#but remember that this is not the ending. this is not definitive.

[inkchwe]

so high school | 𝖑𝖍𝖘

୨୧ pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 6.8k ୨୧ genre: fluff, smut ୨୧ tags: basketballplayer!heesung, nerd!reader, tutor!au, high school au, oral (f + m receiving), penetration (all characters are of age!), light choking ୨୧ synopsis: You and your boyfriend are complete opposites on paper—you, the girl hidden inside a book, and Heeseung, the star of the basketball team—but it feels so right every time you’re together.

Heeseung at the free-throw line, certain he will make the basket and win the championship, turns to look at you in the stands. The sounds of his coach, taunts from the opposing team, encouragement of his teammates, and commotion of the final game of the season all fade into the background. To him, all that matters besides the ball in his hands is you.

You, amongst the others in the crowd with their hearts in their mouths, have no fears for your boyfriend. The star player who’s going to make history has never given you doubts before in his talents. All you can do is smile, incredibly proud and incredulous at the thought that he is all yours and nobody else’s.

It’s almost unimaginable how the two of you found each other, coming from completely different worlds. But like all stories, similar to the ones you’ve read since childhood, the story of you and Heeseung has a clear beginning…

AUGUST

“Do you ever stop to—I don’t know—not read?” Jungwon asks, jotting down notes in his notebook.

You giggle and flip the page. “It’s the last book on Choi’s summer reading list. Besides,” you retort, looking directly at your best friend, “how else would I be able to read and still remember what you just said to me if I didn’t practice?”

“Fuck off.” You lightly knock his shoulder with yours.

Even though it was still very early in the school year, you still had a lot to concentrate  on with the month coming to an end. Like the first novel Mrs. Choi selected on her extensive reading list. You planned to discuss it with the members of the school’s book club, your notes already tucked in your backpack for today’s Friday meeting.

Now, sitting with Jungwon in the hallway as you eat your lunch, your focus is solely on finishing the last fifty pages of the last book in the list Mrs. Choi created. Jungwon closes his notebook and gets up from his spot next to you. “Alright, I gotta head to Chem.  I’ll see you after school!” With a wink, he runs down the hallway and disappears down the corner.

Who you don’t expect to pop up next to disturb the sudden quiet of the surrounding area is Lee Heeseung, star shooting guard for the school’s basketball team. You never spoke to him before, but his reputation and family’s legacy preceded him. His brother was the shooting guard for the team years ago, breaking numerous records before he graduated. Now, Heeseung’s definitely filling his brother’s shoes and then some.

As a person, however, you know nothing about the boy at all. This year, though, you shared the same English class with Mrs. Choi. She cared little for his extracurriculars or persona around campus; what mattered to her was the effort of her students and the quality of the classwork.

Heeseung passes you by on his way towards his destination, not sparing a glance. You sit attentively as he knocks on Mrs. Choi’s classroom door.

She answers after a moment, a somber smile on her lips. “What can I do for you, Mr. Lee?”

He clears his throat and asks her, “You saw my message and I—“

“I am aware, Mr. Lee. My response still stands. Is there something else you need?” Mrs. Choi sees you out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t acknowledge your snooping.

“I will do anything to correct my last assignment. Please,” Heeseung begs.

“Mr. Lee, the cutoff for submissions was last week. I’m sorry, but your grade is final.” She sighs and looks at her watch.

“There’s nothing I can do to bring it up before the first game?” Heeseung asks, his voice growing thin from his frustration. He’s not rude, but clearly disappointed he isn’t getting his way with his big eyes and pleading words.

“How about this? I’ll tell Coach Sung you’re working on a paired project to make up the grade.”

“Perfect.” Heeseung breathes a sigh of relief before he takes in the rest of her sentence. “Wait, who’s my partner?”

Mrs. Choi extends her arm out to point in your direction. Immediately, you want to tuck yourself in your book and hide. You did not intend for your interest in their conversation to put you right in the middle of it, and now you wish you hadn’t feigned curiosity at all.

“She’s one of my best students, so you’re in great hands.” She turns her head so both you and Heeseung can hear her. “I’ll send both of you the information for the project later today.”

You didn’t notice Heeseung had kept his focus on you until you broke your stare-off with Mrs. Choi. Her lips are upturned in a secret smirk when you turn your attention to him.

Heeseung isn’t bad to look at, the definition of his muscles peeking out of his shirt in multiple places and his brown hair falling into his face. Each piece of his physical being represents the epitome of a Greek god’s form. But the fact neither of you had ever interacted up to this point is what scares you more than his intimidatingly good looks.

When Mrs. Choi gently closes the door, Heeseung awkwardly walks over to your position, towering over you. Ironically, his presence physically embodies your feelings towards him, this stranger now being shoved into your life.

“I’m Heeseung.”

You give him a close-lipped smile and extend your hand out to him, your name leaving your lips immediately. Displaying fake confidence, you hope he can’t tell how terrified you are.

His eyes brighten when his hand touches yours. You stand up, hand still in his, and the feeling of his palm against yours causes you to fumble your next words. “S-so I guess I should give you my number. I mean so once we get the assignment—“

Heeseung smirks. “Usually girls flirt a little more before asking for my number.”

You scoff and tuck your book closer. “I was offering to give you mine, actually. For educational purposes.”

The noise of his laughter fills the small corridor. “Right.”

You roll your eyes, suddenly feeling annoyance creeping under your skin. “Well, if it’s that hard to swap information, you can find me after school in the library.” You walk away, but Heeseung follows quickly behind.

“I have practice once the last bell rings.”

You look at him with serious eyes, not bothering to stop your stride towards the stairs. “Tell Coach you can’t make it.”

“Are you nuts?” Heeseung says, eyes wide.

You smirk. “You have to get your grade up to play, right?”

You watch the clock in the library with scrutiny. Members of the book club have been gone for half an hour, but you chose to stay behind. School let out an hour ago, and yet you’re still holding out hope Heeseung will come. But every minute that goes by proves you have to face facts: you’re now forced to collaborate with a stereotypical jock.

Mr. Kim, the head librarian, puts the disorganized books on the shelves as you tap your pencil on the table. “Waiting for someone? You don’t usually stick around this late,” Mr. Kim says with a smile.

You grin back, the sentiment not reaching your eyes. “You could say that.”

After another ten minutes of silence, you give up. You begin packing up your belongings, shaking your head and mumbling to yourself the entire time. Curse your interest in the guy and his lack of care for his academics. No wonder his grade was in the tank already. What was the point of athletics if he didn’t have other prospects to fall back on?

Just as you’re walking out of the library, Heeseung runs into you. Sweat’s dripping from his forehead and his breaths are labored. Clearly, he chose basketball over your project. You want to punch him for putting you both in this position.

“I swear I was going to blow off practice,” Heeseung says, but he can see your doubt in his words on your face.

“Sure. How about this? Figure out how to do the project on your own.” You press your body into his to push him out of your way. He follows in suit and rubs the spot you shoved, pretending to be wounded.

It only fuels your ire. You’ve only spoken to the jerk twice and you’re already tired of him treating every word you say and feeling you have like a joke. “Is failing that amusing to you?”

Heeseung’s expression immediately goes cold. “I’m not failing.”

“Sure. So Choi’s just doing this to torture you.”

He weighs his response in his mind before answering. “I may not be perfect, but Choi is really hard on grading.”

“That first assignment was just about what your future looks like after high school.” You push your backpack over your arm. “Excuse her for thinking you had plans outside of throwing a ball around a field.”

That laugh of his may just be the end of your life. He chuckles hard and puts a hand out to stop you. “First of all, that’s football.” He tries to make you look at him directly, but you refuse, too angry to give into what he wants. 

He continues anyway. “Second, basketball is my life. Past, present, future, okay? Without it, I don’t even know where I’d be.”

His voice is sincere, more honest than it’s been before. Regardless, your understanding and disappointment is evident. “Don’t you think that that’s the problem?”

“It hasn’t been one before. Suddenly I say it out loud and it’s an issue?” Heeseung’s voice raises a decibel, clearly agitated and back to his cold exterior.

If he wants to fight about this, you’re game.

“No,” you say, matching his vocal level. “The issue is that your focus is solely on basketball when there’s more important things in life than a dumbass court and sweaty guys trying to make touchdowns.” 

“You’re mixing up your sports analogies, angel.” Heeseung steps closer, testing your boundaries. Your chest heaves up and down, your breath labored. You may just slap him if he gets closer.

“You know what I mean.”

“Are you going to help me or not?” A fraction of his expression slips. His eyes challenge you in both irritation and anxiety. The bravado’s merely a mask for the fear that he’ll lose the one thing he wants the most in this world. And did you have it in you to be the reason he couldn’t have it?

You sigh and rub your palm across your forehead. “Tomorrow, meet me at the marketside pier. 8 AM. Take it or leave it.”

He releases a humorless chuckle. “You’re not gonna make this easy are you?”

“Not on your life.”

Heeseung is there at one of the pier’s wooden picnic tables with his materials sprawled out when you arrive at 7:45. You weren’t expecting for him to be there on time, much less earlier than you. The sun reflects off of his hair, turning the brown curls almost orange. Like the first time you saw him, you can’t help but be reminded that he is painstakingly attractive.

You give him a shy smile and put your backpack down next to you.

“I can tell you’re surprised,” Heeseung says with a small smile.

“A bit, yeah.” You unzip your bag to grab your English textbook. “I thought on the weekends you typically do…’fitness stuff.’” He laughs at your air quotes.

“Well, to be honest, I wake up at 6 AM every morning for drills with my dad.”

Your eyes go wide. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Like you said, my sole focus is on that damn ball,” Heeseung says, opening his own textbook. “But I want to change that.”

“So you can keep playing,” you remind him, teasing the poor guy.

“Half true,” Heeseung says. “But I shouldn’t have left you hanging, yesterday.”

You nod. “I appreciate your apology.” You grab a pencil from your bag, pushing on the eraser until the lead pops up. “And I shouldn’t have been so judgmental. You have to be good at stuff besides basketball, even if it’s not studying.”

“Hey! I’m doing well in all my other classes, thank you very much.” You both share a minute of laughter. “But, to be honest, I do like to sing.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, Troy Bolton.”

“For real! One day, I’ll take you to karaoke. I won’t make fun of you if you can’t keep up with me.”

“Okay, we’ll see.” You direct his focus back on to the page. “Now, onto Shakespeare.”

SEPTEMBER

Although Heeseung took his sweet, laborious time to translate and understand Shakespeare’s old English, the project went off without a hitch. Mrs. Choi was even surprised herself, in disbelief you pulled such an expansive and well-thought analysis out of the quintessential jock.

Now, it seemed the best next step to keep Heeseung on the right track was to sit him right next to you. Your initial partnership continued to benefit him in both his success in English and focus on academics, possibly for the first time in his high school career.

Better than that, he may have found a new friend in you that he wouldn’t have had otherwise.

By the end of one Tuesday class, Heeseung asks you to have lunch with him and his friends, a request that makes your previous seating buddy in English, Yujin, freak out.

Both her and Jungwon corner you on your way out when you tell them the news.

“No fucking way,” she whispers excitedly, slapping you on the back with vigor.

“That hurt,” you moan.

“Are you prepared?” Jungwon asks, smirking.

“Prepared for what?”

“The lion’s den, dude! You’re gonna be with not just his douche friends, but also the cheerleaders, other sports players…be prepared for the worst,” Jungwon grumbles.

“Oh shut up, Won!” Yujin threatens to hit him too, but he retracts. “Have fun on your pseudo first date.”

“It’s not a date!”

By the time lunch comes around, you hold yours with shaky hands, searching the lunch courtyard for the jock’s table. You usually sat with Jungwon or Yujin in the hallway of the English department to eat. Now, you’re a small fish in a big pond, waiting to be eaten alive.

Was it, in fact, a date, like your friends hypothesized? Did you have to try and impress Heeseung more than normal? Did you want Heeseung to take you on a date, real or fake, to begin with?

"Hey!"

Heeseung waves you over with a confident but over-exaggerated arm, flapping it wildly so you notice. He didn't need to do that, though; you could pick out his voice in any crowd.

You walk over with a smile and sit down, feeling small next to the strangers you had not met until this moment. The basketball team's not unwelcome, but they are awkward at your sudden presence at their usual lunch table, even if Heeseung made it known beforehand that you would be hanging out with them to eat.

He says your name and introduces you to his friends. "And that's Sunghoon, Jeongsong, and Jaeyun." You recognize the last two, Jay and Jake. Jake, the strikingly blonde one, has Chemistry with you this year. He smiles and tips his soda can at you in acknowledgement.

"Hee was telling us you’ve been saving him this term in English. Choi can be a pain in the ass, am I right?" Sunghoon and Jeongsong share a laugh, but you bristle at the comment.

"Not really," you say. "Choi sponsors my book club, so we have a good relationship. I think that's why she wanted me to whip Heeseung into shape in the first place." You elbow Heeseung in the side, and he grins in response.

"She's probably right."

"Book club kid, huh?" Jake asks. "Haven't been one of those since elementary school."

Jake's comments make the entire team laugh. Your cheeks turn pink and Heeseung takes a sip from his drink, his posture stiffening in the process.

"It's not a bad thing though," Jake interjects amidst their laughter. "Books are fun."

"A bit nerdy, though," Sunghoon comments.

A girl next to Sunghoon smacks him hard in the arm, but he just pokes his tongue at her.

Your anxiety spikes sitting there with all of these people, your gut feelings a reminder that they’re all a part of Heeseung’s world, not yours.

You clear your throat and stand up from the table. “I forgot to say, Hee, I have to do something for Choi anyway.” Heeseung’s face turns down at the corners. The only audible response you receive is from Jay and Sunghoon in the form of snickers.

”Run along, pet,” Sunghoon comments with a smirk.

You hope your eyes give the offense you won’t bother saying out loud. Fuck off, asshole.

When you make it to your usual lunch spot, Yujin and Jungwon are surprised to see you walking down the hallway.

”What happened?” Yujin asks.

”Exactly what Won said was going to happen,” you confess, sitting down in a criss-cross position beside her. “Now give me your chips.”

When the end of the day comes around, Heeseung catches you on your usual trek to the bus. “You’re forgiven, by the way.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What did I do?”

”You left me alone with my shithead teammates! I needed you there for backup, y’know.” He smirks and grabs your backpack from your shoulder to put around his arm. “I’m sorry about them. Sunghoon, mostly.”

”Can’t believe you’re friends with that guy,” you mumble.

”He’s the only one who I’m not friends with, truthfully. The others are cool. They’re just not used to new people.”

”I never would have guessed.”

Heeseung’s laugh is hearty, with a dazzling smile to match. You can almost forget the heap of embarrassment you felt earlier when you look at him like this, carefree and youthful.

“Anyway, let me give you a ride,” he offers, pointing to the senior parking lot. His car is freshly washed, its coat of paint identical to the school’s colors of blue with silver accents.

”What will your friends say?” you ask with a fake gasp.

”Fuck them. Besides, you’re also one of my friends. Now let’s go.” He takes your hand to walk in the direction of his car, not releasing your palm until you’re at his passenger side door.

As you give him directions, your mind goes back to the labels you had been running through in your mind all day. Were you Heeseung’s friend? Yes. Did you want to be more? Surely he didn’t just ask anyone to have lunch with him and his friends if he didn’t have other intentions, right? So, in that case, did yours match his?

A part of you wants to say yes, but the rational piece keeps you in check. It’s ridiculous to expect more than a friendship. How could you when it was so obvious your worlds were so far from each other, your friendship a simple fluke? You were grateful for his presence in your life, knowing without him it would be a bit darker, but would it last?

Yet here you were. Sitting happily in his car, hair blowing in the wind as his thumb grazes the outside of your hand, you try to enjoy all the time you do have together.

OCTOBER

”This is ridiculous!”

”Come on, just try it!”

”When did I ever say I was good at sports?” You groan, holding the ball in your hands with nervous fingers. The basketball court at your local park is occupied only by you and Heeseung, but it feels as though there’s a thousand people in the metal stands watching you, waiting for you to mess up.

”You said if I passed the last test you would let me show you how to make a free throw.” Heeseung has his hands in his pockets, his letterman jacket flapping in the autumn wind.

“If I suck at this, you’re never going to talk to me again. Just watch.” You try to dribble the ball across the court, but it falls between your legs before you can travel any further.

Heeseung puts his face behind his hand, clearly chuckling to himself. You scoff at him and the response you saw coming the second he put the ball in your hands. “See? I told you you would think I’m embarrassing!”

He raises his hands in defense. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just cute, that’s all.”

”’Cute’ is probably the nicest way you could say I’m embarrassing.” You kick the basketball in his direction. He catches it without any effort, his face still shaped in a state of enjoyment.

”I said cute because I meant cute, you dork.” He steps to the free-throw line and motions for you to join him. You do, grumbling and grunting the entire way.

”Now, you have to relax. The only way you have half a shot at making the basket is if you stop tensing up.” He hands you the ball again and steps behind you.

He puts his hands on your hips. his palms soft against your hoodie. You can practically feel the heat of his skin through the material of your clothing, and you hope he can’t tell how much your heartbeat has spiked from him being so close to you.

”Next thing is to bend your knees. They can’t be locked up.” You listen to his words, trying not to focus on how his body is making yours react. You may be imagining it, but even his voice sounds a bit breathless from the small distance between yourself and him.

His lips are ghosting over your ear when he says, ”Now shoot.”

You release the ball from your hands, hoping the angle of your throw and Heeseung’s directions will prove you’re partially competent. 

And sure enough, the basket makes it in a single whoosh. You turn in Heeseung’s grasp, releasing a happy cheer. “That was amazing!”

You feel the rush of the shot in your veins, but suddenly the only thing that makes your body hum in pleasure is the sudden crash of Heeseung’s lips against yours.

Unsure how to react, you stand there frozen in place as his mouth moves on its own accord. But slowly, surely, happily, you fall deeply into his embrace. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and feel the press of his tongue against your mouth, begging for entrance.

You comply, letting the feeling of him and the thrill of this private moment in both of your worlds fill you to the brim with quiet pleasure and happiness.

[LHS] Can we talk, please?

[LHS] Did I do something wrong??

[LHS] IDC if you don’t respond. I’ll keep texting until you say something…

[LHS] Don’t leave me hanging :(

You sigh and throw your phone to the other side of the bed, tucking your comforter closer to your chest. Deciding to stay home from school was probably not the best way to handle your problems, but just because you’re smart doesn’t mean you’re sensible all the time.

This weekend’s excursion with Heeseung was beautiful, no doubt. But the fears continued to creep in with little regard for how happy he made you that day or all the days that came before it. Would how he felt about you last any longer than his basketball season? Did he entertain this simply for the fact that it was entertainment and nothing more? 

The thoughts had been too much when you said goodbye to him on your doorstep with another hasty, giddy kiss and all the hours following it. Maybe you were self-sabotaging, but it was better to manage expectations now than be crushed in the aftermath.

When Yujin calls you during lunch, you have half a mind to ignore it. You answer anyway to avoid your friends thinking something drastic happened.

”Hello,” you mumble, the effects of your late morning nap hitting you.

”Dude, Heeseung’s on a tear today. He even asked Jungwon where you were, and I didn’t even think he knew the kid existed. What the hell happened on Saturday?”

Before you can respond, you hear the sound of your doorbell. “I gotta go. I’ll tell you later.” You hang up, hastily grabbing your fuzzy robe before running downstairs.

You don’t bother looking through the peephole to see who it is, but you curse yourself for not doing so when you’re confronted with Heeseung. He’s a sweaty and panting mess, but he doesn’t care for his appearance. His face morphs into relief when he sees you staring back at him.

”Thank God,” he says before stepping closer to you. He runs his hand over your forehead, frowning. “You’re not sick.”

You shake your head.

”So, you just ignore me all weekend and then don’t show up to school today?”

You sigh. “I didn’t know what to say when I saw you.”

He gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing. “So you chose not to see me at all? Was kissing me that terrible?

”No!” You run a frustrated hand through your hair, the spot in your hallway suddenly too cramped. You push him back outside and close the door behind you. “I don’t regret it at all. And I’d do it again if I could.”

Heeseung smirks at that, clearly happy with your response. “So, what’s the problem?”

”The problem is that when you get bored of me, things won’t go back to normal for me like they will for you, Hee. You may think this is a game but—“

Heeseung’s sudden laugh is marked with a bitterness. His eyes grow serious, so much so your words stop short because of his stone expression

”Do you think that little of me?”

Your body tenses at his words, unsure how to respond. You have never thought of him as lesser than once, not since getting to know him. But maybe only looking at your feelings regarding your relationship compromised his own in the process.

He steps closer, your faces an inch apart. “Two months ago, I didn’t realize how much my life was going to change because of you. All I thought about before was basketball. And now, you’re one of the only things outside of that damn game that matters to me. When I haven’t talked to you or seen you for too long it’s like there’s this rock in my gut that I can’t get rid of. I kissed you because I wanted to, not for fun or because it’s this momentary thing.

”So, if you still think I’m going to get bored of you in a few days or weeks or months, then you really aren’t as smart as I thought you were, angel. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Breathless would be too small of a word to describe how his speech affects you. You feel the same buzz of his kiss from a few days throughout your entire body from his words alone. It makes every worry and fear that has plagued you evaporate, replaced with his promises and all the reasons you should jump in headfirst without another thought.

So you do.

You kiss him hard, crashing into his lips and hoping all of the feelings he harbors reflect in the actions of your mouth. You hold onto him with your hands on his neck and the smoothness of your lips in a beautiful rhythm with each other.

Whatever happens next, you know there’s no turning back now.

NOVEMBER

“And Sim, our prime point-guard, passes to Lee. Lee has ten seconds to make another three pointer and win the game. Will he do it? Time to find out!” Kim Sunwoo screams into the microphone, broadcasting the highlights of the semi-final game to the many listeners not attending in-person.

Lucky for you, you have the perfect spot in the stands to watch Heeseung make the winning basket and lead the team to victory.

The crowd roars when your boyfriend secures the team’s spot in the championship game. His teammates lift him up above their heads and shoulders, chanting his name and holding him with all of their strength. Heeseung immediately searches the crowd for you, his excitement fueling his newfound focus.

When he does see you, clapping your hands and cheering with the rest of the bystanders, he kisses the inside of his palm and shoots it in your direction like he’s making another basket. Your heart squeezes at the gesture, but you only blush and wink.

Ever since that day on your doorstep, you can’t seem to separate yourself from him or the feelings he stirs up inside of you. The thought and reality of not seeing or hearing from him for too long immediately dampens your spirits, just like Heeseung described to you when he confessed. Jungwon calls you “lovesick fools” every time you both are in his presence, but it’s not that. The love you feel for your boyfriend is one that strengthens every sense, impulse, and desire. Without it and him, that’s when you feel the weakest. And every time Heeseung smiles at you or holds you close, you can tell he feels the same.

Whether your worlds were the exact same or as different as they possibly could be, you both made your own perfectly fit for just the two of you.

The outside world has to creep in every once in a while, though.

At the end of the night, Heeseung’s arm is wrapped perfectly around you as you walk. You discuss your shared plans for the night and subsequent weekend since your parents are away at a work conference. Heeseung stops short when he sees his father waiting at his car with crossed arms.

“Good job, Hee,” He says first and foremost. “Saw you lost a bit of steam in the third quarter, though. We’ll have to do some more conditioning before the final.”

And there it was. The judgment you saw so often in conversations between Heeseung and his father that made you ache for the boy you loved. As his father, he should’ve been proud to see his sons succeeding, one of them off and playing for a world-renowned team and the other on his way there. Instead, all they received was judgment. It wasn’t your place, but you couldn’t wait for the day Heeseung stood up to him.

“At least I made the winning basket, right?” Heeseung shrugs off the criticism with a laugh and holds you closer. “We have to go eat, so—“

“Of course.” His father moves out of your way. “Lovely to see you again, darling,” He says to you with a small smile as he opens the passenger door for you. You return his greeting, suddenly uncomfortable with how close he is.

On your drive to your house, you try to help Heeseung destress with a hand on his thigh. “Don’t let him get to you,” you say sadly.

He smiles and gives you a knowing stare. “I’ve been dealing with him my whole life. He doesn’t have that power anymore.” He takes your hand from his thigh to hold it tightly in his own palm. “Besides, I’m one step closer to the championship and I got my girl next to me. Nothing’s getting in the way of my good night.”

You set your backpacks down at the door when you step inside your house. Heeseung follows you to the kitchen. While you’re finding the flier with the number of your favorite takeout restaurant, Heeseung presses his lips to your neck. The trail of his kisses going from the back of your ear to the start of your collarbone makes you shiver.”

“Hee,” you warn him. “We won’t be able to eat if you keep distracting me.”

“Food is the second priority,” he responds, lips feathering your skin. “Right now, we need to celebrate the championship.”

“The championship is still three weeks away.”

“If we both know I’m going to win, what’s the point of delayed gratification?” He pulls the sleeve of your shirt down to expose the top of your shoulder, kissing that area too to make your body thrum with pleasure.

“Speaking of that…” You turn to face Heesung, pressing your back against the counter. “I guess we can celebrate something tonight besides your impending win.”

Heeseung raises an eyebrow.

“I got early acceptance to Sky.”

Heeseung’s eyes immediately light up at your announcement. He pulls you in by the waist and spins you around the tiny space between your kitchen island and the fridge.

When the topic of college came up, it was as good a time as any for the two of you to discuss your future plans with each other. As fate would have it, Heeseung planned to play for Sky University’s basketball team next year, and you were waiting on your official acceptance letter when you both started dating.

Now, Heeseung would have the two most important things to him in the next chapter of his life. The boy’s over the moon, as any other person would be.

Heeseung lifts you over his shoulder, immediately heading in the direction of the stairs to take you to your bedroom. He laughs off your mock protest.

He knows for certain he’s in love with you. It may not be the perfect time to say it, especially before he’s about to ravish you, but the perfect time will come when it feels right.

He doesn’t say it when he strips you bare for only his eyes as he kisses you senseless, shocked and grateful your body is for him and him alone to see and cherish. He doesn’t say it as you kiss every inch of his bare chest to send him into a rambling mess of praises and curses.

Somehow, stupidly, the words slip out when your mouth is wrapped around his cock, tongue flat against the underside of his tip as he feels the back of your throat against him.

“Fuck, I love you so much.”

The air stills, both your bodies going rigid at the sudden confession that has just left his lips. But, instead of running scared, you take your mouth off of him and stare deeply into his eyes, smiling wide. “What’d you say?”

Heeseung breathes out a sigh of relief, suddenly taking your face in his hands and kissing you deeply. “I love you. I’ve loved you since the second I saw you in that hallway. I just didn’t know it yet.”

You giggle and press another kiss to his lips. He sees a tear leave your eye, and he wipes it away gently with his thumb. “I love you, too, Heeseung.”

You fall back into a steady rhythm of kissing and touching, Heeseung’s hands roaming the skin of your stomach, the swell of your breasts, and the cleft between your thighs, making you moan.

“Let me show you how much I love you,” Heeseung whispers against your lips.

He lays you flat on your back, kissing what areas he hasn’t touched yet with his hands. He needs you to know, in every moment, he chooses you and will never stop choosing to be with you.

If he had to make the choice to either give up the game or you, he would choose the former in a heartbeat. His dad, his friends, and even fate may say it’s young love and you haven’t been in his life as long as basketball has, but they don’t see him the way you do.

Even if he doesn’t say it out loud, he knows he doesn’t have to. 

When Heeseung finally presses his lips to your clit, kissing the nub with adoration, your legs shake at the contact. You instantly run your fingers into his hair. “Fuck,” you curse, the word rarely slipping from your lips save for moments like these.

The first time you had been together, Heeseung didn’t know exactly how to touch you without being terrified it was too much. But now he knows all the ways to turn you into a beautiful mess.

He licks languidly across your center and through your folds, keeping the perfect pace for you to ride your hips against his mouth. He inserts a finger into your entrance after coating the digit in the arousal already pooling at your center. You, typically so put together, are ready to fall apart at the simple press of his mouth against you.

Heeseung knows he can get you off this way, without question. And most nights, he doesn’t mind when you’re the only one who receives pleasure. But tonight, you moan out a request that he can’t say no to.

“Heeseung, please. I want you inside me when I come.” He doesn’t have to be told what to do twice when it’s the best command he’s heard all night.

He takes your mouth in his, holding your jaw in his hand and slightly applying pressure to the side of your neck. A half-empty moan leaves your lips at the sudden contact. To him, the sounds that you make are their own form of poetry, better than anything you’ve read to him all year.

Heeseung quickly grabs a foil packet from your bedside drawer to put on himself, protection being the one thing you can’t forget in the midst of your desire for each other. Lining himself up with your entrance, he thinks you could not look more beautiful with your half-lidded eyes and eager hands grabbing onto his hips to finally push him inside of you.

When he does ease in, he swallows the curse prepared to leave your mouth with his lips. It’s an indescribable feeling, the stretch and pull of your walls taking him in completely. Although you’ve been together many times before this night, it’s still a novelty Heeseung does not take for granted.

He takes his time establishing a rhythm, loving the pants and whimpers you emit because of him and for him. He holds his hand on your throat, his thumb going into your mouth for you to wrap your lips around in a lewd manor.

“Ah, fuck,” you say as he snaps his hips, filling you to the hilt. “Just like that.”

He feels his orgasm in his gut, threading further up his body as he snaps his hips harder and faster, moving in and out at a faster pace than normal. You don’t mind, scratching lines down his back as you cling to him. You’re both reduced to a heap of I love you’s and satisfied sounds, and it could not be more perfect.

“Fuck, Hee, I’m coming,” you say in the form of a promise, one so precious he wants to hear it every day.

The flutter of your walls around him as you fall apart pushes him to his own end, releasing into the condom with a guttural moan. He kisses you deeply before separating from you, running to the bathroom to throw the remnants of your lovemaking into the toilet and clean himself up.

You hold your arms out to him, ready to have him back by your side. He grins and kisses the crown of your forehead.

“Think about all the nights we can do this next year,” Heeseung whispers into the dark.

“I can’t wait,” you respond, pressing a kiss to his sweaty chest. “I love you.”

He grins happily to himself, the words a thousand times more powerful leaving your mouth. “I love you, too, angel.”

With your body curled into his chest, your heartbeats matching in tempo, he thinks no amount of championship wins could compare to the love he’s found in you.

DECEMBER

The basketball feels light as air in Heeseung’s hands, incomparable to the feeling in his chest looking at you. His teammates can tell he’s staring directly at your position in the stands. They wonder how his mind is still so occupied by you, even amongst the sea of spectators waiting for him to either succeed or screw up

Little do they realize, you’re the exact reason he’s going to win the title.

As he looks in your direction, he takes the shot without second-guessing himself. He hears the faint gasps of some attendees and even his coach, but the following swish of the basket in the hoop tells Heeseung all he needs to hear. And all he needs to see is your beautiful, proud face as the gym explodes into cheers.

You’re the best and truest thing he has in this world. He knows he’s a champion, in both the traditional and figurative sense. With you by his side, he’ll always feel like the winner of every game he’ll ever play.

[prael]

Phonecalls

Kinktember Day 24: Vicarphilia

IVE Gaeul x male or female reader smut

words: 3,757 Kinktember Masterlist

Happy Gaeul day!

Gaeul is the personification of the phrase ‘Don't judge a book by its cover.’

A big personality inside a small stature, Gaeul's appearance belies her true self. She's enigmatic, she's witty, she's charismatic, she's funny, and most importantly, she's honest. Honest, almost, to a fault.

She's your best friend, and she has always had your back. When you were down, she would always pull you back up. When you were lost, she would always find you. Gaeul has always been there for you no matter what, and you always knew you could rely on her. You trust Gaeul implicitly, and she does you.

There's this other side to Gaeul too, see, she looks ever so innocent. The way her voice always carries with excitement, it's always so full of life and wonder. Innocence is always an assumption people have of Gaeul. It's completely, and utterly incorrect, but people tend to assume it nonetheless.

Gaeul called you up as she usually does, and yes, you were busy, but not even an hour later you found yourself at a cafe sitting across from her. It was important, or so she said.

"Look at this message. He definitely wants to bone me, right?" Just like that, you had your regular reminder that all those assumptions about Gaeul are wrong.

"I don't know, he just said he wants to get drinks," you answered, albeit in the least convincing tone in your arsenal. Of course, he wanted to bone her.

"Exactly, drinking leads to being drunk and being drunk leads to boning."

"I've gotten drunk around you loads of times and we never ended up in bed together."

Gaeul squinted at you disapprovingly. "Well, we almost—"

"We don't talk about that, remember. Anyway, what's the problem, isn't this basically your dream Friday night? Boy meets girl, boy and girl get drunk, boy takes girl home, boy and girl fuck until they fall asleep," you told her, tilting your iced coffee in her direction as a gesture of encouragement.

"So you do think he's gonna bone me?" Gaeul asked, leaning back on her seat as she chewed on her bottom lip, no longer sure what to think of this text.

"Okay, maybe, but what's the problem?"

"He seems a bit clingy. He's all 'It would be cool if we could get dinner before' or 'I'd love it if we could go watch that new film that's out'," she groaned. "What am I, his girlfriend?"

Some psychiatrists would probably diagnose this as something born out of attachment issues or maybe some insecurity. Whatever, why bother with the analysis? She just hates relationships. 

She's young and having fun—a lot of fun. Sex, and plenty of it. Men and women in equal supply. Either way, relationships aren't on her agenda.

That's not what this story is, anyway. This story is not about Gaeul, not really. Her raunchy nights with strangers are important, but for you, it's more about the morning after.

"So cut it off with him, then. Give him some fake excuse and ghost him before you have another person falling for you."

She slammed her head onto the wooden table of the cafe. "Easier said than done. I mean he's funny. And he's pretty cute." She peered at you, an evil grin now curling her lips, "And I still want to bang him."

"Gaeul, we both know how this ends, you're going to see him tonight and you're ending the night on your back."

"Counter argument: maybe I'm on top."

"Alright, sure, but why am I here? You're only going to call me right after anyway."

"Well..." Gaeul said, leaning closer. "He has this friend and—"

"No, I'm good," you told her and she reeled back from your instant rejection, her eyes wide as if you'd shot her dead.

"Ugh, you're no fun." She shrugged, unfazed, as her hands flew across her phone's screen.

"You know where I get my fun."

"I'll call you after, don't worry," Gaeul said with a slight curve in the corner of her mouth, and that was the promise you held her to.

The promise she was right now upholding. Your phone is ringing with a call from Gaeul and it's the perfect way to start your morning. You smile, content that your best friend has kept to her promise.

"So? How'd it go, was he as big as you hoped?" You ask as you roll over onto your side and prop yourself on one elbow, the smooth fabric of your silken sheets beneath you.

"Big enough," she says followed by a satisfied hum, and you can just imagine that Gaeul must have the kind of stupid, satisfied smile that reaches her ears right now, "The things I let people do to me."

You shake your head and roll your eyes at that last part. "Come on, Gaeul, are you going to keep talking vague? The suspense is killing me." Your lips spread into a teasing grin that you're pretty sure Gaeul can hear through the call. You do very much appreciate her elaborate storytelling.

"Alright fine," she sighs, and the satisfaction is still there, if the subtle laugh she gives is any indication. "The drinks were good and went down easy. There was the small talk and the questions. So, I told him, he could ask any question as long as I got to ask any question I wanted afterwards. We were curious enough about each other and eager enough. We agreed.

"He started with these boring ones, 'What made you dye your hair black', 'Do you prefer salty or sweet foods', and all that other shit. But then I asked him a question that made his eyes pop."

"What was it?" You ask. Gaeul pauses, but the anticipation is a welcome feeling. Her playful silence lets the anticipation rise in you.

"I asked him, 'My face or my ass'?" You both laugh. That was so typical of Gaeul. Typical, but ever so effective.

"And what did he pick?"

"My face, though I don't think he understood I was asking him where he would prefer to cum. His face was so innocent when he said it. I wanted to give him a pat on the head for such a good answer," she explains in an exaggerated cutesy voice.

"He was all the usual, 'Oh you're so pretty' and 'Oh you're so adorable'. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I'm not saying he wasn't right because I do look really pretty," Gaeul quipped, to which you smiled, and she continued, "It went on for a while, he started asking some... hotter things. About how and when I touch myself."

"Usual guy stuff, sure," you joke, and you take delight in how she snorts a little giggle.

"Sure, well, next came his inevitable, 'Want to head back to mine?' Of course, I said 'Yes'. Then he said he would call us a cab, which, thank god, because it's much harder to do hand stuff on a bus compared to a cab."

"But not impossible," you interjected, remembering how she once described being felt up by someone in a packed train car. The way she grinned as she recounted it made her quite the bad girl.

"Anyway, we get in the cab and he just can't keep his hands off me. All over my tits and shit," she lets out a dark chuckle before her voice falls deeper, lower, sensual, and with the emphasis of a dangerous edge, "Don't know if the driver appreciated it but I sure as fuck did."

"Tell me more," you say, putting Gaeul on loudspeaker and placing the phone on the pillow by your head. You lay flat on your back and stretch your muscles. The joints of your toes curl into the sheets and push them down into the mattress as you arc your spine, and the deep inhale you take through your open mouth is soon followed by a relaxed exhale.

"He just slipped his hand up my shirt while she kissed my neck," Gaeul continues, bringing the memory to life with her words. She recounts in precise and deliberate detail how her nipples went hard the instant she was touched, the electricity sparking inside of her as he pinched at them with thumb and forefinger.

There's a rustling from the other side of the call before she continues her story, "We get in his place, he gets the door locked behind him, and the first thing I feel is his hot breath against my ear. It was warm and it tickled just a little bit. Then he whispered in a low voice that I can tell he thought was seductive."

"What did he say?" You ask, eagerly.

"'Fuck, I've never been this horny with someone so quick before'," Gaeul says and pauses. You both share a small laugh before she goes on, "Honestly, I did think it was kinda sexy at the moment, you know? Then he pulls off my shirt. Doesn't even unbutton it, just over my head with all the buttons. Guess the horniness was getting to him."

"Can't blame him." you run your hand up your own torso, fingertips barely brushing over the smooth, warm skin.

"And fuck, I was horny too. I was hungry. I turned and pinned him to his door, you should have seen the shock on his face, and I planted a kiss right on his lips. He wasn't that great. Wasn't really my type of kisser, actually. Too stiff, his lips were too dry, but still a kiss. I guess," Gaeul gives every little detail about him; from how his height stood a whole head taller than her, to how his eyes shone in the dark with a hint of anticipation. "I wasn't there for the kissing, so it was fine, and that's when his hands grabbed my ass. He was so rough, you should have heard the smack his palm made as it landed."

You hum in approval and bring a hand between your legs. In your mind's eye, you see her ass being spanked and groped, and you feel yourself growing more aroused. "Go on."

"Rough hands," Gaeul breathes into the phone. "I fucking love it."

"Yeah..." You sigh grab hold of your thighs and stretch out the tension.

"I could feel it, how hard he was, poking through his trousers and into my stomach."

"You loved feeling how hard you got him, didn't you?"

"Fuck yeah," her voice, dripping in lust and sex, was deep and steady like it always was when she gets like this. "So I dropped to my knees, practically ripped open his belt buckle and pulled down his zipper. And those pants fell to his ankles just like that, and then came the thing I was actually there for."

"Let's hear it," you urged.

"Like I said, good size, that's for sure, I've seen way worse. No way near the biggest dick that I've taken though. Anyway, I start stroking him with one hand," Gaeul lets out a gasp. You're not quite sure if it's for the benefit of her storytelling, but her sounds have always driven you crazy. "And then with my other, I've got his balls cupped and he's fucking loving it.

"I could tell, his cock was getting so big and so hot. It throbbed so much in my hands, so much so I could feel the blood pumping through him. And my hands were moving faster, my lips, teasing his tip, kissing, nibbling, even licking. I loved every fucking second because his dick tasted so good. After all, I could feel how worked up he was. So, I took him whole, you should have heard him moan, it was the cutest groan,"

Gaeul then breathes out heavily into the microphone, and her breath hitches in her throat and comes out short and sharp. You close your eyes and try and imagine the scene, and Gaeul must be reliving it too as you listen to her soft, sharp, wet breathing over the line. You tease yourself and plead with her, "Don't stop."

"And I'm looking up at him, through my lashes, and his eyes are almost pleading like he was trying so hard to hold his cum. Like he's trying to impress me, prove to me how much stamina he has. He's letting little moans and grunts out from his cute little lips, he's gripping the door handle so tight his fingers were white, and his knees are trembling. He's about to cum in my mouth, and my pussy is aching for him," she continues and lets her sentence trail off into a whining moan as she imagines his dick twitching inside her mouth.

"So quickly?" You ask, pushing your underwear down to your knees.

"I'm just that good, babe. The second my mouth met the shaft of his cock he was practically ready to burst. My tongue was dancing over the head, and I could taste the precum," Gaeul recalls. Her voice sizzles in your ears, and it is more like a deep purr, and it sends thrills down your body. A soft exhale escapes your mouth, and you're imagining her tongue caressing a hard dick. "And I'm only sucking harder now, stroking him faster. My left hand gripping onto him tight and tugging away. My right cradling those balls of his."

"All to make him cum," you utter in an aroused voice that you tried to hide but couldn't.

"Shit babe, it worked. I didn't even have time to prepare for him," she recounts. "He bucks his hips into my mouth. Barely has a chance to grab my head, he just blows so soon. All his cum was hot, and he was flooding my mouth."

"Shit..." You moan softly as you visualise a young man bucking his hips and releasing into Gaeul's mouth.

"Did I just go over to his to swallow his cum?" She asks and gives a laugh.

"I hope not."

"You wanna know what's funny?"

"Tell me," you plead to her.

"He came so quick that he went bright red, embarrassed, stuttering like a schoolboy that got caught smoking by the principal. All the courage he built up earlier in the taxi ride was completely gone. I couldn't help but laugh, mouth full of his cum, laughing at him. But I'm not going to lie. As he deflated so fast after he blew, all that bravado disappeared."

You let out a soft, something, barely a laugh, hesitating to touch as Gaeul grinds the story to a halt.

"Not funny?" she asks.

"Just, wish you'd continue, kinda in the middle of something here."

"Sorry, okay, where was I," Gaeul trails her words. "So I swallowed every drop, wiped at my chin where I've spilt a little and the guy still looks like he's going to die. I wanted him to suffer in the embarrassment a little, I wasn't going to tell him 'It's okay', so I got up and pulled him across his apartment. The guy nearly fell over his trousers since they were still on his ankles until he kicked them off.

"So the guy is a bit of a clean freak, by the way, the apartment was spotless. Somehow, I'm leading him to his own bed, don't know where the fuck I'm going but I find it and push him onto it. At this point, the guy's half-naked, sprawled, with his hand over his dick."

"All shy after your pretty lips have gotten him off, huh?"

"Right." Gaeul laughs, "So I stand at the edge of his bed, kick off my sneakers then pull down my jeans and drop them beside him. Then, he's staring at me and I ask him, 'Like the view?'"

"Stupid question, you're smoking," you interject with a smirk on your lips.

"The guy says, and I quote, 'Holy cow.' Who the fuck says 'holy cow'? Holy cow, babe, just holy cow," Gaeul starts laughing something manic, a cackle which is matched with a soft sigh, "Then, I just kinda laughed, like really, really laughed. It's all absurd, you get what I mean?"

"Oh god no he didn't?" You asked though the amusement was already creeping through.

"Right? What an idiot. Well, he was turning redder and redder as I was dying of laughter. It's about this time I realised I was so horny I had seduced pretty much the biggest loser in the city. Anyway, I had to shut him up, so I climbed onto the bed, and then onto his face. Dropped myself onto his stupid mouth. And then..."

"Then?" you prod her on.

"His lips and his tongue..." She makes a small moan, pleased, deep and sexy, and the sound is so hot. "Hungry boy. He starts lapping at my pussy like he was starved. He's all groaning and humming, and the vibration. That feels fucking great."

"Oh fuck..." You let a tiny sigh, one that you meant to keep to yourself, escape your lips. Gaeul keeps talking and in your mind, you're there with her—her voice fills your mind and draws an image. She tells you how she fucks his mouth, your imagination takes over.

"His tongue dances on me, licking over my lips, my clit, his lips were smacking and sucking on my most sensitive parts. He was so... energetic," Gaeul tells you. Your eyes closed, you can only imagine, in full detail, every stroke and flicker of his tongue as she described it. "Worshiping my pussy like it's the best thing in the world. So when his hands are grabbing hold of my ass and bringing my cunt to him even harder... Shit," Gaeul breaks from the story and swears.

You can't hold back anymore, touching yourself to the thought.

"He wanted this so bad. His hands were clamping hard onto me. His mouth sucking on me like a fucking vacuum. His tongue was all over the place. Everywhere it touches is like a jolt of electricity going through me. It's sending such great signals up my spine, right to my brain." Gaeul lets out a full, deep moan. One that is as tantalising as her words. It's followed by the sound of rustling. "I start just grinding down into his stupid fucking face."

You'd love nothing else in the world right now than to have Gaeul ride your face. "I can't get over how fucking delicious you would look like," you tease, "With that dumb guy, pinned under you,"

"I was moaning like crazy. If the neighbours were asleep, well, not anymore," Gaeul describes.

"Fuck," you respond as you find rhythm. You lose track of everything else, picturing Gaeul riding his stupid face until she cums.

Gaeul moans again, louder now, and with a husky, raspiness to her tone that you have memorised.

"There is no shame left in me, my hips moving into him with a need, a need for release," Gaeul chokes, then resumes with a pace of her own, "I can feel his fingers digging deeper and deeper into my flesh, and he was rocking my cunt even harder into his hungry mouth. His tongue, working so good. So, good...

"Just remembering how it felt... I'm gonna..." Gaeul moans again, throaty and harsh, and you picture it all in your head. She is sitting up in bed, legs wide apart, and fingers buried deep inside of her pussy. Moaning into her phone, moaning to you.

It's an amazing fucking image.

"I can feel my entire body starting to go warm, my thighs clamping onto the poor guy's skull. Oh my fucking god, his tongue, I love it, his tongue," Gaeul makes a long, low and whimpering moan, like the air was squeezed out of her lungs. "It feels like I've lost myself in time, completely. I'm going faster, my hips rolling into him faster and faster, desperate for relief. Then all of a sudden, it's all hitting at once, the spark just lights and I am exploding like a supernova, my core just bursting, and my pussy flooding his fucking stupid mouth."

You're chasing her high. "Shit," you find yourself whispering, softly at first and getting louder as you feel yourself nearing that beautiful feeling of sweet relief.

"I'm cumming so hard, his tongue is still going, still drawing out every last bit of my climax as he keeps feeding on me. The sheer fucking madness of the sensation... fuck, imagine that."

"Yeah..." You groan. "I am."

"You're so filthy," her words drip of sultry sex and that tease in her voice sends a tremor down to the base of your spine, setting your insides ablaze as the blood in your veins rises, the throbbing inside you reaching an incomparable peak. "Are you getting off to my story? I fucking dare you."

You close your eyes and breathe in the thought of her. Every inch of her lustful body, "I am."

"Fucking perv," she growls, her breathing sharp and shaky, erratic. A sound that resonates within your bones, and shakes you to the core. "Bet you want your lips wrapped around my clit. Let you suck the sweet nectar from my tight, hot pussy," she breathes through her teeth in a hissing sound as she falls over that edge. You can feel her shiver and quake. You hear every little shuddering whimper, every moan that escapes her soft, pretty little lips, and they ignite every sense in your body as if you can feel the electricity coursing through every nerve in her body, just as it is inside you.

You cum for her. You always cum for her, just like this. Your toes curl and your back arches. You twist, writhing under the feeling, your skin blazing as sweat rolls over it, your whole world coming to a beautiful standstill. You can't help but cry out her name in your bed.

"Nothing else makes me cum like this," you mumble, breathless and ragged as you finish, then add "You slut."

"How does it make you feel, hearing my dirty sex stories first thing in the morning?" Gaeul purrs. There is a sinister satisfaction in her tone, and that coy smile curling the corner of her mouth is definitely there in her voice. You can imagine it clear as day because it has been etched into your brain, that stupid, irresistible grin of hers.

"More," you beg, the aftermath of your orgasm, leaving the inside of your body searing hot, a sensation that you want desperately more of.

"Not now. Later," she sneers, knowing how it kills you inside.

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 1

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

Bashing of like...every IC member? I think Rhys gets the worst though, definitely disordered eating, kinda depression?, isolation

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

He found her deep inside the House of Wind. Far enough from the festivities of Starfall that it was startling to find her.

The second oldest Archeron Sister must have wandered off just like he had.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Azriel asked her as he spied her sitting in a puddle of her skirts on one of the couches, staring at the empty fireplace.

“Why aren’t you?” Zahra gave back drily, not even looking up at him.

What exactly was he supposed to answer to that? Oh, I can't stomach watching your sister dance with her mate? And even if I could stomach that, Rhys's mental commentary to him about it had turned his stomach. Even when Azriel had kept away from Elain just like Rhysand had ordered him to do, ever since last year. So really...what was he supposed to answer?

“Dancing isn’t exactly my favourite activity,” Azriel finally replied. It wasn’t a lie. 

"Yeah, well, mine neither," she answered with a shrug. "Not that I ever learned."

"You never learned?" he asked surprised. Nesta had learned. Elain had learned.

"Bastard, remember?" Zahra said drily. "I am lucky that I got to learn how to read and write and do basic math. I was not going to be molded into a perfect lady, because no self-respecting man would marry me anyway."

The blunt way Zahra was talking stunned Azriel momentarily. There was something harsh, something almost...bitter and resentful in her voice as she spoke.

It seemed like it didn't matter if one was born a bastard in Illyria or the Human lands. It was horrible either way.

"Your sisters will miss you," he said instead quietly. "And you'll miss the spectacle."

"I don't really care for the festivities," she said with another shrug. "I don’t like the holidays. Humans don’t have any. We… they are too busy trying to survive," Zahra corrected herself quietly. "And besides, I am only here anyway so I don't end up being an indentured servant until some of you decide that I am back in your good graces,” she gave back caustically.

He grimaced. That Zahra had vehemently disagreed about their treatment of Nesta was well known.

It had surprised him too because it was just as just as well known that Nesta seemed to not care for her half-sister on a good day. They weren't particularly close, in any way, shape or form.

Something in his chest clenched painfully. Not from the insult she threw in his direction, but from the defeated way she said it. That she thought that they would just…toss her aside like that.

She was one of them.

"We won't," he said firmly. Her eyes slowly turned toward him and there were dark shadows in those eyes. Out of all the Archeron Sisters, she was the only one with green eyes. Azriel wondered if she had inherited them from her late mother.

Zahra was only the half-sister after all. The result of her father’s dalliance with a maid. Her age put her somewhere between Nesta and Elain. 

It was easy enough to pick out the differences between Nesta, Elain and Feyre and Zahra. Dark hair similar to Elain’s, but green eyes. Skin a few shades darker than any of theirs. Lips that looked like Feyre’s but a nose that looked like none of her sisters. 

Zahra seemed to belong but didn’t. 

And right now, these green eyes…something was wrong. Something was off with these eyes. 

"You don’t know that," she said with a humourless laugh. "Do you want to lie to me too, and  tell me that Rhysand has nothing to do with whatever happened between Elain and you?"

Azriel stiffened, a low sound escaping his throat. She knew. She knew.

"How did you-" he croaked hoarsely and Zahra cocked an eyebrow at him.

 "Do you really think that I hadn't noticed the two of you dancing around each other for months? Or the fact that you two can barely manage to be in the same room together?" she asked dryly and Azriel averted his gaze.  "There is no one as beautiful and kind as my sister," Zahra said drily. "I don't fault you for falling for her."

Azriel said nothing, the pain in his chest growing at her words. The pain...and the bitter realization that his feelings were not as well-hidden as he had thought they were. 

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "She has a mate. She deserves better than me anyway."

"Did Rhysand tell you that too?" Zahra said drily. "You never tried to hide the fact that your mate was dying from the same, so you have that on him."

Azriel gritted his teeth, the pain in his chest becoming almost unbearable. "It doesn’t matter," he repeated firmly, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "Elain is happy. I would do nothing to put that in danger." 

"Yes, she is," Zahra agreed. "For what it's worth, I am sorry," she apologised to him, her voice honest.

Azriel swallowed, the pain in his chest lessening only to be replaced by something else. Something...much more complicated. Something like…pity.

He pitied her. This young female was so full of bitterness. He couldn’t even fault her for it either. She had been just a bastard. Even when they had first met the Archeron Sisters…Zahra had been working in the household as a maid. Half employee, half part of the family. Like their father couldn’t make up his mind what he should do with his bastard daughter. 

"You don't have anything to apologise for," Azriel finally told her quietly. "Do you really not want to watch?" he asked her. "You are supposed to wish for something when you see the stars fall."

She snorted, the sound bitter. "What I want, I am never going to get," Zahra said, her voice brittle.

He took her in in more detail at that moment.

The simple green gown she wore, high necked and long sleeved...that long gown that did little to hide how thing she was. The dark brown hair, pulled into a braid, obviously trying to hide the pointed tips of her ears and failing...the way her skin, darker than all of her sisters, was nearly ashen.

They had all thought that she was doing well. That Zahra at least was adjusting well.

But she wasn't. She wasn’t doing better.  She hadn't adjusted. Azriel would bet anything that all she wanted in her life was to be human again.

She hadn't adjusted. She just acted in a way that didn't bother anybody, that didn’t spell trouble for anybody.  Zahra had gotten herself a job, managing the accounting at an apothecary in the city.  She had gotten herself a little cottage to rent. She didn’t go out and get drunk. She didn’t use any money from Rhys or Feyre. She showed up for family dinners, staying quiet and polite. 

And if she was miserable…well, then nobody cared, because she didn’t bother anybody. Azriel could understand that. The same was the case for him.

Azriel clenched his jaw, watching her quietly sitting here. The way she was trying to hide away. The dress that was more like a potato sack than anything else. The way her skin was almost...grey. That bitter voice. 

The shadows were stirring and he was unable to look away from her. She looks upset, Master, they told him helpfully. 

"Do you want to go home?" Azriel offered quietly. Home to her cottage? Maybe some peace and quiet would make her feel better. 

Zahra shrugged, not looking at him. Not giving him an inch. That wall of bitterness and sarcasm was so firmly in place, that it was practically a solid wall between them. 

“Don’t want to end like an indentured servant, remember?“ she quipped drily.

“You won’t,“ Azriel said evenly. “You had a headache. I brought you home.“

She still didn’t look at him, her hands tightly knotted into her skirts as she sat there. She was so thin, almost fragile-looking. Her skin was sickly grey. “Come on,” he said finally, walking towards her.

Zahra finally looked up at him. Those green eyes. A bitter and lonely light in them. “What are you doing?“ she muttered. 

“I’m bringing you home,” he said simply, holding out his hand. “Come on, get up.“

Zahra looked at his hand, her gaze wary. “Why?“ she asked quietly. 

“Because you look like you are about to keel over,” he said, more bluntly than intended. 

“Gee, thanks,” she said dryly, her voice sarcastic and bitter. But she placed her hand into his own and let him pull her to her feet, even though he could feel the tension in her entire body. 

Azriel wrapped his arm around her shoulders, steadying her. “Come on. Let’s get you home and into bed,” he said firmly. 

He led her towards the balcony, the last few streaks of light painting the sky, and he grasped her tightly as they shout these few feet into the air until he could winnow to the cottage she rented. 

It’s ugly, the shadows complained. 

He had to agree with them. The cottage was an ugly little thing. Plain. Small. The type of thing that was more of a hovel in the outskirts, rather than anything else. 

“Home sweet home,“ Zahra said dryly, pulling away from him and a key out of her purse. 

That cottage was in serious need of some renovations when the red paint that was flaking off the door was anything to go by. 

As she unlocked the door it became obvious that while she kept it clean and neat.. even that couldn’t help much. This is a hovel, the shadows hissed.

Azriel was inclined to agree. He looked around with a frown, as the shadows scuttered around the tiny cottage. “You live here?“ he couldn’t help but ask. It was a terrible hovel indeed. 

Zahra shrugged as if she didn’t notice the disgust in his voice. “I couldn’t exactly afford anything else at first,” she said drily. 

At least not without taking any money from Rhys and Feyre, and clearly that was nothing that Zahra wanted to do. 

He was struck by how empty it all looked. There was a small kitchen space, a table with a few chairs a fireplace… And the door that led to her bedroom, he assumed. 

“How long have you lived here?“ he asked carefully, taking in the bare emptiness. There were no pictures on the walls. No trinkets and little belongings anywhere. It was…lifeless. She shrugged again and kicked off her shoes, making her way towards the bedroom. “A year?“

The room was equally simple and bare. A bed, a few clothes. A little bathing chamber. That was it. 

“You’ve lived here for over a year?“ Azriel repeated, his voice turning sharp as he looked at everything. There wasn’t even a mirror on the wall. 

When she just shrugged again, he was done. He grabbed her arm and towed her back into the main room. “Stay,” he ordered, pointing at the table and one of the two rickety chairs. 

“What are you doing?“ Zahra asked, raising both eyebrows at him. Her irritation had started to rise considerably. At least that had done something to the sickly colour of her skin. 

“Making sure you eat something before you pass out on me,” Azriel muttered, turning back into the kitchen area, looking around with a frown.

There was…nothing. His shadows reported as much. She literally had a few pieces of bread and some cheese in the whole house. He was more than fuming. That was not enough that she was living in…this hovel, she was apparently also starving herself.

He pointed at the chair again. “Sit,” he ordered a little sharper than he had intended. 

The glare she gave him did not surprise him. Zahra hated being ordered around. “No,” she said firmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not hungry.“

Azriel clenched his jaw, the anger flaring. How stubborn could she be? 

“You clearly haven’t eaten in days,” he said, pointing out the obvious. “You have nothing in your house to eat.” 

“I have what I need,” she retorted, her own anger flaring. Azriel gritted his teeth, the urge to snap at her almost overwhelming.

“You are skin and bones,” he hissed. “There is barely enough fat on you to keep out the cold.“ 

“Why do you care?“ she snapped right back.

The question hit him squarely in the chest. Why did he care? Why, he asked himself for a moment. Why indeed.

He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that it was just because she was Feyre’s sister. 

Thankfully, Azriel was saved from actually having to answer, when her stomach grumbled.

Loudly. Azriel almost chuckled at the sound of her own stomach betraying just how hungry she really was. “Clearly your body disagrees with you,” he said drily. 

“Shut up,” Zahra snapped, her skin flushing at the sound of her own stomach. 

“I will shut up after you’ve eaten something,” Azriel said firmly, folding his arms across his chest.

Zahra gave him a glare that could strip the paint from the walls, (but then, the paint was already flaking off anyway). Still, she grudgingly sank down on the chair, her eyes avoiding his. 

He turned back into the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers and found absolutely nothing. There was nothing. Not even some fruits or vegetables. 

He slammed the last cupboard closed, almost causing the hinges to break, the anger flaring hotly in his chest. That stupid, stubborn, stubborn woman.

“I will personally come here every day and stuff you full until you burst,” he snapped before he could stop himself.

“Why?” she asked and he could hear the challenge in her voice. Her own anger rose to meet his own. “Why would you even bother?“ 

“Because you are starving yourself,” he said, spinning around to face her. “Because you are so thin, I could snap you in half with one hand. Because I’m pretty damn sure you haven’t eaten a proper meal in at least a year. That’s why.“

“Maybe I don’t deserve a proper meal,” she shot back and something inside of him snapped at the tone in her voice. 

Because he knew that feeling. He knew. For just a moment he froze. They were far more similar than they should be. 

It was a terrible realization. He knew what the self-hatred and bitterness was like. He understood it far better than he wanted to.

“Nobody is going to suddenly show up and care,” he told her quietly. He saw her eyes flare at the words and he knew she got the meaning behind them instantly.

She sat there, her jaw tensed. “And what do you know about it?” she snapped, her voice bitter. 

“I know what it feels like to starve oneself,” he said calmly. “I know what it feels like to have not a single person notice or care.“

The words rang truer than they should. Her eyes widened for a moment, shock flashing through her. 

“I know what it feels like to be the one be always at the edge of the family. I know what it feels like for everybody around me to meet their mate but not me.“

The words slipped out before he could stop them. The pain he had buried so deep, deep down flaring up. The pain and loneliness and bitter realization that would never have what everyone else had.

He realized only then how much they really had in common. How similar they were. 

“I know what it feels like to be the afterthought,” he continued, unable to stop now. “I know how it feels to be shoved aside. I know how it feels to watch everyone around me find someone while I’m the one left behind.“ 

He took a step closer to where she was sitting, towering over her. “And I know how it feels to hate myself enough to deny myself the basic needs I actually have.“ 

The last words made her flinch. He was so close he could almost see the pain and guilt and bitter realization flit across her face. Her eyes were on her lap, her fingers wrapped around the edge of the table. 

“I know what it feels like to feel as if I don’t deserve to eat,” he said quietly. “Because I’m not good enough. Not worthy enough. Not deserving enough.“

He knelt down in front of her, forcing her to look at him. To meet his eyes. 

She tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her. He wanted her to see. To understand that she wasn’t as alone as she thought. “I know what it feels like to punish myself by not giving myself what I actually need,” he said quietly. 

Her breath hitched at the last words, her eyes widening ever so slightly. She was listening. Really listening to what he said.

“You’re not the only one who hates yourself, you know,” he said quietly. The look in her eyes shattered him. The look of realisation. Of bitter understanding. The realization that they were so much more similar than either of them had thought before.

Zahra bit her lip, the guilt flashing across her face. Her hands started trembling, ever so slightly.

“You don’t deserve to go hungry,” he said quietly, his voice firm and quiet. “You don’t deserve to starve yourself. You don’t deserve to live in this… hovel.

“The cauldron should just have killed me,” Zara said her voice brittle. “I don’t like this life.”

And didn’t that break his fucking heart? 

She laughed bitterly, but there was no humour in it. “I’m not even surviving,” she said, a bitter smile on her thin lips. “I’m existing. There is a difference.“ 

The words hit him hard. She was right. She didn’t survive, she just existed. There was a difference and a huge one at that. “Then stop just existing,” he said quietly.

His hand was still cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking gently over her skin. 

“Says the guy that just keeps moping around,” she quipped.

It was a low blow but also true. Azriel’s jaw tensed at the comment. “I don’t mope,” he bit. “I just..“

He didn’t really have a good argument in his defence at the moment. 

He sighed. “We should both stop rotting away,” he said drily.

“Yeah, well, that’s easy to you to say,” Zahra said and he could hear the bitterness in her voice. 

“Eat your cheese,” he responded.

She rolled her eyes and snatched away the slice of cheese off the table. “Happy now?“ she muttered. 

“Delighted,” he gave back drily, as he moved towards her fireplace.

“You don’t need to do that,” Zahra said quietly. “I can do that.”

“Considering you’ve been too starved to think straight, you are going to let me do this,” Azriel cut across her calmly. “You are more than likely to burn yourself.” 

“Don’t the flames bother you?” She asked him quietly. He froze.

Nobody else had ever asked him. They had just expected him to be over it by now. He had 500 years to be over it. His hands clenched.

“Yes,” he answered quietly. “They still do.” It was the honest truth. A truth he never told anyone before, least of all someone like her. The shadows curled around his shoulders and arms as if to calm him down. The flames still bothered him. They always would. “But I learnt to deal with it a long time ago,” he continued.

“That’s not fair to you,” Zahra said, her voice quiet. “You are always the one in discomfort. And nobody cares.”

Her words hit him square in the gut. It was true. It was painfully true. He was always the one being uncomfortable. Always the one on edge. It had always been expected of him to be over it by now, the pain and the hurt. The fear and the bitterness. 

He finished building the fire. Using a match to light it carefully, then closing the door quickly.

“I can deal with it,” he answered quietly. “You should go to sleep,” he advised her.

“So should you,” Zahra told him just as quietly. “You look terrible.“ He knew he looked like crap. But that didn’t matter. 

“I’m fine,” he muttered, brushing off her comment. Even though he knew it was a lie. Even though he knew they were both terrible at taking care of themselves. 

“You are a terrible liar,” she quipped. He looked at her and was surprised to see a tiny smile on her face. 

“And you’re a very stubborn, very stupid, very annoying woman,” he quipped back just as quietly. 

The smile on her face broadened the tiniest bit at the comment. “I could say the same about you,” she shot back. 

“Sleep,” he told her again.

And then he left that little cottage to get back to the House of Wind. He didn’t bother winnowing, instead, he shot up into the sky with one flap of his mighty wings. He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

His mind was whirling as he flew back to the House of Wind. So much had happened in the last few hours and it was all still a lot to process.

He had always been good at keeping a rein on his thoughts and his emotions. But this time, he simply couldn’t. 

Zahra and him, always on the outskirts of their family. Ignored and expected to get on with it.

They were so similar in so many ways. It was shocking to realize just how much they actually had in common.

The loneliness and solitude he had come to live with, she had experienced herself. The pain and the bitterness, he could recognize it on her, for he had felt it himself. 

Where are you, Az? Rhys demanded at that moment mentally. Azriel would like to scratch out his eyes, but he didn’t.

I’m flying back to the House, he sent back curtly. Zahra had a headache, so I brought her home.

A headache, Rhys shot back incredulously. Azriel could almost see the look on his High Lord’s face. You really think I will buy that?

I don’t care if you believe me or not, Azriel responded icily, his temper rising already at the tone. It is the truth and I really don’t wish to have a discussion over it.

There was a pause in Rhys’ mind. Then a slight huff. You can be so unbelievably stubborn sometimes, you know that?

Azriel didn’t bother reacting to that.

Elain and Lucien are figuring things out. So keep away from her, Rhys told him sharply.

I am keeping away from her, Azriel shot back, irritation flaring. You really think I will go and ruin this for her?

I don’t know what you are up to, Rhys retorted, and Azriel knew the High Lord was irritated. But I really don’t have the time to deal with your crap right now. That’s an order.

Understood, High Lord, Azriel snarled back and he felt Rhys chuckle in his mind at the tone. I will keep away from your precious Elain, I promise. 

Damn right you will, he heard Rhys mutter in his mind and the mental connection between the two of them snapped close. 

Azriel snarled in irritation as he landed on his balcony and stalked into his room. It wasn’t enough that he was wrestling with his own emotions, No, he also had Rhys all up his ass about it. 

And he was infuriated about the whole thing.

Nobody will suddenly show up and care, he has told Zahra. It was the truth. Nobody would care.

They only cared as long as they got what they wanted from him.

Chip away the pieces they didn’t like. Mould him into a person they could stomach. 

Either it was Rhys ordering to keep away from Elain…or ordering him to behave around Mor and Emerie… and to be quite honest…Azriel was done.

It was always him that needed to bend to make everybody else comfortable. Nobody bends for him.

So many years of following orders, of keeping his mouth shut, of bottling up the anger.

Even when everyone around him was getting what they wanted. They got their happily ever after. And he was left behind.  Not once did someone ever realize that he was struggling. Not once did someone notice that he needed something…anything. That he was hurting and in pain. Nobody even bothered to check on him, to ask how he was doing. 

They all got what they wanted. Mor, Emerie, even Feyre. They all got the mate that they wanted. Rhys, Cassian and even Amren had Varian. 

He was the one always helping everyone else. Always the one having to endure everything. Never anything for himself. No love for himself.

Orders, commands, demands…that’s all it ever was. He didn’t get a say in anything. They just expected him to be fine. And if he wasn’t…he had to push through it. 

He was the tool that did whatever needed to be done. The spy that got the order to do the dirty work. The shadowsinger that just had to endure everything. 

All for scraps of attention.

Azriel was done.

He was so done. With everything. With everyone. With the one-sided affection that he had given in a desperate attempt to feel…something, anything…. 

He needed to stop expecting to get anything from them.

Zahra did not. She seemed to have given that up a very long time ago

The cold realization that they had been doing the same to her hit him. She was also the tool they used when they needed it. She may not be a spy, but they used her just the same. Expected her to be fine. 

She was alone just as much as he was. 

Alone and isolated, an afterthought to their family just as much as he was. 

***

It was quiet in the little cottage. 

Peaceful. 

Comfortable.

Sie should be happy. Or at the very least…she should be content, should she not?.

Zahra had a roof over her head. And if she wanted to…she could afford food.

Her job didn’t pay that well, but it wouldn’t leave her starving. She just wasn’t hungry. She seemingly never was.

That was a lie and she knew it. Deep down she was hungry all the time. She just refused to give in to eating. She refused to listen to her body screaming for sustenance. It didn’t matter, anyway. Nobody cared.

She didn’t care.

Something inside her had broken during her bath in that cauldron. Her humanity had burned away and with that…with that everything Zahra had ever wanted.

She didn’t crave anything anymore. Not love. Not affection. Not attention. Not food. It was all gone. All she felt was numb. 

Cold, empty and numb. Like her shell had hardened and frozen over.

She had never thought it was possible to feel so damn tired without having done anything. 

Zahra forced herself to get up. Forced herself to heat some water on the stove… to make tea. The cheapest tea she had been able to find at the market.

It wasn’t the best. The taste was bitter and the color was more brown than black. But it was tea and she was thirsty enough to drink it.

It wasn’t very warm and left a bitter aftertaste on the tongue. Like her life itself. 

Maybe just dying would have been easier, she reflected bitterly. Was this how eternity would feel? Alone? Tucked away in this cottage? 

All her sisters had been given a mating bond. They had been given another person who loved them unconditionally…that was at their side. That wanted them around. That wanted to spent time with them. 

And then there was her. 

She had been closest to Feyre during the years in that cottage. Nesta gave her the fault for seemingly everything htat had ever gone wrong in her life, though Zahra privately thought that for Nesta, Zahra was just the evidence of another of her father’s failings…Elain…well, Elain was more embarrassed than anything about Zahra’s very existence. But Feyre…well, Feyre hadn’t cared. And so Zahra had tried to dote on her as much as she could. 

And then clearly she had been replaced in Feyre’s affections. 

She didn’t fault her for that. 

Feyre had made her own life. And she had every right to do that. She was busy with her mate and her son and Mor was her best friend and…there was seemingly no place for Zahra there. 

Which was fine. 

It was. 

But if Zahra was completely honest with herself…she was unspeakably jealous of the mating bond of every single one of her sisters. 

Of that promise of at least one person that would be on her side, come Hel or High Water. 

Clearly, something was wrong with her that she hadn’t been given a Mating Bond.

She wasn’t worth a mate. Clearly, something was broken inside her. Otherwise, the cauldron would have given her a mate, right? 

Maybe she was broken so thoroughly that nobody even wanted her. 

Why would they? She was a shell of a person, a ghost of the woman she was supposed to be.

She was cold, empty and numb. Everything that nobody could possibly want. 

Everyone else got a mate, love and happiness. Not her.

She had nothing.

Her hands clenched around her lukewarm cup of tea. 

Some random sparks of light sparked against the mug. A gift from the cauldron. They didn’t seem to do anything but warm whatever they touched. Maybe that was that random power the cauldron had given her. Neither future or death…but…warmth. She supposed it was something.

She wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, and she had never bothered telling anybody about it. 

Sometimes she allowed herself to play with them when she couldn’t sleep. They were strange and utterly useless. 

It wasn’t the power of foresight or the power of a death god…no. She had the stupid power to create sparks. Useless sparks of light. 

Oh well. 

Complaining about her sparks wasn’t going to help her either. 

So she pulled out her work and sat down to do her work as the sun came up and the day went on. 

Zahra balanced the account ledgers for one of the apothecaries in Velaris. Which meant she had a whole box of receipts to sort through and put into said ledger.

One receipt at a time, one name after the other. 

It kept her busy. It paid well enough. She seemed to have some kind of aptitude for it…maybe the fact that her father was a merchant had come through for once. 

She worked until the late evening. Until her eyes couldn’t concentrate on the numbers anymore.Until her back and shoulders ached with pain. She stretched her shoulders back. 

She wondered if she should eat something. Her cheese was gone, thanks to Azriel standing over her until she ate it…but she still had one or two slices of bread, didn’t she? 

She could go food shopping…buy another bread, another chunk of cheese tomorrow. 

Then Zahra heard a knock on the door. 

Confusion spread through her. Who would knock on her door at that very late hour? It was after 9 pm already. 

She got up, walked towards the door and opened it carefully.

It was the last person she would expected to be standing on the front porch. Azriel. 

“I am making you dinner.“

Her eyes widened at that announcement. “You are what?” she asked him dumbly. 

He just gave her a deadpan look and pushed past her. “I am cooking dinner because I am assuming that you haven’t eaten yet,” he told her plainly. 

It was true. Zahra hadn’t eaten a proper meal in god knows how long. But why did he care?? “Why?” she blurted out. “Why do you care if I’ve eaten?” 

He gave her a sharp look and pushed her towards the kitchen chair. “Sit down,” he simply ordered and she was too taken aback to protest against it. 

He had brought his own ingredients. His own knives, all tucked away in a little basket that he put on her countertop. “Can you peel potatoes?” He asked her as he rummaged through it. 

She could just stare at him. 

“Who do you think cooked the meat Feyre hunted?” Zahra replied drily.

Azriel froze in the process of digging something out of the basket on the counter. “You can cook?” he asked her and she heard the surprise in his voice. 

Zahra let out a snort. “Yes, I can cook,” she retorted. “What did you think I was doing this whole time in the cottage? Twiddling my thumbs?” 

He shrugged. “Honestly, I had no idea what you were up to,” he told her truthfully.  “I thought you were as useless as Elain and Nesta were at that point,” he admitted.

“Nesta did all the cleaning and hacked the wook,” Zara corrected him quietly. “Elain mended. I cooked. Feyre was the only one who hunted. And yes, we should have done more, but I did help run the household. The only one who never helped was our father.” The bitterness bled into her voice at that. 

There was a long pause after her admission. Then Azriel exhaled. “I guess I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am,” he muttered. “You don’t strike me as a pampered useless damsel.” 

“Thank you for that assessment, Shadowsinger,” she quipped back. “I will make sure to remember it when I need a pick-me-up.” 

He put a sack of potatoes in front of her. “I take it I’m peeling potatoes,” Zahra murmured, staring at the sack that was in front of her.

“Yes,” Azriel confirmed in that no-nonsense voice of his. “While I prep the meat. I do hope you like rabbit,” he added drily.

“Oh good,” she muttered, grabbing a knife and started to peel away at the potatoes. “Did you hunt it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice neutral. Zahra bit back a snarky remark and focused on the potatoes. 

They worked like that in silence. Him preparing the meat, her peeling the potatoes and the carrots.

It was odd. This whole thing was odd. Sitting and cooking with Azriel. She hadn’t even known he could cook. 

And yet…it was comfortable. Like the silence wasn’t awkward and neither of them felt the need to break it. It was a comfortable domestic kind of silence. Like they had done this a thousand times before. 

“How are you with spicy food?” Azriel asked her after he had taken the potatoes from her. 

Zahra blinked in surprise. “I have a pretty good tolerance, why?” she asked, curious. 

“All the food I can cook is Illyrian,” Azriel answered drily. “I learned from Rhys’ mother and later from my own. It’s spicy.”

“I can handle a bit of spice,” she assured him. “It should be fine.” He nodded in response. 

The sound of the fire crackling in the stove and him stirring up the meat were the only sounds filling the kitchen as they continued their work. 

Zahra honestly had no idea Azriel could cook. He didn’t seem like the type of male who spent time cooped up in the kitchen, making meals. It was a little surprising. 

And yet, the scents of spices and rabbit were filling her kitchen right now... It smelled almost heavenly. 

She hadn’t smelled something as heavenly in a long time. And her stomach growled in response to the delicious scents of food. Zahra tried to remember when she’d last eaten something actually decent, but she couldn’t think straight. The food was distracting her.

“You look half starved,” Azriel observed in a deadpanned tone and she snapped her head up only to find him looking at her. 

His eyes were focused on her, a frown playing on his forehead. “When was the last time you actually ate something properly?” he asked her, his voice firm. 

She averted her gaze. “I don’t know,” she muttered, looking away from him and to the pot bubbling on the stove. “Maybe a week ago?” 

He was silent for a moment. “That long?” he asked her, his voice carefully neutral. She just shrugged in response to keep herself from admitting that she actually couldn’t remember exactly. 

He poured hot, thick stew into a bowl for her and then put it in front of her, holding out cutlery for her to take. “Why are you doing this?” Zahra asked him weakly.

“Because I wish somehow had done it for me,” Azriel responded

That simple statement made her blink in surprise. It was not an answer she had been expecting. She bit her lip, not really sure what to say. 

And then he simply said. “Eat. You look like you’d blow away at the slightest breeze.”

She should have been angered by that blunt statement, but somehow she wasn’t. 

So Zahra ate.

The food tasted incredibly good. She had to admit that the Shadowsinger was talented with cooking. The food was spiced just perfectly, hot and filled with flavour. 

Every bite made her realize just how incredibly hungry she was. Her stomach filled slowly and the hunger abated with every spoonful. It was like her insides started to come back to life. The numbness was slowly disappearing, replaced by an odd sort of warmth flowing through her limbs. 

"Thank you," she finally said weakly.

Azriel just nodded at her, watching her eat. “Of course,” he murmured and continued with his own food. 

[emphistic]

MEDDLE ABOUT

SYN. Being co-stars with your ex-boyfriend of three months is basically hell; or at least, that's what you think. AKA: Sukuna wants you back, whether he's acting or not.

TAGS. actor AU, fem!Reader, mean!Sukuna, exes to lovers, forced proximity, sharing a cigarette, smoking, arguing, eventual smut, Sukuna likes to shut you up with his dick, cockwarming, answering the phone during séx, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, porn w/o plot, use of pet names: baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, my dear (mockingly)

WC. 5.4k (please read anyway 😞)

AN. requested by anon (you didn't specify any genre, so i just freestyled 🤷‍♀️), animated dividers by @/cafekitsune; i'm a sucker for actor AUs; available on ao3; MDNI

“I know you wanna kiss me,” you smiled, leaning closer to Sukuna’s face. Your noses were barely apart, and you couldn’t tell where his breath ended, and where yours started. To be honest, this was far more intimate than any other kiss scene you ever had to film.

“Yeah?” Sukuna grinned, getting equally as close. “And what’re you going to do about that, pretty girl?”

“. . .Fucking slap you, that’s what.” 

“CUT!” The director yelled, groaning in exasperation. “C’mon, people. I know it’s been a long day, but put your differences aside for the sake of one movie, will ya? When you receive your paycheck, you’ll regret all of this ‘huffing and puffing’ you two are both doing right now.”

You exhaled, pulling away from Sukuna. It’s not that you couldn’t remember your correct lines, it’s just. . . You couldn’t take it anymore. Being in the same room as him, breathing in the same air as him, starring in the same movie with him. Fuck, you hated this.

You and Sukuna had broken up exactly three months ago despite having what seemed like a pretty healthy relationship. Seemed is the key word.

Of course, you two had your ups and downs, like an ordinary couple, but what differentiated you two from a normal couple was the fact that you guys both juggled busy careers as an actor and actress. Being booked with interviews, PR stunts, and in general, movies, you and Sukuna didn’t have the ability to spend much time together. And, as if that wasn’t enough, there was constantly a multitude of women on his arm during movie premieres. Yeah, you knew those were all for PR, but still, it hurt to see your boyfriend standing with a woman that wasn’t you every day.

At first, you thought you could take it. Being an actress yourself, you had your fair share of rumors and made up scandals. But it came to a point where you couldn’t take it anymore. You and Sukuna broke up, consequently, and fans immediately voiced their opinions and concerns, bombarding Twitter with trending tags, and posting videos on several apps. The internet had been obsessed with you guys as a couple since the first movie you two co-starred in—which was years ago—so their complaints definitely weren’t for naught.

Originally, you thought that your relationship with Sukuna would end on good terms, but boy, oh boy, were you wrong. Sukuna, just mere days after your breakup, was spotted by paparazzi walking around the city with his arm around a girl you definitely did not recognize as one of his current co-stars. And to make matters worse, he had the audacity to hit you up and ask if he could come over to your penthouse right after.

Men, am I right?

You two may or may not have slept together as exes a few times after your inevitable argument about him and that new girl, but rest assured, you did eventually break things off permanently. Well, you thought you did. As if by fate, you and Sukuna were casted as co-stars in an up-and-coming romance movie that had your fans just dying in anticipation of finally being able to see their favorite (broken up) couple together on screen again.

To be frank, you were originally going to pass up the role as the female lead—seeing as your luck had landed you as co-stars with Sukuna—but your manager apparently really, really wanted you to work on the film, saying things like Think of how elated your fans will be and It’s an adaptation from a book that made millions and Just imagine all of the PR and promoting you could do. It took a while of convincing—and coercing—to get you to finally agree to the role since, after all, PR was the main reason for your and Sukuna’s breakup. But, honestly, you would be lying if you said there weren’t any feelings left for your ex-boyfriend, Sukuna.

“I think we should all take a breather,” Sukuna began, jeering, “before someone gets all hot and bothered by just being on the same set as me. Wouldn’t you agree?” Sukuna turned to you, an expression on his face that just made you want to punch him in the nose.

“‘Hot and bothered’, seriously? Don’t make me laugh.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sukuna tilted his head to the side, grinning. “Do you think I’m joking? I could feel the way your heart was racing earlier, when we had to shoot that hugging in the rain scene. Just admit it, this isn’t acting for you.”

He was definitely self-projecting, you scowled just by the thought of it.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, sweetheart. We all know how you really feel,” Sukuna teased, leaning down to your eye-level. His breath fanned your reddening ear as he whispered, “You want me so bad it makes you look fucking stupid.”

And when he pulled away, Sukuna added one last remark, “I know it’s been a long three months for you. Say, how’s that blondie treating you, hm? I bet his dick is as small as his future in acting.”

“Ryomen, just stop.” You shook your head. “It’s not like that with him, and you know that. Just leave me alone.”

You shoved at his chest as you walked off set, your assistants following you promptly with water bottles and towels.

In all honesty, you remembered it like it happened yesterday. Before you and Sukuna became boyfriend and girlfriend, your first meeting was in a movie that you both starred in as the female and male lead. It was a romance movie, of course, that was about a couple meeting on an island while both on individual vacations. You two spent most of your days on set in swimsuits and bikinis, consuming fake alcoholic beverages, and, consequently, sleeping together—after the tension just grew unbearable.

On and off camera, Sukuna had been growing an attraction towards you. I mean, who could blame him? You two had to be near each other while being basically half-naked. And, if your pretty face wasn’t enough to beguile Sukuna, your ass definitely was. From the moment he shook hands with you at your first meeting as co-stars, he knew he had to have you—acting or not.

That movie was the start of the skyrocketing of both your and Sukuna’s career in acting. Fans quickly noted how much chemistry the two of you had together, and how well you two could act out emotions and intimate scenes. What the audience didn’t know, though, was that you and Sukuna had started seeing each other a few weeks after shooting together.

Sukuna had invited over the whole cast and team for drinks after a successful movie premiere, and you two ended up talking and conversing in his kitchen whilst a little under the influence. You two hit it off, and learned that being an aspiring actor wasn’t the only thing you two had in common. One glass turned into two, and two turned into stumbling into Sukuna’s bedroom after everyone had responsibly ordered a cab home.

Waking up the morning after, and deciding it wasn’t just going to be a one night stand, you and Sukuna thus began your new relationship. At first, you two avoided being spotted in public together, but it came to a point where your relationship just couldn’t be hidden anymore and you both decided to go public. The internet responded almost immediately with cheers, enthusiasm, and occasionally, expressions showing how un-surprised they were. I mean, you two had been shipped together almost constantly; making it official was almost expected. 

Years passed, the honeymoon stage was over, your careers were more demanding and busy than they had ever been, and, well, you know the rest.

—

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

A grimace immediately made its way onto your face at the sound of Sukuna’s voice calling out to you from behind. 

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned, turning to face Sukuna as he sat down beside you and slung an arm around the back of the couch, “I was hoping the next time I saw you would be at your funeral.”

“A little harsh, don’t you think?” chided Sukuna, as he brought out a cigarette and lit it.

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back against the couch. “What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sukuna leaned his face closer to yours, his eyes running down your face and naturally drifting to your lips.

“Unless you’re being your usual asshole-self, and here to annoy me in my dressing room, I’m afraid not.”

After you stormed off set, the director decided it was best to just call it a day and continue filming tomorrow. You went outside for a bit to get some fresh air, before deciding to return to your dressing room and get unready. Stripping down and putting on nothing but your robe, you had sat yourself down on the couch and picked up a magazine, planning on spending a few minutes relaxing before making your way home. Sukuna barging in, despite being off the clock, was something you definitely weren’t expecting. He wasn’t supposed to be here, and if someone found out. . .

“You’ll be in a lot of trouble if my makeup artist comes in here and sees you,” you commented. “Go smoke somewhere else.”

At this, Sukuna’s eyes flickered up to your own, and he removed the cigarette from his lips before blowing out the smoke right in front of your face. Your nose scrunched up, as if on instinct, and Sukuna booped your nose with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I swear,” you began, snatching the cigarette out of Sukuna’s hands, “if I don’t kill you, I hope these will.” Now was your turn to put the cigarette between your lips. You inhaled, and took a deep breath. But, only moments after, the cigarette was out of your hands and abruptly stubbed on a nearby ashtray.

Sukuna looked at you with an intent look on his face. “As much as I find that hot, I’d rather I be the one damaging my lungs. Not you.”

“Looking out for little old me? How cute,” you smiled, your tone sarcastic. “I see you’re not over us, yet, hm? Did that new girl change your mind?”

You leaned closer to Sukuna, your shoulders brushing ever so slightly.

As soon as you mentioned that other chick, Sukuna rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. It was nothing, we didn’t even hold hands. C’mon, all we did was sit next to each other at a party, and now you’re on my ass about her?”

You shrugged, picking up the magazine you had previously discarded and flipping through the pages with faux interest. “Oh, really? Didn’t look that way to me. You two sure seemed buddy-buddy.”

“Like hell we did. Fuck, do you want me to bring up that twig you were with last week? Kid’s got no meat on his arms. Can’t even call him a man. Is that seriously how low you’re willing to go, babe?” Sukuna scoffed at your lack of attention to him. “Shit’s even worse than a downgrade.”

“You can think that all you want. But I definitely disagree.” You struggled to stifle a giggle.

Sukuna, furrowing his brows, narrowed his eyes at you. “The fuck do you mean by that? Don’t tell me you’ve seen his dick.”

“I dunno, have I?” You turned to Sukuna, meeting his gaze with an equal amount of irritation.

“Must’ve been pretty small, though, if you can’t even remember it,” Sukuna pressed, leaning closer to you, your noses touching, before pulling away. “Whatever, this is boring. Say, how about we get back to where we left off, and practice that kissing scene, hm? I think it’s a great idea.”

“Ryomen, let’s not. You know we’re done. Been done. We’re through.”

“You don’t really mean that.”

“Oh, is it not obvious? I think it was pretty obvious when you had the nerve to get with a new girl just days after we broke up. And then you have the balls to call me right after the paparazzi catches you two. Really, Sukuna? I don’t mind the idea of us ending on neutral terms, but . . . 48 hours? Two days after we broke up, and you’re already fucking some girl? Way to go, Sukuna.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there, baby. We didn’t even kiss, did you see any pictures of us kissing? No. And, besides, it’s called provocation. Honestly, you should be praising me, because it worked in the end, didn’t it? I came ‘crawling back’ like one of your little bitch boys, and what happened? Oh, I remember; you let me right the fuck in to your apartment.”

As much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t deny Sukuna. He was right. And, just the mere thought of what you two did after he hit you up brought heat to your cheeks.

The very same night after pictures of Sukuna and that new girl started circulating around the internet, Sukuna decided to text you:

hey pretty girl,

you up?

You were drying yourself off with a towel when you received two notifications on your phone, and when you saw the contact name, you frowned and turned off your phone without giving a response. Minutes after, there was a ring on your doorbell, and when you checked the camera, lo and behold, stood none other than the last pink-haired man you wanted to see that evening.

When you opened the door, wearing nothing other than a towel around your still dripping body, Sukuna couldn’t help but shamelessly check you out, deciding then and there that this definitely wasn’t going to be the end of your relationship. Of course, an argument ensued soon after, because that’s what life was like dating a dick like Sukuna. Luckily for you, however, Sukuna’s bulge in his pants was bigger than his ego, and so it made up for all of the playful bullying and teasing remarks that he frequently gave.

Sukuna—because he wasn’t born yesterday—knew his looks and charms fairly well, and often used them as a weapon or bargaining chip. That’s why, after you spent a minute or two berating and yelling at Sukuna near your front door, it only took the man one look into your eyes and one sultry comment to have you both stumbling into the . . . bedroom? No, you two had been apart for two days too long, and just decided to utilize your expensive kitchen counters for purposes completely unrelated to cooking.

The next morning, you two woke up—after getting just half an hour of sleep—and didn’t untangle from each other’s limbs until your manager called you nearly a hundred times, and forced you to get up and attend some interview or something. That, however, was not your last night with Sukuna. You two met up—intentionally or not—within the same week, whether it be at interviews or just random outings, and meddled with the other until one of you would fold (usually Sukuna) and consequently do something you would end up not fully regretting the next morning.

This affair continued until you finally came to your senses and blocked Sukuna out from your life in all ways possible. But, due to his bank account, Sukuna did end up purchasing multiple different phones just to be able to contact you. You may or may not have given in a few times, but in the end, you did end up leaving Sukuna for good.

“Reminiscing, are you? It’s okay, I’ve been doing that every night since you left the penthouse,” Sukuna laughed, noticing the way you went silent. You hated the way he referred to his place as The penthouse, and not, simply, his penthouse because, to be frank, for the years you both spent as a couple, you practically lived together despite having individual residences.

“What the hell, Sukuna. Just—Why are you even—?”

Sukuna cut you off, rolling his eyes. “I find it pretty hard to believe that not a single part of you misses me. Don’t lie; lying is a sin, y’know.”

“Sukuna—Excuse me? Don’t give me that shit. ‘Lying is a sin’ my ass. You must have to ask for God’s forgiveness pretty often, then. I can’t believe you want to call me a sinner, I mean, just—just look at you! You’re no saint, either, and you know that damn well.”

Sukuna raised his hands in defense, humoring you. “Woah, looks like I’ve been caught,” he laughed, before getting a little more serious. “But, don’t try to avoid the fact that you’re not innocent. Okay, we broke up due to not being able to make time for each other, and because of how much women I had to be around. Yeah, I get that. But it’s not like I was the only one taking up PR stunts. You did the same, too, didn’t you? So don’t try and paint me out to be the bad guy, when, at the end of the day, we did the same fucking thing.”

Irritated, you pinched the space between your brows. “I barely have any energy to say something to your stupid face right now. We broke up because of that, but also because of how much of a fucking dick you were and are. I knew you weren’t a total angel when we got together but—”

“Look. Do you want a nice guy?”

“. . .”

“Don’t feel pressured to answer, baby. We all know how you really feel.”

“Go. to. Hell. Sukuna. Seriously. This? Again? Do you even know how much of an ass you are? I should deserve an award for putting up with your shit for so long, God—”

“Yeahh, just keep talking,” said Sukuna in a teasing manner, as he leaned back against the couch, spreading his legs apart. You had never wanted to sit somewhere so bad.

“Are you fucking kidding me—mmph!”

You would’ve continued yelling and cursing Sukuna out for being such a dick had he not roughly pressed his lips against yours, immediately shutting you up. Because you still had some self-respect left, you fought back, throwing weak punches at his chest; but when Sukuna caught your wrists in his hands, you knew it was game over. Your muffled complaints soon turned to whimpers and sighs, as you shut your eyes and let your body do the talking.

Minute after minute, you gradually turned to putty in Sukuna’s hands. Fuck, as much as you hated to admit it, you had truly missed this. The feeling of his large, coarse hands roaming your body, tracing your curves, the feeling of his soft, but unruly hair under your fingertips, but most importantly, the feeling of his lips on yours.

At this point, you couldn’t even remember why the two of you broke up.

“Sukuna,” you murmured, pulling away for a moment to breathe. “We’re not together anymore. We shouldn’t—”

“Shouldn’t?” repeated Sukuna, eager to get back to where you left off. “Are you in a relationship with someone else? Am I in a relationship with someone else? No, and no. So enlighten me, my dear, why should we stop?”

“. . .” It was like he was challenging you, except, this time, it was a battle you could afford to lose. You wanted Sukuna, you really did. But admitting it was the hard part. You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating every outcome, as Sukuna continued to stare at you with so much desire you could practically feel it.

“Are you hesitating because,” Sukuna paused, “—because you fucked someone else while I was gone?”

You sighed, swallowing the lump in your throat; you had never been more conflicted in your life. Placing your hands on Sukuna’s shoulders, you pushed back until Sukuna was sitting on the couch, and you were sitting on top of him—seated on his lap. As if on instinct, his hands made their way from your hips to the curve of your ass.

Sukuna gripped the globes of fat and muscle with a purpose, and let out an exaggerated groan at the missed feeling of you practically sitting on his dick. You were wearing nothing but a dainty, silky robe, and you clearly didn’t cross it over your chest too well, as Sukuna could see almost everything he had been missing out on during the past few months.

“Don’t even think about lying to me. I can feel you throbbing on my thigh, y’know.”

“. . .And?” You raised a brow; whispering in Sukuna’s ear, “What about it?”

Biting your lip, you let your hands wander up and down Sukuna’s neck, the spot you knew he liked you touching. When you broke things off with Sukuna, you didn’t know you could miss being able to trace his tattoos as bad as you did.

“Oh?” asked Sukuna. But when his fingers wandered up your robe, there was a sudden change in Sukuna’s demeanor, and he sucked in a breath.

“Adorable,” you laughed. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Shit, baby,” Sukuna groaned, “I bet you were expecting me to come and visit your little dressing room, huh. Even planned ahead and gave me a little surprise. Cheeky thing.”

Just seconds earlier, Sukuna’s fingers had been teasingly ghosting where you wanted him most, but when he noticed the lack of underwear you had on, he nearly lost it. You clearly weren’t making it easy for Sukuna to stay composed, he was sure of that much. Despite all of his belittling and teasing remarks, he definitely wasn’t as unaffected as he let himself seem to be.

“We’ve just been apart for so, so long.” You looked into Sukuna’s eyes, a faux pout on your lips as you looped your arms around his neck and pressed your tits up against his chest. “Can you blame me?”

“Fuck, girl,” Sukuna kissed his teeth. “You’re dripping wet. All for me?”

“Who the fuck else?”

Sukuna’s fingers danced around your entrance, collecting your slick as you pressed your thighs together, trapping his hand between your legs (not like he was complaining, though; that was probably the closest to Heaven Sukuna would ever get in his lifetime). “Mmm, that’s what I like to hear.”

It wasn’t a surprise when you pressed your lips against Sukuna’s, bringing him in for another zealous kiss. In an effort to get impossibly closer, your body curved into his, like you were puzzle pieces molded and created just for each other. You two moved in sync, as if you had both rehearsed this before; but, in truth, you two had just made out too many times to count, so kissing Sukuna was basically like breathing air. You needed it to survive, and, it was light work. What more could you say?

The tension and lust between you two grew, and your dressing room soon filled with the sound of sensual desire, moans and quiet gasps, and the creaking of the framework of your unfortunate couch, which had the misfortune of being beneath the two of you.

From the moment you had begun straddling his lap, you had pretended not to notice the growing erection below you; but, by now, it was pretty hard to ignore the bulge pressing against your ass. It was like, during the months you two spent apart, Sukuna’s dick was growing even larger than before. You didn’t remember it being so big. And, just the sight of it was enough to make you lick your lips in fear? Anticipation? . . .Definitely a mix of both.

As Sukuna made a show of removing his belt and pants, he grinned at the evident look of unfamiliarity on your face. “Scared?”

“Of course not,” you quipped, trying to put up a front, but your body betrayed you, displaying otherwise.

“Naturally,” Sukuna mocked, “that’s why I can practically feel your arousal, right?”

You bit your lip, “Shut up.”

Sukuna laughed, pushing the ends of your robe up to rest on your hips, and sliding his hands to your ass, squeezing each cheek with an equal amount of force. Damn, thought Sukuna, he had missed his favorite girls.

“Just because we haven’t done this in a while doesn’t mean you have to be afraid of it. C’mon,” Sukuna slowly repositioned and lowered your hips and spread your legs apart, easing his dick through your cunt, “there’s nothing to be shy about. I know you’ve been missing this.”

It was true, you and Sukuna hadn’t fucked in three whole months, and your body was definitely starting to forget how he felt. The feeling of your walls stretching to accommodate Sukuna’s length and size burned pleasurably, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan, which, in turn, just came out as a whimper instead.

Bracing yourself, you planted both palms on Sukuna’s broad shoulders as your lashes fluttered and your eyes shut tight. “So—nngh—So big, Sukuna. God.”

“Bet you’re real glad you decided to accept this role, after all, huh.”

Your eyes snapped open, and you glared at Sukuna. “Will you just shut—oh!”

Just as you were about to yell at Sukuna, he decided it was the absolute perfect time to give a rough thrust; and you could’ve sworn you felt him in your womb. Throughout all the years you two had been together, you rarely had the opportunity to actually sit on his dick, and, now that you had the chance, you realized how full you felt in this position compared to how you two usually fucked. Sukuna knew you liked it rough, but this . . . was like nothing you had experienced before.

Sukuna—laughing—leaned down just enough to whisper in your ear, “You were saying?”

“Fuck,” you gritted your teeth. “Just move, Sukuna, goddamnit. What’s the holdup? Don’t tell me the late twenties are catching up to your libido.”

“Ha! in your dreams. I was just thinking of a new way we could have fun. Let’s see, just how long can you go without moving, hm?”

You gulped. “W-What? Why would you—?”

“Because it’s exciting, and spices up things. Don’t you think so?”

“. . .”

As the minutes idly passed by, you grew hot and bothered, and exasperated. You couldn’t believe Sukuna was making you do this. Nearly ninety days you two spent apart, and now that you had gotten back together, he had the audacity to leave you high and dry? In a final attempt at getting any satisfaction, you moved to roll your hips, desperate to create any amount of friction to free you from this everlasting state between Heaven and Hell; but two rough hands abruptly caught you in motion, and swiftly held you down.

“Ah, ah, ah,” tutted Sukuna, in a mocking tone. “Did I say you could move?”

Clearly frustrated, you let out a whine; but as your hands move to give punches against Sukuna’s chest, he catches your wrists in his hands with ease, an evil smile on his face, like a predator that had successfully cornered their prey and was just seconds away from latching their teeth in.

The belt was already pretty loose, so when one of the sleeves on your robe slipped down your shoulder, revealing your bare chest, no one was that surprised.

“Oh?” Sukuna began. “What have we here?” His scarlet eyes roamed up and down your figure, as his grip on your wrists turned almost deathly.

“You . . . bastard,” you—suddenly feeling a bit shy—tried to tug your wrists out of his grasps, in order to cover yourself up, but your attempts were futile. “Let go of me—hnngh, shit.”

Your back arched, body curving closer to Sukuna’s as his lips abruptly wrapped around one of your already hard nipples, catching you off guard. You had never felt so overwhelmed; the feeling of Sukuna sucking on a tit while his dick was buried inside of you—unmoving—was nearly enough to make you cum, despite the lack of movement that Sukuna allowed.

Bringing you out of your dazed state was the sudden ringing of your phone on the table beside the ashtray. Your eyes widened in surprise, as you softly pushed Sukuna off of you. “Just—Just ignore it. It’s not important.”

“Right. But where’s the fun in that, huh?”

“You don’t mean. . .”

“You know what I mean. Answer it, on speaker,” Sukuna pressed. His tone told you he wasn’t going to repeat himself.

With shaky fingers, you reached for the phone, answered the caller, and put it on speaker. “H-Hello? Katayama?”

Katayama was the name of one of your co-stars. Or, in other words, the blonde dude, which Sukuna kept mentioning earlier.

“Hey, you! It’s pretty late right now, perfect time for us to go out and get some drinks, y’know? I’m a bit bored, as of lately.”

You were about to respond with an apologetic declination to his offer, but Sukuna cut you off as he roughly lifted up your hips and abruptly slammed them back down, causing you to choke back a moan, and cover it up with a faux series of coughs. “I’m, ah, a little . . . busy,” you whimpered, wincing at the tight grip on your hips—which was sure to leave a bruise in the morning, “right now.”

“Are you sick?”

“Uhm, no—I mean, yes!” You let out another fake cough just to seal the deal. “Yup, just a little under the weather.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a string of moans and curses as Sukuna continued slamming your hips up and down onto his.

“Well, if you’re ever in need of an extra warm blanket, don’t be afraid to—”

“Hahh.” A breathy moan slipped past your lips, and you could practically see the surprised look that was probably on Katayama’s face right now.

“—call . . . me. Uhm, are you sure you’re sick? You sound like you’re in the middle of . . . something. Is everything okay—?”

“Yup! Yeah, everything is totally okay,” you forced out, with an enthusiastic tone. Gripping Sukuna’s shoulder with your free hand for leverage, you shut your eyes tight as you quickly ended the call. “I’m a little occupied at the moment, I’ll call you ba—I’m gonna go. Bye!”

As swiftly as you hung up the call, you threw your phone across the couch, and let out all of the noises you had been previously bottling up.

“I’m so c-close.” You mewled, now even more desperate than you were before.

“If you dare cum,” Sukuna began, his voice low, “I’ll stop.”

“Sukuna!” You whined, scratching at his back and leaving little crescent shaped marks from your nails on his tricep. “I need to—ahnn!”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you held onto Sukuna’s shoulders for dear life as he quickened his pace. Lifting your hips up with ease, and slamming them back down with equal force. Fucked out of your mind was not enough to describe your current state, as your eyes rolled back into your head, and your lipstick was smudged across your mouth.

Sukuna leaned down to whisper into your ear, never stopping his movements. “Bet the little blondie didn’t fuck you like this, huh?”

It was obvious that Sukuna wasn’t an insecure guy; I mean, he had no reason to be. He had nice muscles, a good body, overall, sharp features, tempting eyes, and tattoos for days. But, you had to admit, the spark of jealousy was definitely a good look on Sukuna, one that you wouldn’t mind seeing every once in a while, if it meant seeing him like . . . this.

“. . .S-Sukuna, we never—we never even fucked in the first place.”

“Oh, yeah? How long you been without cock, then, huh? Must be why you’ve been acting like such a bitch. I almost feel bad; all this time, my baby’s just been depraved.”

“. . .F-fuck you,” you shivered, body practically shaking with need.

“No need to state the obvious, sweetheart. Fuck, even your tears taste sweet,” Sukuna groaned, licking a stripe up your cheek. “It’s as if you were literally made for me to devour.”

“Please, please let me cum! I’m so—hnngh—close.”

“Yeah, no. C’mon, I know my girl can last just a little longer, can’t you?” Sukuna grinned, biting his lip as he admired your dazed state. He hadn’t been able to touch you in three months, ninety days, 504 hours. If anyone was going to get their fill, it was him.

—

“Oh!” Your stylist exclaimed, after walking into your dressing room and noticing you lying asleep on the couch. “You’re already here. And, Sukuna’s here, too. Wait. . . SUKUNA’S HERE, TOO!?”

[yeonzzzn]

phantom and the opera ; park sunghoon

pairing: phantom!sunghoon x afab!reader word count: 3.9k synopsis: a phantom stalks the opera house you currently sing for. a phantom who has eyes and ears for you and only you. warnings: swearing, smut, unprotected sex, murder, blood, sunghoon is well a phantom obvi so he’s dead, mentions of death, MINORS DNI!!!

Sunghoon doesn’t remember when he died—just that he did. His only other memory before his death is how he died. 

Sunghoon held his arms behind his back, tangling his fingers together as he slowly walked the halls of the opera house he currently, well, haunts. He stopped right in the doorway leading to behind the stage, staring at the spot where he was murdered. 

The experience of being murdered was definitely a zero out of ten in his book. And his murderer? Got a whopping two stars on Yelp for being the shittest murderer ever. Home guy just walks in through the back door in the middle of switching between sets and shoves a dagger straight through Sunghoon’s side and twists. Sunghoon was the only one behind the stage that was ready for the next scene, warming up his vocal cords for the big range he was about to sing out. It definitely took him by surprise to feel the dagger pierce through his skin and feel literally everything leak out of his body as he bled out on the floor. 

The next he knew he was standing there, looking at his dead body and being confused as fuck as to how he was still on Earth. Weren’t you supposed to go to heaven or hell once you’re passed? Guess not in Sunghoon’s case. 

And ever since then, he has stalked the grand opera house. He doesn’t even know how much time has passed since his murder or if the man was even caught. He doesn’t even know why he was murdered to begin with. Who randomly goes into an opera house and kills one of its cast members? That fucked obviously. And for what? NOTHING! According to the talk of the people who’ve made their way in and out of the building after his death, all his belongings and even money, wallet, keys—literally everything—were still on his person. 

Guess the guy just needed to let go of some pent-up rage and Sunghoon was just the unlucky bastard who was his victim. 

Again, two stars on yelp. 

Guy is an asshole. 

So Sunghoon decided to take it upon himself to be the local opera ghost and stop any future crime from happening. 

Or so he tried. 

Because ya know, he’s a boo and no one can see nor hear him. The most homie can do is throw some objects around. Real spooky shit. 

So Sunghoon gave up and spent however long it’s been to watch free opera shows and silently or even loudly, judge the shows. Because again he’s a ghost, who can stop him? 

You. 

It all began with you. 

One long night at the opera, Sunghoon continued his normal walks around the building. The show ended and everyone was gone—or so he thought. Sunghoon rambled on about the cast and setting and how completely shitty that version of Wicked just was. 

“Wasn’t this an opera house? Since when did this place start doing random ass musicals and plays?” he scrunches his nose, staring down at his black boots. 

“The owners decided to expand. This building is just a theater now.” 

Sunghoon stopped walking and looked up to see you standing at the entrance to the dressing rooms. 

He raised a brow, turning to look behind him and seeing no one. 

“How did you get back here? This place is for cast members and staff only.” You asked.

Sunghoon once again looked behind him and everywhere around him. There’s no way you’re speaking to him, right?

“Will you stop fidgeting and answer my question?” You snapped, resting your hands on your hips as you took him in, seeing the pure confusion on his face. 

“You can see me? And hear me?” he asked, now fidgeting with the seams of his cape. 

You rolled your eyes and let out a groan, “Of course, I can see you!” you motioned your hand in his direction, “Stop beating around the bush and state your business here.” 

Sunghoon dropped his hands at his sides, tilting his head ever so slightly while he looked at you. Watching you watching him. 

You tried to keep your composure and not be distracted by the handsome man in front of you wearing a really old version of the phantom’s suit from The Phantom of The Opera. Where did he even get that outfit? It’s so outdated. 

Sunghoon was speechless. How could he not be? Someone finally took notice of him. A beautiful woman at that. 

“I’ve always been here…” he mumbles, not knowing what else to say. 

You open your mouth to question him more, just to snap it shut as you fully drink him in. Taking in his deep brown eyes and the moles that surround his face. The way his hair parts and slightly falls in his face. It’s that moment you realize who he was. Remembering seeing his photo in the halls of this theater as one of the best actors and opera singers this city has known. And remembering how he was brutally murdered behind the stage many many many years ago. 

You were talking to the ghost of Park Sunghoon. 

“How…what?” 

“That’s what I am asking myself too,” he said with a sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets, “Guess you might be something special.” 

And ever since then, Sunghoon has been attached to you. The first person to take notice of him in so long. The first person to react to him. To talk back to him. And he means talk back. 

Sassy thing you are towards him. Always critiquing his comments on this new theme of theater, plays, operas, and everything in between. And honestly? He loved it. 

If he wasn’t already in love with you at first sight, he definitely was the moment he first heard you sing. It entranced him. Your acting and your stage presence as a whole set him on fire. His nonbeating heart felt as if it were working again. The way he stalked outside the dressing room that evening, waiting so impatiently for you to step out. 

“YN!” he called out the minute you took a single step out the door. 

You held a finger up to your lips, quickly shushing him. You knew no one else could hear him, but you never wanted to risk it either. Or risk talking to him when others were still in the building. You’d look crazy. Or worse, someone else would notice Sunghoon and realize he haunts this theater. Deep down, in the small few months you have known this phantom, you’ve grown so fond of him, and if he were to just disappear…

Sunghoon quickly snapped his mouth shut, lifting his hand and pointing down the hallway. With a slow nod, you followed behind him until you reached a small room for meetings, closing the door behind you. 

You noticed his body language, and how nervous he seemed to be, “Everything okay?” You asked, leaning your back against the door, “You seemed eager to talk to me.” 

Sunghoon took a deep breath, placing his hands on the back of the chair at the table, gripping it tightly, “I…I just want to tell you how well you did tonight.” 

He’s seen you perform multiple times. But it wasn’t until hearing you sing tonight that really took him over. 

You softly smiled, glancing down to the floor. It was the first time he’s complimented you. Sunghoon has only ever judged every play and would critique all the actors and singers. But never said anything about you. Until just now. 

“Thank you,” you softly whispered, slowly looking back up to see him standing in front of you, eyes searching yours, “Sunghoon?” 

How could he tell you he was crazy about you? How in love he was with you? He wasn’t even sure he could touch you. Yeah, he was able to touch other nonliving objects, but a living thing? 

“Can I try something?” he asked in a low voice, barely lifting his arm. Your heart pounded in your chest and you could feel your palms starting to sweat. You were so sure he could see the nervousness on your face, yet you nodded anyway. 

Sunghoon hovered his hand over your cheek, then slowly cupped your face. He released an exhale and smiled wide, “I never knew how badly I wanted to touch you until just now.” 

Now you were so sure your face was red. Heart dropped down to your stomach, “You’ve been wanting to touch me?” 

He nodded, “Can I try another thing?” You didn’t even answer him, reaching your arms out to fling them around his neck and crashing your lips to his, pulling the phantom against your body, not wanting any distance to be put between you both. 

You also never knew how badly you wanted to touch him until this moment. And it was everything you could have imagined. He might have been a bit cold to the touch, but you swear he still felt warm against you. How was it even possible to touch him? It was a mystery, one you didn’t care about learning. All that mattered was him. 

You don’t even know how long you stood there, pressed against that door with Sunghoon’s tongue down your throat, not that you cared anyway how much time flew by. Sunghoon eventually sent you home, and you couldn’t wait to see him again. 

Sunghoon lost count of the times he’s touched you now. Lost count of the times he’s pulled you into rooms of the theater. The amount of times he’s pressed you against the walls and roamed his hands up and down your body. He was completely obsessed with you and everything about you. Nothing could get better or ruin this feeling. 

Until something did. 

Not just something. Someone. 

Heeseung. 

A new hotshot actor and singer that was added to the current play due to another one falling ill. 

Sunghoon didn’t like him from the moment he looked at you for longer than a second. 

You noticed a change in Sunghoon’s demeanor. Always wearing a frown and creasing his brows. Eyes always staring off, looking far away. 

Usually during practices, Sunghoon’s eyes were always locked on you as he stood on the balcony. Always giving you smiles. But lately, it’s been nothing but frowns and looks of disgust. 

“YN!” Heeseung called for you, running his hand down your forearm, “Want to help me go over this part?” You kept your eyes locked with Sunghoon, watching how he gripped the railing of the balcony, “YN?” Heeseung said with worry, now pulling your arm towards him and you finally meeting his eyes. 

“What? Yes, sorry. I can help you go over this.” 

Heeseung glanced up to where you were staring, raising a brow. 

It took everything in Sunghoon to not jump from this floor. But what could he do? He can’t just yell at someone who can’t even see him. 

Days passed and the closer Heeseung was getting to you. Always giving you smiles during free moments. Standing way too close to you. Touching you more than Sunghoon’s liking, even though he would prefer Heeseung not fucking touch you at all. 

Sunghoon followed behind you after practice, his hand on your lower back, gripping the ends of your sweatshirt, afraid that you’d disappear if he let go. 

“You’ve been a bit different, lately.” You said, keeping your eyes straight ahead, eyes being aware of the ones still in the building. 

“Different how?” Sunghoon asked, his fingers gripping your sweatshirt even tighter. 

You shrugged, “It’s like you are here but not.” 

Your words hit Sunghoon hard. It made him realize how distant he had been. How more aware he’s been over another male than you, the love of his life. 

“YN, I’m—“ 

“There you are!” 

Sunghoon tightened his jaw. 

Heeseung jogged down the hall until he stood in front of you, “Heeseung,” you smiled, and it killed Sunghoon, “You were looking for me?” 

“Yes,” He smiled back, flickering his eyes over your shoulder, staring directly at Sunghoon. 

He can’t see me…can he? 

Heeseung flicked his eyes back to you and smiled wider. Yeah he can’t see Sunghoon, “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me?” 

“Say no,” Sunghoon said quickly, fighting every muscle in his body from pulling you towards him. 

Heeseung’s muscles in his jaw twitched and Sunghoon could have sworn he saw his ears perk up too, “I just want to thank you for everything you’ve done to help me, being the newbie and all.” 

“Oh, of course!” you awkwardly giggled, reaching behind you in a manner of adjusting your clothing but shoving Sunghoon’s grip on it off, “Thank you, that’s nice of you.” 

“YN,” Sunghoon whispered, “Please don’t go.” 

It was hard to act as if Sunghoon wasn’t behind you. To not react to his pleas, “You don’t have a boyfriend, right?” Heeseung asked, quickly looking at Sunghoon and glancing back at you. 

Did you have a boyfriend? Would whatever you had with Sunghoon count as a relationship? He’s technically dead, was it possible to date a ghost? 

“YN,” Sunghoon whispered your name again. 

You decided on saying nothing and just slowly shook your head, “Let’s just go get something to eat! I’m starving.” 

Before Sunghoon could reach out for you, Heeseung had his hand on your lower back, pulling you along. And the smirk Heeseung flashed over his shoulder when you weren’t looking sent a chill down the ghost’s body. 

There was no way Heeseung couldn’t see him. 

“Sunghoon,” you moan his name as he pounded into you. 

He’d be lying if he told you he wasn’t extremely pissed off that you went to dinner with Heeseung last night. Pissed off over the fact he knew Heeseung could see him, hear him, and knew the feeling he had for you and still made it a point to ask you out. How fucking dare he? 

“Hmm, want to act like a slut huh?” Sunghoon breathed in your ear, gripping his fingers deeper into your hips, “Think just because I can’t leave this building means you can fuck around with someone else?” 

You shook your head, hands gripping tightly to the edge of the vanity he had you bent over against, “Hoonie no, you know why I did it.” 

“Hmm, do I?” he bucked into you harder, your jaw falling slack and wet moans escaping your orifice, “Seems like to me you rather be with him.” 

“No no!” you chanted, pressing your face against the cool mirror, “I only want you. I only want you.” 

Sunghoon knew you only wanted him. He could see it written all over your face every single time he saw you. But that didn’t stop the raging jealousy he felt. And the hatred he felt. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, flinging his head back and letting the wet sounds of his cock being buried in your pussy over and over again fill his ears. Sunghoon didn’t think it would even be possible to have sex let alone get his dick hard. But the moment he walked in on you changing after tonight’s practice his desire flooded him. And obviously seeing him get so worked up over you sent you clinging your thighs together. 

“Hoonie,” you breathe his nickname, “Fuck, Sunghoon!” 

“Hmmm, what baby? Tell me what you want huh?” he said slowing down his pace to an undesirable amount, causing you to fuck yourself against him. 

“Please,” you cried. 

“Please, wh-” Before Sunghoon could finish his words, out of the corner of his eye he saw the door creak open, barely being able to see the silhouette of the person on the other side of the fogged-over glass window. 

Sunghoon smirked, picking his pace back up again, making sure he had you screaming and the mirror hitting the wall behind it. 

“Please what, baby?” he growled, “Wanna cum? Is that it?” 

You nodded, “Please let me cum,” 

Sunghoon’s smirk grew, “Tell me you love me,” squeezed your hips, slamming you down even harder on him, “Say how good I fuck you and no other dick can satisfy you, not even Heeseung.” 

You winched at Heeseungs name, piecing together the puzzle of why Sunghoon had been acting so strange. He was jealous. Being protective. Possessive. And you found it so fucking hot. So hot you were spitting the words right back at him. 

“I’m in love with you,” it wasn’t what Sunghoon asked to hear, but you said it anyway, feeling the truth behind it with every syllable, “You fuck me so so so good and no one else can ever satisfy me. Only you, Sunghoon. Never Heeseung.” 

Sunghoon smiled. A smile that was full of love and confirmation that you were his. 

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he moans, towering over your body as he fucked into you, his hands now gripping the tops of your against the mirror, “Fuckkkkk, baby I need to cum. Cum with me. Fuck.” 

The dressing room was now filled with the sounds of your moans as a mixture of yours and Sunghoon’s cum dripping down your thighs. 

When Sunghoon looked back at the door, it was now closed again. 

Heeseung stood behind the stage, cracking his knuckles and stretching out his neck. It was opening night for the play everyone had been working so hard on. It was in between scenes. You were on stage singing a duet with another cast member beautifully for the crowd. Heeseung couldn’t help but smile. He’s had a crush on you since he laid eyes on you, and you never failed to amaze him. 

His smile slowly faded, “I was beginning to wonder when you’d approach me,” he tilted his head to the side, staring into a pair of deep brown eyes, “Park Sunghoon.” 

Sunghoon smirked, rocking on the heels of his boots and twisting his fingers behind his back, “You know who I am? I’m so touched.” 

Heeseung chuckled, “I knew who you were before I stepped foot into this theater,” Sunghoon raised his brows, urging him to continue, “You’re a big name in this town, such a shame what happened to you,” Heeseung fully faced him now, “Death by a stabbing to the left side of your abdomen, right? Went right through your ribs and punctured your lung.” 

Sunghoon was really starting to loathe this guy. 

“I knew you could also see me, there was no way.” 

Heeseung laughed, “At first I thought you were just following and watching our poor YN, until I realized anytime you looked at her…” his facial expression changed to a mixture of anger and jealousy, “She was looking right back at you.” 

Sunghoon tilted his head, “What? Jealous are we?”

Heeseung shrugged, “Maybe over the fact you got to fuck her.” 

Sunghoon was now getting angrier, “You heard her the other day, no one can satisfy her but me.” 

“Are you so sure?” Heeseung took a step forward, “You aren’t even alive.” 

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, “Fuck off.” 

Another step forward, “I bet I could fuck her so so so good,” another step, “Make her cum multiple times,” another step, “Hit all her sweet spots while I bend her over my bed,” and another, “Have her screaming my name so fucking loud she would forget who you even are.” One final step. 

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes, “You won’t fucking touch her.” 

Heeseung laughed, throwing his head back as the sound echoed against the walls. He flung his head back up, now narrowing his eyes back at Sunghoon, “At least she’ll be able to actually have a life with me.” 

Sunghoon’s body twitched. Heeseung took one last step. 

And he was right where Sunghoon wanted him. 

Heeseung barely blinked before Sunghoon was now standing in front of him, faces barely inches apart. Blood filled his mouth, hands gripping Sunghoon’s wrists, “You damn bastard.” 

Sunghoon looked down at his work, seeing the beautiful blade pushed into Heeseung. Right between the ribs and puncturing his left lung, “Ain’t so fun, is it?” 

Heeseung’s knees grow weak, barely holding himself up and eventually dropping to the floor. Sunghoon followed him down, pushing the blade deeper into his body. 

Blood spilled out of his mouth, bloody hands now falling to the floor, “You want to know what is so damn funny?” Sunghoon chuckled, glancing around the back of the stage room, “This is the exact same spot I was murdered all that time ago.” 

Heeseung’s eyes widened, “Well, aren’t you one for an aesthetic.” 

Sunghoon leaned closer to his face, “No, I just wanted to kill you. It just happened to be right where I was killed.” 

It was Sunghoon’s turn to laugh, feeling Heeseung’s blood caking his hands. Is this how his killer felt? The adrenaline rush of hearing skin rip apart by a blade. Feeling the blade graze past two ribs. The feeling of his blood staining his hands. 

Oh, the rush. The excitement. Now he knew why people committed such crimes. 

“Huh,” Sunghoon said with realization, “Full circle. Funny shit.” 

“You’re fucking insane!” Heeseung snapped. 

“Shhhh!” Sunghoon pressed a bloodied finger to Heeseung’s lips, “You’re going to miss the finale of YN’s beautiful voice. 

Heeseung gritted his teeth, his vision fading as he focused on your voice. 

“I’m going to fuck that mouth later.” 

Heeseung jolted forward, using what small strength he had to lift his hands to grasp Sunghoon’s sleeve, “You’re a real piece of shit!” 

Sunghoon shrugged, “I’m the only one good enough for her.”

“You aren’t even alive,” Heeseung said again through gritted teeth. 

Sunghoon slowly pushed the blade in deeper, “I don’t give a shit,” he chuckled, “I’m still as alive as can be because of her.” 

Heeseung’s vision faded more, black spots forming around Sunghoon. He wasn’t going to last much longer. 

He dropped his head to the floor, right at the moment the final echoes of your singing voice bounced off the walls, “I’m going to fucking haunt you.”

“Oh, Heeseung,” Sunghoon cooed with a tilt of his head, “This theater can hold only one fucking bastard.” 

With a final push of the blade in deeper, the color of Heeseung’s eyes faded, body going completely still. 

Sunghoon stood up and backed away from Heeseung’s dead body, taking in his kill. Voices of the cast members appeared from behind him, then screams echoed off the walls. 

“Someone call an ambulance!!!” 

Sunghoon kept his smirk, slowly wiping the dried blood against his pants. 

He slowly turned around, seeing you standing in the doorway. You looked beautiful in the tight-fitted purple dress, hugging your body to show off your curves. So beautiful with the way your hair is curled and pinned to the back of your head. 

Everything about you was beautiful. 

Even the way your eyes filled with tears as you took in your friend's dead body. 

Your eyes shot to your lover, seeing Heeseung’s blood stain his clothing and hands. The tears streamed down your face as you stared so deeply into his eyes. 

Sunghoon’s smirk grew bigger, slowly walking over to you, “What’s wrong, baby?” he whispered, cupping your face between his hands. The smell of the blood filled your senses, stomach turned at the very thought of how it would stain your skin. 

Sunghoon killed Heeseung. 

“I did this for us,” he forced you to look at him and away from the dead body, “I couldn’t let him take you away from me.” You let out a small whimper, “Oh, baby,” he shushed, “It’s okay. I’m right here. I love you.” 

You were at a loss for words as Sunghoon pulled you to his body, holding you tightly. 

No one was ever going to take you from him.

—tags: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns

@in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi

@eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty

@ladyartemesia @criminalyun @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

@jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @vixialuvs @onlyhyunjin

@enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng

@moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee @teddybeartaetae

@kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @hee-lvrr @1309zip

@moon0fthenight @jakeflvrz @021894s @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @surrik-i

@heeseungsbm @niki-riki-nishimura-riki @star-hoon

[justatypicalwizard]

Katsuki doesn't believe in love at first sight

Katsuki never believed in love at first sight. How could someone meet eyes and feel as if a thunder ruptured down from the skies and struck them? To love someone means to accept every part of them and to be able to incorporate them into your everyday life. It means building a brand new everyday with that person.

In order to do so you need to know a lot about them. Who they are, what are their plans for the future, what is their character and so on. Then you need to see if you are compatible in many spheres. You need to invite them to your friends group to see if it’ll hit off, you should try living together, they need to get to know your parents.

There are simply so many things to check off the list in order to be able to say you love someone. Otherwise it’s just empty words. I love you here and there. I love you for a week. I love you when you do as I please. Bullshit.

Mina constantly pestered Katsuki that his definition of love feels more like a chore or a job interview than like something a human would be able to accomplish. It wasn’t his fault he had some standards everyone else seemed to lack.

So even now Katsuki doesn’t like to admit that he fell in love at first sight, because it wasn’t the first time when he looked at you.

A quiet ping of his phone tore him out of his work. A new message from someone he didn’t recognise. Without much thought he opened the text.

[Hi, you may not know me but we go to the same lecture on Wednesday at 1 PM. I heard you have neat notes and wanted to ask if it wouldn’t be a problem if you send me today’s ones. I  got sick and couldn’t come and I wouldn’t want to fall behind with the material. Thanks!]

Geez, was there a longer way to type it? Couldn’t you just write: can you give me notes? On the other hand he always complained about people being douchebags.

Clicking onto your profile Katsuki saw a cheesy photo and a few posts from your daily life and vacations. Nothing much to be honest. Yet, he could vaguely remember your face around the people who entered the lecture hall. It won’t hurt to help.

[Sure]

[File attached]

Pushing his phone to the far end of his desk he went back to work. A few minutes later there was another quiet ding and this time Katsuki felt irritation bubbling inside him. It was you once again.

[Thank you so much!]

[I owe you]

[If you ever need anything feel free to write]

Whatever.

It only took a week for Katsuki to be indeed looking for help from someone. Once in a while, during his hero training, he was forced to pair up with someone in order to work on his rescue skills. Usually they’d use dummies but some fucktard in the course planning team decided that it would be most helpful if the students could train with a real human.

Normally Katsuki would ask Mina. He’d swallow his pride and force himself to listen to her babbling for two hours. Just to get it done. Unfortunately, Mina dumped him today, leaving only a [sorry, not feeling well, find someone else]. Damned flu season.

Who was he supposed to ask now, Denki?

As he scrolled down his chats, your profile pic flew by making Katsuki halt.

If you ever need anything feel free to write.

Screw it, you said it yourself, might as well find a person already and move on with his day. He typed a quick explanation and pushed the send button. The day was nearing the afternoon when you responded.

[Sure, if it’s two hours I can make it. Send me when and where I should be]

He shrugged and gave you the address for today's training.

In the early evening Katsuki found himself trotting towards his usual fighting ground absentmindedly. He was thinking about something related to work at Miruko’s when the idea flew out of his head. You were there, he could see you from afar, walking in circles in front of the main door.

Were you an idiot? It was the middle of winter and the early evening cold tore through layers of warm coats to sink into your bones. Why weren’t you entering the building to warm up a bit.

That’s why Katsuki is so stubborn about the whole love at first sight thing. It certainly wasn’t that exact moment when his heart skipped a beat because of you. You were shivering, hiding your chin and red tinted cheeks deeper into the collar of your winter coat. When you spotted him you reached out a gloved hand and waved.

“What the fuck are you doing outside, get in there or you’ll catch another cold.” He persisted, ushering you towards the entrance.

“Wow, good evening to you too.” You looked at him from under your woollen hat, surprised to get yelled at first thing you see him. Though, you did hear the upcoming pro-hero Dynamite, who went to the same lecture as you, was rather intense. “I don’t know, this place just looks fancy. Didn’t want to stand inside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“So you stood outside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“Exactly.”

He let you in and showed you around. After leaving your coat and getting a warm tea (his idea), you were ready to help with his training. The support students and university staff running around asked you to take off any unnecessary piece of clothing such as jewellery or sweaters that could get in the way. You gladly went through with their instructions.

You b-lined another student, a senior support course, who showed you the place where you’d be waiting to be rescued. The spacious arena was moulded into the shape of a city. Some buildings were fine, others rundown as if a villain attack rolled over them. There were paveways and roads, streetlamps and plastic trees. You even spotted a car, though it didn’t look like it could take off anytime soon. 

“It will look the same over and over. You sit or lie down in the place where I leave you and wait for your hero.” Your guide briefed the rules. “And every time pick out a different scenario and tie the band in the place that is put on it.” He handed you a dozen of ribbons with small notes attached to them. The first one you grabbed read: broken arm (tie around elbow).

“Sure.” You nodded your head and he left you on the second floor of a wannabe office building. There were a few chairs scattered around and a table that had a weird bite mark on it. You obediently wrapped the band around your arm and sat down on the floor, waiting.

You wondered how it’ll be, to get fake rescued. You were never in such a situation, always watching the villains from the comfort of your TV rather than first hand. What was Dynamite’s quirk? Suddenly you felt stupid for not knowing. On the other hand, you were never up to date with new heroes and all the popularity polls or colourful magazines. Guess you’d just have to wait and see.

Katsuki didn’t leave you for long. You were counting the pieces of shattered glass beneath your feet when a series of explosions passed beside the building. The small pieces you were meticulously adding shook and you let out a squeak when something heavy hit the wall behind you.

“Shut up, it's me.” Craning your neck, you saw Dynamite’s face, upside down, looking at you. He was halfway through the window. “What have you got?”

“God, you scared me.” You chuckled but quickly shut your mouth. The guide asked you to play the best victim you can. Victims shouldn’t laugh.

Dynamite hopped in front of you and crouched to read the note attached to your elbow. He mumbled something in the lines of fucking scenario and looked you straight in the eye.

“I’m gonna get you out of here.”

There wasn’t anything dramatic going on, it was even quiet outside save for a few shouts here and there. Yet, there was just something in a bulked man looking at you and promising you protection, one secured by his own arms. You felt like the guy from the firefighters video.

You couldn’t stop the giggle at the thought.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Dynamite spat.

“Nothing, nothing.” You shook your hands in front of your still laughing face. “Oh shit, this one’s supposed to be broken. Okay, just save me already.” You really fought with the snicker but the cheesiness and awkwardness of the whole situation had you in a chokehold.

“Whatever.” The hero sighed, visibly annoyed, and scooped you into his hands like a sack of potatoes. “I’ll need you to wrap your legs around me. Push the broken arm into my chest and use your healthy one to hold onto me.”

You did as instructed and glued yourself to him as tight as you could. He still held you with one of his arms and just when you started to wonder how the two of you would get down from the second floor he jumped out of the window.

A scream escaped your lips but it was muffled by a loud explosion.

For the next two hours you flew through the air in Dynamite’s hands over and over again. He held you in different ways, depending on your supposed injury, but every time you landed into the safe zone, you realised you were the first or nearly the first. That guy was quick like hell.

The last scenario rolled over and it was a panic attack. You were supposed to be physically fine but otherwise unresponsive and difficult to work with due to your shock. Dynamite tried to take extra steps to calm you down, speaking about how he’ll take you to safety and how it will all be over in a second. It looked like he was having a hard time.

“I need to touch you to take you somewhere safe.” He said, wrapping one of his hands around you.

When you were both at the safe zone, with cardboard paramedics to take care of you, Dynamite did something different. Instead of leaving you in the place where the group of injured would grow, he carried you straight to the ambulance.

“She has a panic attack.” He said to the empty fake vehicle and you just couldn’t take any more of it. You erupted in a fit of laughter. Your body shook in his hands and you gripped the X on his uniform to steady yourself. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You tried to explain but the laughter squeezed your throat. “I’m a shitty actor.”

“I see that.” Dynamite grumbled.

“Do you really need to talk to cardboard people and empty vehicles for two hours every week?” You asked, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“Is it really that fucking funny?”

“No, no! I get it.” You finally calmed down, letting go of the front of his costume. “It’s not that funny, maybe a bit but not that much. I think I’m just in a good mood.” You shrug your shoulders. “It was fun, flying with you, like a free rollercoaster ride.” You gave him a big, big smile. A big genuine smile. A big, genuine, lovely smile, with your eyes closed and teeth out and cheeks tinted pink.

People are stupid. That’s what Katsuki thinks. It’s not love at first sight. It’s love because of a single sight.

Even though Katsuki came to some fundamental conclusions in the topic of love he would get all defensive and intense when he was asked about how the two of you met. It would sound way better if he could say the two of you met, then started to talk more, then went on a date and agreed to meet each other and so on. He just felt so stupid, so awkward and silly when he had to admit that all it took for you was a single smile to make his heart skip a beat.

The worst part? It felt a little pathetic honestly, as if people never smiled at him, but truthly they didn’t, not like that. Not like you.

Katsuki still doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Yet, every other piece of his meticulously calculated equation of love was torn down and rewritten, all of which he gladly took.

[dollishbabess]

different batboys going in a fitting/dressing room with you - from your dollish!🦢

Dick Grayson (Nightwing)

HC:

1. Playful and Flirty The moment you ask him to come into the fitting room, Dick's eyes light up with excitement. “Are we sure this is a good idea?” he teases with a grin, but he’s already slipping in behind you enjoying the view a little too much.

2. Compliments for Days Every time you try on something new, Dick showers you with praise. “You look incredible,” or “That color is perfect on you.” He’s genuinely mesmerized by everything you wear and isn’t shy about letting you know. (🐻‍❄️)

3. Hands-on Assistance When you struggle with a zipper or a clasp, Dick is more than happy to help. He’ll stand behind you, hands warm against your skin, and he takes his time, savoring the moment (and definitely not photographing it in his mind to remember later)

4. Playful Reactions He’ll jokingly suggest matching outfits or make exaggerated poses in the mirror next to you. It’s impossible not to laugh when he’s around, and you both end up having way more fun than you expected. (Posing QUEEN FINAL BOSS💜)

(I can’t think of an action sorry!)

Jason Todd (Red Hood)

HC:

1. Reluctant but Willing Jason acts like he’s not interested in shopping, but when you ask him to join you in the fitting room, he raises an eyebrow and follows without hesitation. “Only because you look good in everything,” he grumbles.

2. Blunt Honesty Jason doesn’t sugarcoat anything. If he thinks something looks amazing on you, he’ll tell you straight up. If it doesn’t suit you, he’ll say, “Nah, not your best look.” You appreciate his honesty, even if it makes you roll your eyes sometimes. (🐻‍❄️)

3. Playful Teasing He can’t help but tease you when you’re trying on different outfits. “Are you sure you’re not just showing off for me doll?” he’ll say with a smirk, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

4. Protective Presence Jason stands in the corner with a watchful eye, making sure no one bothers you or tries to peek in. He’s protective, even in such a mundane situation, and it’s oddly comforting and holds the curtains of the fitting room closed or stands next to the door. (atp please stay home)

ACTION!: As you try on a dress, Jason tilts his head, taking a moment to admire you before saying, “You should buy it. And wear it for me later.” The heat in his gaze is enough to make you blush, and he smirks, knowing exactly the effect he has on you.

Tim Drake (Red Robin)

HC:

1. Awkward but Sweet Tim is a bit flustered when you suggest he join you in the fitting room. “Uh, are you sure that’s allowed?” he stammers, but he eventually follows, cheeks tinted pink. (DAMN YOU ON EDGE OF THE BED YOU ABOUT TO FALL OFF)

2. Helpful but Shy He’s not sure where to look when you’re changing, but he does his best to be helpful. If you ask for his opinion, he’ll give you a thoughtful answer, genuinely considering how each outfit suits you. (🐻‍❄️)

3. Accidentally Cute When you’re struggling with an outfit, Tim fumbles to help, often resulting in the two of you tangling up together. He apologizes profusely, and you can’t help but find his awkwardness endearing.

4. Gives Genuine Compliments When you finally emerge in a new outfit, Tim’s eyes widen, and he stares for a moment before saying, “You look… amazing.” His voice is sincere, and it makes you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.

ACTION!: You’re trying on a particularly tricky dress, and Tim offers to help with the zipper. His fingers brush against your skin, and he freezes, face turning bright red. “S-Sorry,” he mumbles, but you can tell he’s not entirely unhappy about being so close to you.

Damian Wayne (older but no smut)

HC:

1. Reluctantly Joins Damian initially refuses to join you in the fitting room. “That’s highly inappropriate” even when you’re dating,But when you insist, he sighs and follows, muttering something about how he’s only doing it to protect you.

2. Gives Direct Feedback Damian doesn’t mince words. If he thinks something looks bad, he’ll tell you outright. “That’s hideous. You deserve better,” he’ll say, but he’ll also let you know when something suits you perfectly, even if he tries to act indifferent. (🐻‍❄️)

3. Respectful Distance He stands with his back turned whenever you’re changing, arms crossed and eyes closed. He respects your privacy but will peek when you’re not looking, just to make sure you’re okay.

4. Secretly Enjoys It Though he’d never admit it, Damian loves spending this time with you. He might even pick out a few outfits for you to try, claiming they’re “more appropriate” but secretly hoping you’ll wear something he chose.

ACTION!: You try on an outfit he picked, and when you ask for his opinion, Damian gives a satisfied nod. “It suits you,” he says simply, but you catch the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, revealing how pleased he is.

Bruce Wayne (Batman)

HC:

1. Charming and Sophisticated Bruce is the ultimate gentleman in the fitting room. When you invite him in, he gives you a knowing smile and steps inside, immediately making the small space feel more refined. (Loves it)

2. Knows Fashion Bruce has an eye for style and knows exactly what suits you. He offers suggestions and adjustments, making sure you look perfect in every outfit. He’ll even offer to buy you whatever you like, no matter the cost. (🐻‍❄️)

3. Effortlessly Romantic He’s the type to help you with a zipper or clasp without you even asking. His touch is gentle but firm, and he makes the simplest action feel intimate and loving”

4. Playful Yet Classy Bruce isn’t above making a few flirtatious comments. “I think you’d look better without it,” he’ll whisper in your ear, his tone teasing but filled with genuine affection. (gl walking tomorrow babes)

ACTION!: You try on a stunning gown, and Bruce’s eyes darken as he steps closer. “You look breathtaking,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing against your bare shoulder. The intensity of his gaze makes your heart skip a beat, and you realize that even in a fitting room, Bruce Wayne knows how to sweep you off your feet.

This is @dollishbabess work not yours, DO NOT copy or share on other platforms and if you do, I must get full credit Ty🦢

Watermark: (🐻‍❄️)

dividers from @cafekitsune !

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Ace Trappola - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Exterior Hallway]

Ace: Well, it's gettin' about time. Guess I'll head to basketball practice… Hm? Who's that over there…?

Ace: Yo, Kalim-senpai! How's it going? Hey, hey, do you know what tomorrow is?

Kalim: Tomorrow? Hm, what's going on tomorrow…? Is there a dance competition? Oh, or is there some sort of feast planned?

Ace: Ooh, you're getting' close! The correct answer is… My birthday～!

Kalim: Woah! Tomorrow's your birthday!? That's awesome!!

Ace: Yeah, it's totally awesome! There's gonna be a party back at my dorm, and everyone'll get me a gift. It'll be a blast!

Ace: But, y'know, the crazier the party, the more lonely it feels the day after my birthday…

Ace: I always feel like it'd be great if these sorts of days come around two or three times more a year.

Ace: …Don'tcha think, Kalim-senpai?

Kalim: Oh, yeah, I feel you! It just doesn't feel enough to only have one birthday a year.

Kalim: Hey, I just had a great idea! I'll throw you another party the day after your birthday.

Kalim: That way you won't feel as lonely, right? It sounds super fun, so let me do this for you!

Ace: Ehhhh, you sure!? I'm tickled pink! Kalim-senpai, thanks so much!

Kalim: Yeah! I'll make it the best, most outrageous party you've ever seen, so I hope you look forward to it!

[Kalim leaves]

Ace: Nice, I got Kalim-senpai to celebrate my birthday! And he's making it an outrageously awesome party…

Ace: That might get a veto from Jamil-senpai, though…

Ace: But regardless, I at least secured a promise from Kalim-senpai for a celebration. I can't way for the day after tomorrow～!

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Ace's Room]

Ace: Huuurgh, today's basketball practice was insanely hard… Floyd-senpai just wouldn't quit guarding me!

Ace: Usually he just gets bored and disappears off to who knows where… Ugh, I'm so tired～ I just wanna pass out…

Ace: My roommates sure got it easy. Doesn't sound like they got any upperclassmen that cause problems or nag all the time…

Ace: …Augh, I'm definitely gonna fall asleep if I just keep zoning out. I'm gonna go jump in the shower.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Ace's Room]

[roommates chatting]

[Roommate A greets Ace]

Ace: I'm baaack. Why did I take so long…? Y'see, Trey-senpai cornered me while I was brushing my teeth in the washroom.

Ace: He made me re-brush my teeth, and then handed me some floss and mouthwash. Then…

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Ace: Right, so he handed me this survey to fill out too. Ugh, it's short answers! Better if it was multiple choice or something.

Ace: Hey, can't any of you guys fill this out for me? I'm real tired from practice today, 'cause it was reeeal hard.

[Deuce refuses]

Ace: …Do it myself without tryin' to slack off? Fine, fine, guess that's what I shoulda expected from you honor student types. You're takin' it waaay too seriously!

Ace: Maybe I'll just jot down that it sucks to be stuck in a room with guys I don't vibe with, or something.

[Deuce argues]

Ace: …Oh, shut up, I was just kidding. Whatever, I guess I'll just start filling in the form.

Ace: First off… The dorm rooms are way too small! That's the worst thing, so I definitely can't leave that out.

Ace: Sure, we can ask each other to swap dorm duties, or help each other when we can't remember a specific Queen of Hearts' rule…

Ace: So I guess it's not the end of the world that there's four of us in here. But it'd be better if the room was just a bit bigger.

Ace: It's practically impossible to study in here. Sometimes someone else's stuff'll end up in my personal space, too.

[Roommate B speaks up]

Ace: …Huh? Pot, meet kettle? No way, I'm always tiding up after myself…

[Roommate B interjects]

Ace: Eh, you found my pen mixed in with your stuff the other day? Uhhhh…. Oh, dang, look at that, it's lights out time!

Ace: I gotta hit the hay! Mmkay, night!

Ace: Aaand, that's the way to shut them out! This is why I love canopy beds.

Ace: As soon as I draw the curtains closed, I can have secure myself a small, little private space…

Ace: The thicker curtains help to keep light and sound down, so even if I'm playing with my phone all night long, it's not bothering anyone else.

Ace: When I think of it that way, I think the only thing I really have to complain about my room is just that it's small.

Ace: …But once I step outside my room, I gotta deal with strange rules, scary upperclassmen, and insanely hard homework.

Ace: Oh, right, I have homework… I need to do that… But first, I think I'll take a bit of a breather and play on my phone for a bit!

Ace: Ooh, my middle school friends uploaded something onto Magicam. They look like they're havin' fun back in the Queendom.

Ace: I feel crazy jelly seeing that, especially since I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere on Sage's Island… Hm?

Ace: Wait, what's this video at the bottom…? Oh! It's an ad for the magic shop I was looking into the other day!

Ace: Woah, how'd they manage that trick? Yooo, I bet I'd look real cool if I could master that!

Ace: I really want that magic trick. Maybe I should ask for it for my birthday.

Ace: Oh, hey, that next manga chapter is out. I gotta check that out.

Ace: Oh, and there's an event going on in that one mobile game. Guess I can log in for that. Oh, and…

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Ace's Room]

Ace: Urrrgh… Mm… It's too bright… Is it morning already? I guess I fell asleep playing the game.

Ace: What time is it…? Huh!? It's already this late!? Hey, why didn't anyone wake me up!?

Ace: Didn't my alarm wake me? You opened my curtain for me? …If you're gonna do that much, you coulda woken me up!

Ace: At least I don't have morning practice today… But I gotta get ready on the double!

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Washroom]

Ace: My face is washed and my skin-care routine is done.

Ace: Ack, my hair's all over the place! Ughh, c'mon, I hate how my hair is…!

Ace: Maybe I can just fix it with some wax… Oh, but I want to make sure I have time to fix my makeup…

Ace: I got no choice, I should just use magic to set it! I screwed it up last time, but… I can totally do it today! Definitely! Hyah!

[poof!]

Ace: AAAAAAAAHH!? IT GOT EVEN WORSE, THIS SUCKS!!

Ace: What can I even do about this now!? Okay, first, let me try this spray to fix the bedhead!!

[spritz, spritz, spritz]

Ace: Ack, did I spray too much? Okay, I should just be able to rub it in here with my fingers… Guess I'll just have to see how it looks later.

Ace: I gotta set my makeup while I wait for my hair to loosen up. First, I gotta slap on some sunscreen…

Ace: Now, my eyebrows are the priority. I can kinda let everything else be half-done, but this's gotta be on point.

Ace: Back in middle school, I remember we were all laughing our heads off at this one person who did a terrible job drawing in his eyebrows, tryin' to look all fashion-y.

Ace: …I mean, not like I'd ever or will ever make that kind of screw up, though.

Ace: I saw a video yesterday that says that thicker eyebrows are in right now, so I'll just try to follow that tutorial and draw in where it's lacking…

Ace: Okay, nice. Not bad! I think I did pretty good for just trying to copy what I saw.

Ace: Now all I got left is my eye makeup… What should I do for the suit? I'd like to use something with a bit of lamé in it, but…

Ace: I bet the Housewarden'll get all huffy if it's too fancy. Guess I should just do what I normally do.

Ace: How's my hair looking…? Nice, it's tamer now! Probably was a good thing to spray too much on it.

Ace: Just gotta put some hair wax in to set it… Done. Whew, I feel a bit more presentable now.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Ace's Room]

[roommates chattering]

Ace: I gotta get my stuff together ASAP… Wait, huh? If the rest of you are all here, does that mean we still have a bunch of time?

Ace: Maan, then I coulda worked on my hair a bit more. I think I'll dip into the washroom again… Huh? My enigmatics homework?

Ace: …AAAAAAAAAH!! I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT IT!!

Ace: Oh man, I'm so screwed, Crewel's gonna tan my hide if I don't do anything… What should I do!?

Ace: …Hold the phone. I have enigmatics in the afternoon. That essentially means I'll have my lunch break before I have to turn it in.

Ace: I think the other classes might be ahead of us, so maybe they've already finished the homework already?

Ace: Even if the questions are slightly different, as long as I can figure out how they solved it, I should be able to bang it out… Oh yeah, it's all coming together.

[Roommate A speaks up]

Ace: Wheeew, I got all worked up over nothing～ Mmkay, then I'm heading out… Huh, what is it? You want me to help with your homework?

Ace: Hahahah, no waaaay! Here, I'll open the curtains up for you, so why don't you figure out the rest～?

[Main Street]

Kalim: Oh, there he is. Ace! Good morning!

Ace: Ah, Kalim-senpai! Good morning…? What's up? Isn't the party tomorrow?

Kalim: Yeah! But your birthday's today, right? That's why I thought I'd come wish you a happy birthday in person.

Kalim: So, yeah… Happy Birthday, Ace!

Ace: Haha, you really are the type of guy to show up the day of just to wish someone a happy birthday, huh.

Ace: Thanks a bunch! I can't wait for the epic party tomorrow!

Requested by @thelonepearl.

[iphyslitterator]

Getting out some more Airport 1975 Theory thoughts now that I've actually watched the movie (building on my earlier post):

The main strike against this theory is that it's too good to be true lol.

If they do Airport 1975 and Tommy isn't involved, that would admittedly be very funny 💀 Partial credit!

The flight in the movie is Columbia 409. If the flight number in the episode is 409, we will Know.

"Sick little girl who needs a kidney transplant" and "nun with guitar" are also dead giveaways.

There is plenty of downtime in the movie (thanks, autopilot), so I feel justified imagining a conversation between Tommy and Athena.

I really do love the idea of a few lines of Bobby/Athena dialogue early in 8x01 establishing that Athena has qualms about Tommy. It sets up a fun little bonding arc, which potentially serves as a muuuch lower-stakes mirror to wrestling with feelings about her fiancé's killer (can people change, when should you let the past go, etc.).

I think "Tommy lands the plane" and "Buck and Tommy fight about Gerrard" in the opening arc are mutually exclusive. I'd bet on, at most, one Bucktommy-only scene in 8x01 and one in 8x03 (and Tommy might not be in 8x01 at all).

Definitely doesn't make sense for Tommy to talk Athena through landing the plane from the ground - they don't need a helicopter pilot, they could get actual experts on the jet.

In the movie, rappelling into the plane is treated as an unprecedented terrifying stunt, and they get a specially-chosen military guy to go up in a military helicopter to try it. But he gets caught on some wreckage and falls to his death, so Charlton Heston (Nancy the stewardess's boyfriend and a very accomplished instructor on this type of plane) decides to go in and succeeds. Neither is a helicopter pilot.

The collision ripped a big hole in the cockpit, by the way, so if that doesn't happen on the show, it pretty much kills the rappelling theory.

To have Tommy's involvement "make sense" for people who know nothing about aviation (sorry), here's my pitch:

The collision happens at a fairly low altitude OR the plane starts losing altitude. Pilots are dead or incapacitated, and the door to the cockpit is blocked so no one can get in. Tommy and his copilot are already in the air dealing with the bees, and they happen to be the closest to the plane, which requires time-sensitive intervention. Tommy (movie buff) (unhinged) rappels into the cockpit and, guided by air traffic control on the radio, gets the plane stabilized and solves the immediate crisis.

Athena finally bursts into the cockpit. Tommy: "Sergeant Grant." Athena: "Firefighter Kinard? How did you get in here???" Tommy (catching his breath, wry manic smile): "Jumped." Cut to commercial.

Then they're in the air for another episode and a half because of damage to the plane and/or bees at the airport.

At the end of the movie, Charlton Heston says to the passengers, "Thank you for flying Columbia Airlines," and Tommy would look soooo hot doing that, he would deliver that line so good.

I've got to say, I can't remember the last time I had this much fun with a fan theory - even if it doesn't come true at all, it's been a pleasure 🫡

[boowritess]

i love love love the headcanon of the 141 not having kids and babies and ewey.

i think that john price is still very relevant to that. kinda. i don't really seeing him having a pet honestly. unless you wanted one... sure... but nah y'know... he's old tired af. maybe a cat. probably definitely a cat.

but it's been you and john for as long as you can remember.

happy to be in each other's presence from morning to night, or simply just exist in a shared life that means you two don't have to always be around each other.

you could be shopping and he could be sleeping. he's outside tending to the stuff he had supposed to finish before he left deployment while you're reading on the couch inside. he's on a long deployment again, and you're at work.

plus the prospect of kids just never seemed to work into the schedule. "nah," john says to one of your friends, "can handle kids fine, but when i'm home, this old mans bones are good for sleep and not much else. i mean the breeding kink can get me goi-" john grunts when you elbow into his side.

"crude." you huff with an eyeroll.

"but true." he says into his beer as he takes a sip, eyes sparking with mischief.

your friend turns to you. "but doesn't it get lonely?" they asks. "wouldn't you want a little one running around?"

and well sometimes the days may be lonely for you when he's gone...

but that's become impossibly hard to focus on when your phone is being constantly blown up - not by price though. by the 141.

it's never really anything outrages or civil conversation. it's gaz asking which tie he should wear at an event because price said the black one but gaz doesn't really like the black one. then it's johnny sending you a video of him besting his previous time on a training course. though it doesn't stop there. ghost is messaging late nights for him but mid-day for you, asking about how to deal with insomnia. ghost is asking you because he knows you're awake and the others are asleep, he doesn't want to bother them.

you answer every single one, with so much care and attentiveness. you save every picture, every video and boost about their achievements to other people as if they were your own. however, people always assume you're talking about little kids not grown ass men.

yet on days when you're at home or you've come home from work. you're hardly surprised to find one of them had invited themselves into yours and johns home as if it was their own.

sometimes it's gaz crashed out on the couch who's in a desperate need of a shower but definitely needs sleep more.

or the sounds of soap in your fridge, raking around to find something to eat. "lass, ye out of cheese-" he ate the cheese. the whole newly bought block of it.

gaz and soap like to hover around you when they're home. whereas ghost helps price around the house.

but when it's just you and ghost, the oldest boy. it's quiet. there's no forced conversations but probably a few shitty jokes. it's you or him making food and the other doing the dishes. yet ghost opens up and the conversations turn into some of the most randomist, boyish, silly conversations.

when everyone's at home, it can actually be pretty hectic. so you go do the grocery shopping, but you take ghost along cause he's a little like you in regard for a need of quiet time.

oh and can't forget the days you go out by yourself only to come home with a few other things. socks for john - socks for all of them. you bought johnny a new pair of jeans and gaz a couple of shirts. and simon some more sweaters.

christmas, easter, new years - every single holiday is always hosted at yours and price. where everyone comes. farah, alex, laswell and her wife. rudy and alejandro making their way- then of course your boys...

and it's there where you've kinda realized.

you and john do have kids.

just in the form of grown men.

which both you and john don't seem to mind.

you end up shrugging your shoulders as you look at your friend, "honestly i have my hands full when they're all home. so... i'm good." you say with a hum, sipping from your own drink with a small smile as john just chuckles softly.

a/n: realized I never posted this. oh well. the no baby saga continues with john price. drink water be well ya'll xx

[literaila]

Need more gojo reader smoochfest

“remember this one?”

you’re a little bit dizzy, by now. you can’t remember how long, or when all of this started—but the end result isn’t necessarily unpleasant.

you hadn’t wanted to join nanami and shoko (and gojo whoever that is) for a drink—after a long day, three too many outfit changes, and a bed that you missed like an old childhood friend.

but your complaints are only partially heard, and satoru tends to drag you along wherever he goes, like a doll.

currently, though, you don’t really mind that.

gojo is not drunk, but you definitely are.

that’s why, mind you, when satoru spins you around again on the sticky linoleum floor, in this shitty bar that is definitely too small for dancing—you stumble a little.

but satoru’s hand is right there on your waist, keeping you steady and making sure that you don’t run into anyone that could be passing by.

usually he would let you trip and fall and spill someone’s drink down their shirt—because that would be hilarious—but you’re drunk, and he’s not and…

he enjoys taking care of you, when he gets the chance.

“no,” you say, giggling, when you’re spun back to him. “but i don’t think you should do it again.”

he’s grinning down at you. “why not?”

“because i might puke.”

satoru snorts, slowing his dancing down a little bit—because you really are swaying. “cute.”

“i know. aren’t you glad you married me?”

his eyes are covered but they’re sparkling (or you’re hallucinating). “very glad,” he says, with all the swagger that his seventeen year old self had.

that is to say, absolutely none.

but you lean in anyway, drunk and giddy and sweet, and brush your nose against his.

and satoru complies, like he always does, so his breath tickles your mouth and one of his hand finds its way to your jaw.

you kiss him once, just a slight peck, and pull back. you’ve always been a tease, but you usually reserve it for at home.

not now, though, when he’s so focused on only you, and so close that he could swallow you whole.

dancing always reminds you of satoru proposing, of letting him guide you wherever he wants to go in some sick metaphor about love and torture, the cure and the curse.

and, goddamnit, you’ve always been a sappy drunk. you’re going to regret this in the morning—especially because satoru has the upper hand here.

you told him you loved him for the first time because you were drunk.

and so, “i think im in love you,” you say now, again, just to get him to smile.

“then don’t tease me,” his tone is stern, a bit whiny, but you can see his dimples now.

“it’s so fun, though.”

“everything’s fun when you’re drunk.”

“tipsy.”

“okay, baby.”

“and everything’s fun with you.”

satoru’s mouth opens, his canines glittering in the dim light of the bar, and then he scoffs, “you—“ but he never finishes the sentence because his hand moves to the back of your head and he’s kissing you again.

you settle on your tip toes to reach him, sighing as he pulls you closer.

and you’re not moving now, nonetheless dancing, but who the hell cares?

satoru bites at your bottom lip, as punishment for being in love with him, and allows you to wrap your hands around his neck, drawing circles with your fingertips.

your body is so heavy and uneven, but it’s easy to kiss him like this. you’re not self conscious about the other people because satoru will keep them away from you both, and you’re not worried about breathing because why would you need to breathe when you could be kissing him?

still, eventually he pushes you back, setting his hands on your shoulders so you don’t fall. and he grins at you again, cheeky. “i think i love you, too.”

“oh, good. or this would be awkward.”

he kisses you again, a bit softer, but it’s not even a kiss, really.

because you’re both just laughing into each other, and everything seems so funny for a moment that you just let it happen. if you could rank the moments in time, kissing satoru like this would be very close to the top.

and someone probably shouts at you to get a room—but who cares anyway?

[sanakimohara]

Bangchan + Dollhouse by TheWeeknd and Lily-Rose Depp + Yandere 🤭🤭

Like imagine

You wake up in a random persons house, you've been stalked for months, that random person is your stalker. But you can't deny how hot he is. And for a while, he's gentle and makes you fall in love with him, until he introduces you to his friend, Changbin, who you can't deny is almost as hot as Chris, so you talk to him and basically ignore chris. Chris gets jealous and as soon as changbin leaves, he ‘punishes you’ with both rough sex and spanking (i have a spanking kink, spare me pls) and when he's done with everything and you're sleeping, he cries thinking he might of hurt you, you wake up a comfort him with another round. The relationship is messed up, but in front of everyone it's ‘Perfect’ and everyone calls you ‘Barbie and Ken’, but you're more ‘Jocelyn and Tedros’ (the idol ref). You sometimes feel trapped in a ‹Dollhouse› by how you have everything you want, but freedom and being able to talk to without chans supervision.

I know it's probably not your style of writing, but thought I'd request 🤭🤭

[ YOU ] PT.1 B. C.

parking: chan x fem! reader

summary: Stalker AU

playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5KyevYvSoqYDrdBqeAvTZO?si=ZgCCA54dQ7ChyVR2Eg381g

warnings: MDNI + NSFW + ANGST + KIDNAPPING + STALKING + STOCKHOLM SYNDROME + CNC + DESCRIPTIONS OF BODILY HARM + MENTIONS OF MURDER + TRAUMA + SMUT

type: full fic / angst / smut / horror…

a/n: not my style?!? Love, this is exactly the type of stuff I enjoy writing the most tbh. Also your request definitely reminded me of “The Idol” and ‘You” so…I made this fic as an overlap between both and I hope you enjoy it! 🖤

One…Two…Three….Four.

One…

Four walls. …

One door….

One. Two. Three. Four.

One….

Four walls and one door.

You’ve counted them over and over.

You sit in drowning silence, repeating the same numbers to resist the panic rising in your chest from their unfamiliarity.

You’ve never seen these four walls before.

You can’t even begin to remember walking through the door.

Let alone recall how you ended up tied to a bed’s iron-wrought headboard with tape plastered across your mouth to keep a wad of cloth shoved between your lips.

So, you resort to counting.

To repeat the pattern of numbers and halt the tears building in your eyes as the world seems smaller and smaller the longer you count them.

It’s strange.

These four walls and one door are your only comfort in the quiet of a dimly lit room.

It’s the only details you can make out through blurred vision, head fogging with illicit fear as you study them for any clue as to why you’ve been chosen to be within them.

It’s irrational.

Illogical.

But it’s the only thing you can think of to do being in a strange room, restrained and gagged without a clue as to who or why you’ve been put there.

You try to remember. Try to run through the possible events in the last twenty-four hours that’d put you in such an uncanny predicament, but nothing alarming crosses your mind.

There is nothing you can pinpoint as a warning sign you could’ve seen before ending up here.

You woke up, dressed, went to work at the record store until evening, closed the shop, grabbed a bite to eat at the cafe down the street, and then…

And then what?…

You couldn’t get past the point in your train of thought.

You remember the moment you stepped out of the cafe's side entry door and into the small alleyway leading straight to your apartment with a strawberry strudel and cold cream latte in one hand and your phone in the other.

You took one step, turning in the opposite direction of the cafe, finger hovering above the “answer’ button as an unknown caller ID flashed across your phone screen. You meant to answer it, wondering if it was the man who’d come into the record shop looking for a Nirvana vinyl and a pleasant conversation.

What was his name again?

Chan?…

Christopher…?

Wait, no…

Chris!

He’d been the kindest and most invested customer you’d ever met since working in the retrofitted store, insisting that you exchange numbers and plan a time to hang out, listen to records, and maybe discuss opinions on certain bands over a bite-to-eat later on.

You found no harm in taking him up on the innocent offer. Giving a good-looking, genuinely sweet, and apparent music lover your number didn’t seem like a bad idea.

You could barely hold the smile creeping onto your face at the thought of getting a call from him so soon, imagining the drawl of his Australian accent carrying through the phone like pure honey.

You hit ‘answer,’ phone raised to your ear as you began to walk down the brick alley, but the moment your lips parted to speak, a particular smell invaded your nose, and the world went black.

No warning.

No indication.

No recollection.

There was nothing you could grasp from the startling incident that gave a clue as to what happened and why.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, and your head began to hurt from the effort it took to sift through the distorted memory.

A solemn huff struggled to get past your lips, muffled by cloth and tape but audible enough to crack the silence in the room.

Your hands, wrists, and arms felt heavier. The rope twisted in and around the joints, pulled tight to wrap through the bed’s iron headboard, which swirled into a whimsical pattern. Your legs were left somewhat free, ankles bound by the same rope, but the knot around them was too tight for you to wriggle your feet free entirely.

Each time you tried to wrestle the restraints, they’d dig into your skin, scratching and pressing until lines of red were left.

You gave up squirming when the pain became too much, having let go of the hope that someone would hear your muted screams just before that.

Your heart rate failed to slow, stuck in a perpetual frantic pace as you resorted to counting and crying to yourself for comfort.

For a sense of security in a situation that couldn’t possibly remain secure.

A shroud of defeat hung above you, blanketing you in exhaustion as the numbers rang through your head again.

One. Two. Three. Four….One.

One. Two. Three. Four-

*snap*

*click*

Your counting abruptly ends when you hear the door lock come to life—a sharp sound that sends rivets of caution through your veins. You watch from the bed as the doorknob twists, turns, and clicks open.

*creak…*

The wood cries quietly as it’s pried open, inching with gentle force as a figure steps through it.

“You’re awake….I’m glad.”

Chris smiles, a warmth to his lowered voice that doesn’t entirely match the tension his presence has created in the stuffy room you’re tied up in.

You stare at him, watery eyes wide with confusion and pure fear.

His smile.

His voice.

Those brown eyes of his that you’d sworn looked so sweet, lighting up with recognition when you showed him the record store's Nirvana section. Now, they terrified you as they grazed along your vulnerable position.

A position he’d put you into.

A position you hadn’t expected him, a man so warm and so down to earth yet new to you, to put you in.

Chris saw the wheels turning in your head, reading the tidbits of betrayal bombarding you as the pieces of the puzzle you’d been trying to put together for hours finally came together.

He felt…guilty, of course.

He hadn’t meant to take you so quickly. Let alone without getting to know your mind a little better, but he needed a new source of purpose…

A new fix for the addiction many were unaware he had developed after years of denying it himself.

He needed a vice, a project, a doll to mold, a person who would depend on him and only him.

You checked all those boxes. He’d made sure of it. Trailing you for weeks after spotting you closing the record shop one evening on your way to the cafe he’d just left only a moment ago.

Getting rid of a body was never easy. It was a tedious task he rarely did without the help of caffeine in any form he could find, but one look at you had his mind wandering from the burden.

It was almost too perfect, in his opinion.

You were almost too perfect.

You remained on his mind for the next few days. You were the only thing he could ponder while tossing bags of muscle into the ocean in the dark hours of the morning. An itch he couldn’t quite scratch away.

So, against the resolve of his last failure to find someone to hold on to, Chris took an interest in you.

In your day-to-day life.

In the few friends and family you had and kept close.

In the days you went to work.

In the time you spent at the cafe after you’d leave the record shop.

In the specific orders you made.

A toasted strawberry strudel and cold cream latte on Mondays and Sundays.

Pumpkin vanilla cappuccino and lemon cake slice on Tuesday and Thursday.

Oh, but his favorite combination you ordered happened every Friday…

A slice of cake with strawberry filling and a cup of ice cream with extra whipped cream on top.

On those days, he’d watch from afar as your cheeks flushed from every bite of cake and cold cream you’d take. Bits of whipped cream swiped off your lips with a quick pass of your tongue. And that slight smile on your face as you enjoyed the treat always warmed his heart a little more each time he saw it.

You lived alone.

All alone.

A sweet girl like you shouldn’t have to but you do.

Chris couldn’t stand it.

Not the way you walked home all alone each night.

Not the way you stayed at the record store later on some nights to finish your manager’s closing tasks whenever he asked you to.

Which was far too many times for Chris’s liking.

Not the way you’d had to shop for yourself. You were buying smaller portions of groceries only to feed yourself.

Not how you helped anyone, even the rudest customers he’d ever seen when stopped by the record store in search of anything but vinyl records.

Not the way you’d crouch down in the alleyway after those interactions to cry into your hands and try to calm down before returning to work with a smile.

He couldn’t stand it.

Any of it.

Weeks of watching you suffer through a life he could make so much better for you made his headache and his mind numb.

Meeting you in the record store was only supposed to be a soft start to a usual routine he’d perfected over time. A quick interaction, something to ease his desire to have you all to himself. Nothing more. Nothing less.

But seeing your smile up close, hearing your soft voice carry under the sound of the 80s best hits as you led him to the section of records he’d asked to see, did something indescribable to him.

He could’ve waited. He could’ve gone on a few dates that he knew you’d gladly go on with him, but a rare impulse toppled over his logic.

You’d be so much happier if he had you.

He knew it.

He believed it.

And sooner or later, you’d believe it, too.

What’s the harm in making sure you’d believe it sooner?

Chris breathed, steadying himself despite the relief he felt seeing you wide awake and safe right where he had left you.

“Listen,…Y/n…” he stepped closer, eyes drifting around your figure when you began to toss and turn against the bed to scoot further away from him.

To keep him away at all costs.

Chris felt his heart drop, his smile gone, watching your teary eyes dart over him and through the room. Your body shook, your legs pulled close to your chest, and your head pressed back into the headboard.

You were terrified.

He terrified you.

That just wouldn’t do, and Chris stifled his inner doubts and regrets about causing you so much confusion and distress to remedy it in any way he could.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d listen to reason and hear him out.

You seemed like the understanding type.

A girl who could see another’s perspective without offering harsh judgment.

Chris was sure of it, though you looked utterly terrified of him now, if he was careful enough…

You’d have no choice but to understand.

“Listen,” he smiled at you, rounding the bed in three swift steps and kneeling at its left edge as you tried to curl closer to the right one.

He sighed, trying not to take your reluctance to be near him to heart, but the silent sobs that barely made it past your gag annoyed him to some degree.

Did you think he’d hurt you?

Him?

The one who’d made it his life’s new purpose to protect you at all costs would plan on hurting you when he’d only just gotten his hands on you?

Chris felt the frown on his lips, unable to retrain his disappointment in your behavior. Still, the disapproving expression he held lasted for less than seconds before he softened into a kinder one.

“Listen… I’m not going to hurt you. I know you must be so scared right now, sweetheart, and that’s fine.”

He straightened up, raising his arms to fold on the bedsheets. His shoulders tightened underneath the black shirt he wore, and he took a deep, elongated breath through his nose.

You watched him, struggling to see him as the same man you’d met in the record store. From the beginning, he’d been a stranger, a new face of kindness that mirrored your own, but now your mind couldn’t fathom what to think of him.

A dryness settled in the back of your throat, adding to your jaw ache and the soreness blooming through each of your tied limbs.

You were in pain.

He was putting you through so much pain, and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

And you still had a little faith in his promise, believing the sick irony of it for the sake of internal hope.

Chris raised his head, strands of blonde hair falling over those eyes you couldn’t help staring into. “You can be afraid of me, baby. I know you are, and that’s fine, but know I’m doing this for you…” He paused, letting a wry laughas his lips pulled into a smile you barely saw when he lowered his head again.

Your nerves vibrated with anxiety, his sudden silence setting you on edge and bringing tears right back to your tired eyes.

Chris looked up, hearing you crying again, brows furrowing with irritation and concern. “Don’t cry.” The command hangs in the air, crisp and direct. You flinch hearing it, put off by the gentle raise of his voice and his abrupt movement to stand up and lean over the bed’s edge.

You shift away from him, holding back the tears that beg to fall from your eyes, fearing that disobeying his demand won’t end well for you.

“Crying won’t change anything for you.” He inches closer, a knee dipping into the mattress as his left-hand reaches to cup your face. You jerk your head back at his touch, ignoring the slight pain hitting it against the headboard causes but failing to avoid his touch when he weaves his fingers through your hair and tugs to hold you in place.

It hurts.

The pressure he inflicts onto your scalp leaves you complacent and strained.

You go still, shivering underneath his looming body heat as he drapes his head over yours.

Blonde locks tickle the bridge of your nose and forehead, shifting as his brows raise and his thickly accented voice pierces the room's defeating silence.

“You’re a smart girl, yeah?..”

You nod in a daze, throat too dry to scream, head too sore to think, and heart racing too fast for you to decide if fear or attraction to him was taking over you.

You hoped it was the latter.

Otherwise, you’d already begun to lose your mind.

Chris smirked, studying the way your pupils dilated on him.

There it is.

The sign he’d been longing to see since he’d walked into the room and found you awake.

A small, familiar, and telling indication of submission.

“Yeah, you are…” he scoffs, eyes drifting to the tape plastered across your face, noting the subtle lines of drool beginning to slip from under it and down your chin.

Your chest heaved as you inhaled a sharp breath through your nose, choking on a sob that dwindled into a whimper for mercy.

For his mercy.

His pity.

Anyway you could get it, use it, and beg for it.

Your desperation.

You wanted him to see it written across your face and in every painful sound you made.

But Chris looked right past it, heard none, and continued leering you into his web of little white lies.

“Then you understand why I’m doing this to you? Why I have to keep you safe like this? Why you have to stay and do as I say?..”

You don’t move. You are not giving him a nod or a flutter of your lashes that’ll resonate in agreement.

Because you disagree.

You’re helpless, scared, and condemned.

But your pride and need for survival hang on by a thread, so you refuse to feed into him more than you have to.

You defy him.

Chris waits. He waits for a moment to see if you’ll give an inch to his established mile, and when you don’t show any sign of doing so, he clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“So….that’s how you’re going to be…” he sighs, frowns present as he loosens the hand gripping your hair to trail it down to the nape of your neck. You jolt at the feeling of his large and rough hand meeting your bare skin, applying pressure right below the crown of your head as he holds you still.

“I bet this is hurting you, huh?” Chris hums, a genuine flicker of sympathy flashing across his face as he lifts his free hand to trace over the duct tape plastered across yours. “Why don’t I help you, hm? Get this off your pretty mouth and let you answer me…”

Your eyes widen, and your head tosses in his hold the second his pointer and thumb grasp a corner of the tape and pull it from your skin.

Chris rips the sticky plastic from your face as if it were a simple bandage over a healed wound, and you cringe hard at the ruthless action. A half-formed scream, tears from your still stuffed mouth turning into frantic cries as he forces you to stay still through the searing pain.

“Feels better, doesn’t it?” He comments passively, pulling the wad of cloth between your aching lips and tossing it onto the bed with the discarded tape.

You cough, your throat is burning, and your jaw is hurting as you try to grit your teeth and speak to him, but your voice is inaudible.

Stripped away from all the pointless screaming and crying you’d done for god knows how long.

He smiles at your attempt to curse and yell at him, his head shaking mockingly as he passes a thumb over your trembling lips. “Shh shhh shhh…just listen to me, sweetheart,” he coos, and you groan in defeat as he repeats his earlier question.

“You understand why I’m doing this to you, right? That it’s not safe for you out there. Not without me there to help you…say you understand, and I’ll take away the pain you’re feeling right now.”

You stare at him, failing to maintain a glare from the strain your mind and body is in.

It would help your sanity if you said no.

Shake your head and build up the courage and will to fight him with all you have, but numbness drags you into a state of complicit survival.

A need to appease him and hopefully garner some relief from your physical exhaustion.

Your lips part but then snap shut when a sharp ache flares in your jaw.

Chris’s face softens completely when he sees the minuscule instance of pain you’re in. “You don’t have to talk if it hurts. Nod for me instead….just like that,” he soothes you in a hushed tone, smiling as you obediently nod your head.

“Atta’ girl…” he praises, a smile slowly forming again as you whine quietly, shutting your eyes tight, letting the few tears you have left pour down your reddened cheeks.

You can’t speak, and you have no freedom to move or motivation to call for help.

And part of you doesn't want to anymore.

Part of you sees no point in doing so.

What’s the point in fighting him when you can barely speak or move a muscle without strain.

Without feeding into his demented perception of your need for him.

It’s odd—feeling defeated but strangely aware of the caring nature of a man who's forced you into such a miserable state.

Chris breathes a sigh of relief, nose nudging against yours as he hums lowly while breathing you in.

Breathing in your desperation.

Your dependence.

Your fear.

Your innocence.

He takes everything you have to offer him, his mind racing with ways to use it against you…

To help you, his newly shattered doll, piece yourself together again.

The correct way.

His way.

a/n: This’ll be a 4 pt series and my prime event for the spooky season. Btw…fiction is fiction and this fic has pretty extensive and extreme themes in it so please don’t continue to read it if any of the plot/context makes you uncomfortable. I don’t tend to hold back on darker themed fics and this one won’t be any different so please keep that in mind.

other links: n/a (might go up on AO3 later)

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

[blueteller]

Do you know how smart Cale actually is? Like- what extent his intelligence can reach?

That's an interesting question! Let's take a look.

From what I know of IQ scores, anything above 120 puts you in top 10% of the population. So I easily see Kim Rok Soo!Cale belonging in that category; of >120 IQ. However, IQ had always felt a little vague to me. It's nice to have a number to put on a scale and all, but what does it actually mean in reality? Let's try this from a different angle.

Gardner's Multiple Intelligences model of divides talent into eight categories, plus one additional one:

Visual-spatial

Linguistic-verbal

Logical-mathematical

Body-kinesthetic

Musical

Interpersonal

Intrapersonal

Naturalistic

Existential

Why not try to measure him up against each one, as no person is actually intelligent in every way and not even a fictional character can excel in all of them (unless they're a Mary Sue or something lol).

Visual and spatial judgment stands for easy reading, writing, puzzles solving, recognizing patterns and analyzing charts well. I think Cale is definitely a pro in this category; he does loves reading and he's fantastic at analyzing data.

Linguistic-verbal is for remember written and spoken information, debates, giving persuasive speeches, ability to explain things and skilled at verbal humor. And while I constantly make fun of Cale for not being able to explain himself, he IS good at using the "glib tongue" and being persuasive, so I think he is very skilled in this category as well.

Logical-mathematical means having excellent problem-solving skills, the ability to come up with abstract ideas and conduct scientific experiments, as well as computing complex issues. Cale is an incredible strategist able to change his plans in an instant, so he is definitely a genius in this field.

Bodily-Kinesthetic Intelligence is a fun one, because I think it's the hardest one to judge, considering that he literally changed bodies. It of course stands for sports, dancing, craftmanship, physical coordination, and remembering better by practice rather than learning theory. Cale... does not like that. However, it doesn't mean he's BAD at it. If he was a genius in this field, however, I believe he would like it a bit more. Thus – I suspect he was average. In the past he was forced to exercise for the sake of survival, but once he was given the option of taking it easy, he quit instantly. He is capable, but does not have any particular predisposition for it.

Musical Intelligence drives me nuts, because we literally do not know, and I dearly wish I did. There was not a single mention of it in the whole series. As much as I want to believe in a cool headcanon of KRS being an unrealized musical genius... I think he was probably average or below average in this.

Interpersonal Intelligence stands for communication, conflict-solving, perception and the ability to forge connections with others. And while you might have some doubts about Cale, I say he IS a total pro in this. Those are all leadership skills, and Cale is one HELL of a great leader.

However...

Intrapersonal Intelligence is where Cale is severely lacking. It could be partially due to trauma, but I think at least some of it comes through his natural personality. It stands for introspection, self-reflection, the ability to understand one's motivation and general self-awareness; and that is Cale's biggest weakness, one that might actually cost him his slacker life dream in the end, due to all the misunderstandings he causes.

The last two, Naturalistic and Existential Intelligence types, are also not really Cale's forte. The first is for things like botany, biology, and zoology, paired with enjoyment of camping and hiking – none of which Cale actually does for pleasure, only because he has to. And yeah, farming is in that category too, but it's not like Cale is actually a real farmer just yet. And the second is for stuff like philosophy, considering how current actions influence future outcomes, the ability to see situations from an outside perspective and reflections into the meaning of life and death – and Cale is REALLY not interested in this type of self reflection.

Which leaves Cale with 4 types of intelligence he excels at, 2 which he is REALLY BAD at, 1 where he's below average and 1 he's probably average, with 1 left completely unknown.

Does this make Cale a genius? Pretty much, yes. Does it also make him stupid in very specific ways? VERY MUCH, YES.

[moghedien]

Shadowheart navigating being a cleric of Selune post game has to be like…the funniest thing to behold

Because she has a few options:

1) just don’t ever do any cleric stuff outside of her little farmhouse cottage and don’t worry about it

2) do cleric stuff but lie and pretend that she definitely knows what she’s doing and wasn’t a Sharran like a week ago

3) do cleric stuff and be honest about being a Sharran a week ago

And like any of those options are potentially hilarious l because if she like actually pursues doing Selunite cleric stuff, she has basically no history and is just popping up out of no where. The cleric and paladin that converted her have been dead/presumed dead for a century. They have no current religious community (the last one they had was forcibly converted to Shar and destroyed) and might actually have reasons to not want to get immediately caught up in one. The likelihood that they would be able to point Shadowheart at any kind of like help or resources is slim as they’d probably be fumbling in the dark with only slightly more context than her about the current state of Selunites

Like literally the only thing that would make any of this easier for them is that Aylin is literally Selune’s daughter and can probably prove that though she seemed to have some issues she needed to discuss with her mommy at the end of her questline so maybe not, and all of that is even assuming Shadowheart goes to Isobel and Aylin for help/direction

So you potentially have Shadowheart stumbling her way into congregations either like “hello fellow Selunites. I too love the moonwitch I mean moonmaiden” or you have her being like “hello I used to follow Shar but I failed at becoming a dark justiciar and now I’m going to follow Selune look I dyed my hair and everything”

Like either she tries to not bring up Shar and pretend she converted randomly or some other way and it immediately becomes clear that she somehow converted and became a cleric knowing very little about Selune and Selunite rituals/practices yet has a lot of preconceived ideas about Selune that are probably wildly wrong even when she’s trying not to be hostile to Selune anymore, and thus immediately becomes suspicious

Or she’s honest about being formerly Sharran and immediately seems suspicious and off because of that as she has to try to explain her life story that she does not remember and how she converted because she met a hot buff lesbian tied up in a magic circle who was a real demigod and it’s not weird that she converted on the spot, she swears! Anyway can someone teach her like the basic beliefs of being a Selunite? The buff lesbian wouldn’t stop fucking her wife long enough to teach her.

But then the more likely option of her just not even trying to deal with the clericy activities of being a cleric and she just minds her own business collecting baby animals and taking care of her family. Which is like a slow burn in its humor potential because presumably she’s not gonna live in the literally middle of no where and there will eventually be neighbors and some kind of community she’s part of, and she’s just becomes known as the nice little half elf girl who loves animals and just takes care of her aging parents, who are devoted Selunites. And her having healing abilities would probably come up, because that’s a useful skill to have, especially in a small community, and healing magic plus Selunite parents would eventually cause people to put two and two together even if she didn’t advertise it. And you know that would lead to more questions about why she doesn’t advertise it and why she doesn’t do any Selunite practices for the community and you know she actually doesn’t seem to know a lot of stuff that other clerics of Selune do/teach, why would that be when she’s clearly a powerful cleric and has a devote family. And also what’s up with that big ass wound on her hand that’s flaring up all the time? Also it’s all very suspicious especially since they all just came from no where one day.

And you know that eventually it would lead to a point where Shadowheart and/or her dad would have to just be like “ok so what happened was…”

[inkblottzz]

grins mischievously and rubs my hands together like a fly

i think human ink would frequently get bored of his hair color and hair style, trying out lots of different things!! he would definitely forget to maintain the dyejob tho so his white roots get REALLY bad until he dyes it again LMAO

while his dads aren't japanese (zephyr is french and idrk about undertop), they enjoy ink showing them japanese culture and participating in traditions and such :-)

ink, since they're immortal, decided he would dedicate his freetime into learning a bunch of different cultures and languages! this always tends to surprise others, since ink's short-term memory is absolute garbage. nobody understands how he remembers EVERYTHING about EVERY culture 😭😭🙏 you CANNOT keep a secret from this mofo no matter what language you speak

i think they would keep a digital diary with a camera! he records important events/moments so they can always look back at them, since he forgets a lot. his camera is mostly filled up with memories with their dads 🫶

ink LOVESS to bake!! he enjoys trying out different recepies and pastries from all around the world, but his favorites are macarons. he enjoys cooking as well, but moreso appreciates baking because of the exact instructions/measurements. (he is autistic like me and needs clear instructions or he will combust real and true trust me on this)

he has WAY too many hobbies for a normal person to keep up with. flute, baking, drawing, painting, writing, dancing, crocheting, knitting, embroidery, singing, gardening, you NAME it. any form of art, they know how to do and are surprisingly good at it

ink struggles with keeping up with his own very very busy mind. they have so many projects he wants to execute, but can only push out a few at a time. he hates having unfinished projects, and will stick with something until the end—for better or for worse.

he loves to paint over his vitiligo spots, or just painting on himself in general. they think it's fun & interesting to see how the spots shift and change on his skin, never growing bored of them.

-> his spots shift whenever code for a new AU is created, soo it's never really consistent LOL

he loves all forms of music, but holds a special place in his heart for songs that include lots of different classic instrumentals, like violin. he loves artists like fish in a birdcage and sparkbird (yes im projecting and you can't stop me)

he sometimes will drink paint out of the blue in front of others just for their reactions. they are priceless to ink and ALWAYS make him crack up so bad.. and then he has to explain that "nonono my paint specifically is okay for me to drink guys im not gonna die dw" ☠️☠️

ANNDDD i should probably stop there.. this post is so long LMFAO 😭😭 honestly most of these are just my normal ink headcanons, human or not, so take these as you will 🗣️🗣️

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for derpsheep behind the cut; weird amnesia Timberkon. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“You can recognize their heartbeats?” Bernard asks incredulously–that is a very creepy and invasive thing to recognize about someone, much less be passively listening to, what the fuck–and then frowns. “Wait, got back from where?” 

“Long story,” Superboy mutters. “Alternate realities were involved. It sucked. But I got back here, and it’s supposed to be right, and there’s people I recognize, but there’s . . . different people, too. And no one here recognizes me. And I thought . . .” 

“That you were either totally insane or just stranded in the wrong reality for no discernable reason with no idea how to find the right one?” Bernard assumes. 

“That, yeah,” Superboy says tightly. “Definitely that.” 

“Good news, I guess, if you are insane, it’s a shared delusion, and if you’re in the wrong reality, so am I,” Bernard says. “Because again, I definitely remember you. And Hawaii. And Superman being dead. And like, all that shit in general. Also you kinda died that one time too? There was a statue, I’m pretty sure. Actually I think there were two.” 

Superboy’s smile is tight and humorless, and he digs his fingers into the inside of his wrist. Bernard has no clue how a dude in such severe and obvious distress can look so fucking good about, like . . . literally everything he’s got going on over there. It’s a lot of “everything”, is all. Superboy is a lot no matter what, obviously, but still. Like, extra a lot. Secret bonus levels of a lot. 

A lot. 

“I mean, there used to be,” Superboy says, and the pained smile he’s wearing turns–bitter, kind of. 

Fuck, Bernard feels so bad for this dude. Like so many levels of so bad. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way but I need to google some shit,” he says as he digs his phone out. Tim is clearly taking his sweet-ass time in the bathroom, and since he isn’t actually in there waiting for Superboy, it’s gotta be a Bat thing, which usually gives him a good fifteen or twenty minutes of fuck-around time before Tim makes it back with the weak excuse du jour. Or, like, three and a half weeks, one very memorable and kinda fucking awful time that Bernard had spent wondering if jumping into the timestream was how vigilantes ghosted you. “And maybe check some forums or something.” 

“I don’t think ‘is this weird dude at the boba shop crazy’ is gonna pop up on Bing, man,” Superboy says, still wearing the same bitter smile. Bernard wonders why he didn’t just go to the Justice League and explain himself to them. Like, they’d probably believe him, right? Or at least they wouldn’t instantly not believe him; they’d check things out or whatever. 

Alternately, though: half-Kryptonian full-telekinetic with Lex Luthor’s DNA and Superman’s face who doesn’t even know if he’s crazy or not.  

So like . . . that seems like an awkward conversation to have with Superman, maybe, Bernard allows. Or just fucking agonizing and terrifying and wildly, wildly likely to end in one of those stupid misunderstanding-based super-fights and, like, maybe also getting drop-kicked into the Phantom Zone because said stupid fight would be against Superman and that is, apparently, what Superman usually does with supervillain Kryptonians. And probably Superboy is having some very understandable issues about getting drop-kicked out of reality right now, if that’s a concern he’s had. Which–the Phantom Zone isn’t the same thing as an alternate reality, as far as Bernard’s aware, but also what the fuck does he know about the Phantom Zone? 

Bernard googles, in quick succession: Superman’s death, the Phantom Zone, and Superboy. He gets a ton of articles and photographs and blog posts with absolutely zero trace of Superboy in a single one of them, a lot of contradicting intel about what the hell the Phantom Zone actually is, and also some blurry candid photos of a ten year-old in ripped jeans and an S-shield hoodie that he’s never seen before in his life. 

. . . so that’s weird, yeah, Bernard observes, blinking down at his phone. 

“Huh,” he says, brow furrowing. “Hey, should I know this kid?” 

“Did you literally just google ‘Superboy’?” Superboy asks, which is notably not an answer to Bernard’s question. 

“Obviously, yeah, the entire internet is in my pocket, why would I not do that,” Bernard replies reasonably, still scrolling through random photos of this completely unrecognizable kid. Said kid continues to look like a total fucking stranger and Bernard continues to have zero clue who he is or why he’s wearing the “S”. Another clone, maybe? Like, an even mini-er mini-Super? Bernard can’t see his face all that clearly in any of the pics, still, but he’s at least got Superman’s coloring, it looks like. 

“Because Tim would give you shit about it, probably, I don’t know,” Superboy lies, because he very obviously does know. Probably better than Bernard does himself, come to think of it, which is kind of a weird thought but also, like, an obviously objectively true one. Superboy’s spent a lot more time with Tim than he has, even having been, like . . . unrealitied and all. 

God, that is still so disturbing a concept, too.