big bash, especially you. you’ve done so much for him and his family and it means so much to him

he talks with barbatos about make a huge cake in your favorite flavor and diavolo about using one of the many ballrooms in the palace

needless to say, he’s going all out to make you happy and see you smile

Mammon

he was already determined to spoil you

however, now he's bound to accidently send you into a coma with the amount of gifts he's throwing at you

you're his best girl!! you only deserve the best things

if you want him to tone it down, he will, but that won't stop him from buying little things that reminds him of you <3

Levi

at first he was confused about how you looked shocked every time he spoke about a crazy purchase he'd made

once you tell him why though, he's going to get you anything media related that you want

into a new manga? he'll get you your own set. really into a specific fandom? the next time they drop merch he's getting everything related to your fav

he always goes out of his way to make sure you feel seen

Satan

the two of you already tried to make an effort to do at least monthly outings together

but he noticed you always try to order the least expensive item on the menu at cafes, so next time, he orders in advance what he knows you’d really enjoy

seeing your face light up was payment enough for him

after that, you have weekly outings where he spoils you and he always makes sure you’re having a fun time

Asmo

besides mammon, he’s the king of lavish living

he’d been showering you in all sorts of expensive products for your face, hair and otherwise

if he’s being a little much, just let him know since he can always find products that you like more

the only thing he won’t compromise on is your spa days together since it’s one of his ways of letting you know he cares

Beel

he’s going to make sure your plate is always full

you’ll never run out of your favorite snacks under his watch

sharing food is his love language

if he could give you the world, he would

Belphie

he’s always there to help you unwind and destress

(even if his brothers are the source of the headache)

he wants you to get amazing rest every night

so, without you asking, he buys the nicest pillow and sheet set money can buy and surprises you with it!

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

⋆ 𝓥𝓲𝓵 𝓢𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓮𝓷𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓽: 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓜𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓜𝓮 𝓢𝓸 𝓗𝓪𝓹𝓹𝔂 ⋆

Please note: This is a repost from my old blog, @sugarcookiesheep!

⋆ Being a celebrity was never easy. The public always having their eye on you, watching your every move. Having to make sure you look perfect, sound perfect, act perfect, all to maintain the image you have created. It can be frustrating, exhausting even, the lengths you have to go through for your career. Though the hardest part for Vil was having to be away from you, his love, his darling.

⋆ He never expected to fall in love until he met you, always focusing on his career. Now when he kisses someone, he longs for it to be you, picturing you as he closes his eyes. When he says sweet words to his costar, he imagines he’s saying them to you, unable to hold back his emotions as he gazes into their eyes, saying he loves them. With you, he was no longer Vil Schoenheit, famous actor. He was just Vil, the dedicated, hardworking man you fell in love with.

⋆ There was no need for masks, for polite words or fake smiles. You knew him for who he was, and loved him for who he was, not for his status or fame. With you he felt seen, he felt heard. The times when he’s had to train for a role, practicing to perfect what he needed to do, you’d be there, recognizing the effort he put in. Even when no one else would, and he felt frustrated and defeated, a simple text from you would make everything worth it.

⋆ Due to his work, there were times where he had to be away, traveling to star in a film or go to a photo shoot. During those times you would stay in contact however you could, through texts or phone calls. He would be sitting in his chair, getting his make up done when his phone goes off, a small smile coming to his face as he sees it’s you. Though he doesn’t have much time to respond, your messages brighten his day, giving him motivation. Knowing that one day you’ll see the film he’s in, or the photo he’s getting taken, makes him want to do the very best he can. He wants your eyes only on him, your attention focused on him and him alone.

⋆ He can’t help but feel proud in those moments, seeing you unable to take your eyes away from the screen. How you would turn to him, telling him in amazement how well he did, how much you loved his performance. Noting all the work he put in for the role, acknowledging his time and dedication. There was no one he wanted to impress more than you, no matter how long you’ve been together.

⋆ There were times when he would miss your presence more than usual, looking at pictures of the two of you fondly. During these times he would feel conflicted, wishing to hear your voice but not wanting to disturb you, a time difference separating you now. In a moment of weakness he would give in, his heart skipping a beat as you answered, sounding like you just woke up. He would apologize for waking you, tempted to hang up. You would reassure him, making yourself more comfortable in your bed as you talked. He told you about his day, how his work was going, how much longer he’d be away. You would listen, humming in acknowledgement as you tried your best to stay awake.

⋆ “You make me so happy, Vil” you mumble sleepily, unaware of your words. The line goes silent, making you think he had hung up. On the other end Vil stared at his phone, quiet as hidden insecurities took hold. With his career and fame you didn’t necessarily have a “normal” relationship, Vil keeping it a secret from the public. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe, to keep you to himself. Were you truly happy with that? With him being away for long periods of time, unable to show you off as you deserved?

⋆ “…do you mean it?” he whispers, desperately wanting to take it back as soon as it spilled out. It took a moment before you responded, sounding more awake this time,

“There is no one I would want to be with but you, Vil. No one could ever make me as happy as you have.”

⋆ He shuts his eyes, taking a shaky breath at your words. You knew him so well, his doubts, his insecurities. How could he ever be with anyone but you, fall for anyone but you. You’ve ruined him, utterly and completely.

“There is no such thing as a happy ending if it doesn’t include you, my love. So stay with me, please. That’s all I ask.” ♡

Originally posted: February 26th, 2024

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

[itaehynz]

HII BABY! ahem SOOO for the event i’d like to request for “welcome to the movies”, the movie batman BUTTTTT villain catwoman!reader x CHOI YEONJUN . HEAR ME OUTTTTUH (a little plot but mostly smut ykyk 😇)

ONE NIGHT ONLY.

pairing: batman!yeonjun x catwoman!reader.

genre: forbidden love, superhero x villain au, smut, a little angst & fluff.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: profanity, argument before intercourse, yeonjun and reader are both dicks in the beginning, mention of killing, includes an explicit sex scene; harddom!yeonjun at first, sub!reader, big dick jun implied (it’s real), public sex, oral (both receiving), cunnilingus, fingering, dacryphilia, marking, hair pulling, throatfucking, choking, overstimulation, spanking, unprotected sex, squirting, nipple play, breeding, degrading + praising, soft sex toward the end (but not for long), kissing, spitting, breeding kink, name-calling; pretty/pretty girl, good girl, gorgeous, slut, whore, baby.

“Pretty girls like you like to get fucked in alleys? That's new.”

ni’s notes; the event masterlist is coming soon but here it is!! i hope you enjoy this fic, my love. also thank you to my proofreading friend, if you see this, ily babe. happy reading my lovelies! 💕

SPECIAL MASTERLIST!

With the arrival of night comes danger—dangers this city has been dealing with for years on end, dangers caused by you. And, of course, Batman is always the one to the rescue. He has always been their superhero, the person they can always count on. But not anymore. A rumor has begun. A rumor you started. A rumor to ruin his reputation.

You two have been secretly meeting at night to avoid being seen by others. This is all because of him - he's the one who made this rule. He's the kind of man who always gets what he wants and never takes no for an answer. However, the rumor that the two of you are in a committed relationship, which isn’t true, has officially ruined his reputation. But where's the fun in telling the truth?

It doesn't matter how much you love him; you love to toy with him even more. Getting under his skin, and ridiculing him, makes you feel giddy. The knowledge of how angry you could make him with a simple action. The adrenaline hurries through your veins at the thought.

But that's before you hear something rustle behind you. You think it could be a random citizen, so you simply ignore it, until your mouth is covered by a black leather glove.

“Stay quiet,” the voice says. It’s deep and rich. You recognize the voice—actually, you know it. It’s him.

The man who never denies himself pleasure, the man who always knows what he wants. The man goes by two names, Batman or as you’d like to call him, Choi Yeonjun.

When he appears behind you, you don't gasp or panic. You knew he was coming sooner or later. Once the news spread, you knew he'd have no choice but to come to you. Eventually, he'd try to figure out who spread the word, only to be led back to you. Besides his assistant, nobody knows about the two of you, except you and him.

Soon, he uncovers your mouth and begins leading you to god knows where; however, you're not complaining. This is exactly what you wanted. You wanted him to seethe with anger. You truly looked forward to hearing from him, whatever he had to say. Every time you two have a conversation, it almost always ends with sex. This time should be no different.

He pulls you into a dark alleyway, a blind spot away from the citizens of Gotham. "Tell me," he says, bringing a finger to his temple and inhaling deeply. "Tell me what led you to this point, Y/n."

To your dismay, it's as if every reason you had has been wiped from your memory entirely. Under his mask, you see his eyes piercing into yours. You find yourself feeling more intimidated as you look away, making an effort to avoid his intense gaze.

He grasps your face firmly, bringing your eyes back to his. After doing so, he takes his mask off, throwing it somewhere. What you're now faced with is an expression you’ve never seen before. He’s furious. His eyebrows furrowed and a firm wrinkle was prominent in the center of his forehead.

He looks at you with raised brows, expectant. Expecting a reasonable answer from you, not whatever random bullshit you can think of.

“I wanted to see if I mattered to you,” you draw in a large breath, “If we mattered to you.” He looks at you dumbfounded, has he not been the best he could be to you? What more could you want from him? He scoffs, “You’re joking, right?” he questions while looking at you, once again, expecting an answer.

You laugh, “Of course I am! Why would I care about how much I mean to you? You're Batman, you don't care about how others feel about you,” you add, rolling your eyes in a joking manner. He scoffs at your ability to joke in situations like this, soon falling into a small laughter. Withdrawing his hand slowly, slapping your cheek twice in a ridiculing manner.

He seems completely disinterested in continuing the conversation, as your responses didn't give him anything to engage in. He's convinced that you started the rumor because if not you, then who else?

Deciding not to think about it any further, he runs a hand through his hair before walking away from you. You grab for your mask, taking it off before calling out to him. As you call out to him, he pauses in his tracks before turning his head in your direction with a raised eyebrow.

“I just,” you murmur, rolling your eyes once again. “I just wanted to get a rise out of you. I admit, it was a stupid way to do it but I just wanted to have a little fun, that’s all.” He looks at you once again, amazed by your reasoning. He’s never found anything more stupid than that.

"Are you serious?" is all he says. The more you think about it, your reasoning for doing this is pretty dumb. Not only does it ruin his reputation because it's said that he's dating the city's worst villain, but it also ruins yours. Obviously, your reputation was trashed the moment you started this job, but now it's worse than it was before.

You simply nod at his words as he scoffs for the nth time, shocked by how far you've gone. You know how hard he's worked to get into his position, and the fact that you were able to break all that down with a simple news article baffles him, to say the least.

“I should fucking kill you.” He threatens, scowling at you. You’re taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor as the distance between the two of you gets smaller and smaller. “What?” you question, already knowing that he’s fuming. This is your way of trying to get more of a rise out of him. You trust yourself and know what you're doing, he wouldn't dare to kill you… right?

“First, you ruin my reputation and now you're standing here acting like you’re an innocent ass fucking fool, acting as if you don't know why I’m here,” he pauses, seeming as if he wants to hear your side. “Yeonjun, I’m the fool? If anything-” “Yes! You are! So, don't even try to go there with me, Y/n. You need to fucking learn your place and keep our business in between us. Stop doing stupid shit to get a rise out of me because I already knew what you were doing once that dumb excuse came out of your mouth.”

“I need to learn my place?” you scoff lightly, beginning to walk closer to him. “You should be the last person talking about learning their place. You’ve never known yours! You're always intruding into someone’s life and trying to fuck things up for everyone. You’ve never known your place, and now you're shocked when someone else doesn't know theirs? Well lucky for you, I’ve had a great fucking teacher! So since you wanna talk big, why don't you show me what my place is, huh? Show me exactly what my fucking place in this world is, Choi Yeonjun.”

Those words were all he needed. Just like you needed to provoke a reaction from him, he needed you to say those few words. The moments it took for your heart to beat were the few seconds he needed to get you right where he wanted you.

He is aware that you can be a brat sometimes; that's for sure. However, this time was extreme. Not only did you argue with him, but you also kept giving him illogical reasons, even after he explicitly told you not to.

If you wanted him to fuck you, why not just say so? You went as far as revealing the relationship between the two of you, and just for some dick? Hysterical. Absolutely fucking ridiculous, is what he thinks.

“You’re just a fucking whore, aren't you?” He says, venom creeping its way into his voice. His cape drops as he makes his way to you, eyes blown out with lust and a tinge of fury. He almost laughs at the way your face shows pure worry, but your eyes say otherwise.

You're almost caught off guard by his sudden switch-up, but what can you say? You like how he’s acting. You like the way his calloused hands feel against your skin, the way his unoccupied hand feels against the flesh of your ass. Grabbing weighty amounts of your flesh and groping it roughly, he has no intention of being soft with you but maybe, just maybe you can change his way of thinking.

“You like it when I’m rough with you, huh? You like it when I treat you like shit—don’t you?” he growls softly in your ear, you can’t deny that. The pleasure you gain from arguing with him for no logical reason is immense. You know you should feel guilty, but the feeling of his hands on your body takes away all the guilt you’ve ever had.

He removes his hand from your face, both hands now resting on the apple of your ass. He rubs around it softly, reminding himself what belongs to him. “Hm. This is a pretty suit, are you sure this is the same as the others?” He whispers, kissing from your lips to the sweet spot of your neck. You hum in affirmation, causing him to put a stop to his ministrations. “Words, Y/n,” he taps your cheek with two fingers softly. “Yes, it is.” He hums, continuing to kiss in the same spot he was before.

You feel his hands gripping roughly at your flesh once more, soon hearing a tear. You jump in shock, grabbing at his arms for some sort of balance. He coos in your ear, telling you to stay quiet once again. You feel his hands spread your legs further, right before he presses a firm thigh between them.

“Pretty girls like you like to get fucked in alleys? That's new.” He brushes his knee past your tender clit, emitting a soft moan from you. His soft kisses soon turn to bites, his finger now rubbing back and forth past your slit. He brings his other hand back around to stretch the tear of your suit, slapping your clit lightly. You gasp in satisfaction, causing him to wrap a hand around your mouth.

“I told you to be quiet, didn't I?” He questions, not expecting an answer. He runs a finger past your clit, rubbing small but rough circles into it with his thumb. His finger slightly teases your slit, going in and out to build the stimulation within you. His finger enters you in a swift motion, eliciting a whiny moan from you and into his palm.

He kisses your forehead softly, beginning to pump his finger faster before adding one more. You cringe at the stretch but soon adjust to it, squirming in pleasure. He tightens his hold on you, pushing your stomach down which does nothing but increase your volume.

“You hear those sounds, baby? Those beautiful, dirty sounds coming from you? Those are the sounds of a whore.” he says, slapping a hand on your clit once more. You whimper into his palm, watching as he smirks at the sounds coming from your cunt. He bites back a chuckle, seeing how easily he can have you writhing in the palm of his hand.

He draws his fingers from your soaking cunt and brings them to his mouth. He looks at you as he does so, wrapping his tongue around the digits as he flutters his eyes shut in delight. “Such a dirty mouth, yet you're so sweet.” He pulls his fingers from his mouth before lowering himself down to your cunt, humming in adoration once he’s faced with your wetness. “Look how pretty she is, so wet—so perfect. You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he says, bringing an agonizingly slow stripe of saliva to your cunt.

“You still wanna do this here? Or would you prefer to go back home?” he asks, pausing his actions. “N-no, please, this is fine, Jun.” He smiles at your desperation, chuckling softly to himself before licking another long stripe up your cunt. His hands grip your thighs roughly, spreading your legs more than before for better access. Before doing anything else, you feel his hands reach up your chest to tear another hole in your suit. He moves the fabric aside to release your perky tits from their enclosure, rolling one between his fingers.

You moan quietly, to abide by his rules. He flicks your clit with his tongue, keeping your thighs apart with his free hand. He laps at your clit, wrapping his pretty lips around your sensitive bud. He relishes in the taste of your juices, sucking at your cunt as if his life depends on it. Your moan increases in volume, causing him to hum into you. He watches you writhe in pleasure as he inserts two fingers, watching every pleasure-felt expression that appears on your face.

You begin gripping his hair, pulling at the brown locks as you roughly ride his nose. He groans at the feeling, fluttering his eyes closed in pleasure. He feels his pants getting tighter as your pretty moans fill his ears and shoot straight to his cock.

You feel your orgasm creeping up on you as he continuously moans into your squelching cunt. With a plan in mind, you tug his head away from your clit. He looks up at you, dumbfounded. He's confused as to why you did that before seeing you drop to your knees. He watches you pull down his pants, releasing his cock from his slacks. He groans in pleasure, bucking his hips toward your face frantically.

You lick at the tip of his cock, jerking the rest of him off. He watches you with lust-filled eyes, bringing his hand to your face. You melt into his palm, looking back up at him with doe eyes. His breath quivers as you wrap your lips around his tip, licking at his leaking tip. You swallow the drops of precum before licking at his slit once more, watching as he bites his lip in attempt to contain his moans.

You chuckle, “It’s so pretty, Yeonjunie,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. You watch his hips buck upward in pleasure as you begin to hold his waist, preventing him from doing it again. He moans at the restriction, watching as you finally take all of him in your mouth. For some sort of stability, he grips your hair in his fist. He gains control over your throat as he bobs your head back and forth on his cock, seeing how you easily give in to him. He closes his eyes, stalling your head and fucking himself down your throat.

You grip his hips tighter, allowing him all the relief he needs as he fucks your throat. “F-fuck, baby… yeah, j-just like that, fuck, yes,” he moans, bucking his hips into your mouth. The noises coming from the alley would induce any type of curiosity in a person who just so happens to be passing by—the lewd sounds coming from your throat as he moans above you. The pretty noises coming from him as he shoves all of his length down your throat makes wetness form between your thighs, pooling at your entrance.

As you continue to let him fuck your throat, you reach down and rub rough circles into your clit. He opens his eyes for a split second to see how you’re occupying yourself and sees one of your hands away from his hip. Even though he feels himself nearing his orgasm, he yanks your hair to pull you away from his cock. He watches drool leave your lips as you stare up at him, breathing heavily and jaw nearly slacking.

He pulls you up by your hair, forcing you around to press you against the concrete wall. “You thought you were gonna get away with touching yourself? You thought I wouldn't catch you?” He rubs the soft flesh of your ass, tearing the rest of the bottom half of your suit off. “Look at you, baby. So pretty and wet, just for me.” He whispers in your ear, landing a firm slap on one of your asscheeks.

Watching as you wince, he soothes the pain with a soft knead into your flesh. It doesn't last long as he lands another one, telling you; “This is for lying in my face,” Another one. “This is for telling the press our business,” Another slap. “And, this? This is trying to make me look like a fucking fool,” Another one. “This one is for touching yourself without my permission, acting out, and all those times you treated me like I was a fucking joke; laughing in my face, lying to me, creating bullshit excuses for your actions, and thinking everything is a fucking game.” He raises his hand higher, before landing a harsh and rough slap on your ass once more.

You feel tears rolling down your face as he coos into your ear, kissing your neck and rubbing the bruising flesh. “Aw, my poor baby. You’ll be okay, just don't act like this again, okay?” He says, wiping your tears with his free hand. He kisses you one last time before pulling away to line himself up with your cunt. “Look at this,” he smiles to himself. “Doing all this crying, just to find out—you’re getting off on this shit, what a fucking slut.” He chuckles once more, inserting himself carefully.

You moan at the way he hits your sweet spot almost immediately, feeling his hand creep up to your breast. He pulls you against his chest by your throat, wrapping a firm hand around it. You watch him gather his spit in his mouth before telling you, “Open.” With quickness, you open your mouth as the spit drops from his to yours. “Swallow it,” he whispers, watching you carefully. You stare up at him, swallowing the spit just as he told you to. He smirks, kissing down your neck. He slowly starts fucking into you, pulling at your nipple between his fingers.

A moan erupts from your throat, slowly feeling a bit of overstimulation overtake you. You feel his pace slowly but surely pick up in speed, his pace becoming unrelenting. You feel his arm wrap around your torso to stop your squirming, his grasp tightening the more you move. You hear him groan in your ear along with the soft slapping emitting from your ass. His arm that was once wrapped around you is now creeping down to play with your clit, rubbing your bud in a circular motion.

“H-hah— fuck, keep—keep going, shit,” you moan, putting a hand over his. He kisses your neck once more, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. “You're so, fuck, so fucking gorgeous.”

He goes from kissing to sucking purple and blue splotches on your neck, making you moan directly into his ear. The moan seems to spur him on as his pace somehow picks up. You feel yourself teetering over the edge as you claw your nails into his arm, causing him to bite down on the sweet spot of your neck.

The bite itself emits a loud moan from you, his freakish pace adding to it. He feels you clench around him, clawing into your hip. “You gonna cum f’me? Go ahead, baby. Let it all go, I know you need it.” His words bring you over the edge as you seem to cum on his command. But that doesn't stop him.

He still hasn't came yet, you remembered. He fucks you through your orgasm, pace not seeming to be letting up anytime soon. The quickness of his hips, his balls slapping your cunt at the ferocious speed he’s kept all this time. He flips you around, making you face him. He captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, his grip on your throat tightening.

You feel his warm tongue explore your mouth, groaning into the kiss. His other hand goes back to playing with your nipple, tugging and rolling the bud between his fingers. One of your hands reaches up to his face, holding his cheek as he continues to fuck into you. He decides to change the position as he releases your throat, turning you back towards the wall, and bringing both of your hands behind you. He holds both your hands in one of his and rests his hand atop your head, his hand tangling in your hair and pulling your head back.

He begins pounding into you from behind at an erratic speed, chasing his high, “You're doing so good, baby. Keep moving your hips, shit, just like that.” He groans, slapping your ass as he continues his ministrations.

Feeling overstimulated, you pull your hand out of his and try to brush his thigh back, in an attempt to slow his pace. “F-fuck, ohmygod, p-please,” you hiccup, watching his face turn into a scowl. “What? Don't tell me you can’t, oh fuck—d-don’t tell me you can't fucking take it now?” he chuckles, bringing another hand to your ass and gripping the rose-colored flesh.

“That’s n-not, fffuck, yes— That’s not w-what I said, don't stop please, shittt,” you stutter out, he chuckles at how incoherent you’ve become and coos from behind you. “Uh huh, okay. Of course, what was I thinking? Thinking a slut like you would’ve wanted to stop,” he laughs. You whimper at his words, “I’m not a s-slut!” — “Aw, you sure?” He taunts, watching tears well up in your eyes. “Oh, pretty baby, why are you crying?” he asks, faux concern lacing his tone, “I thought you liked it when I fucked your brains out?” He taunts once again, listening to you whimper at the overstimulation.

“No words now?” You hear him ask as you mumble incoherently, reaching out toward his hand for stability. A small smirk ghosts over his lips at your neediness, his fingers ghosting over yours as his other hand continues gripping the meaty flesh of your ass. “Look at you—jumbling all of the words that come out of that pretty mouth, so pretty.” You moan pathetically, feeling your orgasm approaching once again.

You feel his cock twitch inside of you, hearing his breaths become more erratic as he also feels his climax approaching. “F-fuckkk, baby. I’m right t-there, keep moving, please,” he moans, releasing your hand and placing his on your hips. You place your hands on the concrete wall, trying your best to keep yourself stable. You bounce back towards him, letting him take a break from doing all the work. His hands caress your back, reaching to pull you up. He holds you close to his chest, catching your lips in a kiss that's different from the last one.

The kiss is so passionate that you nearly forget your surroundings. His plush lips press against yours, hungry and intense. The adrenaline rushes through both of your veins, the pent-up anger and constant arguments have built the tension between the two of you. Your hand tangles in his hair as his hand grabs your chin, deepening the kiss. You start to feel a warm sensation in your chest, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

In the midst of your shared kiss, both of your orgasms creep up on you and take you by surprise. He moans out of bliss; groaning into the kiss. Your back arches intensely as his hips still, releasing thick strings of cum into your fluttering pussy, your orgasm following soon after.

Your second orgasm hits harder than the other; you’re squirting on his cock, body jerking in his arms as he kisses your neck, easing you through your orgasm. You moan loudly, loud enough for him to have to cover your mouth. “Shhh, you did so good. So perfect f’me, my perfect girl.” He kisses your neck, watching as you come down from your orgasm. You let out cracked sobs, hearing him coo as he wipes them away.

“Breathe, baby.” He rubs your hip, massaging it softly. “You took me like such a good girl, so proud of you,” he kisses your lips, turning you back around toward him. He stares at you; his eyes are no longer lust-filled but full of love. He looks down at the shreds of your clothes, shocked. He knows he did that but it's still pretty shocking, which he laughs about.

You look at him, cracking a smile. He catches your eyes and begins smiling as well, “I really did that, huh?” he asks, a bit of shyness overtaking him. You smile timidly, nodding your head as he picks up the pieces of your suit.

“I’ll get this sewn back together for you—if you want me to,” he insists kindly, looking at you awaiting a response. You wave your hand in front of his face, “I don't need you to, I have plenty of others at your place.” He smiles at your insinuation of staying over and chuckles softly. You watch his eyes turn into crescent moons, followed by his sweet laugh.

He raises a hand to your face, caressing the soft skin of your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you pause, looking up at him to show how genuine you truly are. “For telling our business to the press, I really just wanted a rise out of you and-” “It’s okay baby.” He smiles, pinching your cheek softly.

“Even though you do get on my nerves at times, I still love you, y’know this. Plus,” he pauses, looking away for dramatic effect, “You know I hate false accusations.”

He winks at you, catching you slightly off guard. “Yeah, trust me I know. You’ve always wanted to prove a point,” you scoff with a minor eye roll. “Whatever do you mean? I’ve never wanted to prove a point in my life,” he hums, pulling up his pants. You raise your eyebrow at him, leaning back against the wall. “Don't even, you don't remember that one time when you-”

“Shhh. You're prettier when you're quiet, baby,” he says, placing his finger on your lips. You roll your eyes, smiling at his response. He smiles back at you, ticking his head to the side, “You wanna head home?” — “Please, I’m quite literally bare.” He laughs at your comment, pulling out his grappling hook and latching you on his side.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

© 2024 iTAEHYNZ.

★ TAGLIST: @boba-beom, @gardnhee, @n0-thisispatrick, @hyukafied, @luvsoobs, @choiwrld, @majestyjun, @tyunkus, @belovedxiao, @h00nerz, @sugaringgcaramel . . .

☆ NETWORKS: @k-labels . . .

[anthurak]

So I thought I’d throw together a bit of a timeline theory I’ve been thinking about since the last episode surrounding Fizzerolli, how he started working for Mammon, when and how he may have gotten together with Ozzie, who exactly kept him and Blitzo apart after the accident, and also an idea for some rather appropriate karmic irony.

See, we hear in Mammon’s Midseason Special that Fizz has won Mammon’s Clown Pageant the last ten years in a row. But nothing about that indicates that ten years ago was the first time Fizz won.

Instead, I think the actual first time Fizz won Mammon’s Clown Pageant was fifteen years ago. As in, shortly before the accident. For one this really adds some additional weight to the flashbacks we get in Oops. The big celebration we see wasn’t just for Fizz’s birthday, it was celebrating Fizz getting his big break. Winning this competition and getting the chance to work with Mammon, the Sin of Greed himself.

As well as adding even greater weight to Blitzo trying to give Fizz a love letter. Blitzo likely thought this would be the last chance he would get.

Additionally, this would also neatly explain Mammon’s involvement in Fizz’s recovery after the accident. It’s clear that Mammon bankrolled Fizzerolli’s recovery and cyberization, so that begs the question of what would prompt Mammon to invest so much time and effort into helping seemingly some random imp circus kid? Well, what if said kid not only just won his Clown Pageant, but did SO good that Mammon decided pretty much immediately that he wanted THIS kid as his new brand mascot? And then just a few weeks or even days later, that kid was horrifically maimed in a terrible accident at his home? Yeah, I think that gives Mammon ALL the reason to stick his neck out for Fizz. And if you’re going to ask ‘Why didn’t Mammon just drop Fizz after he was basically crippled?’ Because Mammon is the embodiment of GREED. He WANTED Fizzerolli and he was going to HAVE him.

Plus, I think we can assume that this is where Asmodeus entered the picture, with Mammon calling him in to do Fizzerolli’s cybernetics. In turn, I think it’s easy to guess that Ozzie being so closely involved in Fizz’s recovery is when the two started falling in love.

In short, Fizzerolli spends the next few years recovering before making his big debut as Mammon’s new hot brand mascot, winning his next Clown Pageant, and goes on to win every pageant for the next ten years up to present.

Now the other angle here is the big ‘Who conspired to keep Blitzo and Fizz apart after the accident?’ And I’m going to be honest; it is DEFINITELY Cash Buckzo. Like I know some people have theorized that it was Mammon, but frankly that theory just doesn’t make sense anymore. Mammon simply doesn’t have much motive or means to have done this, and if nothing else, he straight up doesn’t recognize Blitzo in the newest episode.

Cash on the other has both motive AND means in abundance. He was certainly one of the people most closely looking after Fizzerolli after the fire and he had every reason to want to cut Blitzo out of Fizzerolli’s life. Likely a combination of petty spite against his son for causing the accident which burned down their circus, likely injured dozens and even killed his wife, and also wanting to isolate and ‘protect’ Fizzerolli, his big cash cow. Especially now that he’d gotten the attention of Mammon, with Cash likely hoping to get/mooch as much as he could out of this new arrangement.

Now that last bit in particular get’s interesting because it’s clear that if Cash was hoping to continue profiting off Fizzerolli, it clearly didn’t work. What with how we have seen neither hide nor hair of Cash around Fizz, who in turn has not brought him up once.

So what happened?

Well, in a bit of delicious karmic irony, I think Cash was the one to cut Blitzo out of Fizz’s life, only to later get cut out of Fizz’s life himself by MAMMON.

[nymphbroadcast]

I had no idea how to go about this, but if it isn’t much to ask, could I request the Diasomnia boys with a Twilight Sparkle! Yuu/Reader headcanons. Romantic or platonic is completely up to you.

(P.S.A. Is it alright to put General Lilia instead of Present Lilia? I just really love Lilia in his General era, you don’t have to do this though.)

Diasomnia x MC! Like Twilight Sparkle

Sinopsis⊹ೃ🐉⋆ The Diasomnia boys with a MC! / Yuu Or S/O like Twilight Sparkle.

⊹Relationship⊹ೃ🐉⋆ Fall in love/ Free of interpretation.

⊹¡FEM! MC/Yuu/Lector ⊹ೃ 🐉

⋆⊹Clarifications: AAAAA I really loved this idea! Thank you anonymous for your request! Twilight is my favorite of the Mane Six and who I identify with sometimes, so I was really excited to imagine an MC! like Twilight with the Diasomnia boys, especially because of the plot that surrounds Twilight during the series, I kept many canon things about Twilight and Yuu from the game and the mangas, enjoy your request! PD: I'll also add Spike, because I love the older sister-little brother or mother-son relationship they both have ;)

⊹Twilight's Context⊹ೃ 🐉⋆

• Twilight is a character with great duality, she is very skilled in magic, she is intelligent and is always willing to acquire new knowledge, but that made her focus too much on just her studies and leave aside her social life, It is reiterated on several occasions that Twilight represents the Element of Magic and Dircord mentions that Twilight is the embodiment of magic, and in the comics Twilight's true magical ability is explored. On the other hand, more familiar, Twilight belongs to a family of high aristocracy, with her parents in noble positions and her brother as captain of the royal guard and she as the private student of Princess Celestia, who would later be her heir... At the beginning Twilight was apathetic to social events and even teamwork, which over time she began to fall aside and accept that friendship was not something like a distraction but rather an instrument to grow, both personally and intellectually. Twilight is a great leader, said on many occasions, she is able to recognize her mistakes and weaknesses, she also knows when to stop and does not put her pride before rationality for the common good, Although that does not mean that she does not have her negative sides, she can also worry too much and her tendency to worry about others often makes her fall into despair and paranoia, as well as when she is given a task of great responsibility and In her anxious process she begins to plan excessively and put all the responsibility on herself. Although as shown in the series, she always learns different lessons from her friends, who also help her constant personal improvement and as a future ruler.

Malleus Draconia

🐉 Oh someone catch this cute dragon boy because he's falling in love!

🐉 You are like a gift that his own magic has brought to him, you are so similar to him but so different from him too...

🐉 Something to sayis that you both are solitary (at least at the beginning) although you did it of your own free will and because of your desire to study, unlike him... Although that no longer matters, now you are his friend! and maybe... something else ;)... Something else that you both also share is your prodigiousness with magic, although since you were little you have the desire to learn more and you are talented and skilled through your own efforts and not just because you were born special.

🐉 Technically you come from a very high society, since being a star student of a famous princess **insert ur fav disney princess** surprises Malleus with your incredible social and magical position.

🐉 As your relationship progresses you introduce him to your little dragon companion, Malleus goes blank when he sees the young dragon even without his wings fully developed (don't even think about introducing him to Lilia, because Malleus's adoptive father will release the baby album Malleus) However, due to your friend's young age, Malleus does not see him as competition or in a jealous way. Over time, he may even come to see him as a son, believe me, he will become fond of him when he sees him being so close to you. and seeing you as a mother or older sister will soften Malleus' heart... Although, when you tell him that technically the little dragon is your son since as proof of the talent of your magic Malleus does not know what to say, since he has not even done something like effecting the birth of a being, he begins to respect you when he sees the magnitude of your knowledge and magic.

🐉 Although, returning to your flaws... Malleus doesn't know exactly what to do when he sees you enter a nervous and almost psychotic state when something happens that upsets you, he has never had to calm someone down before and the fact that that someone is you... Malleus decides to follow his instincts and Lilia's advice, words of comfort and physical touch, he hopes that that and his presence will calm your turbulent mind and to no one's surprise, it works.

🐉 As both have great magical potential, it would be necessary to see who has more knowledge, since Malleus has had some of the best magicians as teachers, but you have a Princess as a teacher and you have mastered countless spells with little effort, even mastering the light and dark magic (The return of the Crystal Empire, Twilight replicates Celestia's spell to open the door, in fact it is King Sombra's magic) and you handle different situations very well, which not only depend on your magic... Although anyway, you and Malleus meet to read and practice magic especially, since the magic that the Draconia possess makes you very curious and Malleus actually loves that instead of fearing his magic, it makes you very thirsty of knowledge.

🐉 Malleus is surprised how in a short time you have managed to learn the history of Twisted Wonderland and many of its nations, in fact you may be one of the few who really don't get bored in Professor Trein's classes, which is already an achievement, but see that you are seriously capable of storing all that data in your memory really amazes Malleus.

🐉 (Only a variant of the 'Cutie Mark' and a small suggestive hint are described here) Due to the type of NRC uniform your body is not exposed enough, but if you both reached 'that' moment, Malleus would quickly notice a cutie mark. a star and others around it on your hip, although he does not ask you directly, he investigates about this brand and discovers that in Twisted Wonderland this brand has been used multiple times to represent absolute magic, which leaves Malleus speechless and with heart pounding... Seeing that you are practically the incarnation of magic, he feels luckier that you are his and promises to take care of you and love you forever.

🐉 You are definitely someone very interesting in their eyes, in fact too much, you are always thirsty for knowledge and surrounded by books of all kinds, however from your side more people can see that you are a born Leader, loving and empathetic but firm and strict in the Maybe, for some reason, he feels that destiny has prepared a future for you as Ruler and he deeply hopes that it will be by his side.

🐉 Assuming that your promotion to princess would be soon, as well as Twilight's, you will have the big dragon boy attached to you for good and shouting to everyone in Twisted Wonderland that you will be his wife, he hugs you and coos at you whispering compliments and loving words of congratulations on your new status: "I always knew you would make it", "You look so beautiful even before you were an official princess" and "Now there is no excuse to hide that I love you, that we love each other, my dear~"

Lilia Vanrouge

(Present and General Lilia!)

🩸 The current Lilia would be fascinated in a good way by you, in his eyes he can really distinguish the pure magic that makes up your being and it amuses him to see how others seem to ignore it, even knowing that although you do not "belong" to Twisted Wonderland you are perfectly capable of using spells the size of Malleus himself.

🩸 While General Lilia would be intimidated and defensive, he is also able to sense your magic due to his proximity to Maleanor, but not knowing you or your intentions, it is normal for him to believe that you want to attack them, since that happens in wars and even more so. in one like that.

🩸 The present Lilia would have a lot of fun watching you deal with the Overblots and challenges that exist in the NRC, especially when you don't know the things like traditions and customs of Twisted Wonderland.

🩸 We already saw how shameless and to some extent cruel General Lilia can be, so don't be surprised when he doesn't believe that you are the student of a powerful princess or that you are equal or superior even in terms of magic to the Draconia.

🩸 The present Lilia would be absolutely delighted when she meets your baby dragon and memories of baby Malleus come like a waterfall, he does not stop fawning over the dragon and telling you anecdotes about when Malleus was a small lizard that barely existed (because don't tell me he didn't , there was nothing in that Malleus baby head) and also praise you because unlike the one who took 200 years to make Malleus born by giving him his own magic, you did it in an instant and without sacrificing your magic.

BABY MALLEUS SREAMER!!!

🩸 Unlike General Lilia, he doesn't know what to say about your little dragon companion, he's obviously not a draconian and although there are other dragons in Twisted Wonderland it's hard for him to associate them with the little one and he's even more stunned when he hears that your own Magic was what caused the birth of the dragon.

🩸 Lilia can see your strengths and vulnerabilities, he sees your constant anxiety and can't help but come to calm you down with words of support and, if necessary, knock you out so that your mind can rest, even for a minute. (In the case of General Lilia, he only use the last option.)

🩸 Although in the end, he ends up liking you for your duality in any way, he feels that somehow you will be someone great in the future and he hopes to be able to see you when that time comes.

🩸 In case you go out with one of his three sponsored children, Lilia would feel proud to see how you are a balance between 'humanity' and 'magic' and how honest you are in your affection towards the boy, and it has just been proclaimed adoptive grandfather of your little dragon.

🩸 On the other hand, if you are his partner, he will promise to take care of you and pamper you, make you feel at home with him and be a good father to your little dragon.

Silver

⚔ For Silver, you're so... Strange... In a good way, we all know he's not very social, so I don't think he's ever met anyone with as much thirst for knowledge as you.

⚔ However, if there is something he admires about you, it is your great capacity for leadership and self-sacrifice. Silver fully trusts you to wake him up if he falls asleep... Eventually.

⚔ In his free time, Silver likes for you to read a book aloud, it helps him relax and sleep better, regardless of the topic, Silver loves to listen to your calm and at the same time very interested voice in the topic of the book. +Bonus points if you let him put his head on your lap!

⚔ At the same time, you are incredible in magic and unlike General Lilia and Sebek, Silver has no problem comparing your magical potential with that of Malleus, for him you are actually admirable, given that you must not be more than 100 years old unlike Malleus. and yet you can cast spells of his Young Lord's level effortlessly.

⚔ Although more than your magical talent or the magic that emanates from you, what attracts Silver to you is how capable you are of facing situations that you possibly never thought you would experience.

⚔ It's not hard for him to believe that you're a student of a famous princess, considering he's seen you deal with Overblots and Dire Crowley's irresponsibility with ease.

⚔ Although it takes a while, he eventually becomes convinced of your magical power when he meets your little dragon companion and learns that you caused his birth and is practically like your son/little brother, Silver loves animals of all kinds as can be seen when he they surround him while he sleeps, so he will eventually become attached to the little dragon.

⚔ Although he won't believe you when you tell him that you used to be extremely asocial before coming to Twisted Wonderland, since he has always seen you accompanied by another first-year student and one of your two (Grimm and Spike) creature companions.

⚔ Although like Lilia and Malleus, Silver also notices the negative side of your personality, you are extremely anxious and prone to panic, not to mention when Crowley puts something important on you because he doesn't want to, although Silver wants to be careful and gentle when dealing with you to calm down, thanks to being educated and raised by Lilia, he ends up being a little... Brusque... With his words, although it surprisingly works. (Imagine Applejack kind of scolding Twilight, more or less)

⚔ Silver may be a lost prince and possess great magic from his dynasty, but even in his 'ignorance' he manages to identify your brand as the representation of the concept of magic itself and that makes him feel luckier to be with you.

⚔ Silver recognizes you as a great Leader, full of unknown potential and an attractive personality, even with flaws, Silver continues to see you as a beautiful balance between Magic and Humanity, something that attracts him more deeply to you, He promise to be the Knight to your future as a Princess, from now on. (And Malleus, of course)

Sebek Zigvolt

🐊 Sebek... Sebek... This is a complicated boy, at first he doesn't see you as anything more than a curious human with inferior, otherworldly magic.

🐊 And I'm sorry to tell you that this would be like this for a long time, until I can see more of your true identity and your magical power and as a person.

🐊 Rather, in Chapter 7, when he sees you fighting with your magic and comforting and helping Silver and Lilia.

🐊 Seeing you like this will make him remember your attitudes and why he suddenly changes his mind about you.

🐊 He understands your almost endless thirst for knowledge, he has seen you a couple of times in classes and admires that about you, no matter the subject you are always attentive, even with your energic friends on top.

🐊 Also remember your anxious side due to your worries and take note to help you (in your own way) with your anxiety attacks when you witness them, trust him, he is skilled with comfort even if it doesn't seem like it.

🐊 He obviously knows your little dragon and to be honest... He likes him much more than Grimm... He, incredibly idolizing Malleus and the Draconias themselves, will be incredibly delighted with your little friend, praising him for his helpfulness to you and his 'worthy' nature... Although he stiffens when you tell him how he was born, he slowly accepts that maybe... Just maybe... You could be much more skilled with your magic than he thought... Even almost like his Young Master.

🐊 Although yes, he is a little suspicious when he sees the symbol that you usually wear, he quickly recognizes it as the representation of magic itself and in reality, Sebek doesn't know what to think so he is patient.

🐊 Don't worry because this guy is slowly maturing and will eventually find you worthy of admiration and affection, without or with magic.

Nymph's Note:

I still don't know how to write to a romantic or loving Sebek, sorry T-T and sorry for take me too long, but I'm back again ♡

I hope you enjoyed!

Remeber to tune in, end of this broadcast!

Diasomnia Dorm x MC! Like Twilight Sparkle Done!

[wintrwinchestr]

bite the hand

the killer & the sound - chapter 3

summary: you hadn't expected joel to put such an abrupt end to... whatever it is you two had. or, what you thought you had, anyway. you write and perform a new song on the second night of the tour about it, and the consequences aren't quite what you expected them to be. how could something that seemed so simple at first have become so complicated?

warnings: 18+, smut, no outbreak au, no use of y/n, rockstar!joel, aspiring rockstar!reader, d/s dynamics, pretty major daddy kink, age gap (reader is early-mid 20’s, joel is early-mid 50’s), pet names (sweetheart, darlin', baby, babygirl, songbird(!!), etc), big time angst, daddy/mommy issues, religious shame, degradation (joel calls you a whore), spanking, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv sex, manhandling, one (1) kiss, spitting, smoking (reader & other characters), drinking (reader & other characters), getting walked in on, characters who need therapy sooooo badly, lots of internal monologue, let me know if i missed any!!

word count: 13.2k

a/n: as always, thank you so much for your patience and sticking around to see what i put our pookies through this time. these chapters just keep getting longer and longer but it's not my fault they have a lot to say!!!!! if you'd like an idea of what reader's lil diss track sounds like, i very much imagined gibson girl by ethel cain when i wrote it. thank you as always to my best babygirl kiers i love u to death. i hope you like this one, nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed!!

series masterlist

read this chapter on ao3

divider by @saradika-graphics

Jesus Christ, what the hell is he doing?

Joel has been in the shower for at least thirty minutes now, and he’s spent more than half of that time just letting the scalding water pound against his back as his vision goes blurry from the steam. He finished his “rinse off” within five minutes of stepping inside the bathroom, and now he’s just stalling, wondering how the fuck he’s supposed to go back out there and get in bed with you.

If it weren’t for the decades’ worth of tattoos that he can see when he looks down at his bare body, he wouldn’t be able to recognize himself right now. He’s always been one to hit it and quit it, love ‘em and leave ‘em, or whatever little figure of speech you want to use for just being a fucking playboy. Since when has he ever cleaned a girl up, given her his clothes to wear, let her sleep over after he fucks her? Though, he has to give himself some credit, it’s not like he was planning on letting you stay. He was just trying to preserve some of your dignity, but then, when did he even decide to start caring about shit like that? 

Fuck.

When the tour bus jerks to life as the driver begins the trip to the next city, the loss of balance is enough to finally snap Joel out of the uncharacteristic morality spiral he’s now found himself in. He rubs his hands across his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and cursing under his breath, knowing that he can’t hide in here and avoid you forever. Besides, he’s getting old, and he has to sleep at some point if he wants to be at least a little functional tomorrow. And what is he so fucking scared of, anyway? 

Joel turns off the water, and the knob screeches in protest as the dull roar of the shower fades into silence. He steps out of the stall and hardly makes any effort to dry himself off, solely focused on getting out of there before the fog evaporates from the mirror and he’s forced to confront his own reflection. He shakes out his hair and pulls on a clean pair of briefs, then sends out a silent prayer to whoever the fuck might be listening, begging for help in making it through the night without having to address whatever it is that’s gnawing at his conscience. He didn’t even think he had one of those anymore.

Joel enters the bedroom quietly, hoping that you’d be exhausted enough to have fallen asleep by the time he returned. When you don’t even twitch as he shuts the door behind him and climbs under the covers, he lets out the breath he’d been holding, and lays himself down as close to the edge of the mattress as he can without falling off the damn thing. If he can put as much distance between the two of you as possible tonight, maybe he can make it out the other side unscathed.

Just when he thinks he’s in the clear, having settled himself down with his back to you and situated his silk sheets and pillows to his liking, he feels you roll over in your sleep as you let out some dreamy little whine. Joel likes to keep it cold on the bus, and your shivering form must feel the heat still radiating off of him from his shower, because then you’re wrapping your little arms around his bicep and pulling him close. He wants to shake you loose, to put some extra pillows in between your bodies just for good measure, but he can’t be so cruel. Not when you look like such a goddamn angel, sleeping so peacefully with your hair spread out around you like a halo, long lashes fluttering against your cheeks. He wonders what you’re dreaming about. 

Joel isn’t sure when exactly it happened, but somewhere in between that very first rehearsal and right now, the lines started to blur between a fun little fling he wasn’t going to think twice about letting go of once the tour ended, and something that he wants to sink his claws into and claim as his own. He has to face it now, whether he wants to or not—he can’t get himself to push you away, to growl at you not to touch him and to stay on your own side of the bed, because he doesn’t want to. What he wants is to tattoo his fucking name right underneath that shitty moth on your upper thigh, and therein lies the problem.

He has a history of breaking things, of being too controlling and rough and mean when he plays with his toys, until they fight back and tear themselves apart as they escape his clutches. But you seem like something that can’t be broken, that would glue itself back together just to get played with again the next day, and that sets off some alarms he didn’t know he was capable of hearing. Maybe he does still have a conscience, after all.

At first, Joel had liked how eager and willing and naive you were, how easily he could push and pull you this way and that because you didn’t seem to realize what this was. Or at least, what it was intended to be. Whether you were smart to his intentions or not was never really his concern before, but now… You’re nuzzling your face into his arm, breathing in his scent and letting it soothe you as it coats your senses, and it’s awakening something protective, possessive, in him. Joel has never been good at romance or love or relationships, and he had resigned himself a long time ago to the fact that he’d never be able to settle down. The life he lives can’t sustain something steady or healthy like that anyway, what with the touring and the groupies and the sex and the alcohol. 

But now here you are, this fragile and yet unbreakable thing in his bed who he worries wouldn’t run away no matter how much he growled and bared his teeth. And god dammit, that scares him. Joel had thought he was done being scared, that he had left that feeling behind before you were even born, probably. And yet, here it is creeping up on him again, grabbing him by the throat and suffocating him. You’ve got real talent and beauty, with a promising future and blossoming career ahead of you, and you’d probably give it all up and follow him into the darkness if he promised to call you a good girl once you did.

Joel has never been a very good man, but something about you makes him really have to stare down the barrel of it now. He can’t do this to you, he can’t let you in, and he knows that. He’d poison you, if he hasn’t already. And he can’t give to you what you seem to think this is, what it could be, if he wasn’t so fucking damaged. So he decides it then, as he doesn’t stop his hand from brushing a stray strand of your halo out of your delicate face, that he has to put a stop to this first thing in the morning. And he has to be cold and concise about it, so that you’re perfectly clear on what the two of you are going to be from now on, even if it hurts you. You’re a big girl, and he trusts that you’ll get over it somehow, because letting this continue would hurt you a hell of a lot worse, in the end.

And you seemed to have taken it well, all things considered. He didn’t tell you the whole truth, the real reason why he decided to yank the arrow out of your heart when he was the one who shot it in there in the first place. Because then you’d know that he’s a broken man who also breaks things, and he can only shatter so many of your illusions about him in one morning. He knows this is his fault, and he was at least man enough to take the blame, he can give himself that. He had decided to paint himself as an actually respectable person who knows when he’s taken something too far, who definitely does have a conscience. Maybe you’re the one who lured it out of the dark cave it was hiding in, but he still can’t risk anything, on the off chance that he still is the same mangled man he always was and the one he will continue to be. So he lies to you, just a little bit, because what you don’t know won’t hurt you, and he can’t let you come any closer for fear of causing even more pain than he already has. 

Joel watched as your bare legs carried you out of the living area and off of his bus, the tops of your thighs just barely concealed by his shirt he had lent you the night before. He didn’t react when you slammed the door on your way out, he had expected you to do as much. But he did half-expect you to turn around and spit a fuck you, Joel at him the way he would have deserved. It might have hurt less if you did, that way you would have left a sour taste in his mouth to replace the still-lingering flavor of your pussy mixed with the cum he had spilled inside you last night. 

God, he is so fucked.

—

You had made sure to thank the audio technicians before you disappeared from the venue after your sound check, but otherwise avoided looking at or speaking to anyone on your way out. Especially him. You had held Angel close as you swiftly made your way back to your bus before Death’s Head had a chance to take the stage for their turn, not wanting to hear any more of Joel’s voice than you’ve had to today. Besides, it’s already been looping like a skipping record in your mind since this morning, refusing to let up no matter how hard you try to drown it out. 

Mistake, respect, and professional are the choice words that are chanting themselves over and over again, so many times that they almost don’t sound real anymore, just a random sequence of letters and noises that you can’t make sense of. What happened last night didn’t feel like a mistake to you, especially not when he was so gentle in cleaning you up afterwards, when he brought you a glass of water, when he let you curl up against him in his bed, wearing his clothes. He sure as hell had plenty of time to decide that you were worthy of respect before he had you act like a whore on stage in front of tens of thousands of people for his own sick pleasure. (And apparently yours, but that’s not the point.) And now you’re supposed to believe that he suddenly had a change of heart overnight, that splitting you open on his cock and using your body to get what he wanted made him finally develop a moral compass and decide that he wants to start acting like a professional? Damn, maybe you are more powerful than you thought. 

You just can’t believe you were stupid enough to let yourself feel something for him. He was just playing you like his guitar this entire fucking time, a pretty instrument that he can pluck and strum and draw pretty noises from, then put away without a second thought. He’s a celebrity, a rockstar, for fuck’s sake. Half of his songs are about sex, and if the rumors are true, he recorded the original intro to Kiss it Better while he was hooking up with some groupie in a bathroom. Just like you, he had probably used her to get what he wanted, then dropped her like it was nothing. Of course he never fucking cared about you. 

You should burn the clothes that he sent you scurrying back to your bus wearing this morning. They’re currently shoved into the bottom of your plain-looking laundry bag in the corner of your room, though you’re half tempted to just toss the whole thing into the dumpster behind the venue and set it ablaze. But you know he doesn’t care about material things as much as he does his ego, and it’s going to be much more satisfying to set that on fire than some worn-out pieces of clothing, anyway. Destroying them also wouldn’t do anything about the way you keep catching an inhale of his cologne every once in a while, the masculine smell of it wafting from his t-shirt and carving out an undesired space for itself in your brain. You try to ignore the way your cunt flutters against your will at the scent, at the memories it conjures, and hope that she doesn’t develop a habit of betraying you like this when it comes to him. She almost gets the better of you, tempting you to second guess your plan to perform your scathing new song at the end of your set tonight.

Almost.

You’re feeling good about what you wrote, and you’d be even more upset with yourself if you backed out now, if you gave in to Joel once again, without him even knowing it this time. He seems to think that he knows you better than you know yourself, that he can make decisions for you and that he always knows just what to say to get you to do as he asks. For once, you want him to be fucking wrong about you.

The show starts in just under an hour, and you’re dedicating your last bit of quiet solitude to solidifying the new words and the motions of your fingers in your memory. While you were scribbling in your notepad earlier today, you had tried to ride the fine line between calling him out so blatantly and using descriptions that were too clichéd, and you’re happy with the in-between that you landed on. The song could be about anyone, but it isn’t, and if the shoe fits when he tries it on, oh fucking well. Plenty of men wear the same size, and if he wants to make yet another thing about himself, that’s not your problem.

Ideally, you had wanted to include the song in your sound check so that your band would be prepared for tonight, until you had let your eyes drift to the side of the stage and saw Joel observing in the darkness, just like he had done while you were performing the night before. You suppose it wouldn’t be very professional of him to avoid you like the plague the way you’re trying to do with him, but still. You had averted your eyes as quickly as you had spotted him, and decided that the song was just going to have to be a surprise for everyone, not just Joel. Your band members are smart enough guys, you’re sure they’ll be able to catch on and back you up when it’s time to unveil what you had been working on all day. But if they don’t, you’re prepared for it to just be you and Angel up there, the same way it has been for as long as you’ve been making music. Until recently, at least.

You’ve opted to get yourself dressed and ready in the safety of your bus, attempting to avoid a repeat of last night’s pre-show interactions with Joel by minimizing the amount of time you actually have to spend inside the venue. You doubt he’ll try anything, but considering how unafraid he was to volunteer himself as a witness to your sound check, you’d rather not risk it. So, you do your best to keep your distance as you make your way off the bus and to the side of the stage with Angel in tow, hoping that your viscous aura alone will be enough to keep him away. 

Your band members are already waiting for you in the wings when you get there, and you tuck yourself safely behind the group of them as you wait for the lights to go down. You ghost your fingers along Angel’s strings one last time, just to make sure that your muscle memory is securely locked into place—it is, because you’re fucking good at this. You don’t need Joel’s whispered praises and soothing touches to know that you’re a star, and you don’t want them. You don’t. You fucking killed it last night, and you knew it before he told you so, because your ears were still ringing long after the audience had finished applauding and screaming for you. For your own performance, not for the on-stage degradation you endured because of a dumb teenage crush you couldn’t seem to shake off.

If your timing is right, you should’ve gone on a few minutes ago now. Each passing minute has you gnawing at your bottom lip and picking at your nails with increasing intensity as you and the audience both become more restless. You aren’t sure what the hold up is, but you just want to get out there and safely away from the possibility of Joel before you make one of your goddamn fingers bleed. You’re so consumed in your destructive self-soothing that you don’t hear the sound of jingling chains and creaking leather approaching you where you stand, followed by a clearing throat and the last voice you want to fucking hear right now.

“Tommy told me they’re jus’ tryin’ to fix a light or somethin’. Shouldn’t be too much longer now,” Joel says, and you stiffen as he speaks. He sounds earnest in the way he addresses the group of you, but the feeling of his gaze lingering on your skin tells you his true intentions.

Your bandmates hum in acknowledgement as they maintain their casual demeanors, while you shift your jaw and remain steadfast in your stoicism. Your face is calm and concentrated, but your fidgeting hands tell a different story, and the telltale habit is most of what prompted Joel to come over here against his better judgment. He so badly wants to take your hands in his so that you’ll stop tearing at your skin, to massage the worry right out of your palms and tell you there’s nothing to be nervous about, just like he did last night. Though, you’d probably bite his goddamn fingers clean off if he even so much as reached out a hand in your direction, and he wouldn’t entirely blame you if you did, considering that he’s more than likely the reason for your agitation.

Instead, he settles for asking, in as neutral of a tone as possible, “You okay, darlin’?”

Your gaze remains focused on the stage, on the mic you should be standing behind right now, if it weren’t for some stupid fucking light. After a pointed beat, you answer him with a short, “I’m fine.”

You can see in your peripheral vision that Joel nods and shifts his weight, moving a little further behind your band and closer to you. He lets a matching bit of silence pass, for some reason not using the opportunity to just turn around and walk away, before speaking again. “Quit messin’ with your fingers.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you snap, whipping your head to finally face him. You peer up at Joel from under your eyebrows, putting on a stony face and doing your best to look intimidating even as he towers over you. Despite your efforts, your heart still flutters for just a second when your eyes meet, before he drops his own gaze to the floor and takes a step back from you.

“That how this is gonna be?” Joel asks, and you could swear he sounds a little defeated.

“Yeah, it is.”

You turn yourself back to the stage again, and he takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to steady himself and suppress a reaction to your attitude that he might regret.

“Look, can we–” he starts, but a sudden burst of screams and hollers cuts him off as the venue lights finally dim. You push past your bandmates and stomp your way towards the stage, feeling volatile and as determined as you’ve ever fucking been to give a killer performance tonight. You could’ve spit some real fire at him, told him to leave you the fuck alone like you had been so tempted to, but you didn’t want to scare him off. You don’t even need to check to know that he’s still standing exactly where you left him, and that he’ll probably stay there and watch you the whole time because he doesn’t know what the fuck he wants, apparently. Maybe you should bring him onstage for his public humiliation the same way he did to you, see how he likes it. But you have a little more humanity than he does, and if it all works out, he’ll have to watch you tear him down surrounded by his own bandmates and brother, and that’s gratifying enough for you.

When you and your band have all taken your places, you introduce yourself to tonight’s crowd with a newfound vigor, and begin your set with a chord so resonant it vibrates your bones. The sound surrounds you, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking loose the wallflower version of you who performed these same songs just last night. It feels like a metamorphosis, like the moths that adorn the strap slung around your body and the one etched into your skin finally belong to you instead of him.

—

You sail through your set, never stumbling over a chord or missing a lyric, even in your anticipation to reach the end. While you thank the crowd and wait for their roaring cheers to die down, you finally chance a look at the side of the stage. Just as you had predicted before you went on, Joel’s silver-tipped boots are still planted in the same place they were thirty minutes ago. Perfect.

“Y’all have been amazing tonight, this was so much fun,” you pant into the mic. “I, uh… I actually have one more song before I go, if that’s alright. Just wrote it this morning.”

Another wave of whistles and applause engulfs you as you turn to check on your bandmates, who all wear confused expressions as expected. You step back from the mic to tell each of the guys the key and tempo of what you wrote, and ask if they can maintain something steady and follow along while you carry the melody. When they’ve all gotten the plan, they look at each other and wordlessly communicate a final decision, seeming to be up to the challenge. 

You resume your place at the front of the stage, taking one last look at your victim before beginning to strum the song’s now-familiar echoing intro. The tone is a little Western, and you wrote it that way on purpose, just as an extra hidden jab toward the obnoxious midnight cowboy persona Joel had first lured you in with. Your haunting voice comes in a few measures later, singing lyrics that are unlike anything you’ve written before. They’re darker, more graphic, and they tell the story of a girl and a cold-blooded man covered in leather and tattoos, who got her alone one night and ripped her clothes off and whispered things he didn’t mean while he fucked her. And after everything was said and done, the girl had lied to herself, replaying everything that had happened between her and the cold-blooded man that night, convincing herself that because it felt good, because he was good to her, that it had meant something. She had bared her body and soul to him, only to find out that he had also been lying to her that night, playing with her like a doll who didn’t know any better, who was just happy to get looked at and touched and praised by someone she had once held on such a high pedestal. You let the lights embrace you and warm your skin as you bare yourself once again, trusting this time that it won’t end in shame or hurt or tears. 

When the buildup of your lyrics and chords finally culminate in the song’s cathartic crash, the first thing you feel is relief, like a crushing weight has been lifted off your heart. The crowd’s enthusiastic response to your creation surrounds you, filling your ears and infiltrating your soul, and you can’t help but laugh at the overwhelming feeling. You gesture behind you for your band to meet you at the front of the stage, and you all bow together to another round of raucous cheering before making your way offstage. This time, you do remember to leave Angel behind, satisfied in what the two of you accomplished tonight.

You’re still reveling in the rush of your performance by the time you’re shrouded in the backstage darkness once again, so caught up in the feeling that you nearly forget what your moment of spontaneity was for in the first place. Or rather, who it was for. You didn’t have enough wherewithal to check if Joel would still be lying in wait once you exited the stage, mostly assuming that his ego would get the best of him and he’d just huff his way out to the buses for a smoke once he realized what you were doing.

You assumed wrong.

Before your eyes even have a chance to adjust to the change in lighting, a calloused hand is gripped tight onto your upper arm, dragging you deeper backstage as you exclaim in protest and try to snatch your arm out of the iron hold that traps it.

“What the—Joel?! Get the fuck off me! What are you–”

“Will you fuckin’ quiet down?” Joel hisses next to your ear. “Quit makin’ a goddamn scene, already made enough of one as it is.”

Despite your struggle against him, his size and strength overpower you, and before you know it you’re being shoved into a dressing room, the door getting slammed shut and locked behind you in a second.

“What the fuck, Joel?” you shout up at him as he backs you into the door, finally letting go of your arm to loom over you and brace one of his hands next to your head.

“I can ask you the same goddamn thing. What the fuck was that out there, hm?” He spits back at you.

You massage the aching finger-shaped marks on your skin where he had gripped you, eyeing him with an annoyed expression. “It was just a song, what is your fucking problem?”

He scoffs, rolling his neck as his brows twitch in disbelief. “Just a song, right. Everybody knew that shit was about me.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, both from the anxiety of being confronted like this and the aggravation caused by his egomaniacal tendencies. “You are so fucking self-centered, it’s insane. It could’ve been about anyone—”

“But it wasn’t, huh?” Joel interrupts. “Who else do they know that has a filthy title inked into his hand, as you put it. Gimme a break, sweetheart. As if that same title didn’t have you soakin’ your fuckin’ panties for me last night.”

You hate that you can feel your cunt flutter in response to his words. “Whatever, will you just let me go? This isn’t very professional of you, locking me in your goddamn dressing room just so you can throw a fit,” you retort.

Realization flashes across his face as he steps back from you, breathing a heavy sigh. “Professional…” he speaks quietly, testing out the word, searching for the meaning behind why you had used it so pointedly. “Jesus Christ, is that what this is about? You are such a goddamn child, you know that?”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, crossing your arms now that he’s given you the room to do so. “Didn’t seem to think of me that way last night. I’m a big girl, I can do what I want, why do you care so much if I wrote a stupid song about you?”

Joel shuts his eyes, scrunching up his face like he’s fighting against what he wants to say next. “Because, fuck—This ain’t what I wanted, okay? Said I wanted to keep it professional between us, not that I wanted you to make a goddamn fool outta me in front’a God and everybody.”

“Well, what do you want?” You push, stepping into his space as your blood begins to boil over. “Because I thought you fucking cared about me, and then you just told me to get lost this morning, like none of it meant anything to you—”

“Of course it fuckin’ meant somethin’ to me, Jesus Christ.” Joel says, so breathlessly it’s like the words escape his mouth before he can catch them. “Did this for your own goddamn good—”

“Oh, for my own good?”

“Yes, for your own good. Because I know what you want this to be, and I can’t give that to you, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Joel doesn’t answer, but he shifts his jaw like he considers it, and lets your angered breathing fill the silence.

“Huh?” You provoke, hitting your palms against his broad chest once. Your push hardly does anything to knock him off his balance, but you swear it makes his eyes darken. “Why not?” You demand a second time.

You can tell he wants to bite back, but he suppresses the instinct, instead backing away from you as he shakes his head in disbelief. “Y’ know what, I ain’t gonna do this with you right now. We can talk about this later.”

Joel makes for the exit, but you dart in front of the door handle, feet planted firmly on the ground as you block his only way out. You grit your teeth as you stare up at him, daring him to either do something about it or finish what he started.

He takes another steadying breath. “Really ain’t helpin’ your case much right about now. I suggest you move, sweetheart.” His voice registers a somewhat eerie calm, the kind that a storm usually follows.

“You don’t get to back out of this.”

“Ain’t backin’ out. Said we’re gonna talk about it later. Move.”

You stare at each other in strained silence for a few moments, neither of you in the mood to give in to the other. You doubt that you’re about to bear witness to the first time Joel has ever submitted to someone else, so you slide away from the door, making a vow to yourself to find him after the show and force him to make good on his word.

“‘S what I thought,” he huffs, unlocking the door and slinking out into the hallway. He holds his head a little too high for someone too scared to tell you how he feels, like it’ll eat him alive if he admits to anyone that he really does have a heart.

You step out of the room and watch him walk, waiting until he gets a few paces away from you to grumble under your breath, “Self-centered and a fucking coward.”

Either Joel wasn’t as far out of earshot as you had thought, or the angry thudding of your pulse inside your head had made it difficult to tell just how loud you had said your little dig. He stops in his tracks, giving you a second to sweat before turning around to face you. “What was that?” he asks, but you already know he had heard you loud and clear. He begins to stalk towards you, and that predatory sway of his shoulders has you suddenly feeling meek.

“N-nothing,” you lie, backing into the dressing room as he continues his prowl.

“Nah, go ahead. You wanna do this right now, we’ll do it right now. What’d you say, baby? C’mon.” Joel’s movement forces you backward until the base of your spine hits the edge of the vanity table in the room. You wince at the impact and the sound of the door slamming shut again, and then he’s bracing both of his hands on either side of your hips, caging you in. Joel’s hot breath ghosts against your face as his eyes seem to glow a fiery shade you’ve never seen before. “Say it again.”

You swallow hard, nervous eyes flitting around his face, unsure of the safest place to land, or if there even is one. “Called you a coward…” you admit softly, voice trembling.

“Yeah? I’m a fuckin’ coward? What else, hm? Why don’t you use your big girl words and say to my face what you really wanted to say about me out there instead o’ that bullshit lil’ poem you wrote.” He’s just being mean now, lashing out because you hit him where it hurts. But god fucking dammit, there’s something about the way he’s standing over you, how he’s using his size to intimidate you and how the smell of his cologne mingles with the fading aroma of his last cigarette, that begins to cloud your judgment. You can’t help the way a dampness begins to bloom between your thighs as a result of his demeaning words and close proximity.

You figure you don’t have much of a reason to hold anything back anymore, already having pissed him off by threatening his ego twice in one night. “I hate you,” you rasp, which is pretty much what the lyrics of your song boil down to. You do hate him, for saying all the right things and touching you all the right ways to make you think he wanted the two of you to be something, only to throw your naivety in your face, tell you that you’re acting like a child when he’s the one who tried to give up and walk out when something became more complicated than he could handle.

“Yeah, I bet you do. Think you can do better than that, though, huh? Sure had plenty to say earlier, don’t get all shy on me now, sweetheart.” He spits the pet name at you like it’s an insult, coated in the venom dripping from his sharp canines.

“Fuck you,” you snap, eyes welling up and threatening to spill over despite yourself.

Joel spins you around as soon as the words leave your lips, pinning your wrists behind your back with just one of his hands, using the other one to grip your jaw and make you face your own reflection in the vanity mirror. You shut your eyes tightly, not wanting to confront what he’s reduced you to, and he allows you to keep them that way for now.

“You want me to? That why you’re all fired up, ‘cause you need Daddy to fuck this bratty ass attitude outta you?” Joel rumbles next to your ear.

You struggle to shake your head in his hold, mumbling, “No, I don’t.”

“No? So if I reach my hand under this lil’ dress, I ain’t gonna feel that pretty pussy drippin’ for me?”

You aren’t sure why you bother lying to him again, humming an mm-mm that sounds more like a whimper.

“Hmm, let’s see about that, then,” Joel muses, releasing your face from his hold to bend you forward and flip up the skirt of your dress. “Would you look at that… panties are ‘bout fuckin’ soaked through, ain’t they?” You whine as he begins to rub your folds over your underwear, pulling back the crotch of them and letting it go so that you can feel the damp snap of the fabric against your sensitive skin. “Thought you were such a good girl… you like it a lil’ mean, hm? ‘S that why you pulled that stunt tonight, to get Daddy all worked up so he’d treat you the way you really been wantin’?”

You feel a stinging smack on your ass before you’ve even finished muttering a complete No. Joel’s rough hand does nothing to soothe the burn as he rubs it around your smarted flesh, squeezing at the plush of your ass with a possessive grip. “Had just about enough of you lyin’ to me tonight. Why don’t you tell me the goddamn truth and I’ll give you what you want, hm? Gonna ask one more time. You want Daddy to beat up this lil’ brat pussy?” He asks, moving his hand back to the wet fabric of your panties, circling your clit over the material with the pad of his finger.

You can’t help but moan at his crude language, releasing another pulse of wetness in response. “Mmh, yes, please—” you mewl.

“Open your fuckin’ eyes,” Joel barks, and it startles you into obedience. “Yes, who?” he challenges, making eye contact with your reflection in the mirror.

He continues his ministrations over your covered clit, and you force your brain to work through the distraction, to give him what he wants and not earn yourself another spank.

“Y-yes, Daddy, I want it,” you admit, your voice drenched in a pathetic need. 

Joel swiftly yanks your panties to the side, practically tearing them clean off your body with one hand in an effort to expose your swollen core to him, not daring to release your aching wrists from the other one’s hold. He circles your dripping entrance with the rough tips of two of his fingers, not pushing all the way inside just yet.

“Think you owe me a goddamn apology first, hm?” he taunts, using his fingers to smear your ashamed slick around your entrance.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry–” you whine, pushing back into him impatiently.

Smack. “For what, baby? What’re you sorry for?” Joel presses, his harsh spank telling you to stay fuckin’ still. 

“For… for writing that song… for calling you a c-coward… ‘m sorry, Daddy, I’m sorry–” you cry. He shoves both of his thick fingers inside you as your reward, carving out space for them inside your little hole as he starts up a bruising pace, the obscene wet sounds of his movements filling the room and mingling with your broken little wails. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, getting ordered around and talked down to and used like this by someone you said you hated only a few minutes ago, but you don’t really care to unpack that right now. Or ever. Maybe you were naive and immature in thinking that this thing you’ve gotten yourself into could ever pan out like what you’ve seen in the movies, but you think you could learn to be content with what he is willing to offer you—praise doled out as easily as he deprives you of it, a firm hand and fingers that can strum along your clit as expertly as he does the strings of his guitar, and a cock that makes you feel like someone else entirely, that can send you somewhere far away and bring you back down to earth at the same time. You let him use his fingers to pound all that angst and fire and attitude out of you as your eyelids flutter shut again, losing yourself in the feeling of him.

“How many times I gotta tell you, huh? Keep ‘em open, look, baby,” Joel commands, letting go of your wrists to deliver a light smack to the side of your face. You fall forward at the sudden release of his hold, catching yourself on the vanity table and digging your nails into the hard surface to ground yourself. His punishing hand forces your gaze straight ahead with a claw-like grip on your jaw, and your eyelids still feel so heavy, everything moving slowly as you look at yourself in the mirror. Your parted lips, smeared mascara, and unfocused gaze paint a debauched version of yourself that you don’t recognize, blurred by the sleepy submissive state he seems to be able to plunge you into so easily. “Take a good goddamn look in the mirror, at what I’m doin’ to you, and you tell me if you really want this.”

Every sharp thrust of his hand against your cunt knocks loose more and more of your ability to think, let alone speak. But you know by now that if Joel demands a response from you, he’ll get one, coherent or not. He seems to like it when your words come out a ruined mess of whines and slurred syllables, anyway, getting off on how hard and fast he can knock down those walls you attempt to put up and turn you into something so servile and saccharine.

“Want it, please, Daddy,” you beg, struggling to hold yourself up as his fingers get you closer and closer to your release.

“You sure about that? ‘Cause this is what you’re gonna get, sweetheart,” Joel grunts, the exaggerated word punctuated by the stretch of a third finger joining the other two inside your already fucked-out cunt.

“D-don’t care, just want you—ah—” you’re cut off by the sudden stroking of Joel’s curled fingers against a particularly tender and unfamiliar spot inside you. You begin to unravel at the overwhelming feeling, letting out little wanton pleases and Daddys as you continue to soak his tattooed hand.

“Fuck, gonna be the goddamn death o’ me, lil’ songbird, you know that? Tried to stop this shit before it could get started, tried to keep you away from me, but I just can’t seem to fuckin’ help myself, can I? We’d be nothin’ but bad for each other, but—shit—been thinkin’ ‘bout this tight cunt all goddamn day, couldn’t get the taste o’ you outta my mouth. Reckon I never will… In fact—” Joel pulls his fingers out of you in an instant, and you cry out from the sudden loss as you watch him suck them clean in the mirror. You feel dizzy, letting him manhandle you as he spins you around to face him and hoists you on top of the vanity table with little effort. He groans as he crouches, pulling your drenched panties down your legs and tossing them somewhere behind him. With your raw-looking cunt now fully exposed to him, he spreads your legs wide and curses under his breath, “Should’a done this shit last night, fuck—” before diving in between your thighs and licking a long stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit. He latches onto the sensitive nub, closing his eyes and sucking hard as his large hands force your legs to stay open. You let your upper back rest against the mirror as he works you over, and the cool glass sends a shiver down your spine as your hips tilt upward, allowing him better access.

He drinks from you as if you taste like his favorite top-shelf whiskey, growling into your flesh as he’s surely leaving fingertip-shaped bruises on the softness of your thighs. He alternates between swirling his tongue around your clit and fucking it in and out of your hole, beckoning you to spill yourself into his mouth. He savors every wave of slick that pours from you, each of your little cries and whimpers making his cock strain harder against the confines of his jeans. 

You can’t help but let one of your hands drift to his hair, and he doesn’t stop you from grabbing onto his messy curls as you buck pathetically against his tongue. 

“Such a sweet lil’ cunt, got me fuckin’ addicted to it, I swear…” Joel half-whispers, rubbing his thumb in circles around your clit to make up for the absence of his tongue as he speaks, your hips still desperately chasing after his movements. He spits onto your folds once, watching it drip between the curves of them for a moment before lapping up your combined juices and picking up where he left off. Your eyes are shut tight, brows peaked with need as you beg him to keep going, please, Daddy, gonna come.

Joel pulls away again just enough to tease, “Always come for me so easily, don’t you? Sing for me, songbird, c’mon.” A few more rough strums of his thumb and pulses of his tongue have you crying out, shaking where you sit on the table as you gush into his waiting mouth. Joel works you through it as you practically ride his face, your hips twitching with each overstimulating flick of his tongue over your sensitive clit.

He doesn’t wait very long for you to come back into yourself, the impatient bastard that he is, before he’s commanding you to open and using his strong fingers to yank your jaw downward. Your eyes blink open just in time to watch him spit a mouthful of your own release onto your waiting tongue, and then he’s pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss, tongues twisting around each other as he forces you to taste yourself. So immersed in the distraction of finally feeling his lips against your own, you don’t notice when he loosens his grip on your face to grab one of your hands instead, placing it on his still-clothed bulge and growling into your mouth as you massage the hard shape of him.

“Feel what you do to me, babygirl?” Joel breaks the kiss to ask, voice low and eyes dark. “Even if I kept you away from me, wouldn’t fuckin’ matter. Still have to take care o’ myself one way or another, would just be pretendin’ it was your perfect cunt squeezin’ me instead o’ my hand, anyway. Might as well stick to the real thing, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree, lashes fluttering at his filthy words.

“Yeah? You want it? Want Daddy to split you open again?”

Your skin is burning hot, every one of your nerve endings on fire with need, and you don’t care how pitiful you sound when you answer with, “Please, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” Joel praises. He makes quick work of ridding himself of his belt, tossing it aside to join your discarded panties on the floor with a metallic thud before freeing his leaking cock from his jeans. He prods the thick head at your entrance, still so wet and stretched out from the earlier efforts of his fingers and tongue that he slides inside with hardly any resistance. “Greedy thing…” he hisses, holding onto your hips as he watches his thick length begin to slide in and out of you. A flash of silver catches his attention from the edge of his vision, and he focuses there instead, on the cross shaped charm dangling from your neck and resting between your breasts. He picks it up between his large thumb and forefinger, rubbing the pads of them along the smooth metal. “Probably shouldn’t be wearin’ such a thing anymore, hm? Now that I know how much of a whore you really are.”

“Not… ‘m not a whore,” you counter, but it’s so futile, meaning nothing at all when you really take a look at where you are now, how it all began, and how your voice cracks in your poor attempt to prove him wrong.

“Y’ are, though, songbird. ‘S okay that you are. Only for me though, huh? Jus’ Daddy’s whore? All mine?” Joel drops the cross in favor of cradling your cheek, hurrying his pace as he taunts you. There’s no use in denying it, not when his degrading words prompt your cunt to squeeze around him and provide more slick aid for his quickening thrusts, an involuntary whine escaping your throat. You’re seeing such a different side to him now than the one he showed you the night before, and you begin to wonder which one is the real Joel, or if either of them are, or if both of them are, somehow. Or if he even knows. You’re willing to take whichever one he decides to let you have, you think.

“Y-your whore, Daddy… wanna be yours, please,” you babble, his cock hitting you deep and hard as you let him fuck you so dumb you allow yourself to just give in and agree to whatever he says you are, whatever he wants you to be, just the way he likes.

“Fuck,” Joel curses through gritted teeth, removing his hand from your face and to grip onto the plush of your hip again. Your pliant state and filthy admission combined with that sinful symbol around your neck spur him on, and he uses his hold on your skin to fuck into you with abandon. “Really would just let me ruin you, huh? Tried to be a decent man for once in my goddamn life, but you just had to be a fuckin’ brat about it and start some shit, didn’t you? If you don’t want me decent, tha’s fine by me, baby. But lemme make somethin’ real goddamn clear to you,” he rambles, each slam of his hips into yours getting you closer to release for the second time. He delivers another sharp slap to your cheek with a You listenin’? and you nod to the best of your ability, finding it impossible to focus your eyes on him as that knot in your stomach begins to tighten.

“You want this, you wanna be mine, you can be mine, babygirl. Lord knows I’d find my way right back inside this sinful lil’ cunt, anyway. But this ain’t gonna be a fuckin’ relationship, you understand? Take it or leave it, songbird.” He slows his thrusts as he spells out his ultimatum, but they still make you ache, all the same. His fiery gaze bores a hole straight through your skull as he awaits your response.

“Take it, w-wanna take it, Daddy.” The desperation in your voice and painted across your expression have him returning to his punitive pace, grunting and swearing into the warm skin of your neck as your hands scramble across his back, pulling yourself into him and burying your face into his shoulder. His thick leather jacket helps to muffle your cries as he loses all control, using your body to chase after his own high.

“Course you’re gonna take it, filthy thing. Made to fuckin’ take it, Christ,” Joel rambles, your vocalizations increasing in pitch as you squeeze around him, whole body tensing as your sore pussy prepares to drench him one more time. “So goddamn desperate… Just take whatever I give you, however I wanna give it to you, always have you comin’ on my cock just the same, huh? Go on, babygirl, come for Daddy again, tha’s right…”

With his permission, and a few more just-right strokes of his tip against that sweet spot deep inside your walls, you’re spasming in his hold, whining that filthy title you had just used against him less than an hour ago. He spills his release into you at the same time, and despite the way he’s treated you and the words he’s spat at you tonight, it makes you feel whole again.

You breathe heavily against each other for a few minutes, neither of you wanting to let go as you both struggle to process what the hell just happened, what it will mean for the remainder of the tour. 

A sudden knock at the door quickly yanks you out of your thoughts, offering a taste of what the future may hold much earlier than you were expecting.

“Joel? You in there?” a voice asks from outside the dressing room.

“Huh…? Yeah, just gimme a–”

The door opens before Joel can finish answering, and you can see clear as day over his shoulder that it’s Jesse.

He claps his hand over his eyes when he notices you, but you can still see how his cheeks burn red under his fingers as he shifts where he stands, undoubtedly trying to come up with the least mortifying way to get himself out of this situation.

“Jesus, kid–” Joel grumbles, finally pulling out of you and shoving his still-slick cock back into his briefs. He zips himself up as you tug the skirt of your dress back down to cover yourself, still feeling much more exposed than you’d like as you eye your forgotten panties laying just a few feet from where Jesse stands.

“Sorry! Sorry, Joel. It’s just, uh—”

Joel turns to face him as he finishes adjusting himself, and you’re thankful that he doesn’t walk away from you completely, using his broad form to provide you with what little modesty he can afford under the circumstances. “What, Jess?” he barks, exasperated.

“Um… The guys asked me to come find you, we’re on in like a minute—” 

“Well, tell ‘em to hold their fuckin’ horses. I’m comin,” Joel orders.

“A-alright, I will, man. I’ll, uh… I’ll see you out there.” 

Jesse leaves the room as hurriedly as he had entered, nervously fumbling with the handle as he shuts the door on his way out. “That kid ever learn how to fuckin’ knock?” Joel mutters to himself, picking his belt up off the floor and looping it back around his waist. He retrieves your ruined panties when he’s done and casually tosses them over to you, a stark contrast from the attentive aftercare he had provided last night. You slide off the vanity table and tug them back on over your legs, shivering at the feeling of the cool, damp fabric against where you’re so sensitive and sore, still leaking Joel’s spend. You fidget with the hem of your dress and try to ignore the way your heart sinks into your stomach, wondering what Jesse must think of you now. You haven’t really spoken to him at all since this whole thing started, and you doubt you ever will after what happened tonight. Of course, he’d had a front row seat to your obscene little performance during Kiss it Better, but it was all just an act, as far as he knew. But he has more than enough confirmation now to know that it very much wasn’t, and the humiliation of it all makes your anxious imagination begin to run wild. Your bottom lip quivers at the thought of Jesse running straight back to the guys with a shit-eating look on his face, eager to tell them all about how he just saw their opening act with her legs spread for Joel in his dressing room. Images flash through your mind of the band you’ve looked up to for so long now shooting you dirty looks backstage and whispering about you amongst themselves, sharing their doubts about if you really deserve to be touring with them at all. Maybe they’d call you easy, say that you’re just another dumb slut who gave it up for the first rockstar who asked, that your career will be doomed unless you grow up and learn to respect yourself a little more. And maybe they’d be right.

You can’t stop a few hot tears from rolling down your cheek at your catastrophizing, but you wipe them away quickly. This is what you asked for, isn’t it? Joel had given you an opportunity to leave this where he had ended it, and you were the one who had begged to be his, even after he showed you what it would look like, and told you explicitly what it would never be. You pull your shoulders back and make an effort to stand up a little straighter as he addresses you again, not wanting to look like some pathetic, defeated thing.

“You good? Need anythin’?” Joel asks, and it would be kind of sweet if he weren’t halfway out the door already. 

You sniffle a little, but try to feign nonchalance as you shake your head and reply, “No, ‘m fine.”

You must not do a very good job of it, because he’s craning his neck to look down the hallway as soon as you finish your sentence, like he knows exactly what’s on your mind. “Don’t worry ‘bout him,” Joel says to you, giving an annoyed shake of his head. “If he knows what’s good for him he’ll go to his grave swearin’ he didn’t see anything. Kid knows better,” he reassures, and it does help to slow the unspooling of your thoughts some. 

“Okay,” is all you offer, along with a small smile.

Joel nods curtly, “Okay.” And after another beat and a rake of his eyes along your form, “I’ll see ya, songbird.”

He’s gone before you can reply, and you let the sound of the door closing ring out in your ears until you’re left in total silence, save for the sound of your own unsteady breathing. More than anything else, you just want to head back to your bus and scrub yourself clean of him, to put on unstained clothes and remove your ruined makeup so that you have a better chance of recognizing yourself in the mirror if you’re unfortunate enough to catch a glimpse of your reflection. Maybe if you hurry the pace of your walk of shame, you can outrun the feeling altogether, you think, swinging the dressing room door open and letting it slam behind you as you make a swift exit, heading straight for the one place that even slightly resembles a home to you right now. You keep your head low as you wander the unfamiliar backstage halls, and hold the skirt of your dress down against the breeze that threatens to expose you yet again when you push open the venue’s back door. More tears begin to fall as your boots carry you up the steps of your bus and lead you to your private little room in the back, and you don’t wipe them away this time, although you can’t put your finger on why they stream down your skin so impatiently, one stinging droplet after another.

You sit down heavily on the edge of your bed, although you have a strange urge to kneel at the foot of it instead. Your fingers find their way to your crucifix as you contemplate the idea, and it hits you all at once how very lost you feel. You miss… something. Your mother? Perhaps not, but maybe the idea of having a caregiver, someone to turn to when you feel the way you do now, to help you sort through the tangled knot of emotions unraveling itself in your heart and attempt to make some kind of sense of it. She wasn’t the perfect mother, by any means, but she tried, and it was her first time being a woman too, after all. You are following in her footsteps, as many daughters aspire to do with their mothers, but you don’t think she would be very proud of the particular path of hers you’ve begun to find yourself stumbling down—the one that leads you to a man who won’t change himself, who can’t, but who you’ve somehow convinced yourself that you deserve, because you’ve never known a man who’s told you otherwise. 

And now here you sit, alone, in the dark cave of your too-big bus on the second night of a career-changing national tour, crying girlish tears and missing something you can’t place but that you know you can’t go back to, wishing someone could just wipe your mind clean and tell you that you’re good and that you’re not a disappointment to your mother and God even though you don’t really care what they think of you anymore, anyway. You need someone to tell you who you are, and Joel seems to know the answer—a good girl, a whore, his songbird. You shift at the memories of when those names for you have spilled from his mouth, and you’re reminded of the wet fabric still pressed against your core. It feels good when he tells you who you are, after all, when he slots himself inside of you and makes you feel like something he owns, when he makes you feel perfect and floaty and beautiful and like he knows you better than you’ve ever known yourself.

And how could something that feels so good ever be bad for you?

—

The whiskey burns as it slides down the back of Joel’s throat, but it still isn’t strong enough. All it does is remind him of the igniting spark that led to the blaze now engulfing him—when you’d both had a few glasses of the stuff swimming around in your blood streams in the green room of last night’s venue, when he’d lured you onto his lap and teased the wet spot on your panties and asked if you’d let him touch you. He knew you were going to say yes, but it was still the respectable thing to do, and he had liked hearing you beg for it all pretty and polite. He fears that’s the last he may have seen of that version of you, that what he did this morning had stomped out the little delicate, glimmering light that had drawn him to you in the first place. And if it wasn’t snuffed out then, it’s surely nothing but a wisp of smoke now.

Joel had recognized when everything had started to become too real too fast, in the dark of his bus last night when even in your sleep, you had seemed to consider him as something warm and comforting and safe, instead of the beast that he knows himself to be, with too sharp of claws and too loud of a roar. He had tried to do the right thing for once in his goddamn life by finally thinking about someone other than himself, so why didn’t you take the opportunity to get out of this while you had the chance? What is it that you see in him that he knows for a fact isn’t there, has never been there? You had retaliated because you had wanted this to work, because he had hurt you when he shoved you away, but he can’t possibly fathom why you’ve chosen to fight so hard for this. And he’d only gone and proved himself right when he responded to your reprisal the only way he knows how, especially when you’d used that word against him that he’s always been avoidant to admit about himself—coward.

And you were right, weren’t you? Joel is a fucking coward. He does everything in his power to pretend otherwise, to show his fans and the world a version of himself who’s never for a second thought of himself as anything less than God incarnate. And maybe except for Tommy, no one has ever been the wiser to his ruse, until you. And it scares him, to be seen so clearly. Because then he might actually have to try to understand where all these defense mechanisms came from in the first place, and he can’t have that. 

Coward.

Joel tosses back the last of the amber liquid in his glass, releasing his white-knuckled grip on it and slamming it back down onto the green room’s bar cart. He knows that his band and about twenty thousand people are waiting for him to buck up and emerge from yet another hiding place, and he realizes that this is becoming a pattern with you—you awaken some long-dormant feeling from deep inside of him, it makes him feel threatened, and he retreats until it goes away and he remembers how to paint his mask back on. And the one time you didn’t allow him to run away, he lashed out like a caged animal and undoubtedly gave you a pretty solid idea of what he meant by “for your own good”. And yet, you were so desperate to be allowed any part of him at all that even in his most volatile and beastly state, with his talons out and his teeth bared, you didn’t run away. You didn’t even try. You didn’t want to. You took everything he had given you like it was a privilege to do so, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever understand why. 

Joel shakes himself out, hitting a solid hand against his cheek once in order to bring himself back from the depths of another unwanted episode of introspection and self-loathing, and lets the burn of the whiskey dissipate as he makes his way to where the rest of Death’s Head is waiting for him. He can feel their eyes on him without even needing to look, and snaps out a defensive I don’t wanna hear it before any of the guys get a chance to say anything. 

Tommy shrugs, stepping up to Joel with his arms crossed. “Wasn’t gonna say nothin’.” 

Joel finally turns to face the group, giving each member a scrutinizing once-over in an attempt to read their body language, to suss out if they’re just pissed because he left them waiting, or if Jesse ran his mouth while he was gone. When Joel’s examining eyes land on the dark-haired guitarist, Jesse’s quick to shake his head, mouthing the words they don’t know. Satisfied, Joel nods once in understanding, adjusting his jacket and cracking his neck before turning toward the stage again.

“Y’all ready, or what?” he mutters rhetorically, not bothering to wait for an answer before he marches his way into the spotlights and allows them to enshroud him, burning up what remains of that cowardly version of him, if only for the remainder of the night. Joel picks up his guitar, swinging the strap around his chest before fiddling with his mic stand as the deafening sound of the crowd reminds him of who the fuck he is, or at least, who they think he is. Who he pretends to be. And he gets to believe it for the next two hours. If he plays the part well enough, maybe he can lose himself in it entirely. But then, hasn’t he been trying to do that for the past couple of decades? It hasn’t seemed to work yet, but it doesn’t hurt to keep trying. 

Or maybe it does.

—

You feel a little better now, more at ease, now that you’ve had some time to focus on taking care of yourself. It’s easy to forget the wonders that a hot shower can do for a girl, especially when you have to fight against your own brain just to get up and take the ten or so steps towards the bathroom, when you’d much rather stay curled up in the same position on your bed until your skin adheres to the sheets. Now having scrubbed away the tears and the sweat and the tacky dampness between your thighs, you emerge from a cloud of rose-scented humidity as someone you think you understand a little better now, who deserves to be taken care of instead of reprimanded for only doing her best with what she’s been given.

With clean hair and skin and a comfortable change of sleep-ready attire, you decide to finally make some efforts to unpack your suitcase and make your little room feel more like a home. You hang your dresses up on the rack, set your shoes into a somewhat orderly line on the carpet below them, and place your jewelry neatly onto the antique tray you had carefully packed away to bring along with you. You had found it in a little thrift store downtown, when you had first left home and decided you needed something that was only yours, something pretty and special that you could look at everyday and know that it was the very first step in building the life that you had always wanted for yourself. The brass needs a little polishing, but it’s still one of the most beautiful objects you’ve ever seen, and the way the ceiling lights glint off the metal brightens up your space just enough that it feels a little more familiar to you now. 

Your earrings and other necklaces fill the blank space in the center of the neatly carved filigree, and you make the decision to add your crucifix to the pile of silver studs and chains. It’s strange how such a simple charm can make things feel so complicated. You haven’t taken it off in so long that you fear the guilt that might come with removing it, but you figure it will still be there for you if you ever feel like clipping it around your neck again. And if that feeling never comes, then you’ll deal with that then, too.

For now, you breathe a little deeper without the weight of the thing resting against your chest, and smile to yourself when you hear a small group of excitable-sounding male voices approaching your bus. Your bandmates file through the door a second later, though you’re suddenly shy to greet them as you emerge from your bedroom, worried that they might be pissed at you for what you sprung on them earlier in the night. You lean against the doorframe as they each collapse onto the living area couches, cracking open beers from the minifridge and passing them around to each other.

“Hey, you,” greets your floppy-haired drummer, Max, patting the cushion next to him. If any of the guys were to be easy going about what you put them through tonight, it would be him. You’re happy to see that he doesn’t seem to hold any animosity towards you. “You want me to crack one open for you?” he offers.

“Um… sure,” you agree, approaching the group and relaxing into the open seat next to him as he hands you a bottle. You take a few swigs while the guys begin to talk amongst themselves, waiting for an opportune lull in their conversation for you to chime in.

It comes about halfway through your beer. “So, listen,” you start, setting the sweating bottle on the table in front of you as you feel their gazes shift in your direction. “I’m sorry for pulling that on you guys tonight. This whole thing is just as big for y’all as it is for me and… I guess I forgot about that, for a second,” you say, although the end of your sentence kind of sounds like a question. “I really appreciate how you backed me up out there, that’s all.”

It’s rare that the four of you get sincere with each other like this, and your apology lingers in the air for a moment before someone else speaks up. 

“It’s alright, kid.” The comforting voice comes from Scott, your quiet and kind-eyed bassist. “We’re all professionals here, yeah? We’d be some sad fuckin’ musicians if we couldn’t improvise every once in a while.” You laugh at that, and his lopsided smile warms you when you meet his soft expression.

“I mean, I kinda fucked up a little bit,” says Joey, your rhythm guitarist, ever-reliable for lightening the mood. “You sounded badass though, so whatever. Nothin’ you need to apologize for.” When you turn your head to look at him, he looks slightly uncomfortable with the way Max has him pressed up against the wall, but his gaze is sincere. “You wanna talk about it, though? Some pretty heavy shit you wrote.”

You do consider it, but shake your head, having reflected on it quite enough for one night. “Not right now,” you reply, and he gives you a sympathetic smile in return. “One of you have a smoke, though? Think I’m just gonna get some air and call it a night.” 

“Now, how are you gonna ‘get some air’ with all that smoke in your lungs?” Scott jests, and you give him a look before standing up and holding your palm out flat to him, making a hand it over gesture with your fingers. 

“Don’t give me shit, dude, I know you have one. That’s why I asked.”

Despite his protest, he digs the pack out of his pocket and slides one out, playfully holding it hostage against his chest. “Still shouldn’t smoke ‘em, though. Gonna ruin your voice one of these days.”

You roll your eyes at him, but laugh, anyway. “Fine, tonight’s my last one, I promise. Just gimme.”

Scott extends his hand out to you, and you snatch the cigarette out of his hold. “Light, too?” he asks, and you nod, leaning down to him with it in your mouth already.

You make a quick exit when the tobacco begins to burn, trying to fill the bus with as little smoke as possible, but not before making your appreciation known to the guys one last time. When you step out into the chilly night air, you wish you’d brought a sweater to wrap around you, but figure the flame between your lips will warm you up soon enough. 

The Death’s Head bus is parked just up ahead, and you can make out Jesse’s silhouette in the moonlight, his back leaned against the idling vehicle as he puffs his own cloud into the sky. The sound of your bus’s door shutting behind you draws his attention your way, and you give each other a friendly nod as you each burn through your cigarettes.

“Can I join you?” he asks, having to shout in order for his voice to reach you over the rumbling engines.

The fears you were ruminating on a few hours ago all come rushing back to you in an instant, but his inquiry seems casual enough for you to let your guard back down a little. It would be rude of you to decline, and it might be nice to get to know him a bit more if he’s offering, you suppose.

“Yeah, okay,” you reply, nodding for good measure in case your voice didn’t come out loud enough. His long legs close the short distance between you in just a few seconds, and you shove your unoccupied hand into your pocket in an effort to come across more relaxed than you feel. You’ve never been great at small talk, or meeting new people, especially ones who’ve walked in on you after having just been fucked by the lead singer of his band. 

You’re grateful that Jesse decides to break the silence first. “So, uh… you two, huh?”

“Mhm,” is all you offer, kicking a rock around the asphalt with the toe of your shoe.

“Yeah… Well, I don’t want you to feel weird around me, or anything. We can just forget it ever happened.”

You can’t help but release a puff of smoke through an awkward giggle. “Sounds good to me.”

“And I didn’t tell the other two, just so you know.”

His admission makes you pause, trapping the rock underneath your shoe as you peer up at him. “You didn’t? So… they don’t know?”

Jesse shakes his head. “Don’t think so. Well, Tommy might, just ‘cause he knows Joel better than anybody, but Eugene’s probably clueless. They’re all good guys, they won’t give you shit for it even if they do find out… I might, though, just for fun.” He nudges your shoulder with his as he jokes, and it makes you laugh a little more earnestly this time. “Just… be careful, that’s all. And I want you to know you have a friend in me, if you ever feel like you need one.”

His kindness is nearly enough to bring you to tears. You feel so relieved that everything the worst parts of your brain had conjured up had all been a lie, that Jesse isn’t who you feared he’d be, and that he’s offering you his friendship, even after he’d seen you in such an embarrassing and compromising state tonight. 

“Jess!” Joel yells from the doorway of his bus, and the harsh gravel voice startles both of you out of the moment you’d been sharing. “Finish up, kid. Takin’ off in a few.”

Jesse nods, raising the end of his cigarette in acknowledgement before stomping it out on the pavement. “It was nice talking to you. Remember what I said, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nod, and he’s handsome and boyish when he smiles back at you before following his orders and jogging back to his own bus, sliding through the door past Joel’s broad form.

Joel’s expression is hard, but otherwise unreadable as he juts his chin at you, wordlessly suggesting the same direction he’d just barked at Jesse. He shuts the door behind him as he steps inside, and you think on Jesse’s words as you finish puffing your smoke down to a nub. Be careful, he’d cautioned, and it’s like he had been waiting outside for you to make sure he had a chance to tell you that. Remember what I said, like it was important to him that you took his words to heart. You finally toss the end of your own cigarette onto the ground, letting it sizzle out before heading back inside and carefully passing the now-occupied bunks as you make your way to your own little sanctuary. 

You’re still buzzing from the tobacco as you close yourself into your room and crawl into bed, and you can’t decide if the emptiness of it makes you feel comforted or afraid. You don’t necessarily wish you had Joel’s heavy, lumbering form tucked in beside you, but you hadn’t anticipated how having a bed to yourself would leave you with only the company of your own thoughts. You try not to dwell too much on Jesse’s warning, instead trying to snuff it out like the smoldering end of your cigarette so that it doesn’t prevent you from getting some much needed rest.

Even for being a bed inside of a tour bus, you have to admit that it’s one of the most comfortable, luxurious things you’ve ever slept on, especially compared to the lumpy double bed from back in your apartment. You don’t fight it when sleep begins to pull heavily on your eyelids, the incoming wave of it washing away any lingering anxieties as you allow yourself to relax into the plush mattress.

You hardly rouse even as the bus heaves forward on its trip out of the parking lot, leaving everything that happened tonight exactly where you left it, the ghost of it now left to wander the halls of the venue instead of haunting you as you travel to the next one. And there’s something comforting in that, you think, in the idea that nothing on this tour is permanent, that your life begins anew every 24 hours in a city you’ve never been to that doesn’t know your name yet. 

And maybe that’s how you’ll figure this whole thing out, by taking it one day at a time, fluttering as close to the flame as possible without touching it, because you kind of like feeling the heat on your wings. As long as you’re careful when you dance around the fire, then there’s really nothing to be afraid of.

But only time will tell.

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[spamgyu]

Always // oneshot

DESCRIPTION: Sometimes, one man's burden is everything another man has ever wished for.

PAIRING: Mingyu x Reader / Hoshi x Reader

GENRE: Angst (Fluff if you squint really hard)

---------------------------------------------------

Time was the greatest enemy of most couples.

Time apart.

Time together.

After four years of being together, time had allowed them to grow apart instead of growing together. It was inevitable for a person to grow and become a better version of who they were before; including those in relationships. It takes a couple with a strong understanding of one another's wants and needs to be able to survive this constant change; both needing to be able to see eye to eye as time goes.

They allowed their time together to slowly pull them apart.

He never noticed it. No, he was far too oblivious and too busy with his own world to see that time has done far too much damage in their relationship.

She watched the boy she once planned a future with, drift away from her. He no longer made an effort to keep their relationship alive. He used to be such a romantic; planning dates at least once a week despite their busy schedules, showing up at her door with ingredients of her favorite meals and flowers in hand, staying up all night to study with her – despite studying for two different majors.

He had become someone she no longer recognized.

She wanted to be upset with him, but love was a strange thing.

In her eyes, he could do no wrong. Constantly making excuses for each time she was left hanging and disappointed by his lack of efforts.

"What's his excuse this time?" Their mutual friend asked, taking her by surprise. Everyone around her saw her boyfriend's shortcomings, some urging her to break it off to end the constant disappointments.

Pulling her headphones off her head, she greeted him with a soft smile – it was more than enough confirmation for him to know that her boyfriend, his best friend, had forgotten the two's plans to study for the upcoming midterms.

"Want some company?" He didn't wait for her response, taking a seat across from her.

"Thank you."

"Always." He winked playfully, digging in his back pack to pull out two cans of energy drinks and a bag of sour gummy worms.

"Your choice in snacks scares me." She laughed.

He rolled his eyes, opening both cans and placing one in front of her – earning a thank you from the girl. She had always hated opening cans herself, claiming that it hurt her nails each time she tried to do it herself.

"So, where's Mingyu?" He asked, leaning back in his chair.

Y/n shrugged. He hadn't replied to her text letting her know that she had arrived at the library two hours ago. Hell, he had yet to open the message.

Hoshi gave her a look before quickly changing his expression before she could catch the sour look on his face.

He loved his friend, having known him since freshman year, but god was he a fucking idiot.

Hoshi knew not everyone was perfect; especially not Mingyu who was the smartest in their business department. A man who seemed to be able to juggle being a part of the frat board and being a student athlete.

No definitely not even him. He had everything, a supportive girlfriend, a loving family, the brain, even the looks. He just didn't seem to have the right priorities in line.

Though, if anyone were to ask Mingyu, having school as a top priority was the best choice. And y/n was right there to defend him as well.

Even if it meant putting his relationship on the line.

How hard is it to be a business major anyways?

"Okay, I give up. If I don't know it now, I won't know it tomorrow." Y/n exasperated, putting her head down on the table.

The two had managed to put in two and half hours of studying, with a few minor distractions from Hoshi who swore it was for comedic break – that way they wouldn't go mad from all the reading they needed to have done.

"Thank god." Hoshi slammed his laptop shut. "Let's get dinner."

"Mingyu and I made plans." She frowned in apology.

Half way through Hoshi and y/n impromptu study session, Mingyu had finally responded to her text: apologizing for forgetting that they were meant to meet at the library to study for the upcoming midterms. He claimed he had accidentally double booked her with Seungcheol and Wonwoo.

Y/n couldn't help but forgive him, knowing that it was far better studying with those who were taking the same tests as him and accepted his efforts to make it up by taking her out to a quick bite after her own study session with her friend.

Little did he know, it was his friend Hoshi.

Not that this was information he needed to know.

"Ah." He nodded.

"Tomorrow?" Y/n offered.

"If you're buying." He laughed.

"I'll use my free swipe at the dining hall just for you." She joked as she continued to pack up her belongings.

"You're so kind."

"Always."

------------------------

"Hey fucker– Y/n hey." Hoshi walked through the front door of the shared home he and his frat brothers resided in, expecting to be greeted by his housemates who were typically sitting in the living room; screaming at the television over whichever video game they decided to brain rot away with. Instead, he was greeted by y/n who had made herself at the empty home, laying on the couch as she scrolled away on her phone.

Most of the guys' partners were very much welcomed at their home, each having their own set copy of keys. Not that it was needed, considering half of the time the front door was unlocked.

So much for campus safety.

"Mingyu's at an event today."

"Oh." She sat up in her position. "I– thought–"

Hoshi watched as she attempted to hide the wave of disappointment flash across her face, masking it with a quick smile.

"I guess that frees my Saturday, then." She forced out a laugh.

He felt pity for the girl, knowing that his friend must have forgotten to notify her that a few of the boys from the frat board had a mandatory chapter event they had to attend in another city. Again.

"He should be back soon, you can hang around." He offered.

She shook her head. "I– I'll probably just head home. Been here for a few hours."

Of course she has.

"No, come on. I just bought stuff for dinner, just stay." He motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen.

"I mean, I can't say no to a free meal." She trailed behind him. "Lemme know how I can help."

"I'm making katsu curry. Cut some carrots and potatoes, yeah?"

"Yes, chef!" Y/n saluted, heading straight to the fridge to pull out the ingredients.

"I finished The Bear, by the way!" Hoshi beamed proudly. She had previously recommended the show to him a few months back after he had complained that there were no good shows on the streaming services. He was sold after he allowed her to ramble on and on about how she believed Carm and Sydney were the perfect platonic soulmates; going as far as sending him a few clips she found on Tiktok.

"How'd you like it?"

"I think Carm loves Sydney but he doesn't quite know it yet." He hummed, whisking the egg batter.

"No, no." Y/n shook her head. "They just have a great understanding of each other. She gets him, you know? She knows who he is outside of what his family knows of him. She doesn't see him as this ball of anger or trauma. She sees him as a person."

"Exactly. Claire only knows his past, but she doesn't fully understand Carm's deepest thoughts and the man he became after he left Chicago. Sydney on the other hand, knows his wants and needs in the present and future. Not to mention, when he was having a panic attack, it was only the thought of Sydney that could calm him down." 

Y/n threw her head back and laughed. "I didn't know you went in full character analysis."

"It's a good show!" Hoshi cried. "You did this to me!"

"I'm still defending the platonic soulmate trope. A guy and girl can be friends without any romantic feelings."

"They can." He nodded. "Just not Carm and Sydney."

"You're insufferable."

"Just wait until season three, I'm going to be getting the last laugh."

"Yeah, we'll see about that." Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "Am I cutting this right?"

Hoshi walked over to her, taking the knife from her hands. "For someone who spent two days binge watching a show about chefs, you're ass in the kitchen."

He proceeded to show her the proper sizing of the vegetables before handing her back the utensil. "Cut them all the same size, dummy."

"Watch it," She shook the knife at him. "I'll pull a Carm and have a mental break down right here."

In the midst of the laughter, while the two busied themselves with prepping the dish – the sound of indistinct voices flooded the once quiet home. 

Y/n looked at the direction of the sound, knowing that in just seconds, the group would appear in the room. 

"Babe, hey, what are you doing here?" Mingyu asked, with Wonwoo and Seungcheol not too far behind. 

Y/n smiled, stopping what she was doing to meet him halfway, leaning into his touch as he placed a kiss on her head. "I came earlier, thinking you were home."

"Were you waiting long?" 

"Not really, Hoshi kept me company." She smiled, looking over at Hoshi who had continued to bread the last piece of pork loin – sending over a tightlipped smile and peace sign to the couple. 

"Got enough for us?" Mingyu chuckled, eyeing the dish the two had been preparing. 

------------------------

It was raining.

No, it was pouring rain.

She was completely drenched; the dress she had spent nearly half an hour steaming clinging onto her body, her make up practically washed away from the downpour. 

He had promised her a nice dinner to celebrate her new internship, claiming that he would pick her up from her apartment. 

One hour turned to two and she figured he had forgotten yet again, opting to walk over to his place that was no more than a ten minute walk from hers, to remind him of their plans.

She should have known that the overcast that was persistent throughout the day would mean that some precipitation would roll through. Halfway through her journey, the slight drizzle turned into larger droplets of water. 

There was no going back. She was nearly there. She could simply dry off and opt for a dinner and movie at home once she reached his place.

She could see his place in the distance. Just a few more steps.

Lost in her own thoughts, the once downpour that beat down on her stopped – looking up at the source of the sudden shade that covered her. 

"I've been yelling at you to get in the car for the past minute." 

It was Hoshi.

He had been on his way back from work when he had seen a girl walking slowly in the rain that can almost be classified as a storm.

Who would be walking in this weather?

As he approached the figure, he realized that it was y/n; completely lost in her own thoughts. Again. 

Pulling off to the side, he rolled down the window to call out for her but it was no use. The sound of the water hitting the ground and cars zooming past drowned out his voice. 

Quickly hopping out of his car, he shrugged off his jacket; using it as a makeshift umbrella to cover both their heads. "You know Uber and Lyft exist right?"

"I know, I thought spending $5 was stupid for such a short distance." She let out a laugh. 

"Come on." He guided her to the passenger seat, letting out a frustrated sigh once the door was shut. 

"Before you say anything, I'm already drenched and I'm on my first day of my period." Y/n said, beating him to the punch once he had entered the car.

He wasn't one to bad mouth Mingyu, knowing that no matter what he said, y/n would have some sort of reason to defend her poor excuse of a boyfriend. But this was the last straw. 

He didn't care if he was his best friend. 

Mingyu may have been a great guy, a great friend, but he was a terrible terrible boyfriend.

"Can I at least say that he's a fucking shitbag and I hope he fails tomorrow's quiz?" Hoshi grumbled, reaching back to grab a hoodie he had left in the back seat – handing it to her.

"No." She slipped her head through the warm oversize article of clothing, taking in his lingering scent. 

"Y/n, you're kidding right?" He deadpanned. 

"I know what you're going to say, okay." Y/n put her arms around herself, stopping herself from shivering. "I'll talk to him."

"Good." 

------------------------

She never did talk to him.

Not because she didn't want to. She was fully ready to barge into his room, ready to finally lay it all on him. But of course, he wasn't home and Hoshi had no choice but to bring the girl back to her apartment. 

He was angry. 

No he was beyond that. Hoshi was seething. 

If he hadn't made prior plans with Woozi to hit up the gym after work, he would have gladly stayed behind and kept y/n company. But unlike Mingyu, he stuck by his word. Whether this was with someone he was romantically seeing or his friends.

Hoshi was persistent in being loyal to the people he cared most.

Not that this was something Mingyu knew how to do. 

"You're fucking kidding me." Hoshi huffed as he wiped away the sweat that dripped from his forehead; watching as Mingyu and Seungcheol stroll into the school's gym – the two laughing at god knows what.

"Where the hell were you?" He wasted no time getting to the point, his voice catching the attention of others who were also preoccupied with their own gym equipment. 

"Whoa there, hi?" Mingyu took a step back, letting out a nervous laugh. He had only seen Hoshi worked up once, and it was during last year's chapter meeting when a pledge complained about the rules they had set for the incoming freshmen and pledges. 

This particular pledge had been getting under everyone's skin at the time, nitpicking at almost everything that was being said at the meeting. Hoshi wasn't known to be the patient one in the group, but he wasn't one to snap at strangers either  – taking their group by surprise when he got up from his seat to yell at the poor kid. 

"What excuse did you give y/n this time? Had practice? Studying? You forgot?"

"Hey, keep your voice down, dude." Seungcheol placed a hand on Hoshi's chest, gently pushing him back and away from Mingyu – very aware of the eyes that were now on them. 

"What– shit." A wave of realization hit Mingyu, his eyes widening in shock. "Damn it!"

Hoshi shook his head, scoffing at his friend. "You're a shit excuse for a boyfriend."

Now it was Mingyu's turn to be annoyed. Not that Hoshi was wrong. He was a horrible boyfriend; he just hadn't realized it yet.

"My bad, let me just take advice from someone who hasn't had a girlfriend in three years." Mingyu side stepped to avoid Seungcheol, getting closer to Hoshi who showed no signs of backing away.

"I don't need a girlfriend to know you treat yours like she's fucking trash. Everyone knows it. We all talk shit about you behind your back, telling her to break up with you."

"Why? So you can finally get the chance. I don't think so." 

Hoshi narrowed his eyes, feeling his fists ball up at his sides. 

"You don't think I know about your little crush?" Mingyu smirked, knowing that he was getting inside his head. "We also talk about you. We all know you like y/n."

"Guys, come on." Seungcheol stepped in between the two. 

"Punch me. I know you want to." Mingyu egged on.

Hoshi shook his head, not giving into his friend. Opting to walk away – knowing that if he did decide to punch him, he might not be able to hold back from landing a few more. 

------------------------

All it took was one call and he was at her doorstep, a bottle of wine and her favorite take out from the campus' local Thai Food restaurant in hand; ready to clean up whatever mess Mingyu had made. Something he seemed to be doing quite often. 

"We had a fight." She sniffled on the other line. 

Hoshi didn't care if he had laundry he had to fold. He had more important things to tend to. 

Y/n.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" He asked, pouring himself another glass. 

Hoshi allowed for her to enjoy her dinner, not wanting to pry until she had some food in her system and time to process whatever it was that she and Mingyu disagreed over. 

"It was going fine, but– I don't know, I brought up wanting him to put more of an effort and he just snapped. He said sometimes, it feels more like a chore to be with me."

Hoshi began coughing, nearly spitting out the drink in his mouth. "I'm sorry, he said what?"

"He was probably just angry, you know how he gets when he's angry." Y/n shook her head, swirling the drink in her glass – watching the bubbles form. 

"You know he just told you that he thinks you're more of a chore than a girlfriend, right?" He said slowly, almost as if he too was attempting to comprehend what Mingyu told her. 

"I know I just– I love him, Hosh." Y/n let out a defeated sigh. "You don't think I know how stupid it is to continuously try to make something work with someone who clearly doesn't want things to work out?"

"Good, because I genuinely thought you were deranged for not seeing it." 

She couldn't help but let out a laugh at his dry humor. Despite the heartache and disappointment she was currently feeling, she was always grateful for Hoshi's ability to add humor into their serious conversations. 

"I think I might be." Y/n sighed, standing from the couch. "Want water?"

"And some gummy worms." Hoshi followed behind, rummaging through her pantry.

"You ate my last bag last week."

"Deranged and broke. Nice."

"I'm going through something here, please be nice." Y/n pouted.

Hoshi watched as she poured the two of them a glass of water, leaning against the counter. He couldn't help but stare at her, something he seemed to allow himself more often than before. 

If his friend didn't want to cherish and care for the girl that was right in front of him, why can't he? 

"I know you love him, but I don't think that's enough of a reason to stay with him."

Y/n looked over at him, a puzzled look on her face. This was the first time she's seen him this serious. In all the years she had known him, she had always seen him as her friend who provided her comfort through humor – making her smile when her days seemed to be nothing but gray skies.

In this case, it was almost every day.

"You know, you can love someone and not be with them." He continued, taking a step closer to her. "Be with someone who's willing to love you the way you love them."

He was right.

In the past year since she had been with Mingyu, she had been the only one pulling the weight in their relationship. She had been the one to make an effort to reach out, plan dates, show up to all his games, and bring him dinner when he needed to pull all-nighters for upcoming tests.

Love had a funny thing of blinding people. Everyone around her saw that she had been suffering, constantly making excuses for the mistreatment she had been receiving from the man she swore she would marry when the right time came.

He was busy.

He has a game.

His frat had an event.

Because she knew he hadn't always been like this, for the first three years of being together he made sure not a day went by without him making her feel his love for her. They were simply going through a rough patch.

"Be with me."

She felt her whole world come to a complete stop once the words left his lips. Y/n's girl friends had joked about Hoshi possibly having feelings for her. She thought it was simply them poking fun at the fact that they had been spending far more time with each other than she did with Mingyu – arguing that Hoshi was simply just a friend, just as she was friends with Jeonghan and Minghao.

"What?"

"I– I've liked you since freshman year." Hoshi swallowed. There was no turning back now. He had laid out all his cards and he was going to go all in. "From the moment Jeonghan introduced you into the group– you– I wanted to do something about it but Mingyu got to you first and I–"

He was stuttering over his words, unable to put his thoughts into one comprehendible sentence. "I kept my distance, and I was doing so well– but he fucked up and I can't stand back and watch him continuously break the heart that I know I would have held so carefully if I wasn't so fucking scared three years ago."

Y/n could hear her heart beating in her ears as she tried to process his sudden confession. She wanted to say something, she really did but she had become confused – because a part of her was happy to hear him say these words.

Somehow, over the time she had spent with him, all while her boyfriend was far too busy pre-occupied with his own life, she had grown to see Hoshi in another light. He was no longer just her friend who she called when no one else was available, happily obliging to her requests to accompany her to the grocery store, stay up late to finish the homework she had put off until the last minute, or simply watch movies at her apartment .

He had become a part of her daily life, getting excited each time she saw his name appear on her phone and looking forward to any time they made plans to hang out.

Y/n had unintentionally fell for her boyfriend's best friend – a sudden wave of guilt washing over her.

"I- we can't. You know we can't." She felt her heart sink to the pit of her stomach at her realization.

This can't happen. Especially not with him.

He shook his head. "I'm not asking for anything right now. Look– I'm sorry for putting you in a tough spot, I've stuck around this long and I am willing to stick around however long I need to."

"I'm sorry." Y/n hung her head. No matter how much Mingyu has fucked up, she couldn't help but hold on to the hope that he would go back to the same person she had originally fallen for.

Maybe it was love or maybe it was Stockholm Syndrome.

"Hey, hey– fuck." Hoshi pulled her into a hug. He had done this many times, but somehow this time felt different. He felt her melt into his arms, pulling her tighter when he heard a muffled sniffle against his chest. "Sorry I– I'm here. As a friend or whatever you need me to be. I don't care, I'm here."

"Always?" Y/n she looked up at him, apologetically. She knew she couldn't give him what he wanted – not right now, at least.

"Always." He nodded.

---------------------------------------------------

«« [an] aha........... ummm yeah we love pain here HAHAHAHAHAHHA

tag list: @leah-rose03 @yoonzinuhh

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

rabbit costume + luxe couture miss raven

Because I love the Alice in Wonderland aesthetic and White Rabbit Fest is running in EN right now… 😭 I decided to make a Rabbit Costume for my OC! Figured I’d also do the same for the event running in JP at the same time, Tapis Rouge in the Shaftlands.

Special thanks goes to @peripheralsanity for the super adorable bonus drawing of Miss Raven in her Rabbit Costume 😭 I wanna cram that bunny into my mouth like an Easter marshmallow…

My own doodles are below the cut, along with various design notes 📝

First up, the Rabbit Costume!

It takes a lot of inspiration from Alice herself: the bow in her hair, the dress, the apron. Miss Raven’s Heartslabyul dorm uniform design also pulls inspiration from Alice, so I tried very hard to make this look unique from that!

There’s a lot more bows, frills, and huge, goofy-looking accessories—like the rabbit ears + tail plus the shoes. The outfit also features a lot of pastel checkerboard pattern and shimmery makeup, like what is featured in Deuce’s Rabbit Costume. Upon closer inspection, there’s even more intricacies! Raven’s apron has heart-shaped pockets, the apron’s top has card motifs stitched into it, and the corset belt has a rabbit slowly dressing and then taking up a bugle to play. The transition demonstrates her own adaption to living among non-animals 😅

The rabbit on her skirt, chain, prize ribbon, and earring aren’t the White Rabbit but a cobbled together rabbit that’s missing an eye. The XO Rabbit poses as and stillinvokes the image of the White Rabbit, especially when it’s right next to a pocket watch. It fits Raven, who is someone not “organically” in the world of TWST (since she’s an OC).

I think my favorite part of this design is the super wacky and big hair. You may recognize it from the Hatsune Miku x Cinnamoroll campaign that was popular a while back. The shape reminded me of bunny ears, so I thought it would be nice to incorporate into Raven’s Rabbit Costume.

There’s so many strange things in clock town to observe! Miss Raven would have a fun time hopping around and seeing the sights… documenting them with Ortho, picking out clocks and other souvenirs with Silver, chomping through the local specialties with Epel. Ah, and as for Deuce 🤔 “Your son is trying very hard in his studies, ma’am,” she’d tell Dylla very seriously. “I commend him for his efforts.” (She very tactfully focuses on his improvements and personal growth over the actual numbers he produces.) Students of 1-A gotta look out for each other, right? Deuce fist bumps her behind her back or something to signal his thanks.

Miss Raven isn’t the athletic type, so I don’t think she would run in the relay race with them. (It would be hard to run in that dress anyway.) She can stick on the sidelines and cheer for them…!

Next is the Luxe Couture!

I actually made two variants. One is more inspired by the Fairest Queen’s raven and the other is similar to the SR and R boys’ huntsman-inspired designs.

The first has more of an old-fashioned movie star feel to it… which isn’t really what Vil invited the other students for so it falls outside of canon 😂 I just thought it would be cool to have a more personalized, glamorous fit for Raven.

She has much darker and more excessive eye makeup in this version. A bold, more confident look outside of her usual wheelhouse. Her hair is also curled into her face to resemble feathers, and her bun also has strands spiked up to look like feathers too. The dress itself is also very feathery, forming a train behind her wherever she stomps in her heels. The top of the dress also acts as a feather boa, making her appear larger and more intimidating than she actually is.

If you’re wondering why tiny skull earrings, it’s because the Evil Queen’s raven falls into a skull at one point in the movie 💀 since it’s so taken aback by what it is witnessing… That “wow!” but also somewhat scared feeling is very similar to how Raven feels entering Fairest City, so I wanted to include a skull in some way. If I made the motif too big or too obvious, then it might clash with the whole ensemble so I chose to go with an understated accessory instead.

This look is definitely the most “different” of the group, but I tried to keep some elements in common with the others. For example, Raven still has the lace curtain which appears from where her dress is slit. She also has sheer gloves that have been studded with little white rhinestones. The jewels aren’t as big or colorful as Vil’s, but that’s the point: to not outshine the star. Miss Raven is nothing more than the shadow that clings to its queen 😌

The more group-cohesive outfit is last!

It’s a similar double-breasted beige coat as Jamil’s, but it fans out into a dress + slacks at the bottom and has different sleeves. The puffiness of the sleeves at the shoulder and wrists make her seem large and in-charge! The buttons on her coat are large pearls.

I tried to maintain the huntsman’s color scheme throughout the outfit. Because of this, Raven’s belt is red and the lace in her dress is green. Her boots are similar to hiking boots (just picture them fancier in your head OTL I’m not great at drawing footwear).

We get her forehead in this design!! Her hair is pulled back into a “fancier than usual” ponytail, with her hair bunched into one loop before resuming as a normal ponytail. The clasp she uses is similar to the one Vil wears in his school uniform. Originally, I thought of just shoving an arrow through instead but decided against it since it makes the huntsman theme too obvious. The same reasoning came up when I considered giving Raven a small cocktail hat that looks similar to what the huntsman wore. Her head just looks so naked without something there 😂 but in the end I managed to refrain, and I think that helped the outfit look more clean and elegant.

Raven would be excited to visit Fairest City—it’s the capital of the entertainment industry! Though her main medium is quite different than that of films, she’s always wanted to visit for educational purposes. (Maybe she can learn from the scriptwriters there!) “At least one of you cares to learn,” Vil would tut. The trip’s a little stressful, trapped between Jamil and Azul’s petty remarks at one another and Ace teasing her for being the “odd one out” of the group—but hey, it’s all worth it for the experiences made there! I’d imagine that Raven loves all the pampering they get and all the important people they meet, it makes her feel like a real princess. Everywhere she looks, the streets and stores are shining too! Her raven blood is soaring. “I didn’t realize you had such excitable juniors, Vil,” Eric would chuckle. (“Waaaah, so cool! Like a prince!!” Raven would gush, earning eye rolls from her classmates and a groan from Ace.)

Walking on the red carpet wouldn’t interest her that much; she doesn’t like the attention so she tries hard to just fade behind the others and play support as best she can. Carrying Vil’s things or helping him with his makeup is no problem, just don’t thrust her under the spotlight and all the flashing cameras!

[anashins]

Hiii maybe you can write smth about a date that goes wrong with Jaehyun? You’ve been dating for a little more than a year and he accidentally takes you to a butterfly garden thinking you’re gonna love it cos you two often go hiking together but he doesn’t know you’re terrified of butterflies and moths.

Pairing: Jaehyun x You

Genre: fluff, romance

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Jaehyun always makes sure to take you on special dates. The one he planned for your first anniversary will turn out to be the most memorable though - for all the wrong reasons.

A/N: Thank you for requesting, I hope you like it! :)

“Where will you take me?”

“It’s a surprise.” Jaehyun took you by your hand. “Come!”

When a week ago, he had asked you to dress up cutely and be ready by 11am for celebrating your first anniversary together, you had already wondered what he was planning for your special day. 

Out of all common date ideas, you had possibly run through all of them already since it was very important for your boyfriend to take you out to do something extraordinarily nice at least once a week.

From visiting different cinemas to watch a movie you had been anticipating for the longest time, to going hiking together at various places as a hobby you both shared, to the last date being a cooking course where you learned a dish from another country together - Jaehyun was always very creative and would make sure you had a once in a lifetime experience.

So for your first year anniversary, you didn’t expect anything less.

Though, truth to be told, you would also be content with just staying at home, cuddling on the couch and eating delivery pizza every now and then. But whenever you saw your boyfriend already planning a date and looking forward to seeing your happy face, you couldn’t break this truth down to him anymore. You didn’t want to spoil all of his excitement - just like today.

A few metro stations later that still required five minutes of walking, you arrived at your destination.

“We’re here!” Jaehyun exclaimed proudly, having exceeded himself once again.

There was a glass dome stretching out in front of your vision and you could blurrily recognize different trees and plants inside the apparent greenhouse. Nice, you thought, you were going to a botanical garden! You had never been to one and hadn’t visited a country in which a different kind of landscape grew.

But your anticipation was instantly crushed as Jaehyun added,

“It’s a butterfly garden!”

Oh dear god, you silently thought to yourself, this can’t be real.

There were many, many things Jaehyun knew about you after more than a year of dating. But the fact that you were scared of butterflies wasn’t one of them. You had always thought this was kind of ridiculous and childish. After all, butterflies were perceived as something beautiful and nice to look at - not as monsters from hell that you needed to run away from.

But that was how you indeed viewed butterflies. You hated worms and spiders, just anything that didn’t have legs or too many legs, and your boyfriend knew about this, but butterflies were never in anyone’s book’s when you talked about phobias.

Looking at these apparent beautiful creatures, did it fall off everyone’s mind that they had once been caterpillars too? No matter how bright and colorful they were, you could never get past this fact, and that was what made you still scared of them. 

“Oh…” It then dawned on Jaehyun. “You hate it.”

“What?” you feigned surprise. You just couldn’t bear looking at his disappointed face after having put so much effort into coming up with such a unique idea. “I love it! Let’s go!”

Flying worms everywhere in a glass prison cell - that was how you saw the entire setup once you stepped foot into the glass dome. 

Your hands were cold and sweaty despite Jaehyun’s warm one holding yours. Other people were playfully trying to catch or touch them, some even stood there with butterflies resting on their shoulders, stretched out arms or even faces. 

You got this, you were trying to convince yourself. As long as you didn’t move or stayed where there were as few butterflies as possible. Or if you could even noticeably wield them off when they flew too close to you… you would be fine. There was no reason to run away from these pretty creatures, right?

“Let’s go where the most are!” Jaehyun prompted solemnly, and you were actually relieved that he was too excited to notice the mask on your face dropping the further he led you into the garden.

You then stood there among trees, flowers and other plants, petrified, with hundreds of butterflies swirling around you. And then… one landed on your shoulder. You completely lost it.

“I’m so sorry!” you apologized and dashed to the exit, arms flying into every direction, touching god knows what to wield out of your vision.

You let out a suppressed scream when something landed on your face and thus started protecting your head with your hands instead. It was a whole nightmare for you that didn’t stop even when you were outside again, breathing heavily from the panic that had been sitting in your chest all along.

It didn’t take your boyfriend much longer to follow you to the outside, even though in your perception, you had run at the speed of light. In the end, you might have just looked like an idiot who eventually also ruined the precious date Jaehyun had carefully planned for you to enjoy and not flee from.

“Are you okay? What happened back there?” The way he checked up on you and sounded so concerned like something might have truly happened to you, let your bad conscience kick in. “Did something bite you? Should we go to the hospital?”

You suddenly felt so ridiculous.

“No, nothing happened. It’s just…” You inhaled deeply. There was no room to conceal or lie anymore. “I’m scared.”

He was confused. Fair enough. “...of what? There were only plants and butterflies, no?”

“Exactly,” you reluctantly admitted. “...the butterflies.”

“I’m so sorry, I don’t understand…”

“I’m afraid of the butterflies!” you finally blurted. “They scare me!”

Jaehyun frowned for a moment, but then his features softened almost instantly. “That’s fine.”

“So…” Your brows skeptically drew together. “You’re not going to say anything about it?”

He tilted his head in confusion. “What am I supposed to say about it?”

“Like… how it’s weird and childish and they won’t attack me anyway as they’re only little insects. How can I, as an adult, be scared of something so small and pretty?”

Your boyfriend stretched out his hand and placed it on your cheek. He looked at you with a warm gaze. “I would never judge you for your fears. You don’t need to justify your feelings to me. Even if you’re scared of cats, without question, I would swoop you up from the ground when we see one and carry you away so that it won’t even approach you.”

How did you ever deserve someone like him? You shifted your head and kissed the back of his hand that made him a bit shy as his cheeks turned slightly pink.

“Thank you.”

“But…” Jaehyun let out a long sigh now, suddenly looking really troubled. “I now have to look for an alternative to celebrate our first anniversary. What could that be? Maybe we can postpone it until next week…”

He had planned so hard and thoroughly for today, he deserved to rest and be treated well too. So you took the burden of deciding off of his shoulders by suggesting, “How about we go to your place, order pizza and watch a movie?”

“... and that’s all?”

“And that’s all. Would you mind doing only that?” you questioned carefully. “I mean… you always plan all these extraordinary dates and my alternative suggestion is probably the most boring one that wouldn’t even cross your mind, but truth to be told… Sometimes, I just like to do that.”

“You do?”

You nodded and chuckled as you said, “I wouldn’t mind only rotting away the entire day as long as it’s with you.”

Your boyfriend didn’t need to speak it out, but you visibly perceived how more relaxed he got once you had told him about your true feelings. A special date once in a while was very nice too, but you didn’t always need extraordinary places, flowers, menus and… butterflies. He could take you to the hardware shop to run errands and you would have fun all the same.

As long as you got to do it with him.

Jaehyun smiled and took your hand into his. “Then let’s do that today. Ordering pizza, watching a movie and rotting away for the rest of the day. Without butterflies.”

He didn’t judge you, but he certainly would make funny comments every now and then.

You stretched out your tongue and laughed.

[ronearoundblindly]

No pressure at all! But I had an idea for your ‘how would the Cevans characters react’ I’ve loved every installment of this so far 🥰🖤🥰

How would they react if reader was having an off day and for some reason couldn’t get off so she faked having an orgasm in bed.

Is this because of @cevansbrat0007's Ari fic? (which is great, go read that, but I feel like I've seen a surge in this trope since) Because, see, this is very interesting to me, and I really hope you've read other stuff of mine before, nonnie. I don't write everybody as a perfect gentleman...

Warnings for various levels of spice since we are, in fact, talking about orgasms, duh! MINORS DNI. See my Light Masterlist for all-age friendly fics!

James Mace

Ok, I'm not sure it would get so far as for you to actually fake it. Mace is a slow, steady, deep kind of lover. He'd realize you aren't getting anywhere or building up to it pretty quickly, all things considered, and he would make you talk to him while he continues foreplay/touching you. Pretty sure he just wants to be attached to you in some way while you have time together...

Curtis Everett

Curtis gets very intense when he senses you're holding something back, like predatorily intense. Uses his body to cage you in, constant eye contact, probably even pinching/tickling you until you confess.

He doubles down. You fake one; Curtis forces two out of you in return.

Jimmy Dobyne

Shockingly, Jimmy would be super upset if you faked an orgasm with him. (There is one caveat to this: IF HE FINDS OUT.) Jimmy is a straight-forward guy who doesn't enjoy dating games. You aren't into sex right now? Fucking say something. He's horrified by the idea you would just lay there and take it or whatever because what the fuck???

He's got simple rules. If you don't like something, tell him because he can handle himself for one night/a little while or he'll happily do something different. If you never want something he does, then you two shouldn't be together. That's it.

Sex is an important aspect of your relationship, but it ain't the whole thing. Tell him to piss off, or ask for a quiet night of holding each other. Do not lie, cheat, or steal. You lied about being satisfied, you cheated him out of the chance to actually give you what you needed, and you stole his confidence that he recognizes your body's signals. Yes, Jimmy sorta makes it about him, but that's mostly because he feels helpless and a little dirty.

Johnny Storm

Existential CRISIS.

Have you ever faked it with him before? Have other women faked it with him?? Is this a common thing??? Hot shot goes into full-meltdown mode, and unsurprisingly, you end up kinda lost in the narrative there, soothing him instead of yourself.

Oddly enough, you two do end up closer from the experience though because Johnny realizes that he very much values trust and honesty, whereas before he would have thought plain ol' fun the most important thing...

Jake Jensen

Jakey, my beloved, clueless noob... He doesn't really know what to do. He asks a lot of questions. What's wrong? What can he do? What do you want in this moment? Should he have done it differently? Do you need more? Something else? Was it him?

For a dozen times after, he'll ask if that one was real or fake. He's touchy about it, but 90% of his concern is just that you are actually happy. He puts in quite a bit of extra effort for a while after, too.

Lloyd Hansen

I am a broken record when it comes to Lloyd: he does not care. At best, he'd be torturing you to come for his own pleasure. At worst, well, he's there to get off. You don't need to.

If by some magical scenario Lloyd does give a fuck about you or your feelings, I think he'd expect you to take what you needed from him to climax. Otherwise, it's not really his problem.

Ari Levinson

Depends on his own mood for sure. When Ari is stressed or tired, he tends to turn inward and focus on his own feelings, not purposefully ignoring you but still. It reads like he didn't/doesn't notice and just continues on with sleep/the normal routine. If he's got the emotional, energy bandwidth to talk it out with you, he absolutely will. Don't take any offense. Sometimes he's muddling through like you.

Ransom Drysdale

Has no idea. Probably doesn't want to have an idea. Unless it becomes a regular problem, he's just gonna let it slide. He won't bring it up if you don't.

Steve Rogers

On the surface, Steve looks concerned and listens to your reasons for faking, but honestly, on the inside, he hates the idea that you felt the need to. Steve will easily forego sex in favor of literally anything you want to do, so to let it get all the way to love-making and apparently suffering through till he's finished? It makes him a bit sick. He'll get more more restrained and cautious in future, all for want of you never faking again.

Bucky Barnes

Feels like a huge failure as a partner. Spends a good portion of the conversation having you promise to communicate with him better from now on. This is from a man who has so many things going on in his mind that Bucky is often derailed from pleasure/enjoyment during sex. He's just very triggered by the darndest things, and you've been so understanding. Why can't he be that for you, too?

Thank you for asking!

A/N: I know these are a bit short. Let me know if there's one or more you'd like expanded on, but thank you for reading!

[Main Masterlist; 'Who Would...' Asks; Ko-Fi]

[fantasyandmylife]

Hello Dear, I hope you get my message while you're fine.🙏

I'm Ola, a graduate student from the faculty of science at Al-Azhar university Gaza, Palestine. I'm a dedicated and passionate student, striving to become a good researcher and teacher.

Unexpectedly, After October 7th, my life took a drastic turn with the commencement of the cruel war on Gaza, transforming me from a passionate student to a person struggling for survival. 🥺

I have created a campaign to help my family rebuild their lives and get the basic needs of food, drink, etc in these cruel conditions. And also it will help me to complete my education.

All of what I am asking of you is a reblog of the pinned post on my page and to donate if you can🙏🥺.

I sincerely wish if you can empathize with my dire situation and consider supporting us. Please be certain that any help gets us closer to our goal and no matter how small your donation might be, it will make a significant difference in my family's lives.

I would be very grateful if you could follow me to stay updated, as I will always need your help.💔

My compaign vetted by @90-ghost and @northgazaupdates and @el-shab-Hussien and @nabulsi's vetted list, line 205.

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1yYkNp5U3ANwILl2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfzR8Ioo/htmlview#gid=0

Thanks in advance for your kindness and support. I am waiting for your response ❤️

This is my GFM link:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/empower-olas-pursuit-of-education-amid-crisis?qid=30ec4c502382b9962b96d698a687d9a8

Please donate and/or share with others 🥺🙏🇵🇸

Sincerely,

Ola

ola’s campaign is nearly halfway complete!

in light of the anti-arab racism from popular bloggers such as @badjokesbyjeff that literally goes back years, please consider donating to ola and her loved ones.

in her campaign, ola mentions her academic excellence and the bright future that she carved out for herself through apartheid. while nobody is deserving of having to live through such circumstances, one can recognizes that her academic efforts and achievements are extraordinary (and certainly better than anything i and much of this site’s population have have achieved). now, she’s taken the initiative to secure basic essentials for her family in northern gaza.

if the reality of the deep roots of racism within tumblr’s staff and userbase upsets you, taking the time to share + donate to gazans is the best way to combat that. the world will not heal until we all treat each other like family

[liorae]

Perfect Pretend ୨୧ 𝓨ang 𝓙ungwon

fourteen. do you think they’ll last (0.6k written)

you were on the phone with taesan as he eased your nerves. you didn’t know what to expect since he kept saying ominious things. he repeatedly said not to worry while contradicting himself and saying worrisome things. — more under cut!

“i see him. bye taesan.” you said, anxiousness etched in your tone. “bye yn. please call me if anything goes wrong.”

there he goes again. saying odd shit. working up your nerves yet again.

you made your way to your best friend who oddly faced down.

you almost couldn’t recognize him at first. his hair was now dyed black instead of the brown you had colored it. you took a seat in the empty space beside him. the tension between you two was unsettling, nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

“i like your hair.”

“thanks.”

to say you were anxious would be an understatement. you wish you could’ve had a moment to prepare yourself for what was about to happen.

"yn," he began, voice trembling slightly. "i've been thinking about this for a long time, and i can't conceal it anymore. for fourteen years, you've been my best friend. i've always respected you and loved you deeply. but somewhere along the way, that love changed. it grew into something much stronger, something i couldn't control."

he took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "watching you with him... it's killing me. every time i see you together, it feels like a part of me is being ripped apart. i can't keep pretending that i'm okay with just being your friend when i'm not. i've tried, for years, to show you how much you mean to me, hoping that one day, you might feel the same way."

his voice broke, but he continued. "all my efforts, everything i've done, it hasn't changed anything. the pain of seeing you with someone else has finally caught up to me, and i can't bear it anymore. i need time away from you, to sort out my feelings and figure out who i am without you constantly in my life."

you felt a heavy weight in your stomach and tears start to form in the rims of your eyes. your eyes stayed glued on him. part of you wanted to reach out for him but the other part stopped you from doing so.

"i don't want you to worry about me," he continued, forcing a smile. "i'll be fine. i promise i'll find my way back. but right now, i have to work on myself, and i can't do that while watching you love someone else. it's best for both of us if i take a break from our friendship."

tears filled his eyes as he finally looked at her, hoping she understood. "please know that this isn't easy for me. it's the hardest thing i've ever had to do. but i have to put myself first for once. i need to heal. and maybe one day, we can be friends again. but for now, i have to let you go."

at this point, you’d already let a few tears fall from your eyes. you felt an awful amount of guilt. knowing now that behind is everyday smile was pain caused by you made you feel worse than you ever felt before. this was your best friend.

“it’s not your fault, yn. you can’t help what you feel and neither can i. please don’t beat yourself up over it.” yungyu went back to avoiding eye contact, looking anywhere but at you. “and please, don’t don’t say anything. there might be a slight chance i’ll stay if you do. i’m going to head off now. take care.”

as he began to head off, you reached out to grab him. you did. but you quickly dropped your hand. you wanted to respect him, that’s the best you can do in this moment. so there you sat, watching him walk off in absolute agony.

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