#i mean i Do Know but also every time i replay it really stands out again

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

Man i always forget just how much Liam's entire way of thinking and making decisions is centered around Bethany in Act 1

[kookslastbutton]

Baby Maker ༓ kth (m)

✑ Summary: You're pissed at your husband for being late to your weekly baby-making sessions.

Pairing: husband!taehyung x fem!reader

AU/genre: pwp, fluff, smut, marriage au

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 2,473

Warnings: light fighting, hard dom!taehyung, slight brat sub!reader, make up s*x, rough s*x, manhandling, bl*wjob, teasing, b**b groping, degradation (taehyung calls reader a sl*t), impreg k*nk, f*replay, penetration, r*ding, d*ggy, d*rty talk, d*ck slapping, taehyung refers to himself as daddy, mention of aftercare, trouble taking off lingerie bc yeah it be a whole process sometimes.

A/N: seeing Taehyung on esquire...you cannot tell me he doesn't look good omg 🙈 anyway this is filthy sooo I'm going to rock myself to sleep now bc i work on the moring, pls enjoy 💞

"Sweetheart, I didn't mean to be late. I'm sorry."

Taehyung stands in front of you with pleading eyes. He tries not to drop his gaze below your neck, seeing that you're more than pissed at him for getting home nearly an hour later than planned. He feels bad about it, he really does. But he can also easily see his favorite fiery red lingerie peeking out of your silky robe, making him all the more eager to show you how he can make it up to you.

"Well that's too bad Taehyung because I'm not in the mood anymore." You tighten your arms across your chest and stand your ground. If your husband didn't look like sex on legs all the time this would be a lot easier nevertheless, he will not be getting his dick sucked tonight.

"Are you kidding?" He gives you a 'really' look before reaching for one of your wrists. "You're always in the mood for baby making. Been in the mood for months. Come on sweetheart, how many times do I need to tell you I'm sorry? Let me make it up to you."

"No." You swiftly pull away from him. "I'm showering and then going to bed." You head over to your dresser to grab a pair of pajamas to change into. Are you being petty? Maybe. But you and Taehyung have been trying for a baby over the past two weeks. So him being late tonight just feels like he isn't taking any of it seriously.

"Don't even think about trying to come in here," you spit, moving to close the door of the master bathroom. Taehyung gives a small sigh before stopping the door with his hands. Your eyes avert to the motion immediately—damn his fingers for being so long and sleek.

"Baby I know I shouldn't have been late, and I know you're horny but aren't we being the tiniest bit stubborn here?"

"What the hell did you say?" You can't believe your ears. "You think this is me just being stubborn and horny? No, this is me-, you pause, scrambling for words. "I'm punishing you!" You point at him accusingly.

"Punishing me by withholding sex? From being an hour late tonight? I get it baby, I do but is that what you really want? To take a shower, then go to sleep." He pushes his way through the door and walks up to you until he's towering over you. His warm blonde locks drape over his eyes— you know how soft they feel in your hands. "Or," his deep honeyed voice teases near your ear as he tugs on one of your robe's straps. "Do you want to take off this useless piece of material and I'll show you how sorry I am?" He sets his hands on your hips, tracing down the fabric of your robe. "I'll let you ride me," he husks.

You bite the inside of your cheek, desperately trying to keep yourself from throwing yourself at him. It's not every night that you're allowed to top with a husband as alpha as Taehyung in the bed. And the way his hands are moving so sensually up and down your sides is making you shudder with arousal.

"Fuck you. Fuck you to the moon and back Taehyung."

"Great, let's start that tonight." Taehyung takes it as a go and you pound on his back with your fists when you feel your whole body being slung over his shoulder. He plops you on the bed within seconds and crawls up to you in a straddling position—thighs on either side of your waist. "I swear to god __, our baby better not inherent this stubborn streak of yours." He starts untying the knot of your robe and prys the material open to slip down your shoulders.

"What baby?" You sit up a little to let him remove it. "The only baby you seem to be making is with Park Jimin. You were at his house all day. Or was it Jungkook? Did you have a threesome with them?"

"For fucksake, no I wasn't having a threesome with those idiots who can't even get their dicks out of their pants." He tosses the robe to the side, cock swelling at the sight of you underneath him in lacey red lingerie and black lace garters—this he did not see before. "And I'm not into Jimin, he's too into his porno films. Now enough whining. I said I was sorry."

"You were watching porn with Jimin?!" Your eyes go large as saucers. Apparently, that's all you heard. Taehyung lets out a throaty growl, more than fed up with your attitude tonight.

"No I wasn't! Stop it. I wasn't fucking or watching people fuck." He holds your wrists down on the mattress to keep you from moving about. "You get so goddamn needy. I didn't realize you could get this horny."

"I told you its not about—"

"Shut up and let me kiss you." Taehyung presses his mouth against yours, biting your lower lip like a sin. You squirm underneath his hold but end up moaning when he slips his tongue into the small crease between your lips.

"Taehyung," you let out a breathy gasp when you feel his fully hardened cock brush against your center. Not much else gets to come out after that as Taehyung continues to lick every corner of your mouth, toying with your tongue at the same time.

It's when he finally breaks from your lips to trace wet kisses along the curve of your neck that you can catch your breath again. His firm hold on your wrists also loosen, but you know exactly where they're moving next.

"Did you really expect me to believe you'd put on my favorite lingerie with these godforsaken garters only to not have your brains completely fucked tonight?" He squeezes your breasts and rolls his thumbs around your nipples, feeling them harden with the friction.

You choose to remain silent this time, slightest smirk on your face which no doubt irritates your husband to no end.

"Don't want to say anything anymore Mrs. Kim?" He fiddles with the front of your bra, specifically the tiny hook that's holding the cups together. "Nothing at all? Just gonna lay there and stare at me with those beautiful lusty eyes?"

"You know I was feeling really guilty earlier," Taehyung rasps, leaning back to throw his shirt over his head. "I was afraid you were actually mad at me and at first I think you were. But..." He reaches to unbuckle his belt. "Now you're just acting like a brat to tick me off."

You bite down a whimper when his cock bounces free, practically throbbing to be inside something. You've taken Taehyung many times with tears streaming down your face, each round reminding you of his massive size.

"Fuck," he groans as he takes himself in his palm. "If you want to be treated like a brat so much then it's your lucky day." He straddles your sides again, the head of his cock falling proudly in front of your lips. "Open," he demands, but you bite your lip; feigning innocence.

Your husband is not impressed, however. "Quit acting like you've never seen cock before," he barks. "You're the furthest thing from a virgin so open up."

Rude, you think before slowly sticking your tongue out until it touches the slit of his cock. You know it'll piss him off but you decide it's fun to keep swirling around the sensitive area, collecting the pre-cum dripping out.

"Shit, don't." Your husband groans and screws his eyes shut to keep himself from coming early.

You should take this as a warning but you're far too pleased of yourself so you continue teasing him, making sure a few purposeful moans slip out as you lick around his tan tip.

"Fuck I'm gonna blow my load in ten seconds if you don't stop. Baby, stop."

You ignore your husband's pleas and wrap your lips around the head of his length, sucking it with determination. As if to counter the filthy action you sparkle your eyes up into his dark ones. You make them as big as you can. Anytime now and he'll-

"I said stop you fucking slut!" The words are barked at you without warning. Taehyung takes his cock from you and slaps it across your cheek. A very sticky substance smears on your face. "Now, get my dick wet or nothing's going into that slutty little cunt."

You widen your mouth to take him deeper at his threat but it's too slow—or Taehyung's too impatient. Either way, his thick length shoves to the back of your throat and starts running in and out of your mouth with a vengeance. You choke at the intensity of each thrust, vision blurring due to the tears building.

"Is it too much sweetheart?' He provokes, beads of sweat line his forehead and a vein threatens to pop from his neck any second. "Too big for your pretty mouth to handle?"

You feel yourself clench as the heavy weight of his length glides faster on your tongue. The anticipation of his release is killing you and though you can't speak, right now, you want your husband to make you look like such a messy whore that his come fills your mouth and spills down your tits. Then you want him to flip you over, prop your ass up, and fuck you until burning hot sensation courses through your body.

While in thought, Taehyung takes the opportunity to slip himself out of your mouth. A string of spit can't help but follow with it.

"But—"

"It's plenty wet now," Taehyung smirks at your obvious distress. He moves to take your panties and garter off next. "Fuck," he swears in frustration. "How do you get this off dammit?" You help him wiggle yourself out of the contraption (which ends up taking a good five or six minutes).

As soon as the lace fabric is discarded, you find yourself quickly being lifted on his hardened member. Taehyung makes sure you're well-supported before roughly thrusting up into your wet cunt. Your breasts bounce to the rhythm he sets, tempting him to go faster.

"I promised I'd let you ride me didn't I?"

"Not—what I—had in mind," you pant. "Fuck, Taehyung you're always so fucking big—ah!" You grip his shoulders when his cock perfectly hits your g-spot.

"Good to see you've found your voice again baby. I was beginning to think you were going to give me the silent treatment this whole night."

"Shut—ah shit—yes, Taehyung, right there! Faster, fuck!" You moan, too caught up in the way his cock is making you feel to care about talking back.

"What a filthy mouth on you Mrs. Kim. No one taught you any manners?" He darts his tongue out to gently graze across a nipple. At the action, you start moving with his thrusts; meeting them in sync.

"So good Taehyung." Your eyes flutter shut. "If this doesn't get me pregnant then—"

You squeal when you're suddenly thrown off his cock and turned on your stomach. With your ass positioned nice and high in the air, your husband can see every trace of your arousal.

"Don't worry about that sweetheart." His cock pushes back into your pussy, teeth nipping at your ear ever so gently but enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Daddy's definitely gonna make you a mommy tonight."

Taehyung caves over you to fully cover your back before picking up the same pace as before. "You want my cum baby?" He grunts. "Want me to fill you up and make you round with my child?"

"Yes-yes." You grip the sheets underneath you for leverage. "Want you to put a baby in me Taehyung."

"Fuck—say that again." He growls and continues snapping his hips. The sound of skin slapping on skin is so lewd but you and Taehyung can't be bothered by the noise when you're breathing so heavily in each other's ear.

"I want you to put a baby in me Tae."

"Louder."

"I want—," you struggle to repeat the words when you feel your walls tighten around his length. Your stomach churns too and the way his cock fucks in you gets seemingly harder to take.

"Close baby?"

"Mm." You barely respond, too focused on getting to your high.

"And to think you were simply going to shower and sleep tonight." He circles back to your earlier argument with the cockiest smirk on his face but it's wiped off as quick as it came when you start grinding your hips to meet his thrusts.

"That's it," Taehyung clenches his teeth. "Get yourself off—holy fuck you feel so goddamn tight around me."

"I'm—I'm coming!" Once the cord snaps in you, your eyes roll to the back of your head. Ropes of your cum drip over your husband's length, covering it completely, and down part of your inner thigh. Taehyung's cock twitches in response and his breaths turn into aggressive pants as he starts chasing after his own release.

"Shit baby, shit! I'm so fucking close. Gonna breed this pussy, tell me you want it one more time baby."

"Mm, yes, want it so bad," you let out a strained moan. "Come in me—ah daddy!" His length reaches a little further this time, making you yelp.

"Shit, you okay baby?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Keep moving. It just surprised me."

"If I go too hard, tell me okay?" You respond with the loudest 'mhm' you can.

After a few more broken groans and profanities your husband finally finishes with his cum painting your walls less than thirty seconds later.

A long sigh of relief leaves both your lips when you roll over on your backs—sweaty, sore, and satisfied.

"Wasn't expecting you to call me daddy in bed." Taehyung lazily hovers near your body and presses a kiss to your lips. You allow his tongue to slip in for a minute before shoving him off.

"Don't get used to it, mister. And don't ever slap me with your dick again. I'm all sticky."

"I'm sorry, do you want me to draw you a bath?"

"You best believe I do."

"Yes ma'am." Taehyung goes to get up but he falls back down. "Can you give me like ten minutes first? We went a little hard tonight, I can't really feel my dick."

"You sure about that?" You reach over to gently grip his length.

"Shit—hurts baby."

"Sorry." You grin, not sorry at all. "I'm sure it'll be fine in the morning."

Taehyung looks at you with a twinkle in his eyes. "Are you kidding? It'll be fine by the time I get you in the bath."

A/n: ...goodnight 😇

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[meazalykov]

nobody's type

sydney lohmann x reader

summary: people wonder why you don't want to make the first move..

warnings: insecurities, overall sadness

you stand at the edge of the pitch, the crisp air nipping at your skin as the sun dips below the horizon, casting the bayern munich training ground in a soft, golden glow. 

the stadium lights flicker on one by one, their harsh brightness chasing away the twilight shadows. 

training has ended, and most of your teammates have already made their way inside, but you linger, your feet rooted to the spot as your gaze settles on sydney. 

she’s the last to leave, her laughter ringing out like music as she jokes with a few others– tuva and pernille– who stayed behind. she looks so at ease, so effortlessly beautiful, that it makes your chest tighten with something achingly familiar—a longing that you’ve carried in silence for far too long.

it’s not that you don’t want to talk to her. it’s that you can’t. every time you think about approaching her, the words you want to say dissolve on your tongue, replaced by the bitter taste of insecurity. 

sydney, with her easy confidence and radiant smile, seems like she belongs in a world far removed from yours. sometimes you wonder how you ended up on the same team as her. she’s someone who could have anyone she wanted, someone who would never look twice at someone like you. at least, that’s what you’ve convinced yourself.

after transferring from spurs to bayern munich in 2023, you found a bit of relief. you’ve always struggled with this feeling of inadequacy, this deep-rooted belief that you’re not attractive enough, not interesting enough, not enough in any way that matters. 

you had confidence in your football ability as a striker– but still— you’re awkward and quiet, always feeling out of place even among people who know you best. you’ve never quite managed to shake the feeling that you’re somehow less than everyone else, that the flaws you see when you look in the mirror are just as obvious to everyone around you.

the idea of someone like sydney seeing you—really seeing you—fills you with a fear so intense it’s paralyzing.

so you keep your distance, blending into the background, watching her from afar like you have for months now. 

you’ve learned to be careful, to avoid letting your gaze linger on her for too long when she’s nearby. but even then, it’s like your eyes are drawn to her, seeking her out without you even realizing it. 

you watch the way she laughs, the way her eyes light up when she talks about something she’s passionate about, the way she moves with a grace that seems effortless. and every time you do, that same painful ache settles in your chest, a constant reminder of everything you want but can never have.

you’ve spent countless nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling as your mind replays every interaction you’ve ever had with her. you analyze every word, every glance, every smile, searching for some hint that maybe, just maybe, she feels the same. 

but then the doubt creeps in, the voice in your head reminding you of all the reasons why that’s impossible. you’re not good enough for someone like sydney. you’re too plain, too shy, too broken. and so you push the hope away, bury it deep down where it can’t hurt you anymore, even though you know it’s still there, waiting to resurface the next time you see her.

the sound of footsteps approaching pulls you from your thoughts, and you glance up to see georgia walking toward you. 

she’s one of the few people who seems to notice when you’re struggling, and even though you appreciate her concern, it also makes you feel exposed, like she can see all the things you’re trying so hard to hide.

“y/n,” she says softly, coming to a stop beside you. “you know your crush on sydney is pretty obvious to everyone, right?”

your heart skips a beat, panic flaring in your chest. “what? no, it’s not… i mean, it’s not like that,” you stammer, the words tumbling out in a rush as you try to deny it. 

but georgia just gives you a look, one that says she knows exactly what’s going on.

“it’s okay,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “but, y/n, you’re selling yourself short. sydney likes you. you’re attractive and she sees that but she’s been waiting for you to make a move.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, disbelief washing over you. 

you shake your head, a bitter smile tugging at your lips as you try to process what she’s saying. 

“there’s no way she could like me. i’m… i’m not enough. not for someone like her.”

georgia’s expression softens, her eyes full of sympathy and frustration. “y/n, you’re more than enough. you’re caring, talented, and honestly, anyone would be lucky to have you. but you keep convincing yourself that you’re not worthy of love, and that’s not true.”

you want to believe her, you really do. but the voice in your head—the one that’s been there for as long as you can remember, whispering that you’re not good enough, not pretty enough, not worth anyone’s time—drowns out her words. 

you look away, your gaze drifting back to sydney, who’s now slinging her bag over her shoulder, ready to head inside. the idea of walking up to her, of telling her how you feel, seems impossible. 

you’ve spent so long building these walls around your heart, convinced that no one could ever love you for who you really are, that the thought of tearing them down is terrifying.

“what if she doesn’t feel the same?” you whisper, the fear creeping into your voice. it’s the fear that’s been holding you back all this time, the fear that if you let her in, she’ll see all the things you hate about yourself and turn away.

georgia sighs, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “you’ll never know unless you try. but, y/n, you’ve got to stop tearing yourself down. you’re incredible, and it’s time you start seeing that.”

her words resonate with you, but the insecurities that have rooted themselves in your heart are stubborn. they cling to you, wrapping around your thoughts like vines, choking out any glimmer of hope. 

you want to be the person georgia thinks you are, the person who’s brave enough to take a chance, but every time you try to take a step forward, the doubts pull you back. they remind you of every time you’ve been overlooked, every time you’ve been hurt, every time you’ve convinced yourself that you’re not worthy of love.

you watch as sydney disappears through the doors, the opportunity slipping through your fingers once again.

you can feel georgia’s gaze on you, a mix of concern and sadness in her eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to meet it. instead, you stay silent, trapped in the fear that has held you back for so long, wishing you could be someone different—someone who could believe in themselves, someone who could believe that they’re worthy of love.

as the last traces of daylight fade and the stadium lights cast their artificial glow across the field, you turn to follow your teammates inside. the weight of your unspoken feelings, of your unfulfilled desires, settles heavily on your shoulders, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever find the courage to break free from the chains of your own self-doubt. 

for now, all you can do is hope that one day, you’ll find the strength to see yourself the way georgia does, the way sydney might if you ever gave her the chance. 

but until then, you’ll keep your distance, hiding behind that brick wall you’ve built, afraid to let anyone meet the real you.

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

[haaarry]

Harry and Y/N make-up.

Harry has to be quick.

He and Y/N haven’t been on good terms for about two weeks now, and they agreed to not talk and give each other space so they could think about what to do.

But that hasn’t stopped him from still fulfilling his boyfriend responsibilities.

He still thinks it’s right to text her good morning and good night, as well as leave her little goody baskets at her front door for when she gets off work.

Like today!

He realized the first of the month is coming up, and Y/N has to pay rent. He knows she’s good on cash, but he likes to help her in any way he can (even when he’s supposed to be giving her space) and thought it’d be nice to send her a little something — actually, a quite big amount. He sends her the entirety of her rent through a money-sending app, as well as a few extra hundred dollars. He labels the memo with “rent/groceries/anything, really.” He smiles and presses send. He hopes she doesn’t send it back.

Then, he places down the goody basket he got for Y/N at her door step (filled with all her favorite snacks, as well as a note to let her know he still loves her so she doesn’t forget) and turns quickly on his heels. As much as he would like to see Y/N, he knows she gets home at about this time after work, and he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. He’s already pressing the boundaries as it is.

But, as luck would have it, he’s face-to-face with her as he turns around. His breath hitches in his throat, feeling his body go numb with excitement yet also feeling anxious. He notices Y/N’s eyes go wide.

“Hi,” she says simply, yet in a slightly higher-than-normal-pitch due to being caught off guard.

“Hi,” he returns the greeting. He realizes he must look foolish — standing outside her apartment when they’re supposed to be giving each other space. “I, um-“ he stutters, “brought you this.” He gestures to the goody basket, feeling his cheeks heat. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

Y/N tilts her head around Harry’s body to look at the basket on the ground. She looks back at him and gently smiles. “Thank you,” she looks around nervously. “And thank you for the money. You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” he proclaims. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Y/N’s eyes soften. She takes note of his anxious demeanor and looks at the goody basket again. “Do you want to come inside?” She asks randomly. But not really — she misses him, and she accepts it.

“Yes,” he blurts out. He realizes how eager he sounds, but he doesn’t care.

“Okay,” she smiles and looks anywhere but at him, feeling a warmth encompass her body suddenly.

They enter her home. Harry sets down the goody basket on her kitchen island, taking a second to inhale the familiar scent. It was weird; he used to sleep here every night, but before this moment, he hadn’t been here in two weeks.

“How was work?” Harry abruptly asks, not liking the silence.

“Oh!” Y/N softly giggles. “It was good! I actually had a good day.” She swings her arms back and forth, not sure of how to act or stand. She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous.

“That’s good,” Harry lamely replies, looking down at the design on her kitchen island and tracing it with his finger.

A silence falls between them again, neither of them knowing how to act around the other — given their situation.

“How was your day?” Y/N asks.

“I don’t want to talk about my day,” Harry states, looking up at her. Y/N notices he’s slightly teary-eyed. “What’re we doing?” He asks in an upset tone. “Are we going to be in this awkward state forever?”

“Harry-“ Y/N tries to interject.

“No, really,” Harry continues. “I mean, we’re just going to go on and pretend we’re together, but we’re not really together because you don’t answer my texts and you don’t let me come see you and-“

“Harry,” Y/N says in a stern yet calm tone. She grabs Harry’s face, him not even realizing she had gotten closer to him during his spiel. “I love you.” Her voice is incredibly soft.

Harry looks into Y/N’s eyes, replaying her words in his mind. Her watery eyes match his own, and he feels himself sink lower into her touch, falling into her hands. He closes his eyes, and the salt of his tears burn.

“I love you,” he says back with his eyes closed. “I love you more,” he says with his eyes open.

Y/N shakes her head with a light laugh and sniffle. “No.”

“Yes,” Harry says firmly, inching his face closer toward hers. His lips brush hers, waiting to receive a confirmation his tongue can enter her mouth with either her body language or a simple word. She parts her lips, just barely, and Harry takes the opportunity.

He kisses her, rather sloppily, and their lips create a smooch sound before he slips his tongue into her mouth. Y/N moans, missing Harry's kisses, and falls into his body. She caresses his face and holds onto his jawline with one hand, while the other travels through the hair at the back of his head, slightly tugging. Harry reciprocates the moan and instinctively juts his hips forward, hitting Y/N's pelvis. She laughs into Harry's mouth and pulls away -- although not without Harry whining in disagreement.

"Where ya goin'?" He murmurs against her lips, with a smile. "Need you," he juts his hips forward again.

Y/N becomes shy, resting her forehead on Harry's cheek and giggling. "I can tell." She looks down at him in his pants, pushing hard against the material. "You want my mouth?" She asks bravely while looking up at him, with a mischievous smile.

"Please, baby." Harry grabs hold of her waist and slips his right hand into her pants, wanting to see if she'd gotten wet yet; and she has. "Fuck," Harry moans, slipping his middle and ring fingers easily through her folds, "you're already so wet, baby."

Y/N is already a whimpering mess, moaning into Harry's mouth as he gathers her wetness and brings it up to rub against her clit. "I thought... I..." she struggles to get out, "I thought you wanted me to-" her breath hitches in her throat at Harry slips two of his fingers into her.

"Later, sweet girl." Harry whispers into her ear. "I think you need to be taken care of first, hmm?" The speed of his fingers quicken, causing them to create a squelching noise that sends Y/N into a frenzy.

"But I... I wanna... please," Y/N begs him, ready to lap all over his cock, despite how wonderful Harry's fingers feel.

"You wanna what?" Harry encourages her. "Hmm?" He thumbs at her clit, rubbing circles against it.

Y/N looks up at Harry, doe-eyed. She cradles his dick, bulging through his pants. "I want you in my mouth," she says seductively, and Harry feels himself begin to leak.

She gets down on her knees, not even giving Harry and opportunity to pull his own hand out of her pants before doing so. She lifts her shirt up and over her head and unclasps her bra. She knows how much Harry likes to see her breasts when she takes him in her mouth.

Usually, Y/N likes to unzip Harry's pants and suck him off through his zipper, but today she's eager and pulls his pants all the way down. His cock springs up and points at Y/N's face. The wet tip brushes her lips -- puffy from Harry's kisses -- and coats them in his precum. She tastes it and Harry watches, his chest rising and falling as he eyes the beauty on her knees for him.

"Gonna suck my cock?" He asks her in a taunting yet playful tone. Grabbing her hair, Y/N feels herself getting even more needy for Harry's dick, and she wraps her lips around his tip, closing her eyes. "My pretty girl," he praises her, voice hitching as she takes him deeper. She slides her tongue all around him, getting him nice and wet so she can work him with her hand while sucking on his tip.

"So big," she gushes, jerking him off while looking up at Harry. She slathers a mixture of her spit and his precum onto her nipples, using the head of his dick as a sort of paintbrush. She knows Harry has a peculiar obsession with her tits -- her nipples in particular. Seeing them hard and dripping (from him) gets him going more than anything.

"Ah," Harry throws his head back and sucks air between his teeth. He speaks heavily and grittily. "All mine, right?" He reaches his right hand down and squeezes her nipple. She takes him back into her mouth and groans. "Right?" He persists, squeezing her nipple again before tangling her hair into a makeshift ponytail and giving it a good yank.

Y/N pops him out of her mouth. "M'all yours," she says honestly.

Even when they were broken up, she was his -- and she always will be.

Harry pulls Y/N up to her feet, guiding her by the hold he still has on her hair. He grips her jaw with the other hand and kisses her hard. He's ready to take her, and he can't wait another second.

"All mine." He spins her around and bends her over slightly onto the kitchen island, just enough to have her behind push back against him. Removing her pants is quick. He slips into her, finally, and they voice how good it feels at the same time, such as fucking hell and so big, baby, both in pure ecstasy.

"You're all mine," Harry reiterates with a whimper, breath shuttering against Y/N's neck. "My pretty girl." His hips speed up, knowing this will be quick. His lips drag against her neck as he whispers filthy things to her, causing her to melt even further and push her behind onto him, wanting to take control. They both missed each other so much, and they're finally getting their release.

"Missed you," Y/N manages to get out, almost losing her voice with how hard Harry's fucking her.

"I missed you more," Harry says back with a firm tug on her hair, sending the sensation of pain mixed with pleasure to her scalp. "M'all yours, too," he says as he gets close, and he can't wait to cum. "You want me to cum, baby?" He asks her because he knows how hot she thinks it is -- to perceive that she has the control (she really does. She could tell Harry to cum 30 seconds into sex and he would). "Want my cum inside?"

"Ngggh," Y/N gurgles, knowing she's close too. She breathes frantically and squeezes her walls around his cock as he scrapes his teeth against her neck. "Please."

In no time Harry cums, shooting from his tip deep inside her. His grip on her hair tightens, pulling her hair so tight it almost hurts, but she takes it. The burning pit in her stomach was ignited as well, set off as she felt Harry's cum paint her walls inside her. She cums, clamping down on Harry's dick and gripping the kitchen island for stability.

"Harry," she whines as her legs grow weak.

Harry gives a few more slow strokes of his cock before pulling out. His tip rests on her behind, leaving traces of their mixed juices on her skin. Harry shutters, feeling extra sensitive. He turn her around and falls against her body -- his head limp on her breasts. He falls to his knees and hugs her hips, giving her tummy a kiss before closing his eyes and sighing contently.

Y/N giggles breathlessly, tousling his hair. Just a few short minutes ago, their positions were reversed. She knows how tired and sleepy Harry gets after he cums (if they were in bed, he'd be fast asleep by now) so she lets him rest for a couple of minutes before encouraging him to look at her. Her hands on his face startle him (he was asleep) but he looks up at her with a loopy smile.

"Hi," he says innocently.

"Hey," she says back, still playing with his hair. "You okay?"

Harry stifles a laugh, burying his face against the skin of her stomach. "I haven't been this good in a long time."

Y/N's heart flutters. She knows what he's implying.

"Are we..." Suddenly Harry feels nervous. He doesn't want to say the wrong thing or make the wrong assumption.

Y/N helps Harry up to his feet and rubs the tip of her nose against his with her eyes closed. "I love you," she says simply yet truthfully. "Fuck that break."

Harry's laugh fills the kitchen. He pushes his forehead against hers, feeling as if his heart is going to explode. "I love you more."

[harrywavycurly]

omg if your killer!Eddie requests are open, could you write one similar to 'how long?' where r stays up late when he goes out for you know what and when he comes back, he's kinda shocked to see her up and she asks what's going on?? he'll probably find some sneaky way out of it but I'm wondering what you think ab the situation :)

Hiii lovey!! Oh I love this because we know Eddie loves being able to look down at his watch and know what his wife is doing so I can imagine the look of pure shock when he comes home late and she’s awake! I hope you enjoy this!!💖

-find all things a Killer’s Love here✨

CW: Eddie is a serial killer, mentions of blood

A/N: I didn’t have it in me to make this angsty so it’s kinda fluffy but still gets the point across that even Eddie with his killer instincts can be taken off guard🙈

Eddie lets out a loud sigh as he takes his keys out of the ignition after he pulls into the garage, he rests his forehead on the steering wheel as he closes his eyes allowing the events of the evening to replay in his mind. James was supposed to be an easy task, it was supposed to be an in and out job but somehow it ended up with Eddie not only digging multiple holes in Hawkins’s oldest cemetery just to dispose of the man’s body but he also had to get rid of his new pair of boots thanks to the fact James was a bleeder, another thing Eddie wasn’t really prepared for. When he opens his eyes he smiles as he looks down at his watch and sees the time, it’s well past midnight so Eddie knows you’re snuggled up in bed asleep waiting for him. He quickly grabs his duffle bag and tries to be as quiet as possible when he goes into the house, taking his old beat up boots off by the door.

“Eddie?” He freezes when he hears your sweet soft voice coming from the kitchen. “Honey is that you?” You ask as you poke your head out of the kitchen and into the living room just in time to see him putting his truck keys into the little bowl on the table by the door.

“Did I wake you sweetheart?” He tries to hide the panic in his voice as he slowly uses his foot to slide his duffle bag behind the couch so you can’t see it in the dark living room. “I tried to be quiet.” He adds as he takes a few steps closer to where you’re standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

“I haven’t been to bed yet.” Eddie feels his eyebrow raise at your statement because he can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve stayed up this late and most of them involve him and you in your king sized bed. “Why are you all disheveled?” You ask as he finally is just a few steps away from you allowing the kitchen light to let you get a better look at him.

“You know how poker night goes baby.” You just smile as Eddie’s hands land on your hips before he leans in and places a quick kiss to your lips.

“Steve get a bit rowdy again?” You ask when he pulls away, Eddie just nods before placing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“Someone needed to teach him some manners.” You laugh as Eddie gives your hips a little squeeze. “Now what’s keeping you up hmm? Something bothering you Princess?” He asks making you just shrug as his hands fall from your hips so you can turn and he can follow you into the kitchen. He looks around and can tell by the bottle of honey and some lemon slices on the counter that you were in the middle of making yourself some tea so he quickly grabs the electric kettle and begins filling it with water as you go sit on one of the barstools.

“I think I just missed my husband.” Eddie smiles as he looks over at you as he turns the kettle on. You return his smile and shoot him a playful wink making him chuckle.

“I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to be out so late.” It’s not a lie so Eddie doesn’t feel that bad for saying it, he had every intention of being home and in bed with you well before midnight but then again tonight hasn’t gone the way Eddie had planned.

“It’s okay you deserve to have a guys night every now and then.” Eddie ignores the guilt that tries to take over as you give him a reassuring smile. He just busies himself with adding some honey to the bottom of one of your favorite mugs before placing the sleepy time tea bag inside.

“I missed you too.” He states as the kettle turns off letting him know the water is ready for him to pour into your mug. You smile as he walks around the island and places the mug in front of you.

“Did you really?” You ask in your sweet shy tone that makes Eddie’s knees go a little bit weak. Eddie just stands behind you and gently places his hands on top of your shoulders as he leans down so his lips are right next to your ear.

“From the moment I left the driveway.” You smile at his words and then feel a chill go down your spine as his lips place a kiss under your ear.

“I love you.” Eddie just smiles as he stands up after kissing your cheek and drops his hands from your shoulders.

“I love you too baby.” He watches you reach for your mug but he’s quick to grab it from over your shoulder making you playfully frown at him. “You’ll burn yourself sweetheart…come on let’s get you into bed and by then it’ll be the perfect for drinking.” You just let out a tired sigh as you get off the barstool and take his free hand so he can lead you into the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Your voice is sleepy and slow as you watch Eddie head for the bedroom door after he got you comfortable on your side of the bed with your tea in your hands.

“Just checking the locks and cleaning the kitchen baby don’t worry I’ll be back before you fall asleep.” Eddie watches you just nod your head and he’s well aware that you know he’s lying because both of you know you’re about two sips of your tea away from passing out but you don’t argue with him and for that he’s grateful.

When he’s in the living room he quietly grabs his duffle bag and takes it into the kitchen so he can shove it back under the sink where he normally keeps it hidden under trash bags and cleaning supplies. He grips the sink as he closes his eyes and lets out a few deep breathes trying to get his nerves to settle because from the moment he left the house early this evening till just now he’s been on edge because nothing has gone as planned. But he also can’t help but chuckle to himself as he opens his eyes and shakes his head at the fact that even after years of marriage you still somehow manage to surprise him.

[set-wingedwarrior]

I wasn't sure about writing this post.

Even right now, as I am writing, I still don't know if I will actually post this or just add it to my drafts as nothing more than a personal vent. Regardless, I guess that if I am here I just need to talk about this.

So let's talk.

The way the FNDM has been acting all defeated all month long has really grown to annoy me, and I am tired.

RWBY's future is unsure right now, and all this uncertainty is painful. My feelings are all over the place, swinging from terror and sadness to hope, all the time. I constantly check Kerry's and RWBY's Twitter page in hope to find any kind of news.

I can't give you a certain answer because, again, this is all uncertain. But that also means that there's still hope.

My point is, acting as if we have already lost isn't going to help anyone. Not RWBY, not CRWBY, and not ourselves, the fans who love this show so dearly.

I don't know what is going to happen, but I know that I refuse to stand around and do nothing. It's why I keep checking for news, why I am playing the show both on rooster teeth and crunchyroll all the time for views (I think that on CR I already replayed the whole series at least twice). It's why I am spamming tags, and being loud about my love, and looking and sharing all RWBY and CRWBY posts to give engagement, why I am watching every rwby_vt live on twitch.

I want to know what is going to happen more than anything, not knowing is killing me, but at same time I am terrified of the answer. Despite that, and despite my feelings swinging all around, I am still choosing to have hope.

Hope is a conscious choice, and a brave one. Because I know that being pessimistic is easier, it avoids setting us up for disappointment... but if we rob ourselves of the chance that things could turn out alright then all we're doing is decrease the chance that it will happen, and just anticipate our pain and disappointment.

As Yang said, no hope means we have already lost, and that's not the case. CRWBY, Kerry, is working really hard to save RWBY. Acting defeated already isn't just a disservice to us, but to them specifically and to everything they are currently doing. It's like telling them that it's all useless, that they've already lost, and I find that insulting. I refuse to. They deserve to see that we care and believe in them.

RWBY is THE show about hope. Shouldn't we follow the example?

[seosracha]

Haluu!! Currently obsessed with taylor’s guilty as sin, was wondering if you could make a fic with hanbin in mind? :0

⸻ guilty as sin - SUNG HANBIN

genre: strangers to lovers, fluff (ig??!), imagine

pairing: sung hanbin x gn!reader

wc: 0.6k

authors note: my nonnies have such good music taste cause this song is so pretty too🙏 im sorry if i got the meaning of the song messed up tho 😞😞 anyways requests are open!

Ever since you first saw him, walking so confidently down the hallway, his smile and eyes shining so brightly, you knew it’d be him. You knew Sung Hanbin would be the one you’d be pining for, thinking about endlessly, and daydreaming about. 

Hanbin was kind. Not the type of fake, toxic kind, but genuine sweet type of kind. He was also so smart, his beautiful face being just a simple reflection of his truly incredible mind. 

He was the unreachable, desired boy everyone wanted, and nothing really set you apart from any of the other girls who’d beg for a minute of his attention. 

And maybe fantasizing about him, recalling things that never happened made you guilty, but there was no way you could help it. 

Without ever touching his skin, you had fallen for the boy. 

Your friends kept on convincing you to talk to him, try your chances, but you never did, too afraid of the annoyingly sweet rejection he’d probably serve you with. He had already done so with many of his admirers, and each time he managed to, not on purpose, make you feel wrong for even trying. 

The thoughts of Hanbin accompanied you every day, and it deep down made you feel slightly insane, wondering how much longer you can take his absence in your life. 

So when the moment you continuously dreamt about, was unveiling right in front of you, you still had no idea what to say. You had been admiring Hanbin from afar, and now he was right in front of you, that infectious smile plastered all across his face, as the simple words fell right out of his mouth. 

You imagined it, but never expected it to be so easy for him to say. It surely wouldn’t be easy for you. No matter how much you liked him, putting it into words would never be something you’d be able to do. 

“I really like you, Y/n. I have for a long time, but I wasn’t sure if you were interested in me” that exact moment replayed in your mind, and if he wasn’t standing right in front of you, you’d probably slap yourself. 

Your imagination had become so vivid, that this could well be just another hyper realistic reflection of those thoughts. But it wasn’t. After 3 years you finally got to hear Hanbin say those pretty words to your face, with all of his sincerity and honesty. 

You’d never tell him what you thought about, and he’d never tell you neither, but the affection was enough confirmation to know that it was real, and that it’d finally come true. 

And even though you had done half these things in your head, it was now all so tangible, so warm in your hands. He finally felt so real, and you wouldn’t ever give that away. 

So maybe you were guilty as sin for being so taken away by Hanbin’s image without even knowing him, but at least now you could say it aloud with a proud smile.

[destourtereaux]

treat you better - cedric diggory x fem!reader (part 4: the finale)

read first: part 1, 2, 3 summary: all is well in love and friendship wc: 1.4k follow @lovebirdupdates to join my "taglist"

a/n: dear reader, thank you so much for following this series - i never imagined you would like it so much. i hope you enjoy this final fic, and please do reblog if yes! i’m sad to leave ceddie and harry, but i like how i've ended it :)

The morning after Cedric’s surprise party, you’re woken up by the soft sunlight streaming in through the huge windows of the Hufflepuff common room. Lifting your head up, you hear Cedric grumble, arms tightening around you. The scene feels so cozy that you don’t want to return to reality - but there’s a Herbology midterm coming up, and you’ve never been a natural at the subject, unlike a certain Hufflepuff. And so, you begin extricating yourself from Cedric’s embrace, which is no easy feat.

“How’s it feel to be seventeen, Ceddie?”

You get a groan in response.

“Alright, alright, then you stay put, but I’ve got to go study. I’m not a genius like you,” you tease, squirming in your efforts to slide out of his grasp.

“‘M not a genius, Y/N/N. You help me all the time. Don’t go, I know you’re ready for it, you don’t need anymore studying,” comes a sleepy protest. 

“Mm… thank you for your confidence, but I assure you I am not in the least prepared. And what is all this bad advice coming from a prefect,” you raise an eyebrow, before finally slipping out of Cedric’s arms, and standing up immediately to avoid being pulled back in. 

You feel the loss of Cedric’s warmth around your shoulders, and it weakens your resolve far more than it should, so you figure you need to leave as soon as possible, before grey eyes melt you into a puddle and back into his chest.

“Oh, fine. Leave me right after spending the night,” Cedric jokes, fully awake at last. He chuckles at the flush on your cheeks from this statement, and dodges your hit to his arm. “Just kidding, darling. Thank you for the party. Now go do what you have to do, I know you’re a busy girl.”

You smile softly, before tiptoeing up to ruffle his hair, and turn to leave. The gray eyes don’t leave you until you’re fully out of sight.

******

Climbing through the portrait hole, you see Ron and Harry sitting on the carpeted floor in front of the hearth, playing Wizard’s Chess, and Hermione engrossed in a book on the nearby couch. The scene is so familiar and comforting that it brings an involuntary smile to your face, before you wipe it off, the fight replaying in your head. 

Ron is the first to see you, freezing mid-check, and gives a weak wave. Harry turns, and so does Hermione, with the former also stiffing up, and the latter offering a sweet smile. Hermione then looks back, and, finding the two boys silent, rolls her eyes, and jerks her head in your direction, glaring at them.

Spurned, Ron and Harry stand up, and walk over, looking so dejected that you almost feel sorry for them.

“Y/N - it’s nice to see you again,” Ron begins, his expression sheepish. Harry nods to echo the sentiment.

“We just wanted to apologize for that night. For the mean things we said. None of it was true, and it was of no fault on your end,” Ron confesses.

Your eyes soften, and give him a pat on the shoulder, “thanks Ronnie. And I expect you’ve said the same to ‘Mione?” giving him a pointed look, to which he nods fervently. At this, you offer a smile at last, and seeing this, Ron seems to realize he’s forgiven.

“I’ll give you two some space then,” he says, guiding Hermione away, and leaving Harry alone with you in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Harry gestures for you to sit, and the two of you settle in on the carpet.

“Y/N/N - I’m really, honestly sorry. I had no right to say what I said, and I’ve felt horrid about it every day since then. I know you’ll always have my back, and some Yule Ball date would never change that. I hope you’ll forgive me,” the black haired boy finally blurts, the words spilling out of him.

Your resolve crumbles. I mean, this is Harry. One of your best friends. You could never stay mad at him, no matter how much he messes up. It’s like he said: you have each other’s backs. So you lean forward and hug him, breathing in the smell of broom polish and treacle toffee that you had missed incredibly, feeling the boy physically relax into your touch.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Harry chimes, as you pull out of the hug.

“Yes, I do. And I hope you’re okay with that,” you share, crimson spilling onto your cheeks.

Harry nods, a grin spreading across his face, “I am, really. I know I acted in jealousy at the ball, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually felt romantically towards you - not that you’re unlikeable, you know, just -”

You laugh out loud, cutting him off, and offer a nod, “I get it, don’t stress yourself out, mate.”

He nods in relief, “you’re my best friend, Y/N/N, and that’s it. I love our relationship, and I do not want it to ever change.”

You nod, feeling better than you have in nearly a month.

Ron and Hermione choose that exact moment to enter the room, the guilt of eavesdropping written on their faces. But you’re far too happy to care - the gang’s back together.

******

Over the next month, life returns to normal, or rather, a new normal. Hermione is hanging out with Krum as much as possible, to make the most of their time together before the tournament ends and he returns to Durmstrang. You don’t see her nearly as much anymore, but it’s understandable. 

Instead, you spend your days either studying out on the greens with Harry and Ron, or hanging out with Cedric, going to Hogsmeade’s various little cafes.

The second tournament task comes along, and you, Hermione, and Ron are pulled into the headmaster’s office then sent to the bottom of the Black Lake. When you awake, Cedric is treading water to keep the two of you above the lake, and you’re quickly pulled out and given a warm towel. Since Cedric finished first, the two of you rest in the champion seating section, and the boy keeps asking you if you’re okay, despite your fervent exclamations that you’re probably doing better than he is.

His friends soon surround him, arriving with endless teasing about how you’re the person “he’ll sorely miss,” and Cedric flushes scarlet at their words, refusing to meet your eyes. Eventually, he manages to shove them all away, and looks down to see you grinning.

“Ced, just so you know, I would’ve sorely missed you too,” you admit, before pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

Suddenly, Cedric could care less about his friends. He feels warm and dry and cozy, not a trace of the Black Lake’s eeriness on his mind.

******

A few weeks later, and it’s your birthday. Cedric had wracked his brain for ways to top your surprise party for him, and enlisted the help of the trio to do so. Hermione contributed all your likes and dislikes: she knew you like the back of her hand; Ron got Fred and George to put together a little sparkler show for you, and Harry was in charge of inviting all your closest friends.

The day of, you wake up to Cedric’s voice, before he gives you five minutes to pick an outfit, then promptly blindfolds you and leads you out to the courtyard, where the cutest picnic party had been set up. You laugh in delight, ecstatic, and after a quick kiss for Ced, rush over to meet up with your friends. 

As you catch up over drinks with them, two boys, one Gryffindor, one Hufflepuff, are standing a distance away, both looking at you with slight smiles.

Soon, the sky is darkening and the party growing more and more uproarious. You spin around to see Harry and Cedric talking, and grin. Strolling over, you place an arm around each. Cedric kisses your hair, and you give Harry a tight hug.

“Thank you for all of this,” you say, “seriously. I’ve never been happier.”

Before they can reply: you were never one for cheesy emotions, you (forcibly) pull them toward the karaoke machine, where Ron and Hermione are singing their hearts out.

****** THE END! interested in my other works? see my masterlist!

[ladyxnocturnal]

His Birthday Surprise

Leon Kennedy X Fem Reader

Summary: It is Leon Kennedy’s Birthday and decided to set him a little small birthday party with Chris and the rest of the crew. But little did he knew, you had a little birthday gift for him.. Congratulations Dad!!

{A/N: I decided to write little something that’s wholesome for a little change! This idea came across my head so fast it’s so cute! Enjoy! 🥹💞 also I’m sorry if my writing isn’t good today I’m very tired LOL and it might be short I’m sorry :((}

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You did it all. You made sure every plan was set just perfectly for your husband’s special day. Every year you went all out with yourself to set the perfect party for your husband. Leon would always tell you that you didn’t have to do such a thing but you insisted in every way. Leon was special to you, you wanted him to feel special in every moment or way or to even show him how he really means to you. You loved seeing him happy and loved.

The plan was set out very perfectly, like usual every year. Never forgetting to invite Chris and Claire. You didn’t want to mess things up for your husband’s special day. You even had a surprise in the waiting you were dying to already spill out but you just couldn’t yet. When it gets to gifts, you knew you had to save your last. You didn’t even tell Chris and Claire this big surprise you had for Leon. You knew Leon wanted this and you even wanted this to happen in the future. You both tried for months but it was hard to go through. But you made sure that you were positive with the doctors if you’re pregnant. Becoming a parent is going to big responsibility but you were so excited to carry your lovers child to raise, to care, and love. You could already imagine Leon’s reaction, replaying it in your mind was making a smile plaster onto your face.

Leon was wondering around the kitchen to look at those cute decorations you hung around the place. So many balloons scattered over the floor, the banner reading ‘Happy Birthday Leon!’,, cussing him to chuckle for how adorable this was of you. He noticed you standing with a smile on your face, in your little own world which made him confused for a moment, heading over to you to wrap his strong arms around your waist to pull you in to him for a sweet embrace.

“You okay there sweetheart? What’s on your mind?” His voice was smooth like butter from how deep it was. You hummed sweetly as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Oh- Yes! I’m okay, I’m just- making sure everything is just set and perfect that’s all.” You quickly thought of an excuse to hide your excitement for your surprise later on. Leon chuckled, pressing his lips against yours lovingly, looking deep into your eyes.

“Everything is all perfect like always. You really out did yourself again this year, you really didn’t have to do this you know?” When he said that you poured like some child, shaking your head. “Lee, I don’t wanna hear it! I love doing this, I love you and it’s your special day! You can’t stop me.” You huffed, your eyes lighting up from that pout you put on which made your husband smile from adorable you really are.

God he loved you so much, he was so happy that he made the best decision in his life to spend of the rest of his life with you. You were just perfection in his eyes, how did he get so lucky with you? “Alright Alright, if you really say so sweetheart.”

Just in time, you heard a knock on the door which made you perk up with joy, rushing to the door to see Chris and Claire outside the door frame. You smiled as you allowed them to come in, Claire walking in first empty handed but poor Chris, Carrying gifts that reached to the height of his head.

“You can just set the gifts over there Chris, did Claire make you carry things again?” You laughed a bit, helping him out to the table to place the gifts down. “You bet. But it’s okay really, I’m used to all of this shit anyways” he chuckled, helping you out with the gifts but turned his head to face Leon. “Happy Birthday Leon, how’s the old age?” He teased causing Leon to chuckle and play along “I’m not THAT old Chris, you’re getting old too you know but thanks.”

You went over to the counter to pick up a party hat to place over Leon’s Head, smiling with delight. “There we go, Party hat for the birthday boy!” You chimed from satisfaction.

Leon looked down at you, grinning. “Is this really necessary?”

“Of course it is! It’s important.” You clapped your hands with that sweetness tone in your voice.

Claire laughed as she let a pat on Leon’s back. “Wow, that party hat doesn’t suit you at all Leon but it is your birthday anyways.” She smiled, turning to you. “Shall we get to the cake so the birthday boy can blow out the candles?”

You couldn’t even agree more, nodding as you took Claire with you to get the candles to place on top of the cake. “Say chris, you have a lighter don’t you?” Chris immediately tossed you his lighter which you thankfully caught just in time, lighting up the candles on the cake.

“There we go! Time to sing happy birthday!”

All of you surrounded the cake, starting off to sing Happy Birthday, Leon blowing out the candles.

“What did you wish for Leon?” Chris asked as he patted onto Leon’s shoulder. “A car.” He joked which caused Chris to laugh. “You don’t need one for how bad to reckless drive.”

Claire rolled her eyes with a laugh. “I agree, you don’t need a car Leon. But let’s have cake now! I can’t wait any longer.”

With that being said, the all of you enjoyed slice of cake. Talking about the slightest little things. All of you even played some bits of party games to bring more of the enjoyment to Leon’s birthday party. Seeing Leon having fun and happy was the most you all wanted and spending time with Chris and Claire. Now, it was time to open gifts and you couldn’t wait till the big surprise you had for your husband.

“Open my first.” Christ suggested, having that confidence strike into his tone.

Leon reached over to the box to tear through the wrapping paper to open up the folds of the cardboard box. “Oh fuck yes. Just what I need.” He pulled up a new leather jacket to show off which made you smile and Claire folding her arms.

“I knew you’d like it, you’re all about the leather shit.” Chris teased with a chuckle, looking over at Claire. “You’re next.”

“I’d say you’ll like my gift even better Leon.” Claire smiled, watching Leon as he picked up Claire’s gift that seemed to be in a very fragile box which made him even more curious. “Interesting..” he spoke to himself as he made sure to open the box carefully to see it was a new handgun which made him gasp like a little kid. “I figured you’d enjoy a new gun.” Claire quickly added, feeling that confidence boost her up.

“It’s actually really nice, thanks claire, I’ll need to use this more often.” Leon placed the hun back into the box to sit to the side carefully. Your excitement now showed out more when it was your turn to give your lovers surprise gift. But you also felt nervous for his reaction, you knew it wouldn’t be bad at all. You both wanted this for a long time now and now it’s the perfect time. “Now it’s my turn.” You giggled as you never took your eyes off of Leon.

Leon smiled, taking your gift in his hands to unwrap. He felt puzzled when he pulled out a baby’s onesie, holding it up with a grin. “I don’t think this will fit me..-“ he joked but noticed something else in the box which made his eyes widen from shock. “No fucking way-“ Your smile grew bigger but Chris and Claire was confused. Leon held up your pregnancy test which even made Chris and Claire in shock, looking at you. “You’re? Pregnant?!”

Little beads of tears started to form in your eyes from happiness, nodding in response. Leon jumped out of his seat to pick you up to hold you in a big hug, swaying you around like a rag doll. “I’m going to be a dad! We are going to be parents!” His reaction was just the sweetest thing to ever happen. You giggled, holding onto him tight. “I wanted to tell you sooner but I had to surprise you today.”

Leon pressed his lips against yours over and over, smothering you with his kisses, holding you close to him from how excited he is. “This is the best gift that ever happened to me, I can’t wait to raise a family with you. I love you so much.” Chris chuckled at this sweet moment. “Wow Leon, didn’t know you had it in you. I better be the uncle here.”

Claire shook her head with a laugh, nudging Chris from his jokes. “Let them have this moment, then maybe you’ll be uncle Chris.”

End

[linoalwaysknows]

Shattered Promises

Pair: Reader x chan

Tw: break up, getting stood up lmw if I missed any!!

(This is my first post, so please excuse any mistakes, and if you have any advice, I would be happy to take it!! Also, i didnt do a word count so apologies for that!! Enjoy <33)

:You and Bang Chan have a loving relationship marked by his thoughtful gestures, like flowers and special dates. However, Chan’s demanding work schedule increasingly sidelines your time together. Despite his frequent apologies, he repeatedly stands you up, leaving you feeling neglected and unimportant. After another missed date, you confront Chan about the emotional distance and broken promises. Chan suggests taking a break, and you decide to end the relationship. The story ends with you reflecting on the end of your relationship, surrounded by reminders of happier times, and coming to terms with the fact that his love couldn’t overcome the demands of his career.

Your apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustle of the wind outside. The room was adorned with mementos of happier times: photographs of you and Chan at various dates, the dried flowers he had given you, and the soft glow of a candle he had gifted you on your last anniversary. You looked around at these reminders of the love he once showered upon you, and the ache in your chest grew heavier.

Chan had always been attentive and loving. He was the kind of person who surprised you with flowers on ordinary days, who planned elaborate dates to keep the spark alive, and who held you close during quiet evenings. His affection had been a constant source of joy and comfort. But recently, his work had begun to overshadow everything, and the promises he made seemed to dissolve into the busy ether of his life.

Tonight was supposed to be special. It was a night you had planned weeks in advance, but as you checked your phone for the umpteenth time, there was no message from Chan. The time for your date had long passed, and still, there was no word from him.

You tried to distract yourself, but your mind kept replaying past conversations, his apologies becoming more frequent and less convincing. Finally, you couldn’t take it any longer. You dialed his number, and after a few rings, he answered, his voice tinged with fatigue.

“Hey, Chan. Where are you?”

There was a moment of silence before he responded. “I’m really sorry, but I’m still caught up at the studio. I thought I’d be done by now, but things have gone awry.”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. “This is the third time this month you’ve stood me up, Chan. I understand you’re busy, but you’ve been promising to make time for us, and it’s just not happening.”

His voice softened, but there was a distant quality to it. “I know. I’m really sorry. I just need a bit more time to finish this up.”

“Time,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady. “That’s all you keep asking for. But every time I wait, it’s like you’re not even trying to be here. I feel like I’m losing you.”

You could hear the guilt in his voice as he spoke. “I don’t want you to feel that way. You mean so much to me, more than anything else.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always choosing work over me?” Your voice cracked, the frustration and hurt spilling out. “I need to feel like I’m a priority in your life, not just an afterthought.”

Chan was silent for a moment before replying, “I understand if you’re upset. I really do. I just wish I could make it right.”

You felt the tears welling up, your vision blurring. “I don’t want to keep feeling like this, Chan. I need someone who’s present, who makes an effort. I can’t keep waiting for promises that never seem to come through.”

His sigh was heavy with resignation. “If that’s how you feel, then maybe it’s best if we take a break. I don’t want to hold you back from finding someone who can give you what you need.”

The finality in his words was like a cold, heavy weight pressing down on your chest. You had hoped for a solution, some compromise, but it seemed that even his love wasn’t enough to bridge the growing chasm between you.

“Maybe you’re right,” you said quietly, feeling the sting of the truth. “Maybe this is for the best.”

You ended the call and set your phone down, the room feeling colder and more desolate than before. The flowers and memories seemed like cruel reminders of a love that, despite its depth, could not withstand the distance and broken promises.

You sat in silence, the weight of the decision settling over you. It was over now, and all that remained were the echoes of what had once been—a love that had been beautiful but was ultimately overshadowed by the demands of time and circumstances

Tag: @kairoot

[goldfades]

angsty blurb w/Trevor🤭

you asked and you shall receive…

─ warnings | angsty asf, don’t say i didn’t warn ya! cheating, trevor is a fraternity ASSHOLE, just mean ass shit

you’d heard the stories about trevor but you’d chose to ignore them — and now, tears streaming down your eyes you really wish you hadn’t. giving him the benefit of the doubt multiple times after he’d shown you exactly who he really was, trying to ignore the warning signs.

as you sat there on his couch, tears cascading down my cheeks, you replayed every moment, every warning sign you had chosen to ignore. it started with little things, subtle remarks that cut deeper than they should have. each time, you brushed them off, convinced that beneath his rough exterior lay a heart of gold. the lies, oh the lies! they wove a web so intricate, so deceptive, that you found yourself trapped before you had even realized. he promised change, redemption, but now you realized it was all just another layer of deceit.

"her, trevor?" your voice came out quiet but fuming. "her?"

she was the complete opposite of you — looks, personality and everything else. and yet, despite the glaring differences between you, trevor had chose her. the realization cut like a knife through your already wounded heart. how could he betray you with someone so unlike you in every aspect?

her presence haunted you, her image etched into your mind like a scar you couldn't erase. you couldn't help but compare yourself to her, picking apart every flaw that made you feel inferior in trevor's eyes.

"i-i didn't mean for it to happen," he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. "it was a mistake, i swear. you know you're the one i love."

"you don't fuck other people when you're in love, trevor!" you shouted, your voice coming out shaky as you watched his expression change from emotional to slightly agitated, as if you were the one who was inconveniencing him.

"come on, don't be so dramatic," he scoffed, his voice laced with contempt. "it was just a mistake. you're blowing this way out of proportion."

his words hit you like a slap in the face, his lack of remorse fueling the fire of your anger but also deepening the wound. how dare he dismiss your pain so callously, as if his infidelity was something trivial?

"you did it more than once, trevor. you're a fucking traitor," your voice broke as you spoke, feeling all the emotions from the last 8 months come down on you. how did something so perfect, become something so terrible?

eight months of love, laughter, and shared dreams now felt like a cruel joke. the memories of happiness now tainted by the bitter taste of betrayal.

his expression remained indifferent, as if your pain meant nothing to him. it was a cruel realization that he was never the person you thought he was. the man you loved had been nothing but a facade, a mask hiding the true nature of his deceitful character.

with a deep breath, you squared your shoulders, meeting his gaze with determination. "i'm done, trevor," you declared, each word dripping with finality.

"oh trust me, you'll be back. like you always do," trevor's voice came out so bitter, you almost didn't recognize him. is that all you were to him? a mug, a girl who always came back? who was always there?

for a moment, doubt threatened to creep in, whispering its insidious lies in the nooks of your mind. had you really been so blind, so naive to believe in his empty promises over and over again?

but then, something inside you shifted. anger surged forth, fueling the flames. you refused to be reduced to a mere afterthought, a pawn in his selfish games.

"no, i won't," you countered, your voice firm. "i won't be, i deserve more than being treated like an option, like a backup plan for when it's convenient for you."

with that, you turned away, leaving trevor standing there, his words hanging in the air like a bitter echo.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[velvethopewrites]

Happy destiel/castiel day! Here, have a drabble of warm fluffy fluff to start your week off right! September 18th, baby! (I’m a dork, especially for that angel!) 🤗🤓😇

Just Cas

“You know, I remember it like it was yesterday.”

Cas stops rinsing out his coffee cup and glances over at Dean, sure that the confusion is clear on his face.

“You walking into that barn. Changing my life. Making me doubt all the life choices that led to me being unable to tell you how smokin’ hot you were.”

Cas turns back and drops his head, smiling. He finishes the remaining few cups and turns around as he dries his hands. He takes a deep breath and leans back against the kitchen counter, making sure to keep his expression neutral. This is the same dance they do every year and Cas loves it.

“You didn’t think I was “hot”, Dean. You were scared, confused, and more than a little pissed off, as a matter of fact.”

Dean smirks as he stands up from the table, a knowing look on his face. “Okay, yeah. Fair. But later on, every time I replayed that scene in my head you only got hotter and hotter, babe.”

Dean moves forward and wraps his arms around Cas’s waist, smelling of sunshine and leather. Basically he smells like Baby after he’s given her a nice cleaning and long drive to ‘stretch her legs’. Unsurprisingly, it is also one of Cas’s favorite scents. Dean leans forward, heat and mischief in his eyes.

“We could do a reenactment today, in the bedroom, if you know what I mean. We could dig out the old trench from the back of the closet, light some sparklers and go to town.” As if to prove his point, Dean leans in even closer, bringing their bodies into contact.

Cas snorts before he can stop himself, his neutrality over the subject disappearing like the soap bubbles down the drain behind him. “Really? You want to be intimate while I’m wearing that coat and you’re…what? Holding cheap and dubious pyrotechnics behind me? Dean.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to re-capture the romantic moment we met, Cas. Nothing wrong about that. If you want, I could pretend to stab you again.”

“With a knife or with something else?” Cas deadpans, hearing his voice go deeper even as Dean’s eyes dilate in reaction.

“Hmm, we’ll leave that part open for discussion.” Dean moves in again and they’re suddenly kissing. Cas thinks how glad he is that he gets to have this. Gets to have Dean. Oh, if only his younger, angelic self could see him now…

Dean eventually breaks their kiss and waggles his eyebrows, making his handsome face look silly and playful. Yet he’s still beautiful. “Well, what do you say? Up for some hanky-panky in the middle of the day to celebrate the anniversary of your entrance into my life, O’ Angel of Mine?”

Cas bites his lip and doesn’t say anything, tilting his head for old time’s sake as though he’s debating his next move. He gently takes Dean’s hand and turns him around to lead him from the kitchen. Yes. He will take this time to be with Dean. As a present to himself. As a present to both of them.

And later, when they are both sated, naked, and still tangled in the sheets of their bed, he will tell Dean anew all the ways that he’s changed him - from that blunt, cold unfeeling angel into this, whatever he is - a flawed, no-longer-bound-with-celestial-intent being that somehow loves his simple life. Just as it is. Dean is still Dean and he is finally, just Cas. Loved and known, at last.

Tagging @fellshish and @canonblastedships @clarkenting for some reblogs, help a strange sad writer girl bestie out. 😇🥰

[ltash]

Forever

Ep-2 "Face Off" SimonGhostRileyxFemaleReader

"Right beside you is where I belong, right beside you I am home."

As Simon watched Andrea disappear into the hallway, he couldn't shake off the emotions swirling within him. The way she had looked at him and spoken to him—it felt like something was blossoming between them. He shook his head, trying to ground himself in reality. It was silly to get so hung up on a girl he hardly knew.

But as much as he tried to dismiss his feelings, he couldn't ignore the fluttering in his stomach or the quickened pace of his heartbeat whenever he thought of her. He knew he was being swept up in the moment, but there was something about Andrea that made him feel more alive, more hopeful.

As he walked to his next class, he replayed their brief conversation in his mind, savoring every word and every smile. He wondered what it would be like to get to know her better, to share more moments like the one they had just experienced. For the first time in a long while, Simon felt a sense of excitement about what the future might hold.

In the next class, Simon found it a bit easier to focus. His thoughts were still tinged with memories of Andrea, but he also felt a renewed determination to excel. Maybe, just maybe, if he could show his true self and be confident, he might find the courage to bridge the gap between them.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, with Simon navigating through his classes and trying to stay attentive. Each time he saw Andrea in the hallways or caught a glimpse of her from afar, his heart would skip a beat. He couldn't help but smile, feeling that perhaps things were starting to change for the better.

By the time the final bell rang, Simon felt both exhausted and exhilarated. He gathered his things and headed towards the school gates, wondering if he might see Andrea one last time before heading home. As he stepped outside, the cool breeze of the late afternoon greeted him, and he took a deep breath, feeling a sense of contentment and anticipation.

Simon stepped outside, the cool breeze against his skin a refreshing contrast to the heated emotions within him. He looked around, eyes darting across the groups of students streaming out of the school, searching for the familiar sight of Andrea. He caught a glimpse of her at a distance, smiling with a group of friends. The sight of her was like a soothing balm, calming his nervous anticipation.

Before he could approach her, a hand clapped on his shoulder, jolting him out of his reverie. He turned to see Tommy standing behind him, a sly grin on his face.

"Hey, daydreamer," Tommy teased, his grin widening. "Spying on your crush again?"

Simon rolled his eyes, but he couldn't suppress the smile tugging at his lips. "It's not like that," he protested weakly, knowing full well it was exactly like that.

Tommy laughed, giving his brother a light shove. "Yeah, right. So, are you going to talk to her or just keep staring from a distance?"

Simon hesitated, glancing back at Andrea. "I don't know. What if she thinks I'm weird?"

Tommy's expression softened. "She stood up for you today, didn't she? I think that means she doesn't think you're weird. Just go for it."

Taking a deep breath, Simon nodded. "Alright. Here goes nothing."

He squared his shoulders and started walking towards Andrea, his heart pounding in his chest. As he approached, one of her friends noticed him and nudged Andrea, who turned to face him with a curious smile.

"Hi, Simon," she greeted, her eyes bright with recognition.

"Hey, Andrea," Simon replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "I just wanted to say thanks again for earlier. You didn't have to do that, but it really meant a lot to me."

Andrea's smile widened, and she shook her head. "Of course I had to. No one should have to deal with those jerks alone."

Simon felt a surge of gratitude and admiration. "Still, it was really brave of you. I don't think I could have handled it like you did."

Andrea shrugged modestly. "Sometimes you just have to stand up for what's right. Anyway, I'm glad I could help."

There was a brief, comfortable silence between them, and Simon felt his confidence growing. "So, um, do you maybe want to hang out sometime? Get to know each other better?"

Andrea's eyes sparkled with interest. "I'd like that. How about tomorrow after school?"

Simon grinned, his nerves finally settling. "Yeah, that sounds great. I'll see you then."

As he walked back to Tommy, who was waiting with a proud look on his face, Simon felt lighter than he had in a long time. The future suddenly seemed a lot brighter, and he couldn't wait to see what it held.

Tommy clapped Simon's back again, a satisfied grin on his face. "See, I told you. She's into you, my man."

Simon couldn't help but smile, still reeling from his unexpected conversation with Andrea. "I guess so. I just can't believe she agreed to hang out with me."

As they started walking home, Tommy nudged him teasingly. "Oh, come on. Who wouldn't want to hang out with you? You're a catch."

Simon laughed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pride. "Thanks, Tommy. I just hope I don't mess it up."

"You won't," Tommy said confidently. "Just be yourself. She obviously likes you for who you are. Besides, you're the coolest brother ever."

Simon felt a warmth spread through him at Tommy's words. "You're not so bad yourself, little bro."

They walked in companionable silence for a while, the events of the day playing over in Simon's mind. The way Andrea had stood up for him, their brief but meaningful conversation, and the promise of spending more time together all filled him with a sense of hope and excitement.

When they reached home, Simon couldn't wait to tell his mom about his day. He knew she would be thrilled to hear about Andrea and how she had helped him. As he walked into the house, he felt a surge of determination. He was ready to embrace whatever the future held, with Andrea by his side and Tommy's unwavering support.

Simon's mom, a warm and caring woman, was sitting on the living room couch, reading a book. She looked up as he and Tommy entered, a smile lighting up her face.

"Hey, boys," she greeted warmly. "How was your first day of school?"

Simon grinned, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. "Mom, you won't believe what happened today. I met this girl—"

Tommy interjected with a teasing grin, "And she's totally into him!"

Their mom's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Oh? Tell me more."

Simon took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts. "Her name is Andrea. She's new, just moved here from the States. She's in my class, and she... well, she stood up for me when some boys were giving us a hard time."

Their mom's smile widened, pride evident in her expression. "That sounds like quite the girl. How did she stand up for you?"

Simon recounted the incident in the hallway, feeling a mix of admiration and gratitude as he spoke. "She was so confident, Mom. She told them off and threatened to report them to the principal. It was incredible."

"And then," Tommy added, "Simon asked her to hang out, and she said yes!"

Their mom's eyes gleamed with delight. "I'm so proud of you, Simon. It takes courage to ask someone to hang out, especially after a day like that. When are you two meeting?"

"Tomorrow after school," Simon replied, his excitement growing again. "I'm a little nervous, but she seems really nice."

Their mom nodded encouragingly. "Just be yourself, sweetie. She already likes you for who you are. And if she stood up for you like that, she must see the wonderful person you are."

Simon felt a warmth spread through him at his mom's words. "Thanks, Mom. I hope it goes well."

"It will," she assured him with a gentle smile. "Now, how about we have some dinner? You can tell me all about the rest of your day."

Andrea walked towards her home, taking in the familiar sights of her middle-class neighborhood. Her father, Herschel Shepherd, was a Brigadier in the US Army. Sadly, things had never worked out between her parents, and her mother had eventually divorced him, returning to her hometown of Manchester with Andrea.

As she approached her house, Andrea's thoughts drifted to Simon. His cute smile, his tall frame, and the way his face lit up when he saw her—all of it played over and over in her mind. There was something genuine about him that she found endearing.

When she reached home, her mother, Caroline, was in the kitchen preparing dinner. She looked up as Andrea entered, her face lighting up with a welcoming smile. "Hey, sweetheart. How was your first day at school?"

Andrea smiled, dropping her bag by the door. "It was good, Mom. I met some nice people. And... there's this boy, Simon."

Caroline raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "Oh? Tell me more about him."

Andrea felt her cheeks warm slightly as she recounted the day's events. "He's in my class. He's really sweet, but some boys were picking on him and his brother. I couldn't just stand by and do nothing, so I stood up to the bullies."

Caroline's smile broadened with pride. "That's my girl. Standing up for what's right."

Andrea continued, "After that, Simon thanked me, and we talked a bit. He even asked if we could hang out tomorrow after school."

"That sounds wonderful," Caroline said, her voice filled with encouragement. "I'm glad you made a friend so quickly. How do you feel about him?"

Andrea pondered for a moment, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "I like him, Mom. He seems genuine and kind. And he's really cute."

Caroline chuckled softly. "Well, it sounds like you had quite an eventful day. I'm happy for you, Andrea. Just remember to be yourself and take things one step at a time."

"Thanks, Mom," Andrea said, feeling a sense of contentment. "I will."

As they sat down for dinner, Andrea felt a sense of anticipation for the days to come. She was beginning to settle into her new life, and the prospect of getting to know Simon better added a layer of excitement to her days.

Over the course of the week, Simon and Andrea spent more time together, getting to know each other better. They found a quiet spot in the school library, studying side by side, sharing whispered anecdotes about their classes and teachers.

Each day, Simon found himself looking forward to their time together. He appreciated Andrea's courage and kindness, and he found himself drawn to her warm smile and intelligent demeanor. They exchanged phone numbers, texting each other late into the night.

One afternoon, as they sat in their usual spot in the library, Simon glanced over at Andrea. "So, how are you finding Manchester so far?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Andrea smiled, her eyes lighting up. "I like it. It's different from the States, but in a good way. Plus, having a friend like you makes it a lot easier."

Simon's heart swelled at her words. "I'm glad you're here. It's been really nice getting to know you."

Andrea's cheeks flushed slightly, and she looked down at her notebook. "Same here. I didn't expect to make such a good friend so quickly."

Simon hesitated for a moment, then decided to take a leap. "Andrea, would you... maybe want to go out sometime? Like, not just at school, but maybe a movie or something?"

Andrea looked up, her expression a mix of surprise and happiness. "I'd like that, Simon. A lot."

They exchanged smiles, a silent understanding passing between them. Their bond was growing stronger, and Simon couldn't help but feel excited about the future.

That night, as they texted each other, the conversation took on a more personal tone. They talked about their dreams and fears, their favorite books and movies, and even shared stories about their families. Simon felt a deep connection with Andrea, something he had never experienced before.

When he finally put his phone down and lay in bed, Simon couldn't stop smiling. He knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, he had found someone special in Andrea. Their friendship was blossoming into something more, and he couldn't wait to see where it would lead.

Surprisingly, Simon lived right in front of Andrea's home, so they both went to school together and came back together too. Tommy, Simon's big brother, was always with them, and soon he became like a big brother to Andrea as well. She often went to their home to discuss homework, and they would study together since they shared the same class. Simon's mother, Mrs. Riley, was a very sweet and caring lady who made them snacks when Andrea came over to study.

Everything was going well until one evening when Andrea met Mr. Riley, Simon's father. She stood at the door of Simon's home, planning to knock, when she heard yelling and shouting from inside. Mrs. Riley was crying and pleading with Mr. Riley not to beat the boys, but Andrea could hear the sound of blows and the boys' cries of pain.

Her heart pounded, and tears welled up in her eyes. She felt frozen in place for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then, with her heart racing a million miles, she turned around and ran back to her home, her mind spinning with the horrific scene she had just overheard.

Once inside her own house, Andrea collapsed onto the couch, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She couldn't believe what she had just witnessed. The loving, supportive family she had come to cherish had a dark, violent secret. Her mind raced with thoughts of what she should do. Should she tell her mom? Should she confront Simon about it? The idea of doing nothing was unbearable, but the fear of making things worse paralyzed her.

Andrea's mother, Caroline, noticed her daughter's distress as soon as she entered the room. "Andrea, honey, what's wrong?" she asked, rushing to her side.

Andrea looked up, tears streaming down her face. "Mom, I heard something terrible at Simon's house. His dad... he was beating him and Tommy. Mrs. Riley was crying and begging him to stop."

Caroline's face turned pale with concern and anger. "Oh my God. We need to do something. We can't just ignore this."

Andrea nodded, feeling a surge of determination. "What should we do, Mom?"

"We'll call the authorities and report it. And we'll let Mrs. Riley know she has our support," Caroline said firmly, reaching for the phone.

"No mom. Please don't. Not right now." Andrea pleaded.

Caroline paused, phone in hand, and looked at her daughter with concern. "Why not, Andrea? We can't just let this continue."

Andrea took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. "I know, Mom. But if we call the authorities now, it might make things worse for Simon and Tommy. We need to be careful."

Caroline nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Okay, sweetheart. But we can't just do nothing. What do you suggest?"

Andrea wiped her tears and thought for a moment. "Maybe I can talk to Simon first. Find out what's really going on and see if there's anything we can do to help them. If it gets worse or if they're in immediate danger, then we'll call the authorities. But I want to give Simon a chance to confide in me."

Caroline's expression softened, and she hugged her daughter tightly. "Alright, Andrea. But promise me you'll be careful. And if you see any sign that things are getting worse, we'll take action immediately."

"I promise, Mom," Andrea said, feeling a mix of relief and determination.

The next day at school, Andrea found Simon and Tommy during lunch. She approached them cautiously, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what she had heard the night before.

"Hey, Simon, Tommy," she greeted them, trying to keep her voice steady. "Can we talk for a minute? Privately?"

Simon looked at her curiously but nodded. "Sure, Andrea. What's up?"

They found a quiet spot in the courtyard, away from prying eyes and ears. Andrea took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

"Simon, I... I heard something last night when I was at your house," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "I heard your dad... he was yelling and... and hitting you and Tommy. I heard your mom crying. It really scared me."

Simon's face went pale, and he glanced at Tommy, who looked equally distressed. "Andrea, you weren't supposed to know," Simon whispered, his voice filled with shame and fear.

Andrea reached out and took Simon's hand, squeezing it gently. "You don't have to be ashamed, Simon. No one deserves to be treated like that. You and Tommy don't have to go through this alone. I'm here for you, and so is my mom. We want to help."

Tears welled up in Simon's eyes, and he struggled to find his voice. "It's been like this for a while. Dad... he drinks a lot, and when he does, he gets angry. Mom tries to protect us, but she can't always stop him."

Andrea's heart ached for her friend. "Simon, you need to tell someone. A teacher, a counselor, anyone who can help. My mom wanted to call the authorities last night, but I asked her to wait until I talked to you. But we can't let this continue. You and Tommy deserve to be safe."

Tommy, who had been silent until now, spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper. "We're scared, Andrea. What if telling someone makes it worse?"

Andrea hugged them both, her resolve stronger than ever. "We'll find a way to make sure you're safe. I promise. But we can't stay silent. We'll figure this out together."

The three of them sat there for a while, holding onto each other and finding strength in their friendship.

As Andrea walked home with Simon and Tommy, they spotted Mr. Riley. He was home early, and she noticed their faces going pale with fear. Mr. Riley was clearly drunk as he got out of the car. Without a moment's hesitation, he slapped Tommy and pushed him inside the house.

Then he came for Simon, his face twisted with anger. But before he could lay a hand on him, Andrea's patience snapped.

"Mr. Riley! That's enough!" she shouted, stepping in front of Simon with her hands raised protectively.

Mr. Riley paused, staring at her in drunken confusion. "What are you doing, girl?" he slurred.

Andrea's eyes blazed with determination. "If you ever touch Simon, Tommy, or Mrs. Riley again, I will inform the authorities. You need help, and they need to be safe. This ends now."

Simon looked at her in astonishment, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and admiration. Mr. Riley seemed taken aback by Andrea's fierce stand. He opened his mouth to retort but no words came out. For a moment, he seemed to sober up, his face contorted with a mixture of anger and confusion.

"You think you can tell me what to do in my own house?" Mr. Riley finally growled, but his voice lacked the previous intensity.

Andrea held her ground, her voice steady and unwavering. "Yes, I do. If you lay a finger on them again, I'll make sure you face the consequences."

Mrs. Riley appeared at the doorway, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She had heard the commotion and stepped out to see what was happening. She saw Andrea standing up to her husband, and a glimmer of hope sparked in her eyes.

Mr. Riley's shoulders slumped as the reality of the situation began to sink in. He muttered something under his breath and stumbled past Andrea into the house, slamming the door behind him.

Andrea turned to Simon and Tommy, her eyes softening with concern. "Are you both okay?"

Tommy nodded, tears streaming down his face. Simon's eyes were wide with a mixture of shock and gratitude. "Andrea, thank you. I don't know what we would have done without you."

Mrs. Riley stepped forward, her voice trembling with emotion. "Andrea, I don't know how to thank you. You've done more than I ever could."

Andrea reached out and hugged her. "Mention not Aunty." She rubbed her back.

The sight of Andrea standing up to Mr. Riley left Simon speechless. He could only watch in awe as she faced off against his bully of a father with unwavering courage. The look of determination on her face was both breathtaking and intimidating. All he could do was wonder where she mustered such bravery from.

[atxxzist]

broken | c.s (11)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x reader

word count: 5.5k

warning: u alr know

a/n: went off the radar 4 a while only to pull 5k out of my ass. pls give me all the constructive criticisms <3

you were glad to have lost him in the crowd, hiding behind the shoulders of people until your ride showed up and took you back to the dorm--though that was probably a mistake on your part.

because when there's a knock at the door, you know it's him.

you also know you shouldn't open it; shouldn't allow him back in because there's no reason to hear him out.

but a part of you, so hurt by what he did--the scene still playing in your head and the image of it just as painful as the first time, it feels like there's a brick sitting on your chest whilst trying to catch your breath--that you just need some kind of consolation, even if it comes in the form of predictable lies and a bigger inevitable heartbreak.

want him to tell you that it was a mistake, that she was the one who threw herself onto him; that he never meant to hurt you... even if it wasn't a mistake and though he didn't mean to hurt you, he wasn't thinking of you.

"what?" you try to sound angry, maybe even a little bored to hide the fact you cried the entire ride here.

he stands tall outside your room but look the smallest you've ever seen him, dark hair falling over his eyes and speaking in a shameful voice, "can i talk to you?"

you sulk at that, a click of your tongue and turning around to go sit at the edge of your bed with arms crossed, as if there could an explanation for why he was all over someone else when you weren't there.

his hands gripping her hips and face in her neck the way only he's allowed to do to you.

"i promise that her and me are just friends," he says, shutting the door behind him and settling down beside you, but you're so upset and hurt, his leg just slightly brushing yours sparking a reaction like never before, you have to scoot over and put on some kind of distance.

“we’re…” he drags his words before finishing it off, “friends.” a smile settling on him after that makes you feel so sick–whether it’s from how attractive he still looks or how the answer brings out so many other questions.

“friends?” you reiterate like you’re in denial.

“yeah, friends.”

“do friends sleep with each other?” kiss each other, visit one another and spew such sweet, blush-inducing words that conjures up butterflies?

“some friends do.”

when you finally spare him a glance, you have to keep from giving in just at the guilt all over his face and that he actually came after you. but you're fast to renounce immediately when you see that dark, stained mark on his neck again staring back like someone hitting the replay button on your misery once more.

then all that comes out are just cold and bitter words said in the most unamused tone, san even thinks you sound sarcastic.

"she's a friend, i'm a friend, what's the difference?"

the harshness stuns him, though, what else did he expect? because even someone sweet and forgiving like you has a breaking point when pushed too far.

"you're not just a friend, y/n. you're--"

"i'm what?"

you await his answer, possibly a lie that will make you feel better and more special compared to every other girls he messes with. but the disappointment when he remains silence is strong, it consumes you completely.

"well, i'm sorry i ruined the night for you. i finished most of my assignments and just thought maybe we could hang out, but looks like you already got company. so truly, i'm sorry."

"don't say that."

"why not? it's true though. you were occupied when i got there."

"stop staying that!"

the volume picks you up from the seat, his delivery could've fooled anyone that it was just a blind accusation. but you realize; take in, that san doesn't like his own fuck-ups being thrown in his face. no one really does.

"look, i'm sorry. really sorry," he tries again, voice softer, attempting to calm you; calm himself.

but after everything, after building up your trust and filling your fragile heart with so much hope, all he can offer is a sorry. no lies or consolations because none of it was a mistake.

you suddenly feel like it's getting much harder to breathe, the brick on your chest multiplying by a million and cutting the airway.

"y/n?" san calls, his once shameful face turning concerned. "are you okay?"

but you certainly don't feel okay, and you honestly haven't for a long time. if ever. and every episode in the same fashion is a reminder of that.

"it's fine," you manage to let out, a bittersweet smile on and a response that san can't read into. "you didn't do anything wrong."

this isn't a relationship--a proper one at least, and he isn't your boyfriend. the hardest pill to swallow is he didn't have to come after you, didn't have to apologize... because a truth even harder to digest, is that he doesn't owe you anything.

but you can still hurt from it; allow the pain to settle in as if everything he's done with you is only exclusive to you and him. only you can kiss him, mark him, and his hands should only be on your hips. not anyone else.

and you do. you hurt from it so much, tears streaming down your cheeks so quietly but the sight such a sore to watch, san's not sure what to say to make it better.

can he even make it better?

there's nothing to clarify and nothing to add. you very clearly saw everything for what it was: he replaced you, just like that. and the sickest thing is that he did it so mindlessly like it's a habit. because that's what he does.

he didn't think you'd take it this hard, or maybe he was just hoping he wouldn't get caught because breaking you is easy... he's done it before, but he's afraid this is the worst, yet.

"y-you should go," you say suddenly, picking your head up to san's wide eyes staring back at your puffy red ones before you swipe your runny nose.

"i..." he fidgets, "i can't go right now. not with you like this."

he can almost laugh at the absurdity, the irony of it all when he's the reason you're in this state right now. he understands the absolute ridiculousness but he really can't go; leave you like this.

a shake of your head is what you give, along with a tight-lipped smile although the tears are starting to sting and it's still not any easier to breathe.

"go. i'll be fine."

"no."

you wish for once to understand san, what goes on inside his head and how he makes his choices, because no matter how much you find out about him, it seems you never really truly know who he is.

he will say one thing and then does another; do this then tell you that. hurt you then feel bad about it, like he never really means anything.

san confuses you.

and you also wish you're not so weak-hearted to let him stay by your side once more as if he's not capable of hurting you again.

the week has been tense, something unpleasant always in attendance when you're with san, even if he's trying his best to brush it off; ignore it, put a smile on his face and act as if it doesn't bother him, too.

as if the week before, he didn't nearly send you into a panic attack and the sight continuously ingrained in his head, it might've scarred him just a bit.

but you're honestly still not used to it--san actually staying around and constantly checking up on you to make sure everything's okay after what happened.

it's odd he actually gives a shit, but even odder you're starting to recognize the pattern of lovebombing every time he fucks up and you can't even find the willpower to be genuinely upset. maybe just a little tired at this point, but still going along to see where it will take you, a gut feeling that the end is near.

"what are you working on?" san's voice makes you jump, turning the laptop the other way immediately in a panic. moments ago, he was still occupied in his own world, you were so sure he wouldn't be interested in your exciting school works.

"just fixing up my draft for a class," you tell him, having to move the laptop even further when he tries stealing a glimpse again, a loose giggle escaping from his lips at the expression on you.

"what's wrong? don't want me to see it?" he raises a brow teasingly.

"it's just a silly little story," you dismiss, "full of mistakes and a lot of corrections that needs to be made."

"i'm sure it's not that bad. but anything from you, i'll read."

a charming smile rests on him and with words like a spell, you have to keep it together; remind yourself that this is the man who had hurt you and no matter how sweet or convincing he is, there's a chance he's gonna do it again, every seconds spent with him constantly in alert ever since, that if you can hardly say no, you can at least keep from showing any amount of joy or satisfaction around him.

"maybe next time."

he just nods lightly and backs up.

"whenever you're confident enough."

it's all so eerie, you might as well preferred when he treated you like shit instead. it's just unlike san to be so lenient, the offer to hang out having came from him when you had made clear he didn't have to because you would be leaving for work soon anyways.

but he was eager about staying regardless of how short the visit would be, it's hard to be touched when you're not at all convinced it's out of sincerity.

"i have to get ready for work." you close the laptop and search the room for materials you have prepared.

san twitches in his seat and swallows down before speaking.

"i'll come pick you up?"

freezing in your spot at that, you turn to him and shake your head.

"no, it's fine. i'll take a cab home like i always do."

the jab is subtle but san doesn't miss it, a look of shame and guilt on him, but he's fooled you one too many times, you can hardly believe anything anymore.

"please, y/n," he pleads, desperation overriding his features as he stands up and hovers over you, "i don't mind. as long as you let me."

as long as you let me. as if all this time, you weren't waiting for him to do his part; the only thing finally pushing him to act upon it now is when he has to.

"if you want," you give in, and he can tell it's only because you're in a hurry, the cold shoulder unlike anything he's ever experienced before. he can't say he doesn't deserve it, but it's definitely out of place coming from you.

it's also out of place he's even trying to make up; console you, everything of which he usually doesn't do, but he feels he owes you that at the very least... or maybe he's just not ready to let it go, yet.

the comfort, your presence, and the things you do for him. he don't want to let go of how easy everything is with you, he wish for it to last just a little longer despite knowing how it will end, but he is so, so selfish.

"i'll be there."

"wooyoung's party is tonight," you initiate during the third time he's picked you up after a work shift.

"so?" he shrugs.

"you're not going?"

"no."

"oh..." you sigh, slouching in the seat and looking out the window of his car. "if you want to, you can. you're not obligated to--"

"--can we please not talk about that?"

about the very thing that lead you two into the current predicament, no longer in each other arms and staring into the other's eyes lovingly, but with a gaze always so tense and uncomfortable that he's too responsible for.

"san, you don't have to do this. we're not even dating, and i... i don't really care about it anymore," your voice tapers out at the end, so utterly weak, you can't even carry a lie to the last breath because you definitely do still care, and it definitely still hurts like it's the first time.

but to be treated like a responsibility; an obligation he's bind to and have to act upon--it just doesn't sit right. you've already spent way too long being nothing but a burden.

"even if you don't care about it anymore, i feel bad, okay? that was awful of me to do, and i really want to make it up to you. i hurt you, i know i did."

it would be easy to go along with it, the fact he's even trying at all when the relationship is nameless; lacking of label--you should even be grateful to an extent. but the weight is harder to shake off, and every second with the conflict brewing makes you feel as if doom is coming and you're about to burst.

you don't say anything, only merely glancing out the window again to find some form of peace because even the subject is starting to wear you out at this point.

"i won't be attending any more of those parties," he speaks up after you're quiet for too long; the statement making your head snap to him.

"huh? you know you don't--"

"--i know i don't have to, but i wan't to, so please don't try to convince me otherwise."

and maybe the you before he went and fucked up the very last bit of faith you had left in him, would've been moved. but as of currently, you're all too aware of his intentions.

pushed to the edge and the trust in him nearly gone, he understands it will never be the same again. he just wishes even if for the last time, to be in your good grace, because though he doesn't want to let go yet, he don't know for how much longer he'll be able to stay.

the clock is ticking and the distance between you and him is growing more and more.

it would be a lot less painful if he stops everything here; save you the heartbreak and tears that are going to come, but again, he really is such an opportunist, always taking and never giving.

it's poor and tasteless to say that's just how he is, but it's the truth... so he throws himself down; stripped of dignity and pride, and all just for you... for the first and possibly, last time.

"goodnight," he whispers, voice soft and trying to light up the mood before the end of the night, because your eyes are nothing but dead.

"goodnight." it sounds almost like an inaudible and uninterested mumble, the life on you completely different from his.

the both of you just stare at each other, as if waiting for the other person to finally say the last call and end what would usually be a kiss and maybe bodies tangled together in a heated session, but now more like two acquaintances trying to make the best out of the situation.

"are you free tomorrow?" he asks, trying his very best.

and you suppose you've had far too many chances to make things right; lessen the pain and end what is already dead, but the undeniable truth is no matter how much you preach... you're also afraid to let go, if not, more than him.

"yeah."

~

"is that another story you're working on?" his voice rings in your ear, making your nervous eyes twitch to him.

"san!" you nag, and he only giggles in return, backing away from the screen before you're able to push him yourself.

"what? i just want to see." he shrugs.

"well, keep your eyes away." you nearly roll your own, huffing before switching to another tab.

"is it that bad?" the teasing tone is evident, prompting another glare from you.

"it's not a story. just something for my class."

"hmm," san hums, nodding, "when you said you were free, i didn't expect to be sitting on the side while you finish up class assignments."

"well, when i said free, i meant i'm not going anywhere."

"right." he nods sarcastically, "we should do something."

"like?"

"like going out, or if not, we can watch a movie of your choice, if you want something explicit like last time, i'm fine with that too." he smirks, and you have to hold back from overreacting.

"whatever," you dismiss quietly, handing the laptop over to him.

"you pick. i don't really have anything in mind right now."

but it's a mistake, because instead, san clicks on the document you were working on; the surge of panic making you pry the device from him harshly but he's a fighter, tugging even harder.

"san, if you don--"

with another jerk, you're pressed up against his chest and staring into those coy eyes you're all too familiar with, conjuring up butterflies that's been so long, you almost forgot how he made you feel, with his handsomeness and smile that's too easy to fall into.

he smirks before stealing a kiss to your cheek, releasing the laptop as you fall back gently while the blush crawls out.

"sorry," he says cheekily, but you know he doesn't really mean it.

you attempt to fight the smile at the tip of your lips, biting down to conceal as much as possible, san thinks it's extremely endearing.

it's also been way too long since he's kissed you, and seeing the first genuine reaction in such a long while, nothing reminiscent of hatred or bitterness does make him feel a certain way.

~

it's only supposed to be dinner at san's place (at first). he invites you and says he wants to do something for the weekend, and it's not like you're going to decline when he's doing everything--as well as picking you up.

it's always casual at first; conversation, gestures, and everything.

you're starting to lose the edges a bit ever since that day, san witnessing more smiles than frowns and you don't look like you completely hate him, so he thinks, maybe things can be good again.

his apartment always feel homey, though you don't always feel welcomed every time... it is very nicely decorated.

roaming the interior and everywhere you guys have been before, you have to keep from really thinking too much; close out the thoughts of who else he brings here and where exactly he kissed them.

rather than forgiving san, you just kind of became... numb to it all.

the reminder isn't as frequent, but every time you do remember, the hit is still sharp and you'd have to catch your breath, but you've just gotten better at acting like it doesn't bother you anymore.

when the aroma from the kitchen finally settles in, it knocks any other thoughts out of your head and becomes the primary focus as you start sniffing the air.

"let me set everything up," san speaks from behind, walking past you to get to the kitchen.

and it starts like that. a nice dinner at his much smaller kitchen island filled with soft laughters and a genuine interest for each other, it's everything you envisioned if things were right.

when he offers some soju, you don't drink too much as the taste of alcohol in general still something you're not used to, but you drink enough to get tipsy.

enough to loosen up and not feel completely like yourself, but also not enough to still know that when san crashes his lips against yours, it's all kinds of wrong that only feels right in the moment.

the one that you will come to regret once you're sober enough and really think. but maybe your life is as messed up as it is because you never really do, always drawn to temptation over logic.

san is going to be your biggest downfall and he won't be the only one at fault.

you kiss him back and throw both arms around his neck, the slight flavor of the drink he had still lingering and you don't miss the scent that comes along with it as he manages to pick you up and throw down your body onto the couch.

you miss the way he feels on your skin, and he misses your skin on his lips, which is why the first kiss delivered to your neck is the only gentle one before he loses himself.

what comes after that is cliche and obvious.

it doesn't feel right but it does feel good. both of you panting and trying to catch your breaths as he snap his hips into yours and gets a curse out of you.

"oh fuck..." you bite down your lower lip and your nails only digs deeper into the skin of his back at the sensation.

so you sleep with him that night, the shame only hitting when the morning sun rises and you awake to his bare chest pressed against your back and his arm wrapped around your waist.

he's still sleeping and he's absolutely beautiful as always.

you wonder, aside from breaking a foolish girl's heart over and over again, what kind of things has san managed to get away with just because he's as mesmerizing as he is.

it would be easy for someone like him.

but shame can only do so much and last for so long before you submit to temptation again and sleeps with him a few more times after as well, just because he's good at pretending you mean something to him, and you're all too good at self destruction and fooling yourself that when he stayed all those nights with you until morning, it's because of something else and not what you already know.

the park is quiet; empty, not a single soul in sight other than you and the boy who came along as the small talks take you both in under the moonlight.

"have you always liked writing?" he asks, and you can't help the scoff that leaves, because when did choi san become so invested in mindless hobbies and things you do to pass time. or in this case, something you still haven't quite grasped that still feels much like a chore because it is tied to a class in the first place.

"no." you shake your head, walking along the narrow path as the summer breeze rustles the branches of the trees.

"i only recall slightly that you like computers."

"kind of. yeah," you confirm short and simple, not about to have that conversation again about why it wasn't meant to be.

san is selfish, in the most vain and obvious fashion that doesn't take a genuis to figure out. you believe he knows so himself and holds very little shame from the fact.

eventually, his mask will unveil and it's not like he ever tried hard enough to hide it because you're also selfish in your own ways.

you may not be calculating like san is, but to have keep him around this long and to say it's not because of your own stupid desires and wants would be a lie.

that you also don't use him to fill the hurt and emptiness in your life, chasing after him so hard because he's the closest to the kind of love you've always wanted.

because if you weren't, you would've let him go.

someone like san won't ever be able to love you, and even if he did, how long would it be until he realizes the commitment to one person is all too much and gets bored?

even now, you wonder if he enjoys the time with you at all. because who would rather hang with you than be out at an obnoxious party? but he can still offer temporary relief, and that's awful of you to say, but he was the first to be selfish and will continue to be until the last breath of the 'relationship' so why can't you also?

time seems like it's closing out and you're not sure how much longer the two of you can play pretend before the inevitible shows itself.

"what about you?" you perk to him, blinking your lashes charmingly. "you talked of dancing and performing before, so how come i've only heard about it once?"

a half scoff half laugh escapes from him and turning his attention to the path instead like you just asked a ridiculous question.

"well, i kind of already told you why, but i just don't got much passion for it nowaday."

“i’m not sure,” is all he says, a small sigh of disappointment escaping from you that goes unheard. “i wanted to major in dance and performance, but…”

“but?”

“but i can’t make a living or lifestyle out of it. so i didn’t.”

"i remember. but if you considered it, the passion must had been there once upon a time."

"oh yeah, definitely."

you hesitate for a second, but there's not a lot to lose at this point.

"i'd love to know, if you don't mind telling me."

it takes another couple of steps, but he does answer with very little objection much to your surprise.

"wooyoung got me into it, believe it or not."

"wooyoung was in on it, too?"

"yeah." san laughs. "i was an even worse dancer before i met him. but yeah, was in some sort of club or group for it in high school and we performed at some school events, but that's pretty much it. nothing really worth calling back to."

"no, that's great. it takes a lot of courage to go up there, cause i wouldn't have had the guts. i think i would pass out."

"oh, i know," he teases, and you shoot an unserious glare his way.

"and what about wooyoung? did he go into performance?"

san shakes his head.

"nah. undecided also, but i don't think he's stressing out too much about it. from his parents alone, he would be able to land a sweet job even if he got kicked out."

you nod, a snarky smile on your lips.

"yeah, true."

rich kids and their privileges.

after a few more strolls in silence around the area, san suggests taking a break from walking, both of you plopping onto the bench with tired breath puffing into the air.

it's your first time at this park, but it's not too big and has a nice amount of benches, but more so, the location is convenient because it's a good distance from the dorm which means less chance of your friends finding out.

"dance for me," you demand out of thin air, san turning to meet your gaze a few seconds before a laugh tumbles out, thinking you're most likely joking.

"i'm serious." you sit up and adjust your shirt slightly.

"it's been almost an entire year since i last danced to anything, i'm rusty now."

"so? i want to see. come on," you continue to urge, scooting even closer because then, he might give in.

"this is ridiculous. you're going to make fun of me."

you shake your head, desperate to prove the sincerity.

"i won't. i know you'll do great."

he lets out a defeated sigh before getting up with a "fine" and sees the biggest smile of the night on you.

"but you owe me something in return, too." he points finger and you wave it off.

"sure..." pulling your phone out, you look up to ask, "so what song?"

"uh... exo... overdose?" it's been a while to be fair, and san usually isn't one to hold things in memories, no matter the importance. short term or long term.

the song starts and he nods to the music, a few movements here and there trying to recall but he's struggling a bit, you can tell, unable to help the giggle that comes out because the sight is endearing.

"skip to the chorus."

and you do, eyes trained on him without detracting and watching as the recollection seems to creep up, his execution still a little jumbled and he doesn't look like he's 100% confident, but you know you've never seen anyone moved like that in your lifetime.

not that you know anything about dancing or whatever, but you've definitely never met a dancer, so to see someone work their body and move it so effortlessly, you're impressed for sure.

san doesn't even realize the chorus's over until you start clapping, the muscle memory just naturally leading him to the next beat.

it's been a while since he's moved like that and the sense of comfort that comes from it is weird, but welcoming in a way. it was quite fun, he thinks.

you're still clapping when he sits down again, the thin smile on you eventually turning into something more.

"you said you're rusty but you did so good! you even remembered it!"

"bleh," he dismisses, detaching from your gaze to stare out at the emptiness in front, "just muscle memory."

your next set of compliments blurs into muffled voices for him at the same time conflicts run round in his head, snapped back when you bring up, "want to stay over? yuna said she won't be back until morning."

it's the longest he ever takes to say a short and breathless, "yeah..." walking back with you to the dorms but feeling like a completely different person, it's frightening the way he just flip flops emotions, it raises the hair at the back of your neck from what you thought was a harmless and even entertaining situation.

but san seems to have taken it otherwise because the silence is anything but comforting, you fear this is it.

you unlock the door and settle your things first, your shoulder just barely angled his way when san annouces he's going to take a shower.

when you imagined the end, you think of a screaming match; at each other's throats and just absolutely the ugliest way possible. but this just might be worse... it's always worse when it comes unexpected.

but unexpected is such a loose term at this rate, because between you and san, there is so much hurt and so many unspoken wounds beyond repair from all the chasing.

you're so broken and san is not good for you, but for your own selfish desire, you wish he would stay, even if for one more night.

when you're near asleep from all the waiting, your heavy eyes failing to keep focus on the wall, the sound of the door creaking followed by footsteps until his chest is against your back gives you the biggest sign of relief, it's quite pathetic.

that he's going to stay and whatever came over him was just momentarily and you're all too good at overthinking.

you let sleep take over, hopeful that when you wake up, he will still be next to you.

~

san thinks that if you ever allowed yourself to think you're worse than him even once, you're absolutely out of your mind--which, you are, because he don't doubt you've thought of it.

you're quite skilled at leading the fault back to your own.

but if you're the one to pull the gun out, he would be the one to pull the trigger. and if you were to ever commit a crime, he would be the mastermind behind it.

if you're selfish, he will always be more selfish than you.

when he gets so much more than what he bargains for, coming to the realization over and over again that it's not good to recognize your touch and lose himself in your smile, he wants to run again. the way he always does.

it's how he handles unwanted emotions and practically anything not on his fucking list.

he will start something on impulse and trying to make up to you was definitely that, and it will end the same way.

he started this with you for all the wrong reasons and now, it's way past the due date.

~

you wake to very little light in the room, tossing lightly to gain your conscious, but heart suddenly dropping when you can sense the cool air of nothingness gliding against your back.

back that you thought would've been protected by a certain boy. but when you finally turn around, the worst pain yet hits you right in the face.

the space next to you is empty, and all there's left of san is a note taped to the side of the nightstand that you can only faintly see, but know every letter to.

'i'm sorry'

next // series m.list

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[exquisiteserotonin]

Precious Possessions Chapter 7: Keep Me On Fire

Pairing: Dave York X F! Reader

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Word count: 3.7K

Summary: Reeling from the aftermath of the events surrounding Brad's death, our dear reader must come to terms with what might happen next and what this means for your place on Dave's team and in his life

Warnings: PiV sex, dirty talk and names, squirting, minor BDSM stuff, sexy stuff happens in this chapter, I'm not responsible for what you consume. Once again please DNI if you are not 18 and over. Also not beta'd, so all errors are my own.

A/N: As always, I am so humbled when any of you ever read my stuff. I also appreciate if you have followed along with me as I have built this story. I hope you will continue me to follow me along the home stretch. Also if you would like to be included on the taglist for this fic, please let me know!

Love for my magical sluts! Thank you for the encouragement and pushing me to continue this story.

@youandmeand5bucks @imalrightllama @basicoccult @legendary-pink-dot @redhotkitchen @pink-whiskey-woman @arcanefox207 @sparklefarts38

Chapter 7: Keep Me On Fire

One of your co-workers picked you up from the hospital after your overnight stay there. You didn’t know who else to call. No real family to speak of, not any you cared to call anyway. You sat in silence as you stared out the passenger side window at nothing in particular. Everything at the side of the road zoomed past you in formless blurs. Every sound around you played in your ears as though filtered through a muffled speaker. Your gaze moved to your hands, and you became hyper aware of your breaths and your body. Your brain was on another plane of existence. None of this, none of anything felt real.

Bits and pieces of words and conversations interspersed between images and feelings were tossing themselves around in your mind.

“We just want to make sure we have the details right, ma’am.”

You nodded, you were still damp with dirt and tears, and your body still hurt.

“Do you mind telling us what happened?”

You shook your head.

“Brad and I just finished dinner…and we left the restaurant, I pulled him into a quiet alley---then two guys came out of nowhere and---,”

A flash of Dave standing over you, pushing you to the ground, replayed over and over in your head as tears fell down your dirty face.

“Why would you go into an empty alley?”

“Brad and I wanted some alone time.”

You didn’t care if anyone knew what that implied. He was supposed to be your boyfriend anyway. The cop who questioned you tightened his lips.

“Ok, I see.”

He wrote down something in his little notebook.

“Um, ma’am, if you are ok, would you continue please?”

That was a funny question. Of course, you weren’t OK.

“Two guys jumped out at us. One of them threw me to the ground.”

The memory of his angry eyes burned themselves into you as he held you by the wrists and tossed you to the ground.

And now you were fucking crying.

The detective handed you a tissue. Some pathetic semblance of minute caring or compassion, you supposed.

“One of them threw me to the ground…”

By now, you knew you were doing that ugly crying thing. The kind of crying where your lips were trembling, and you were gasping to breathe.

“I heard Brad, and he was struggling and then he just---just stopped…”

A nurse came to you and placed a soft hand on your back as you cried. You could feel her glare at the detective.

“They started to come at me, and I just screamed and screamed.”

“And you’re sure you couldn’t see their faces?”

Dave’s eyes were enough.

“They had masks, and it was so dark.”

You placed a hand on your head as it began to ache from all the tears. There was a dull ache in your wrist, which hurt your heart more than the body part itself.

“Detective, do you have everything you need? She really needs to rest.”

The scribble of more notes sounded out before he closed his notepad.

“Yes, I think I have it. I’m sorry for your loss.”

The detective reeked of stale coffee, cigarettes, and misplaced arrogance. The fucker had probably never been sorry about anything in his life.

“Hey, hon,” your co-worker’s calming tone snapped you back into reality, “we’re at your place.”

Through blinking eyes, you looked up to find yourself parked in front of your townhouse. Wordlessly, you began to gather your things that rested at your feet in front of the passenger seat of your co-worker’s car. Practically leaping out, she met you to open the passenger side door.

“Thank you,” you spoke quietly as you pushed yourself out of the car. “Thank you for driving me home.”

She accompanied you to your front door, kindly but also awkwardly waiting with you as you unlocked your door.

“Will you be ok?” she asked. “Is there anything I can do? Would you like me to stay with you? Just for a little while?”

“No, thank you,” the words came out with a mindless automaticity. “I just need to sleep.”

“Ok,” she murmured, concerned but unsure of the protocol or etiquette she should be following. “Well, just call if you need anything OK?”

As you walked in you wondered briefly who would be awaiting you there. Dave? No. Someone to kill you? Perhaps. Likely Resnick.

Instead, there was no one. Nothing.

The early afternoon light filtered in through the diaphanous curtains in your living room window. Everything was as you left it the night before: a book you’d been reading left askew on your living room table. A blanket left on your couch. Your bed, though made, was rumpled from where you sat. An eyeshadow palette still left on the bathroom vanity.

You reached for your face wash and haphazardly washed away any remaining makeup left on your face, not bothering to even look at yourself in the mirror. Dark remnants of mascara pressed lightly into your face towel when you pat yourself dry. Reaching into the shower you turned the handle to somewhere between hot and warm. The water rained on you as you stepped in and stared at how droplets from the water streams clung to your skin like morning dew on grass. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash---your shower was quick and functional. You dried yourself off and hung up your towel on the hook attached to your door.

You didn’t even have the strength to put on any clothes. Climbing in bed and pulling the covers up to your chest was the only action your body felt compelled to do. You snuggled in, staring at your wrists where Dave grabbed you, shook you, tossed you to the ground. Burying your face into your pillow, you took a long, slow breath as your puffy eyes grew heavy with approaching slumber.

It still smelled like Dave.

***

Wakefulness eased its way towards you, crawling up your shoulders to your neck to open your eyes. Darkness met them in a kinder way than the harsh beams of the sun normally greeted you upon waking. The time it took for your eyes to adjust to the darkness was gradual as the edges of your blackout curtains allowed only slivers of moonlight into your room. The peace of the night was broken by the incessant ringing of your camera doorbell. Bolting up, you grabbed your gun from your nightstand and covered yourself with a kimono from your closet.

The camera revealed the figure of a man dressed in black, a beanie atop his head. The devil you knew was at your door and you were ready for him. Setting your gun down, you opened the door and welcomed him. His eyes met yours and you studied each other in silence. The raise of his eyebrow, along with a smile twisted with lust accompanied the pilgrimage of his eyes over the vision of your naked body. A cruel mixture of excitement and trepidation brewed within you as he locked the door behind him.

No words were spoken. No words were needed. He was on you before you could think, his hand grabbing at your bare waist. Keeping your body pressed to his, he advanced both of you towards your living room wall. A loud crash of books on the floor along with a shaking of mirrors was only a small part of the aftermath of him pinning you there, pressing at your wrists with his hands. The force of his body sent heaving breaths of desire across your naked chest. Only seconds had passed when you felt his own hot, audible breaths keeping time with yours. Primal need seeped from his lips to yours, drawing you in further with one delicious taste of his tongue.

“Is this what you want, you little cunt?” he asked with a raspy, snarl from the back of his throat. “My pretty little whore craves the fucking danger, the adrenaline, isn’t that right?”

Dave tossed your kimono to the floor then lifted you with ease as you wrapped your legs around his waist. By now, he had memorized the path to your bedroom. So many days and nights had been spent there drowning in each other’s darkness. He tossed you on your bed and you pressed yourself up to watch him undress. Each breath you drew in grew faster and faster at each article of clothing he threw on your bedroom floor. With his beautiful body fully exposed, he leaned forward and began to crawl towards you on the bed. A devilish grin curled his lips as you spread your legs open for him. The feeling of his hands as he traced along your thighs, hips, and waist was intoxicating. They continued to travel up your body, massaging the supple tissue of your tits. You arched towards him as he pinched and swirled your nipples with sudden flicks and strokes of his tongue.

He pressed himself up with his forearms on either side of you. He gazed at you with lust-filled eyes until they settled at your right cheek where you wore a purple bruise from Resnik’s back hand. He lowered his face to yours, taking you into a deep, long kiss. When you opened your eyes, the intensity of his gaze began to melt away, lifting with his eyebrows and softening as his eyes opened and rounded at the edges. His eyes, then nose moved across the small territory of your right cheek until he lowered his lips there in the softest kiss you’ve ever felt from him.

“It’s not that bad,” you whispered, “he needed to make it believable.”

He kissed you again, heavier with this desire for you. This time his tongue setting you alight with need as he bucked his hips against your pelvis. The way his cock twitched and lifted told you how much he needed you. The journey of his eyes rested at your left wrist. He paused to take you in for a moment, his brows lowered and without words, you knew he was replaying the moment he pushed you to the ground.

“Don’t get soft on me now, York,” you commented, slowly drawing invisible swirls on his freckled shoulder with your fingertips. “It was all part of the job, right?”

“Endangering someone who’s part of the team isn’t how I operate.”

“Look at me,” you said sternly, “I’m not willing to lose y---,”

Out of self-preservation, you disallowed yourself from uttering the rest of your declaration.

“I don’t want to be a distraction.”

His right hand traveled down to your center, your breath hitching as his thumb began a slow exploration of your outer folds. He gingerly pressed his thumb to your clit, massaging it with light up and down strokes, responding to each roll and writhe of your body.

“Not a distraction,” he murmured, slowly slipping one thick finger into you, “an asset.”

The roll of your body was a signal for him to insert another finger. He began slowly at first, working both his fingers in and out of you to build  up the slick that was already beginning to weep from your core. Your pussy began to swell at the pressure building inside you. The feeling of his forehead against yours as he continued his merciless ministrations had you opening your legs wider for him. The palm of his hand twisted upward as he relentlessly maneuvered his fingers within you, curling them on the button of your sex, beckoning you to come. It was hard to process anything else than his hand working on your pleasure. You closed your eyes feeling every ounce of it collecting itself at your bundle of nerves.

“No, firefly,” he voiced, his breath warm against your ear, “open your eyes.”

Your mouth quivered with moans as you followed his directive, capturing his brown eyes with yours as you made a pathetic attempt at forming words, “Dave, I’m---ah, ah, ah!”

“That’s it, come for me,” he demanded, “fucking come all over my hand.”

As soon as his words left his lips, you were screaming and bucking your hips towards the ceiling as his fingers continued to intensify each jolt your body was already giving to him. His lips and his tongue silenced your screams with a deep kiss while your legs and pelvis bucked towards his hand as he pulled a quaking, wet orgasm from you that left your entire body shaking. He continued to kiss you as your hand searched blindly for his arm, bracing yourself with each wave of wet pleasure.

“Jesus,” you gasp between long breaths, your head still pressed to his.

“Fuck, look at you,” Dave breathed into you, “look at how your body is shaking.”

“So good Dave!!” you proclaimed, intoxicated by his sex.

A quick yelp tumbled from your breathless lips as he flipped you over onto your stomach. The shift of your knees beneath you allowed you to press your ass up towards him, wriggling with impatient want for him to split you open.

Getting on his hands and knees, he prowled and shuffled around in bed to reach over to the night stand on “his” side. For a moment you laughed with breathless desire, thinking how ridiculous it seemed that you had designated the label to this object on your own. Yet, his brain and muscle memory knew everything he kept in there. This time he reached for a set of wrist restraints, which received little use since he acquired them for the two of you. Both of you loved the raw feeling of his large, bare hands holding you down and holding you still. But tonight was different. Tonight, you were his to control.

He pushed you down further into the bed by the nape of your neck and pulled your arms behind you in a strong grip. Anticipation rose in your chest and in the quick sounds of your breath as he fastened each cuff around your wrists. With a tight grip of his hand at the base of his cock, he slapped at your pussy, reminding you that it belonged to him. The arousal that vibrated there was intensified as Dave rubbed his hard, thick cock over your wet folds with a moan so loud it echoed up the high walls of your bedroom. He slipped inside with ease and with a few hard slaps of his hand against your ass. He’d reduced you to a mess of moans in your sheets.

“Always so tight and so wet for me,” he praised, moaning with each slow, deep thrust into your pussy.

Each measured thrust he gave you set off nearly every nerve ending you had on your dewy skin. He leaned over as your hands reached out behind you searching for his touch. Large hands massaged against your ass, your waist, until they found the perfect, but temporary destination of your tits. He took a hold of each one, massaging them in his strong, capable hands as his thrusts grew more forceful and more urgent. His hands moved up to your shoulders pressing against them with deep touches of his fingers into your skin.

“Ahhh, Dave, your cock is so good!” you moaned, feeling every ridge and vein as he kept moving for you.

“You crave it, don’t you?” Dave growled as he moved to grab you by your hair. “Can’t imagine life without me fucking you?”

With a strong pull of your hair in one and a pull of the restraints in the other, he pounded into your swollen pussy. The desire to answer perched at the edge of your lips but escaped only in a chorus of moans as he continued to slam himself into you. Letting go of your hair, his hands .pressed and rolled deep into your shoulders moving down the length of your arms until his fingers were digging into your hips. He lifted his hand and drew back, sending smacks that sent a string of reverberations through to your center and stinging back into his hand. Somehow you were both moaning as he left his mark: defined, red, and in the shape of his hand. He pulled at your restraints again, this time even harder.

“Firefly…,” you felt as Dave’s words began to falter the closer he inched towards orgasm, “answer me.”

“Yes, yes, please, I need your cock!!” you cried as he continued fuck into you with such force it made your headboard and bedframe rock. you just knew you’d be sore tomorrow.

The heat was gathering at your core, like tiny fires igniting and setting new fires through your abdomen, your chest, neck, and back. You didn’t know how much more you could take.

“It’s too much, please Dave, I---I can’t.”

“Not.”

Thrust

“Your.”

Thrust.

“Choice”

Thrust.

Leaning forward, he cruelly pulled out of you before you could come and flipped you over again onto your back. Crawling over you, he pushed your pelvis slightly upwards with his thighs. He hooked one arm under your knee and began to circle your swollen clit with the torturous precision of his thumb, rubbing, swirling, and swirling until he sent quivers outward through your entire body. Tears started to release from your eyes as your hands flexed and stretched beneath you, still in their restraints, desperate for any relief he was gracious enough to bestow on you. With quick slaps of his hard cock, he pushed into you once again. He met your pussy with the same power and urgency as he had when you were on your hands and knees.

“Fuck, you’re always so fucking tight for me,” he growled as his thrusts gained erratic moment. “Come all over this cock, wet your fucking cock.”

“Dave, fill me up, please!!!’ you screamed and moaned as you clenched your walls over his cock. “FUCK!!!”

The walls of your pussy choked down on his cock as the apex of your pleasure rushed in. The futility with which you pulled your wrists from each other trying to break the restraints intensified your pleasure sending a red heat rippling over your body. His eyes were fixed on yours as a gasping groan left his lips as your walls contracted around him, the hot gush of his cum warming you from the inside. Your back and chest heaved as you tried to recover from the earthquake of your orgasm. With his cock still buried deep inside you, he pressed his lips to yours, losing himself in the taste of you before burying his face in your neck. The two of you trembled from the highest peaks of your respective orgasms. He released his cock from the comfort of your warm, wet walls, drawing in a breath and letting out a whimper.

“Turn over,” he instructed with a sigh.

Spent, aching, and fucked out, you rolled over to collapse onto your stomach using what little energy reserve you had left. The feeling of his hands in the merciful act of removing the restraints had you releasing a deep sigh of relief. Your arms dropped to your sides, your left wrist stinging only slightly from where you had fallen the night before. Dave lowered himself to the bed next to you and you peered at him through the strands of hair that still covered your face. Unexpectedly, he took his hand and brushed away the hair, pushing it back and laying it lightly down your back. Closing your eyes, you savored the gentle feeling, not knowing how brief it would be or if it would ever happen again. The feeling of his hand as it traced down your neck and down the dip of your lower back sent shivers and goosebumps over every inch of you.

He brought his hand to your face, once again examining the bruise Resnick had left on your face.

“What I said earlier---,” Dave began his voice steady and stoic.

“You said a lot of things, Dave,” you replied before he could finish.

“I mean it, you need to decide if you really have the stomach for this,” Dave warned, his voice stern and teetering on the edge of regret, “I can’t have people on my team who I can’t rely on and who I can’t trust.”

Opening your eyes, you propped yourself up and scooted closer to him, “What’s the point in even giving me a second chance?”

He breathed you in as you inched closer, your legs beginning to tangle in his, “I know what you’re capable of; your skills would fill a void in the team.” 

“I need the team to listen to me when I have the right intel,” you enjoined, running fingers along his forearm, “not just because I’m fucking you.”

“It’ll happen,” Dave assured as he sat up, leaning against the soft headboard of your bed. “Anyone who judges you by the person you’re with is a fucking idiot.”

The person you’re with. The person you’re with. The person you’re with.

You would have given everything to stay in this moment in time, just to hear those words again and again.

Dwelling on what he said would have driven you insane, instead you tried to refocus your attention on more professional matters.

“Applies to you, too,” you voiced as you sat up, kicking your legs in front of you to face him. “I can’t be responsible for people who don’t trust me and the information I supply.”

You pressed your chest to your thighs and rested your arms across your knees.

“Is that so?” his eyes were affixed to you as he pressed a hand to your ankle.

He massaged your calf up to your knee, pushing your legs slightly apart with a strong nudge of his hand.

“Come here,” he beckoned with his touch, gesturing for you to take your rightful place in his lap.

His hands kneaded and gripped the soft skin of your ass, as he guided you to sit over him in a straddle.

“I mean it, Dave,” you steadied your words by squeezing his thighs with yours.

“How about this: The day I don’t listen to you,” he started, looking up at you with his hand gripping the back of your neck while his thumb caressed your jaw, “if shit hits the fan, you can always tell me I told you so.”

You brought your hand to his, rubbing his forearms, his biceps, and shoulders with tender hands. With a nod, you kissed him, withholding any further discussion on the subject for the time being. While the answer wasn’t quite good enough for you, for now, it would have to do.

[viivdle]

on today's episode of "taylor swift is SO jurdan coded" is "evermore feat. bon iver"

in my opinion, a lot of the songs can interpreted from both jude's and cardan's side and this one is a great example of it

"Gray November

I've been down since July" could very well be jude's exile - jude would be down because she was exiled (obviously), but we know cardan was extremely down too since he thought jude didn't want to return his letters

"Motion Capture

Put me in a bad light" - jude was put in an extremely bad light when cardan exiled her in front of everyone

"I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone

Trying to find the one where I went wrong" is one of the parts i think are fitting for both - jude has been raised as a mortal in elfhame, always having to watch what she's doing and make sure she's doing it correctly, i'm more than sure she'd overthink every single thing to find where she went wrong. on the other side, cardan has been raised as an unwanted princeling born under a bad prophecy, it clouded his whole being. for cardan's side i imagine both him as a child, trying to figure out what he did for everyone to ignore and hate him, and also him in the time between twk and tqon, trying to figure out why jude wasn't coming back despite his letters.

"Writing letters

Addressed to the fire" - i think this one is very self explanatory on cardan's side, but i think it can also be used as a metaphor for jude's efforts to fit in and prove her strength to everyone (ex: madoc) that she knows won't change anything anyway because she's mortal first, and everything she achieves is tarnished by that

"Staring out an open window

Catching my death" - this one isn't really something i can explain, i just imagine jude in vivi's apartment during the exile

"And I couldn't be sure

I had a feeling so peculiar

That this pain would be for

Evermore" again, fitting for both in a way - for both jude and cardan, they lived with something that shadowed everything they did. for jude, it was her mortality. for cardan, the prophecy. both of those caused pain (that they dealt with in very different yet similar ways, but not getting into that now) that they knew wouldn't go away. the second example, also fitting for both, is during the exile. jude was obviously homesick. despite the circumstances, elfhame did become her home and she was banished from it. on the other side, i imagine jude was the first person to make cardan feel at home, so in a way he banished himself from home by exiling her.

"Hey December

Guess I'm feeling unmoored" - again, exile (trying to speed this along)

"Can't remember

What I used to fight for" jude - through and through, it's her. she worked her way to not only being a spy and seneschal, but the actual QUEEN. and for what? to be exiled hours later? everything she touched and fought for turned into ashes.

"I rewind the tape, but all it does is pause

On the very moment I was lost" again, both - i could bring up the prologue of tcp, but i'm not doing that to myself. i think for cardan the most accurate moment was when jude tricked him and oak placed the crown on his head, those lyrics just FIT!! for jude the most important ones would of course be when she almost died but also when he saw cardan laughing with the folk.

"Sending signals

To be double crossed" - cardan. exile. letters. all i'm gonna say.

"Barefoot in the wildest winter

Catching my death" jude - i have to say it. jude when she almost died. you know the one i mean.

"Oh, can we just get a pause?" - i wish they would've gotten SO. MANY. PAUSES. this obviously applies to both. especially when cardan lost his family (it hit him more than he wanted to, i don't care) and, i'm sorry, when cardan turned into the serpent. i can see jude standing in front of him before she kills him so vividly when i hear this

"Cannot think of all the cost

And the things that will be lost" - i wish the two of them knew what was coming for them i'm sobbing

"I'm on waves, out being tossed" - pun intended

"And when I was shipwrecked

I thought of you" both fit - the amazing thing with jude and cardan is that no matter who was actually in danger, the other suffered too. when jude was held by the undersea, cardan went berserk. the time during jude's captive fits for many reasons (there was a pun intended by picking it). it also suits cardan when his family was BEING SLAUGHTERED AND HE SAW JUDE.

"In the cracks of light

I dreamed of you" again - both. i like to think of this as a metaphor, the cracks of light are the parts of cardan that were conscious when he was the serpent, not knowing anything but jude. and jude herself admitted that she dreamed of cardan, so i'm taking that one literally even thought there were no cracks of light during her exile

thanks for coming to my VERY long ted talk

"But I swear

You were there" cardan - again what i said above. he knew nothing, not even himself, but he knew jude.