#nobody has any expectations of me at college

[nadvs]

cam girl (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

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The next time you log in to the cam website, your heart is racing. Throughout your classes that day, all you could think about was how hot the session with the man you thought was a stranger was last night.

But he isn’t a stranger. He lives in the mansion you get paid to clean twice a week, where he taunts you every chance he gets, practically fucking you with his eyes.

Does Rafe know it’s you on the camera? Is this a sick little game he’s enjoying, thinking you don’t know it’s him? Or maybe he’s aware you know who’s behind the account and he wants to see if you’ll say something about it?

But you do such a good job hiding your face. He can’t know it’s you.

You wonder if it’s wrong to continue doing the nightly private sessions knowing his identity. But when you remember how much joy he gets from berating you while you clean his house, you figure it’s ridiculous to care about the ethics of it.

You try to focus on the fact that you’re making so much money. Rafe gave you over $1500 last night. And he wants to keep paying you for every session. At this rate, you won’t have to worry about bills or your college tuition at all.

You closed your cam girl account to all other subscribers and posted a note that you were no longer streaming. The truth was, you were, but for one man only.

The thought of Rafe lying in bed jacking off to you turns you on before you even start the chat with him.

You take a deep breath, your hand hovering over your laptop trackpad. Rafe Cameron is going to watch you get naked and touch yourself and it makes your stomach feel like it’s flipping.

You start the private session.

Your screen fills with the image of you from your lips down to your feet as you’re curled up on your bed. You’re in a sheer white nighty with no bra or panties on underneath, your body hardly hidden beneath the smooth fabric.

Rafe called your tits perfect last night, so you figured he’ll appreciate you having them on display right when he logs in.

figure8 has joined the session.

You swallow hard.

figure8: been thinking about you all day princess

His words give you butterflies. You try to keep your confidence at the same level now that you’re aware of who’s on the other side of the chat. You refuse to be intimidated knowing it’s Rafe.

“Yeah? What about me?” you ask.

figure8: how pretty that pussy is and how im gonna watch you fuck it from behind

You feel the blood rush to your face. You know he has a filthy mind from the comments he makes to you at his house while you work, but this is more than you ever expected.

“Should I go slow for you again?” you whisper. “I know you like that.”

figure8: what a fast learner

You smirk. There’s the Rafe you know. He has such a natural talent for mocking you.

“You like this little outfit?” you ask him, your hands running down the fabric on your chest, fondling your tits. “I wore it special for you.”

figure8: so fucking hot. bounce those tits for me

You sit up on your knees and arch your back, lightly bobbing on the bed with your hands up in your hair. He has a perfect view of your chest beneath the sheer nighty, your nipples hard under the fabric as your tits jiggle up and down.

figure8: damn. i’d leave hickeys and bites all over those tits. you like to get bitten dont you princess. i know you like it rough

With every other viewer you’ve had as a cam girl, you’ve lied about your preferences just to get tips, but with Rafe, it’s like he knows exactly what you want. You haven’t had to lie to him once.

“I fucking love it rough,” you moan. You put your hands up to your tits and squeeze hard. “I want you to leave marks on me.”

figure8: i’d leave them all over your tits and your ass

“Yeah? Would you spank me? Hard enough to leave a handprint?” you ask, turning around and slowly lifting the nighty over your butt. You stick out your ass for him and sway it slowly for him.

figure8: fuck yes. shake your ass

You spread your knees wider and obey, looking back to watch your body on the screen. The thought of Rafe lying in bed fisting his cock while he watches you makes you get even wetter.

figure8: straddle your pillow. i wanna see how you’d ride my face

You tilt the laptop down so he doesn’t see above your mouth as you move to grab a pillow from behind the computer. You readjust the screen then straddle the pillow, the cotton soft against your naked core.

You start to buck your hips, shuddering immediately. You’re dazed already, desperate for his hands on you, as you rub your body against the pillow.

“I’d ride it fast like this,” you say breathily, humping the pillow.

figure8: my needy girl. my dick is throbbing watching you

figure8 tipped you $200.

figure8: that’s for riding it so well

“Thank you,” you purr, still grinding the pillow. The feeling of getting paid while doing something that feels so good is intoxicating. You’d do anything Rafe’s filthy mind desires.

figure8: don’t cum yet. i’m not done with you

You bite your lip in frustration.

“Okay,” you say heatedly. You slow down your thrusts, back still arched as you await your next instruction.

figure8: show me how you finger yourself. get your pussy nice and close to the camera

You shift to spread your legs in front of the camera, seeing yourself on full display for him.

figure8: start with one finger. i want you to work up to four. can you do that princess?

“I can do that,” you say shakily. You insert a forefinger into your warm, tight hole and let out a contented sigh.

figure8: pump it in and out slowly. add a second finger when you’re ready

You obey, stretching yourself out a bit before adding a second finger. Slowly, you add a third and writhe a bit. You push your hand back and forth, watching yourself on the screen.

You add your pinky finger and slightly tense up, your body rolling.

figure8: breathe through it. you can do it

You let out a shaky exhale as you continue, watching your fingers disappear inside of you.

figure8: good girl stretching that pussy out so nice. i bet you taste so fucking good. taste yourself for me

The request is so sinful, so unlike anything you’ve ever been asked to do. You slowly pull your fingers out of yourself, bringing your hand up to your mouth, making sure he can see your lips.

“I’ve never done this before,” you say to him.

figure8: you’ll do a lot of new things with me, princess

You taste your wetness, sucking on your fingers for him with a slurp loud enough for him to hear. It’s such an animalistic, depraved act, and you find yourself wishing you could do it with him in person, have him watch you do this in the same room.

figure8: god i want to taste you so bad

“I want to taste you, too,” you whisper. If only Rafe knew how accessible you were to him, in his house twice a week. “You know, you can send me photos whenever you want.”

figure8: desperate to see this dick aren’t you

You smile. He could not be more correct. You don’t know how you’ll manage to be around him in person and act normal knowing what you know.

Your stomach heats when you see that he sent a photo. He’s holding his cock, the curve of it so perfect, a pearl of precum leaking out of the tip.

“I want to use my mouth on you,” you keen. “My pussy is aching for it.”

figure8: i know you’d love the taste, princess. show me how you’d take my cock doggy style

Finally. You pick up your dildo and turn around, backing up towards the screen. You angle to slide the toy in slowly, feeling it fill you up, then move your hand so he can view you clearly.

figure8: i can see you dripping

Sure enough, you look down on your sheets to see drops of your own wetness. This man has got you hornier than you’ve ever been.

“That’s what you do to me,” you rasp. “Fuck, I bet you’d destroy me.”

figure8: that pussy would grip my dick so well. i’d fuck you so hard

“Can I please do it now?” you say breathlessly, throbbing with need.

figure8: only because you asked so nice

You dip your arm between your hips, knees sinking into your bed as you lean so your cheek is pressed against the mattress and out of the camera’s frame. You hold the base of the toy and shut your eyes and imagine Rafe’s warm, hard cock inside of you instead of a dildo you have to control.

Breathy moans spill out of you as you thrust the dildo in and out of your slick cunt. You picture him behind you, his hands on your hips as he ruthlessly thrashes in and out of you.

The orgasm slowly builds and builds.

“I’m gonna come,” you say, muffled. You bite your tongue, stifling the urge to call him by his name. Your eyes roll back as the orgasm ripples through with a powerful force, making you shake with pleasure.

When you finally regain enough energy, you sit up and turn to look at the laptop again. To your delight, you see that Rafe sent another photo.

You look closer at the image to see his cum sprayed across his muscular stomach, the white splashes of his pleasure glistening atop his abs.

“Shit,” you rasped. The image is so sexy that you feel yourself getting aroused again.

figure8: see what you do to me? i never cum this fucking fast

figure8 tipped you $100.

figure8: use the money to buy this. have it ready tomorrow

He sends a link in his next message. You open it to see a sex toy website. The page he sent is for a rose vibrator.

“I’ve always wanted one of these,” you say breathily. “Thank you, baby.”

figure8: dont use it without me watching. understand?

“Yes,” you say.

figure8: sleep. you’ll need your rest for what im doing to you tomorrow

figure8 tipped you $1000.

Rafe leaves the chat. You follow his instructions, ordering the toy right away and selecting the option to have it delivered tomorrow. What is he planning?

You decide to do some more online shopping, finding a top you know he’ll like.

After you buy the items, you stare at your laptop, reeling from what just happened.

You look at the pictures he sent again. Rafe was always such a cocky asshole whenever he taunted you at work and it definitely isn’t from overcompensation. He’s so well-endowed that you know it’d hurt so good having him inside you.

How would he react if you told him you were the girl he was jacking off to? Would he be embarrassed? Or relieved he could fuck you for real? Because you’d let him have sex with you. After tonight, there’s no doubt about it.

You close the laptop. It’s Thursday, meaning you’ll likely see Rafe in two days when you’re back at the Cameron estate on Saturday as scheduled. You typically see him around the house, but there are times where you don’t run into him at all.

You don’t know if you’d prefer to see him or not. How could you act normal after having him talk to you like that, after seeing his naked photos?

You try to go to bed right away, but your head is spinning.

The next night, you log in wearing skimpy white panties and the pink tank top you bought the night before, the word “princess” stretched across the front in white cursive letters.

Rafe joins the private session and you can imagine the smirk on his face once he sees your outfit.

“Hi, baby,” you coo, pinching the peaks of your nipples poking beneath the shirt. “You like my top? Bought it last night.”

figure8: its perfect. i want you to spoil yourself with every dollar i give you

You giggle and hold the small silicone rose toy up the camera.

“I was tempted to use it, but I didn’t,” you admit. “Promise.”

figure8: good girl. i hope you got your rest last night. im not paying you til you cum three times tonight

“Oh, my God,” you laugh. “Three? I don’t know…”

figure8: you can do it, princess. take ur panties off but keep that shirt on. don’t want u to forget who u belong to

His possessiveness is so attractive that you feel yourself getting wet already. You slide your underwear off, spreading your legs and putting yourself on display for him.

figure8: tell me what you’d want me to do if i was there. you’d like my head between your legs wouldnt you

You giggle, “You read my mind.” You put your fingers on your clit and close your eyes, imagining curling your fingers in Rafe’s hair as his tongue presses against your middle.

You would have never guessed that Rafe Cameron likes eating pussy, always having assumed he was selfish in bed. But he’s been surprising you since the first message he sent.

“I’d want you to start off kissing me right here,” you purr, “then you’d start using your tongue. Then you’d suck my clit.”

figure8: then i’d put my tongue deep inside your tight cunt

Reading the words makes you tremble. You lower your hand to spread your lips open and show him your opening.

“Right here?” you tease.

figure8: i want my face all wet from you

You groan, imagining his pretty face glistening, his pink lips swollen from eating you out.

You grow wetter and wetter as you touch yourself.

figure8: get the toy

You eagerly pick it up and hold your finger over the “on” button.

“Which setting?”

figure8: whatever will make u cum the hardest, princess

“You get off on me feeling good, don’t you, baby?” you tease.

figure8: those sounds you make are so fucking perfect. i’m already rock hard

“You want me to be loud?”

figure8: don’t hold back. i’ll count your orgasms with you ok? and on the third one, we’ll cum together

This man could not get any sexier if he tried. You curiously explore the toy, finally turning it on and hearing it buzz immediately.

You place it on your clit and the pleasure is instant. You let out a sharp exhale, imagining Rafe touching himself while he watches you.

The toy buzzes and suctions on you and it doesn’t take long at all for the first orgasm to roll through you. You don’t stifle the moan that comes out of you, knowing he’s enjoying it.

figure8: that’s one. that was so fast, princess

“I was horny all day,” you confess.

figure8: thinkin about me?

“Mhm. That picture of your cum all over your stomach is so fucking nice.”

figure8: then u can imagine how much i enjoy watching u fuck urself

“I want a video of you rubbing your cock,” you say impulsively. “I want to hear your sounds, too.”

figure8: you’re such a needy girl

“It’s why you like me,” you flirt. He doesn’t respond right away, making you anticipate that he’s recording a video for you.

A file from him pops up in the chat. You eagerly play it, watching six jaw-dropping seconds of his hand moving up and down the thick girth of his dick in his dark bedroom, his heavy breathing filling your ears.

“God,” you whimper. “I’m ready to go again.”

You pick up the toy and place it on your clit, pressing it down hard as it pulls another orgasm out of you after a minute. You moan out a jumbled, high-pitched mess of “oh, fuck”s as you cum.

Your muscles are tingling and tired. You’re not sure you can give yourself a third orgasm.

figure8: two. not done yet

“Maybe we stop here?” you whisper. “I’m already so weak.”

figure8: are u going to be a good girl or not

“I will,” you resign. “I will.”

figure8: go again. on the max setting

Feeling spent but determined to please him, you put the toy on your sensitive clit again. You hang your head back, looking up at your bedroom ceiling as you press the button a few times to turn on the highest level.

The toy’s suction and pace is brutal and unforgiving. You cry out from the overstimulation, writhing beneath it. The forced orgasm rises inside you and you groan loudly as you cum, tremors ripping through your body.

You’re panting when you turn off the toy and sit up to look at the chat. Rafe sent another photo. His hand is holding his cock at its base, the swollen shaft covered in his cum.

figure8: would u lick this up?

“Every fucking drop,” you say, wishing you could have orgasmed with him inside of you.

figure8 tipped you $2000.

figure8: extra for being so good

The high of the orgasms, of your bank account growing all because this man wants to watch you pleasure yourself, makes you feel like you’re floating.

“I belong to you,” you tell Rafe drunkenly, unable to imagine letting anyone else watching you like this ever again.

figure8: yeah you fucking do. that pussy is mine

“All yours,” you whisper.

figure8: ill see u tomorrow. good job today princess

Rafe exits the chat, leaving you a heaving mess.

Your heart feels like it twists reading his last message. He surely means he’ll see you on camera tomorrow… but what if he means at the estate for your housekeeping shift?

No, he doesn’t know it’s you. He can’t. You breathe out a tired sigh and take a long, hot shower before going to bed.

Your shapeless uniform is scratchy against your skin as you walk into the mansion the next day, still not sure if you want to run into Rafe or not.

You finish up cleaning downstairs and move up to the bedrooms, leaving Rafe’s room for last.

When you enter his room, it’s empty, the late morning sun hidden behind the blinds covering his big windows. You hear the shower in his ensuite running. You curse to yourself, suddenly nervous to see him. Maybe you can quickly collect the laundry and leave before he gets out.

You start to strip the bed, picturing the photos he sent you of himself on it, fucking his own hand and cumming with you. He lies right here, typing dirty things to you, watching you fuck yourself.

You’ve only unbuttoned one button of the duvet cover when you hear the shower faucet get turned off. Shit.

You rush to unbutton the cover, but you finish just as the door squeaks open behind you. You can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” you mumble, keeping your back to him and leaving the bed half-done.

“You’ve seen it all already,” Rafe huskily says behind you. You freeze for a second.

You shyly keep your eyes on the hardwood floor as you turn. When you look up at him as he towers over you, his mouth merely inches away from yours, you see he’s wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips.

His hair is wet, his broad chest spattered with water drops. He smells amazing from the body wash he used and his eyes are heavy lidded and his smirk is so damn self-satisfied.

“Why do you look so surprised? You really think I didn’t recognize that pretty mouth right away, princess?”

{ read part three here }

[nereidprinc3ss]

better late than never

in which uni student fem!reader finally shares exactly what she's been worried about with spencer

18+ for pregnancy scare warnings/tags: pregnancy scare, reader doesn't want to be pregnant, age gap (unspecified) a/n: listennn lots of you guys asked for more spence x uni reader... but u didn't specify WHAT u wanted... so now we're fantasizing about pregnancy scares because we're all what?? say it with me!! MENTALLY ILL!!!!

For the fifth time, you have to restart the paragraph you were reading. For the fifth time, it doesn’t make any sense—words strung together like clashing beads on a dancing string, blurred together by the tears you’ve been fighting all day. Anthropology is by far the easiest of the six classes you’re taking this quarter, but suddenly completing this routine assignment feels like scaling a mountain. It is, of course, nothing in comparison to the catalytic source of your immense stress. The thing you’ve been trying to ignore for nearly a week, and as a result, have become more and more obsessive about. 

A flare of rage overwhelms you and you slam your laptop shut. Then as quickly as it appeared, it dissipates, cooling to desolation as you bury your face in your hands with a sob. You hear paper shuffling from the desk where Spencer has been silently working and you try to reign in your emotions, but it’s too late. 

“Hey,” he says gently as he approaches, slowing to a stop in front of your spot on the couch. “What’s going on with you?”

You sniff, quickly brushing the tears away with trembling hands. But your voice is thick and strained when you fruitlessly attempt to lie. 

“Nothing.”

When you refuse to look up at him, he kneels down in front of you. 

“Really? This doesn’t have anything to do with why you’ve been so quiet these past few days?”

Of course, he noticed. You were a fool for thinking he wouldn’t. Finally you break, looking to him for subconscious comfort. And he’s looking up at you so earnestly, with so much genuine concern in those puppy dog eyes, that the waterworks threaten to start up all over again. Your lip quivers. 

“I can’t tell you,” you squeak. 

“That’s a really scary thing for me to hear. Do you understand why?” His voice is calm, carefully grabbing your hand and bringing to his heart. “Because I need to know if something happened to you.”

You shake your head tearfully, looking down at where you’re weakly grasping the front of his shirt. 

“‘s not like that,” comes your reedy whisper. “Nobody hurt me or anything, I just—I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

“I won’t get mad, I won’t,” he promises desperately, “right now I just want to know what I can do to make this better. I hate seeing you like this.”

A shuddering sigh forces its way out of your lungs. You suppose this is the kind of thing you probably should tell your boyfriend about, as petrifying as it may be.  

“I don’t know, I… I’ve just been freaking the fuck out because I’m worried I’m pregnant, and this would be the worst possible timing—like I know I want kids one day but I’m still in college and you’re like a real adult with an adult career and I don’t want to fuck that up for you and I know that even if I am pregnant I have choices but that’s still so scary and… and I don’t know.”

You’re expecting a long pause, punctuated by some berating and bemoaning, but it never comes. Spencer doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Honey, this is exactly the kind of thing you tell me about,” he says, voicing your earlier thoughts. And he doesn’t even sound furious. You glance up, watching his visage swim beyond your teary eyes. “I am not mad. That wouldn’t make any sense. Do you know who’s fault it would be if you accidentally got pregnant?”

“Well—"

“Mine. So if this ever happens again, please don’t keep it to yourself for so long. I won’t be mad at you for something like this, ever.”

“But… you’re not worried?”

He shakes his head slowly, looking utterly unperturbed. 

“I wouldn’t be worried either way. But no, I’m not concerned that you’re pregnant. We’re really safe. The chances of you being pregnant are essentially negligible.”

“But I’m two weeks late.”

“That can happen when you’re taking six upper level classes,” he agrees, swiping your cheek with a thumb. “You’re under a lot of stress. I’m completely unsurprised that your body is reacting to it.”

A weight like a ton of bricks is lifted from your shoulders, but doubt still lingers. 

Spencer sees the hesitation in your eyes. 

“Would it make you feel better to take a test? Just in case?”

You nod gingerly, wrapping your hand around his wrist. He takes it in both of his, kissing the back before dropping them to your lap. 

“Okay. I’ll go get a couple. But I’m confident that you have nothing to worry about, and I’m usually right about these things.”

You take another deep breath, the last of the anxiety floating away with it. He’s usually right about everything. 

“Spence?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, brushing your palm with his thumb and looking at you with so much love in his eyes. 

“Do you maybe feel like doing my homework for me?”

He smiles. 

“Nice try. Get it done and we can go out for dinner, okay?”

“Always worth a shot,” you shrug. 

He laughs, shaking his head as he stands. 

“And the answer will always be no.”

[sukunasweetheart]

kimi ni todoke inspired, but with a twist?? except sukuna is suuuuper into your whole scary/creepy vibes (strange fetish) this is more just rambling, not a proper fic sorry, its a little smutty, scratching and knifeplay involved (he's quite submissive), sukuna's a whole FRREAK

sukuna in college au, where he has a strange infatuation with the horror genre-- has a deep appreciation for scary films, and is a huge nerd in this area, and many of his favourite celebrities are actors and actresses that starred in one of his favourite films. his brother yuuji is also a huge cinema nerd but he's not as obsessed with horror as sukuna is. and frankly, yuuji thinks he's a slight weirdo for being able to analyse them in a very detailed manner, whether it's the jumpscares or how realistic a gore scene looks.

and now this horror nerd discovers someone very noteworthy in his area. there's this semi-famous haunted house that operates year-round nearby his university, which he decides to visit alone, out of boredom.

...the atmosphere is alright. the decoration could use some work. the bloody sheets don't look convincing enough. it's too pink and tacky. the "ghosts" give an effort to try and scare him, but he gives them a deadpan look.

"can you try any harder?" sukuna keeps walking.

next, a man dressed like a typical serial killer walks in holding a real chainsaw. oh, boy. the "killer" walks up real close to him, to his annoyance. he takes the chance to inspect the mask on his face. he flicks it lightly with a finger.

"shit's made out of plastic. do better."

the man revs up his chainsaw.

"ha - that's the spirit." he continues walking.

there's suddenly eerie silence, now that he's almost at the exit of the haunted house. what, did they run out of ideas?

he thinks he catches a glimpse of someone in the corner of his eye. sukuna stops and turns back, but there's no one in sight. that gets the hairs on the back of his neck rising, ever so slightly. he likes that.

he feigns ignorance and keeps heading to the exit, wanting something to jump out at him. he hears little footsteps behind him, this time. he whips around again, but there's nobody.

"you're edging me, are you?" he says sarcastically with a chuckle.

you're hiding in a little pocket area out of view, when you hear the man mention something about edging. great. another fucking weirdo. sometimes, you feel like you should just get a new job.

the third time, you actually reveal yourself and stand still in view when he turns around. the weirdo just stands there and grins at you. the fuck??

oh, sukuna loves this one. you look terrifying. like you came directly from a horror film set. you give him the creeps.

"look at you... a diamond in the rough."

the fuck is this man talking about? you want to tell him to just leave already. but he just continues observing you silently, like someone analysing an artifact. you move stiffly towards him, even while knowing that it probably wouldn't be enough to scare him off.

"your makeup looks too real... do you do that yourself?"

you glare at him. it's part of the script anyway. sukuna chuckles, because something tells him that the disdain in your eyes are real.

"i know, i know. i'll get going. any chance i could get your number before i go?" he asks boldly, hands in his pockets. it's a half-hearted attempt, but he felt the need to really try at least once.

he must be joking. what kind of perverted man sees a woman looking like this and asks for her number? well, he probably isn't being serious anyway. silence permeates the area as you backtrack away from him, deciding you've done enough for your pay's worth.

"running away? a shame..."

you feel odd. many men have seen you and ended up running out screaming. none has ever tried flirting with you while you were in this getup. what a weirdo.

sukuna walks out feeling better than expected. that last section really saved it. not a totally worthless experience. maybe he'll swing by again, just to see you.

except, he doesn't really need to. because the next day you bump into him at uni - and he recognises you instantly, like the freak he is. you try to brush him off casually, but he can't be shaken off so easily. and then sukuna pestering you wherever you hid around on campus became part of your schedule.

"what's your deal? why do you keep following me around?" you eye him suspiciously, when he sits down next to you on the bench, unprompted.

"well, i'm interested in you, for one," he says casually, shrugging.

"listen... if this is because you have some weird horror fetish, then i'm not interested..." you tell him truthfully, shuffling yourself away.

sukuna laughs out loudly in response, which makes you jump.

"i won't deny having unusual tastes, but my interest isn't that shallow. if it were the case, i could probably seduce any other girl and dress her up instead of chasing after you."

well, you guess he's correct about that. you've received a couple of stink eyes from a number of girls after being seen with sukuna so often.

he's an annoying guy - when you ask other peers about him, they tell you he's stoic, mean, and rude as fuck. well, you understand the last two a little bit, but stoic? every time he sees you, he seems like the opposite. he's rather loud and overbearing.

"i'm telling you - you have a talent. why not make use of it?"

he's referring to your future acting career, apparently.

"and i'm telling you - stop with the nonsense! i can't be fooling around with a silly idea like becoming an actor. seriously."

you only started working at the haunted house for some cash. you're not even that into the genre itself. what's with this guy?

"why would it be fooling around? at least give it a try before dismissing it."

this back and forth continues, for quite a while. he even forces you to watch his favourite horror films, "for future reference".

and then he proposes a deal to you. that you try and audition for a small role as a ghost in a film. he guarantees you'll get picked, even though you doubt it. and if you don't he promises he'll never bring the idea up to you again. you decide to go with it, just to shut him up.

but guess what? you're selected for the role.

sukuna shrugs at you with a smug smile on his face.

"see? i'm always right."

he pisses you off.

and he somehow pushes his way into becoming your personal "trainer". sukuna revises your script with you, and gives you feedback on your acting. he sits you down and watches classic horror flicks with you, analysing every scene down to every frame. many things happen the more you spend time with him..... you find yourself getting more and more attracted to this weirdo. this horror nerd.

"are you paying attention? this part is important."

the film gets paused, and you very swiftly, dart your eyes away from admiring his jawline.

"i'm trying... i just can't concentrate. i'm hungry," you lie fervently.

"hungry for what? me?" sukuna grabs your face and makes you turn your head towards him.

"...no? whatever gave you that idea?" you ask, heart hammering in your chest.

"how is it that an aspiring actor can't even lie properly? maybe we need to go back and revise some of your acting lessons."

you know that he's studying to become a film director, and honestly you feel sorry for the future actors that'll be working with him.

"whatever. let go of my face, you ass." you swat his hand away.

sukuna chuckles deeply at you, eyes softening.

"you're lucky that you're cute. how about i give you a kiss? will you concentrate better then?"

"yeah... wait, what-?"

too late though, he's already on your lips. and damn, he's a good kisser. anyways, that embarks the start of your relationship with him. shortly after, the filming process for the short film begins, and it becomes a decent success. you're a little ecstatic. maybe more than a little. you get the feeling that a whole new life is awaiting you.

and your boyfriend is so endlessly cocky about it. "all thanks to me," he says, which is technically correct, but you don't want to openly admit it in front of him sometimes.

and...

occasionally...you do dress up scarily before sex as well. at first, you were quite reluctant and awkward with roleplaying in bed, but after you got used to it, you found that it's hot as hell to see sukuna beneath you, squirming as you press a knife close to his throat, grinding your clothed cunt against his boner, dressed as a terrifying ghoul.

a safe word was established beforehand, of course, just in case either of you suddenly feel like backing out.

you want to keep yourself immersed into the role as much as possible, but it's difficult when sukuna's cock is so big, hitting all the right spots. this time, you're choking him with one hand as you ride him like he's a toy.

sukuna's hands are guiding your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh, his dick aching from the soft pressure you apply to his throat. you look so utterly scary, it turns him on. he'd let you kill him, if you wanted. he fucks into your cervix, looking up into your eyes with a blush on his face, groaning openly at the insane look in your eyes.

choke me harder. scratch me. bite me. he provokes you through his gaze.

you do grip his throat harder. and then you dig your fingernails into his chest, and scrape them down slowly, leaving a trail of red marks down him. sukuna shudders under you and curses under his breath.

"just like that... fuck, baby," he moans, cock throbbing inside of you. your walls squeeze him so good.

he cums the hardest he's ever cum in his life that night - thighs trembling and sweat rolling down his temples, and it doesn't help that you lean down to sink your teeth into the side of his neck while he orgasms.

aftercare consists of him cleaning you up and helping you de-costume. when he's wiping all that dark makeup off your face, he tells you that you're pretty with his soft voice, flustering you.

and of course, vanilla sex also occurs regularly, to get away from that freaky stuff sometimes, with the gentle kisses and tender hand holding, in a missionary position, exchanging sweet, sweet gazes with each other. giving you the princess treatment you deserve for being so good to him.

in the future, you run around and play bigger roles until one of your films become a huge hit, and sukuna finishes his degree to become a famous film director... no surprises there! the best horror actress + the best horror film director goes hard... the two of you are already married at this point.

when the both of you finally get together to make the ultimate film, the internet explodes... sukuna is surprisingly bad at being professional. he's seen often taking care of you rather affectionately around the filming area, personally making sure your makeup is done perfectly, and bringing you food and water as if he's bragging to everyone else about his marriage. and it shows in the way he sugar coats his critique for you, when he has never done that for any other actor/actress he's worked with previously.

if there are some snooty coworkers that try to speak with him about the gap in treatment, he would simply scoff at them and say 'and? she's my damn wife.'

when he's working with you, it's all like:

"cut! honey, that was great, but i think this part can be done a bit better."

but when it comes to other actors:

"cut! what the fuck was that? sounded like you were reading off the damn script. get your shit together."

he's notorious for being relentless, but nobody has anything to say because all of his films climbed to the top of the industry. everyone is dying to score a line or two in his films.

and i'd like to think that sukuna himself dabbles into acting a little as well. there's probably one film where he stars as the killer, and it becomes a classic :) but the one featuring you and him probably becomes both of your biggest hits ✨

oh, and on days where you two finish filming together, he takes you home with his own car, but before that, some freaky car sex probably occurs around some corner with his windows tinted... (he's been hot and bothered the whole time filming, watching you act)

the end <3

Masterlist

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 8: It’s Still Not A Date

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!) Soldier Boy calls the reader Petals.

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 8.4K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Super creepy dude (it's not Soldier Boy), sexism (it's Soldier Boy), swearing, Denial of feelings, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

"What?" You ask for the hundredth time as you catch Ben glancing over at you from the driver's seat.

Street lights flicker on the outside of car, rigid lines of the buildings softened by the speed as he maneuvers the vehicle through the crowded Saturday night traffic.

He was driving, obviously, because when you'd tried to take the keys, Ben had snatched them away and stated "women can't drive" to which you'd responded "I’m not going to be told that I can’t drive by someone who was born before the invention of the wheel.”

Ben looks back out the windshield that’s bathed in a red glow from the stop light above. “Nothing.”

The color of the light cuts through the shadows in the car,  dramatizing Ben's proud nose and sharp jaw, catching on the lapels of his coat and making him look like a creature that rose from the sea when a god fell into the depths.

Again it reminded you of all the classical literature you'd read in high school and your first year of college, finally understanding what poets wrote about when they described true beauty, and thinking that the fall of man might not have been from pride but rather man fell for beauty such as this, the beauty that Ben possessed.

When you'd first met him, you'd thought that it was a proud beauty, a haughtiness that Ben had because he knew exactly how good he looked and he expected people to worship that, to bend over backwards for him, but now you weren't sure. Yes, Ben knew how attractive he was. And yes, Ben was Ben, but with you sometimes you weren't sure. The moments you spent on your couch when he asked you about your father or when he asked you how your day was or when he indulged your ridiculous request to try out couches at IKEA or when he thought to buy you coffee or when he sat outside your bathroom just to hear you sing you didn't see the haughtiness, didn't see the pride, didn't the anger, and you didn't see the version of Soldier Boy that you'd seen in clips and photos from the past, you saw someone different, someone real.

“You’ve said 'nothing' seventeen times.”

“I have not.” His eyes flick to yours once more, annoyance pulling his mouth down into an attractive frown.

“What is it? Do I have something on my face? Did Annie draw a mustache on it?” You reach for the visor to look at yourself in the mirror again. "Because she did that one time when we had a sleepover in middle school and she didn't tell me until we got through second period."

"She drew a mustache on you?"

"Yes. To be fair I had drawn a mustache on her the week before, but I didn't use a permanent marker."

"How long have the two of you been friends?" Ben asks slowly.

"Since elementary school." You examine your face in the mirror. You always had a habit of smudging your mascara or your lipstick whenever you wore it. It wasn’t that you meant to, it was that each time you legitimately forgot you were wearing it. But your face is devoid of anything abnormal. You still looked the same as you did when you left the apartment, dark lipstick, smoky eyeshadow, contoured cheeks, and you didn’t see why he kept looking at you. "We grew up in a small town and we were the only two supes in our class. The other kids thought we were freaks, used to make up jeers, there was also something about cooties, but I think I've repressed it."

"Fucking dicks." Ben mutters.

"It's okay. I didn't really care and I had Annie. Would have been worse if it was just me." You shake your head to focus back on what you'd asked Ben before. "But what is it?"

“Nothing. It’s just-“ Ben clears his throat turning again to look out the front windshield as the light turns green. “I’ve never seen you wear anything like that before.”

“Well it’s not exactly my style. Could you see me sitting in the dirt messing with plants and potting soil in something like this?” You snort at the image. "Overalls and jeans seem to be more durable and sustainable for my lifestyle. Not to mention cheaper." You'd seen the price tag on the dress that you were wearing, something that Frenchie said "fell off a truck."

“It should be.”

“What?”

“I mean-“ He shrugs looking away from you. “As much as I’d like you to walk around wearing nothing at all sweetheart, I think you should wear things like that more often.”

"And why is that?"

"You look nice."

"Are you saying that I don't look nice all the time?" You tease him, forcing yourself to frown. It was difficult when you could  feel your body warming from the inside out with his compliment. "That I'm some terrible slumpy mess-"

"No I- I just meant that you-" Ben clears his throat again, his hands tightening on the wheel as he searches for the right thing to say. “Why can't you just take the fucking compliment I-" Ben says, almost sounding a little angry.

"I'm just messing with you Ben."

“Oh.” He lets out an awkward chuckle.

Sometimes you thought that it was cute and almost a little endearing that Ben didn't understand sarcasm or social cues from the new century, it made you feel like it was up to you to educate him on things like that.  Not that it was a burden, it never felt like a burden to show Ben how to use things or introduce him to the wonders of 2024.

Not to mention you liked how Ben was a little bit old-fashioned about some things, like how he actually got a physical copy of the newspaper every morning and took the time to read it, or how he wasn't on his phone as often as everyone else was or how Ben actually seemed to pay attention when you talked to him. That last one was always surprising, you'd thought that given how eager Ben was to get into your pants he'd only be focused on that. But when you spoke, Ben's eyes never glazed over or darted to his phone as if he secretly wished for you to stop, Ben genuinely listened to you when you spoke to him. Not to mention he gave you an incredible amount of eye contact that you weren't used to receiving from other people living in this century.

"Thank you." You fold your hands in your lap, thinking about the compliment Ben just gave you. "You know, I-" You hesitate.

I can't believe I'm about to admit this out loud to him.

"I don’t think you look too bad yourself." You finish.

Deep down you really hoped that the music earlier had been enough to cover the conversation you had with Annie back at the apartment. In that conversation you'd admitted that you found him attractive, and you didn't want him to know that. Well, know that you actually admitted it aloud. He already had fun making you squirm whenever he brought up the subject of sex.

"Thanks Petals. Keep buttering me up like that and I'll give you a preview of what I've got under this." Ben winks at you.

"I don't think I need to see your unicorn underwear, thank you." You roll your eyes and stare out the window watching the buildings fade into a dark blur in shades of gray and black. "Or your Strawberry Shortcake Tattoo."

"My what?"

"Nothing."

"I don't have any tattoos sweetheart." Ben pauses as if considering. "If you want I'll let you strip search me when we get back home. I think that would be quite educational for you. You know? Seeing exactly what a real man should look like."

"Can we focus on the mission?" Your cheeks heat, but for some reason you couldn't stop thinking about the word 'home.' Ben had never called your apartment that before, he'd called it "our apartment" but never home. It was weird to hear him say it and weirder still was how it made something in your chest tighten.

But you ascribed that to the dress. The ridiculous dress that you weren't sure how on earth you were going to chase down another supe in and the same dress that was only held on to your body by a small sliver of fabric at the back of your neck and seemed so fragile that you feared it would rip when you breathed.

"I'd rather focus on exactly what you've got on under that dress baby."

"Use your imagination." You roll your eyes at him.

"Oh I am. Trust me. But I think that the real thing would be much more satisfying Petals."

Ben eases the car into a space down the street from the party, but close enough that you could hear the classical music, the chatter of the crowd, and see the bright lights. As you get out of the car, Ben flashes around the front to open the door for you.

You blink up at him in surprise as he takes your hand to help you out, and you let him without a second thought. No one had ever done that for you before, even your high school boyfriend who never made the effort to get out of the car, let alone walk you to the door after a date. You weren't expecting him to do that for you.

"Oh. Thank you." But when you join him on the sidewalk, Ben doesn't let go of your hand. You're dangerously close to him, closer to him than you were in the car. The wind picks up behind him rustling through his hair and sends the smell of his shampoo and cologne washing over you in a wave that makes you feel like your chest is unraveling.

Ben's gaze darkens as he stares down at you, and he steps forward, pinning you against the side of Butcher's car.

"Ben what are you doing?" You croak, unable to find your full voice, not when your throat felt like it was closing.

"Come on. You really want to go to that stuffy party Petals?" He purrs, smiling down at you. His hand was toying with the fabric of your dress, at the top of the slit that was just barely above your mid-left thigh

“Ben-“ Your jaw clenches tight, but the feeling of his hand beginning to slide against your skin, pushing the fabric of the dress aside, makes electricity trail with his touch.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. No.

The look in his eyes is all consuming, turning his eyes into two liquid pools of a jade colored sea that beckons you forward, highlighting the golden flecks that sparkle and shine in the darkness.

Ben's smirk grows. “Are you really going to keep pretending that you don’t want me to fuck you? Your cheeks are flushed, your heart is beating faster just like it always does whenever I’m around-“ He leans forward and presses a kiss to the side of your neck making an involuntarily shudder roll through you like a clap of thunder. “That’s my girl.”

It would be so easy to give in. To let him take you back to the apartment, to let him have you like he'd wanted from the first moment you met.

As the thought of giving in begins to peel back your inhibitions, a memory floats up from the darkness.

It's your parents, dancing in the kitchen when they thought Darren and you were asleep. Soft light illuminates the kitchen from candles that cover the counter tops and flicker in the air conditioning. The soft tone of "Gonna Sing You My Love Song" is playing, while they sway together and your father looks down at your mother like she's his whole world, singing to her the lyrics with his whole heart. You could still hear his deep voice finding the words and could see your mother smiling radiantly at him.

The memory is gone as soon as it comes, but it reminds you of what you want, that you want love and you didn't want to waste your time with someone who would only pretend to care for one night.

I have a job to do. And I don’t want this- well… I don’t want it all that much.

You think about what Annie and Hughie have, how they tell each other everything, how Hughie listens to what she wants and brings her flowers just because he was thinking of her. It made your heart ache to think about their relationship and to think of your parents again, but you knew that it was what you wanted more than anything in the world. You wanted someone who understood, who wished to be with you not because he wanted to possess you, but because he loved you and wanted to share his love with you and wanted to be loved by you.

"No." You say, pushing back on Ben's chest. He doesn't move much, but he does drop his hand from dress.

“Why not?” He snaps eyes no longer jade pools, but now a blazing emerald "I don't understand you Petals-"

"That's not special Ben, loads of people don't understand me."

"Do you have any idea how many women would love to be where you are? How many women have begged me to-"

"To fuck them?" You tap your lip thoughtfully. "Now that you mention it, I realized that you haven't said that to me today so naturally I forgot. And I really don't want to rehash this now!"

“I want to.” His eyes blaze with anger. “I don’t understand. You flirt with me, tell me that you find me attractive-"

"I was being nice! You told me I looked nice. That's what you do when someone compliments you. And I do not  flirt with you."

"Yes you do!"

"No I don't." You shout. "I've told you before that I don't want to have sex with you."

He runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “We both know that’s a fucking lie. So why not? Do you think it’s going to be bad? Because I can guarantee that anything we do together will be fucking fantastic. Is it because you hate me? Because hate sex is pretty satisfying. Or do you think that I'm going to lose control or something or not take care of what you need? Because I’m pretty damn attentive!”

"For the last time, I don't fucking hate you Ben I just-" Your teeth clench together in anger.

A couple in nicely dressed clothes walk by, eyeing Ben and you with wide eyes and reminding you exactly why  you're here.

"Beautiful night isn't it?" You nod your head in their direction awkwardly with the words, before you take a deep breath. "Look this is not the time or the place. We are on a mission and if you don’t want to come to the party, that's fine, I can handle the supe on my own.”

You push past him and begin to walk down the sidewalk a brisk pace, hoping that he will just leave. Because now you were getting pissed off and frustrated. You didn't understand why you had to keep having this conversation with him.

I have told him several times that I don't want to sleep with him. I haven't flirted with him. I don't think I've led him on in any way.

A part of you wasn't annoyed because of the many times that he had come on to you, it was annoyed because of the moments that Ben would act differently, when he acted like a man you could see yourself falling in love with. It made you feel like he was just jerking you around and trying to pretend so you would  give in, like this whole thing was his big scheme to get into your pants.

“I just don’t understand you Petals.” He grumbles as he catches up.

“You’ve been saying that since we first met Gramps.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Whatever you say Macho Macho Man.” You reply, but then the wind picks up again and you can smell his cologne transporting you back to a few moments ago when his hand pushed back your dress and you felt the scratch of his stubble against the skin of your neck and it felt like you had swallowed lightning. It quickly took you back to the moment when he kissed you outside of your apartment the first night he'd stayed with you, how he curved his body around you, and moved his mouth against yours, sliding his tongue past your bottom lip and-

“See you’re doing it again.” Ben is staring at you, noticing the flush that travels from your cheeks and creeps to your ears. “Just admit that you want to have sex with me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

And then you lose it, wheeling on him, poking your finger into his muscular chest.

 “Because then what?" You spit and Ben's eyes widen in surprise. "You fuck me once, leave right after and never talk to me ever again? You fuck women then throw them away. You don’t see sex as something special, you see it as a way to let off steam,  to justify your existence, and to make yourself feel good about you.” Every syllable is coupled with a finger poking into his chest.  "You only want me because you can't have me. I understand that you have this fascination with me now, but as soon as I give in, you won't care." You say it to enforce the idea in my own mind, to gain control of your hormones and push away the memories of Ben and you together.

"You don't know that." There's something on the edge of his voice that you can't place.

"Yes. I do."

"How?"

"Because I've seen the evidence!"

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Let's brainstorm for a minute." You hold up a hand to stop him. "Who was it that founded Herogasm?"

"Me?"

"Who was it that got Tinder as soon as he got back to America?"

"It wasn't as soon as I got back it was at least a week later-"

"Ben, I want to have sex with someone I love. Not just a quick fuck for five minutes in Butcher's car, or a romp in the shower, or just to 'loosen up'. Okay?" You swallow the lump in your throat. "And I won't do that to myself, have feelings for you, and sleep with you, only to have you throw me away."

Ben blinks and you watch something cross through his gaze that you'd never seen before. "I'd never throw you away Y/n." He says it softly, just barely audible over the sounds of the city.

"You say that now, but as soon as I give in, it won't matter." You clear your throat. "Now I'm going to go to this party, you can do whatever you want, but please just let me do my job."

And then you walk away from him and into the flashing lights and soft classical music that does little to stop the pounding of your heart and the lump of emotion stuck in the back of your throat.

You haven't seen Ben in exactly twenty seven minutes.

In the first seven minutes of your dramatic exit and entrance into the party you had slipped into the bathroom and cried. Why you were crying you weren't exactly sure. Maybe it was the tidal wave of emotion or just the way that your blood was pumping and your heart felt like it would break free and take flight, but you did. And when you emerged from the stall with blood shot eyes and smeared makeup you redid it all the best you could in the bathroom mirror, using the emergency kit that Annie had given you.

Of course you couldn't take all the credit, there was an elderly woman in a navy blue dress in the bathroom who practically witnessed your mental break down and when she saw you struggling to do your make up she helped and more importantly did not ask any questions.  She did however say that if you pointed out exactly who it was who did this to you that she would go "make them wish that they were never born." You were tempted to watch this woman kick Ben's ass, but you'd only thanked her and went out to join the party.

The people were dressed elegantly, sipping champagne from crystal glasses and munching spinach puffs so good you were sure that Kronk was in the back making them and apple tarts that were so mind blowing you were sure that Lorelei Gilmore was somewhere stealing a tray. You were disappointed that you hadn't brought a bigger purse, because the spinach puffs were practically orgasmic and you'd only been able to shove three in alongside four apple tarts. Not to mention that there was so much free merchandise and party favors it meant that you now had a new iPad, a tennis bracelet, a watch with a crystal face, an expensive bottle of champagne and several bottles of perfume that smelled so rich it made your head spin. You were contemplating somehow smuggling out another gift bag so you could sell the iPad on eBay when you feel your phone vibrate in your clutch.

You were expecting it to be Butcher. He had been more about low tech tonight, not relying on radio contact too much, just texting and phone calls for emergencies. Not to mention Butcher had as much patience as a child who was told to wait until after dinner to have a fresh baked chocolate chip cookie.

But it's not Butcher's name that lights up on the screen, it's Annie.

Annie : So how’s the date going?

You pause for a moment and you think about telling her everything that happened in the past twenty seven minutes. You had wanted to call her when you were crying in the bathroom, but you didn't know what to say, didn't understand why you were crying.

I'll tell her later, over wine, because I'm going to need a lot of wine after tonight. You sigh again as the memory of what you yelled at Ben rings in your ears. You didn't know why you felt this way, you'd told him the truth  if anything you should feel relieved, but… Maybe I should apologize-

You shake your head. No. I won't apologize, it was him pressing all my buttons and trying to get me to… Right. I gotta answer Annie.

You: It’s not a date!

Her response is immediate.

Annie: Sure… tell Ben to get you home by 10.

You: I’m disowning you as a best friend.

Annie: Well when you reinstate me as a best friend, I want all the dirty details.

You: There aren’t going to be any dirty details!

Because I had a fucking mental breakdown, unloaded all my feelings on a man who keeps telling me that he wants to fuck me, and is probably mentally compartmentalizing all his possessions and is going to be moved out by the time I get back home.

Annie: And when you guys finally have sex, know that I am ready to be an aunty and I am ready to help you raise super-baby. It's going to be so much fun!

"Oh for the love of-" You begin to let out a string of colorful curses just as someone bumps into you. You raise your eyes to stare at the man.

He's taller than you, at least six feet and built like a body builder, with graying black curls swept back over his head, sun kissed golden skin, and wearing a perfectly black tailored suit, a crisp white shirt and a navy blue tie, all of which oozes wealth, . There's a hint of a shadow along his strong jaw that gives him a masculine quality to offset the fancy clothes, but emphasizes a long scar that hooks over the left side of his chin and drags down to his neck. His nose has been broken in the past, but still has a curved hook and his eyes are a deep amber brown almost a maple that hold humor and curiosity.

"I'm sorry." The man's voice is low, almost a little raspy, with a hint of an accent that you can't place. He's attractive, fit, and probably close to mid-forties, early fifties. You recognize him as the man running for City Comp Troller, the person whose party you were crashing.

"It's okay." You force a smile, shoving your phone back into your purse, trying not to smoosh the spinach puffs and apple tarts.

"I'm Elijah Black." He holds out his hand to shake yours, his brown eyes lazily tracing up and down your figure as he does.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, alarm bells go off. Something about this man seems wrong, sinister, almost predatory. His hand is soft, surprising giving his imposing figure and stature, and the action of him shaking yours causes his shirt to pull away from his throat revealing just the kiss of black ink that arches over his collar bone, but vanishes in an unknown pattern beneath his white shirt. "And you are?"

"I'm Lisette Worthington." You say the fake name confidently, throwing a shy smile in his direction. "It's alright I was in the way-"

"And very angry at someone." Elijah adds with a smile.

"Yeah,-um- my friend is trying to get back together with her verbally abusive ex. She won't listen to me when I tell her not to." The lie comes easily.

"Pity. I always listen to my friends." He smiles wider, still holding on to your hand, even though you've let go of his. "Especially if they're as pretty as you."

"Oh -um- that's sweet." You answer with an awkward laugh looking for a way out of this. You tug your hand, but he doesn’t release it.

At that exact moment, Ben's arm comes around your waist and he pulls you back into his muscular chest, eyes locking with Elijah.

"Sorry I was gone for so long sweetheart." He says loudly so Elijah can hear him, tightening his grip on your waist. Ben places a kiss just behind your right ear as he does so as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. And you fight the warmth that blooms ebbs beneath the surface of your skin when he does.

Despite everything that happened outside you were relieved that Ben was here with you, because Elijah was creepy and Ben always made you feel safe. And despite his constant attempts to get into your pants a part of you trusted that Ben would have your back.

Elijah's eyes flick down to yours as if waiting for you to confirm the fact.

"It's alright babe." You smile up at Ben, leaning in to him and allow yourself to lay your free arm over where it's resting on your waist. Your thumb strokes back and forth over the back of his hand as you do. And for a moment Ben doesn’t look away from your face, something passing through his eyes that you can’t place.

Ben's gaze flicks back to where Elijah is still grasping your other hand. "You gonna drop my girl's hand or are we going to have a problem?"

You flush when Ben uses the words 'my girl' and are thankful that Ben's back is to the large red, white, and blue display of flowers on the table behind him that begins to shed it's flowers and come back ten-fold in even brighter shades of color. Elijah's eyes flick to the display confused momentarily, before sliding back over you.

"Apologies." Elijah lets go of you, but doesn't back away. "I just wanted to get to know her a little better." You don't like the way his eyes trace over your figure as he says it. "You know, it might be considered rude to keep someone like her all to yourself."

"Just like I'd consider it rude for someone to make a move on someone who belongs to someone else." Ben retorts, emphasizing the word "belongs" in a way that makes it suddenly very hard to breathe.

You can hear Ben's jaw clench together, his body tensing behind you slightly, and feel it warm a few degrees as he begins to lose his temper. You can feel the tension traveling through his body and to calm him down you do the one thing that always helps you, you squeeze his hand where it rests on your hip, trying to tell him that it's okay.

Elijah's mouth turns up, eyes glimmering in amusement at Ben.

"But thanks for keeping her company, I can take it from here.” Ben's voice is cold and humorless.

"Of course. I'd hate to leave a beautiful woman like her for even a moment. You’re very lucky.” He smiles at Ben, who doesn't return it. "I'm sure I'll see you around Ms. Worthington. Don’t forget to vote.”  He emphasizes the name as if he knows it's not real, and has the audacity to wink before he vanishes into the crowd.

Ben holds on to you for another minute, eyes locked on the place where Elijah vanished, but he does not return. Ben’s arm is still wrapped around your waist, holding you to him so tight that you can feel each of his muscles beneath his suit and you fight to keep your heart beat under control and to fight the urge to blush all over again. Finally, he lets out a breath and releases you.

"Are you okay?" Ben looks down at you, his eyes filled with something that looks a lot like concern, surprising you.

Why is he worried about me?

"Yeah. Thanks."  You smile as you look at him, but it feels forced.

Ben nods once.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did.” He states.

You blink at him confused.

“I didn’t like the way you looked when he started talking to you. Or when he wouldn’t let go of your hand.” His expression hardens, jaw tightening as if he's relieving the memory. "You looked like a deer in headlights Petals."

"I did?"

"Mhmm. Could hear your heartbeat from over there." Ben nods his head in the direction of the bar, where various couples scramble for liquid courage and waiter weave through the crowds holding fresh trays of spinach puffs and crab claws.

"Oh. Well, thanks again, he was very creepy." You bite the inside of your cheek in quiet contemplation thinking for a moment. "I mean some politicians are supposed to be that way, but he was definitely top ten of the creepiest men I've ever met in my life."

"Just promise me I'm not number one." Ben half-smiles, but there's something in his expression that makes you realize that he might not be joking.

"You're not on the list." You say it to reassure him.

"Really?"

You nod. “I -uh- haven’t seen you all night-“ You begin to say. It was true, you had no idea where Ben had gone when you'd had the "fight." If you were going to call it that.

“I was at the bar, getting a drink.”

“Oh.” You do an awkward shuffle with your feet, trying to think of some way to move the conversation along.

Why does this feel so awkward? Why does it feel like we broke up?

Ben doesn’t speak for a moment, instead he’s looking down at you with an unreadable expression. “Petals?” He says it quietly, the same way he said it the day when he told you he was going to buy the couch and you didn't have to worry about paying for it. He said it almost… reverently… not in a teasing way or in a harsh way, he said it in a way that made you feel your knees buckle a little.

“Yes?”

“I’d never-“ He clears his throat as if it’s difficult for him to say what comes next. He lets out a frustrated breath. “I’d never throw you away. I want you to know that.”

“Oh please Ben you don’t have to say that I-“

“No I'm not just saying that. I- I’m not some fucking monster.”

“I don’t think you are Ben. And you shouldn’t have to explain yourself or apologize.” You hold out your hands waving them in front of you.

“But-“

“No.” You shake your head and place your hand on his arm. “I shouldn’t have unloaded all that on you and I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair. And it's okay."

“What’s okay?”

“It’s okay that it’s not who you are. That you're not really one for relationships. And what I should have said is that, I’m not going to ask you to change or guilt you into doing something that you don’t want. It’s not the type of man you are.”

"What type of man am I?"

"Well you're just not a one woman kind of guy or really into relationships." You say it to clarify, but in your head this conversation is becoming as awkward as the one you had outside.

Ben is oddly quiet.

“But that’s okay.” You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. "I meant to also say that, I really don't want to sleep with you because I don't want to make you change for me. That feels very cruel, to manipulate someone that way. For me to want more, to fall for you and you just change the way you are for me."

"Petals-" He's saying it softly again, the way that tugs at your heart.

"I promise I'm fine and I just want to move on. Pretend we didn't have that conversation, or really this one either," You laugh awkwardly. "Okay?"

Ben stands there in the silence, his mouth pulled down into a frown. "If that's what you really want."

"I do. So things can go back to normal?"

"Sure." He says it slowly.

"Good." You turn your head to look away into the crowd, feeling a little bit better, but at the same time you couldn't fight the wave of disappointment that pricked on the edges of your soul. You didn't know where it came from.

The people around you are still mingling with one another and you're trying not to notice how close Ben is standing to you, so close that you're practically against his chest, but there is a good inch of space between the two of you and you revel in it.

I will handle this because I have to. Ben has made it clear what he wants, and I have made it clear what I want and-

As you have the thought you think you see a flash of white in the crowd, the back of someone's head that you think you should know, but as you try to stand on tip toe to catch a glimpse of their face, they're gone.

That was weird. I mean it kinda looked like-

Ben's phone rings in his pocket and he answers it.

"Shit." Ben mutters. He grabs your wrist and tugs you through the crowd which parts easily out of the way of his broad form.

"What is it?"

"The supe is outside!"

Shit.

Ben and you burst through the front doors of the building, just as a hooded figure drives past going full speed in a fancy bright red convertible.

"Come on!" Ben shouts running towards one of the valet who is about to give the keys to a black sports-car idling by the curb to it's owner. Ben grabs the keys as he speeds by, sliding over the hood in his haste to get to the driver's side before you and you follow.

"Sorry! We'll bring it right back." You shout at the owner as you throw open passenger side and slide into the car, slamming it behind you.

But as you do, you realize that something's wrong… what you thought was the passenger side of the car is actually the driver's side.

Wow I was not expecting that.

You lock eyes with Ben who looks devastated by this turn of events.

You can't help the grin that splits your face as you start the car with a press of a button, remembering exactly what he said about women driving earlier. "European car bitch."

Ben looks murderous. "Hey wait a minute-"

"No time Gramps." You slam your foot down on the gas.

The purring of the engine turns into a roar as the car jolts forward in hot pursuit of the red convertible. You shift to a higher gear as you press down further on the gas.

"Oh for fucks sake."

"Calm down. I'm a great driver-" You look over at him.

"Eyes on the road! Fuck." Ben clutches on to the door handle so tight you think he's going to rip it off.

"Ben it's okay, don't have a cow."

"Truck."

"What?"

"THERE'S A FUCKING TRUCK!" Ben shouts reaching for the steering wheel as if he thinks he can drive over you, as a garbage truck backs out into the street.

"You're gonna get us into an accident!" You snap back swerving around the truck to follow after the supe.

"No I'm not! I'm going to fucking save us."

"Not with that attitude." You shift to another gear as you speed up to push through a red light.

The supe turns right in a wide arch cutting off the traffic coming from the left.

"Take a right!" Ben says.

"I have eyes Gramps! Stop backseat driving."

"I wouldn't have to if you'd let me switch with you!"

"Not a chance. We'd lose the supe." You jerk the wheel, feeling the car curve in a beautiful arch through the light. "Man when I get rich I am gonna get one of these."

You hear your phone buzzing in your purse and you start to pick it up, but Ben snatches it away. "No! Please for the love of God do not take your eyes off the road!"

"Fine. Answer it for me."

Ben reaches into your purse and stops. "Why the fuck do you have spinach puffs in here?"

"Because they were free and they were so good." You sigh, taking another sharp turn.

I have no idea where we are going or what we're going to do when we catch this guy.

The supe obviously knew that you were following after him, which meant that there was no way in hell he was going to go back to his chop shop.

If he was smart, he would lead us as far away from it as possible.

Ben hits the speakerphone button.

"Hello?" You sing-song.

"Where in the bloody hell are you?" Butcher shouts on the other side of the line.

"Well I'm not exactly sure. It’s dark. Ben can you read any of the street signs?" You say as you hit the gas, swerving around another car that enters the roadway in front of you, weaving through the oncoming traffic for a moment to get back behind the supe.

"OH HOLY FUCK!" Ben practically screams, one of his hands pressed against the dashboard, the other holding on to the door panel.

"Guess that's a no." Butcher says.

"Gramps is a little upset that I'm driving."

"How are you going to catch the supe?"

"Haven't gotten that far yet."

You watch the convertible take a sharp left down a small alley. "Hold on Ben."

"No No No No!" Ben rips the door handle off as you turn into oncoming traffic narrowly missing a dumpster to follow the supe.

"Holy shit!" You slam on the breaks as you see the convertible completely stopped and the supe standing there. He's wearing a dark sweatshirt that's pulled low over his head, a scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face, and he's glowing. Well, arcs of bright blue and white electricity weave around his body, crackling through the air around him.

Your eyes narrow as you sit there in the car, Ben glancing from the supe to you as if trying to decide whether or not he should throw himself from the vehicle.

You rev the engine and the supe tilts his head to the side as if daring you to come closer. You slam your foot down on the gas and the car jumps forward to ram into the supe, but just before it does, he shoots upward off the ground using his electricity to propel him to the rooftop above.

You slam the breaks, but the car smashes into the back of the convertible, deploying the airbags.

Well, guess I can't return it now.

Ben is already out of the car and you follow.

"Swing me up to the roof." He orders, loosening his tie.

"Who the fuck do I look like? Tarzan?" You respond looking around for a weed or a vine, but you don't see any.

Ben sighs in frustration and jumps as high as he can with his super strength, making it about half-way up the fire escape before he swings himself up all the way to the roof.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. What am I supposed to do?" You shout up at him, but Ben is already racing over the rooftops after the supe.

You grab your purse and your phone from the car, running out to the street and following the pulsing lights of what you assume must be electricity that get further and further away as Ben chases after the supe.

"What in the bloody fuck is going on?" Butcher roars through the phone as you run as fast as you can, stiletos clacking against the pavement, arms pumping. Your dress is whipping back behind you and you're sure that you're flashing pretty much everyone who passes by, but you're too focused on the supe.

"Well-" You gasp for air because the last time you ran this fast was in middle school when your neighbors doberman broke free and chased you around the neighborhood and no matter how many times Annie tried to get you to do cardio with her you'd rather die than run recreationally. "Soldier Boy is pursing the supe but he's -gasp- on the roof and I don't-"

You were going to say that you didn't have a way up there but then you remembered exactly what was in your purse.

Sacrifices must be made.

"Butcher just trace the call, I can't talk now." You don't end the call, instead you stuff your phone into your purse and remove one of the precious apple tarts. "Fuck I really wanted to eat you." You whisper longingly to the pastry in your hand. You take a bite and try not to moan aloud at the taste, before you pull your arm back to throw it, but then you stop and take one more bite.

I mean… this is a HUGE sacrifice and maybe Ben is completely fine and-

Electricity crackles over the top of the building and you see Ben for a split second almost get knocked off the roof, before he runs back out of sight over the lip of the building.

Or not.

You launch the tart onto the side walk ahead of you manipulating the remains of the apple to sprout and grow into a tree that sits at an awkward angle. You reach down and rip away the dress so that it's no longer floor length, but now reaches your knees and won't get caught on the shoes.

"Wow." You hear someone say and turn to your tight to see a little girl sitting on the steps of one of the buildings eating a vanilla ice cream cone.

You clear your throat with an awkard smile. "Stay in school kid." Before you run full speed up the trunk. Your eyes are glowing bright green as you will the apple tree to grow larger and larger, curving it's branches outward until you're able to leap from it's outstretched arms onto the roof.

Ben is using a makeshift piece of wood as a shield to fend off the electrical attacks of the supe that stands on the opposite side of the roof. The man is still glowing, the tendrils of blue and white reaching outward from his body to wrap himself in a cocoon of safety from Ben.

Another blast shakes the roof beneath your feet that Ben catches with the wood, his shoes sliding backwards a foot with the force of the expulsion.

Damn it. He's gonna owe me a whole cartload of spinach puffs and I will collect.

"Eat this you electric bitch!" You shout throwing one of the spinach puffs at the man. It hits him square in the chest, getting through the electricity because it doesn't conduct anything, and falls on the ground at his feet.

The man tilts his head down at it confused as to what it is.

"Did you just throw a fucking Spinach puff at him?" Ben shouts.

"Yes. Don't say I never did anything for you Gramps." You respond, and as the supe looks back up at you from the ground, you will the plant to grow.

The tendrils wrap around his legs, holding him in place. As the man looks down to fight off the plant, Ben advances with the wooden board and swings as hard as he can.

It hits the supe in the left side with an incredible cracking noise, you're not sure if it's the board or if it's the supe's ribs, but there's enough force to propel the supe from your trap halfway across the roof. His body rolls, kicking up dirt, soot, and who knows what else.

When the supe stands he's still wearing his hood and his scarf, but somehow he looks more angry. How he was able to convey that with his face covered, you weren't sure, perhaps it was the way the air around him seemed to glow, or how his eyes had shifted to a bright blue that burned through the shadows on the rooftop.

Ben races forward, but as he does you realize that the supe wasn't just standing there, he was charging up. And as Ben gets almost past you the supe shoots a bolt of pure electrical energy. Everything slows down. There's a high pitched crackle as the bolt jumps and sizzles through the air, separating the water molecules. Every hair on your body stands up as the smell of ozone fills your nose.

And your instincts take over.

Your body leaps forward of it's own accord smashing into Ben and propelling him out of the way of the bolt, your arms wrapping around his muscular chest and side as you do so. The bolt scorches through the air just over your head where Ben had been standing, making the hair on the back of your head stand straight up, but the supe missed.

In your head you were saving Ben like he saved you the first time you met the supe, when Ben yanked you back out of the way and ripped one of your favorite shirts, but something about this feels different, it felt like the protective instincts you felt for Annie when she told you exactly what the Deep had done to her.

Ben rolls the two of you as soon as you land so that his body is curled protectively around yours and if the supe takes another shot the only thing he'll hit is Ben's unprotected back. Your face is buried in his chest, arms cinched tightly under his armpits to entwine at his back, holding him to you as tight as you can.

When you raise your head to look behind Ben preparing to go another round with the supe, he's gone.

"Shit where did he go?" Ben shouts standing from the ground and looking around at the now empty rooftop.

Well that's just great. I wasted my spinach puff and my apple tart. Maybe that party is still going on and I can grab some more. You begin to think to yourself, as you adjust the remants of the dress, but then Ben wheels on you, his face contorted in rage.

"This is all your fault! You and your stupid Spinach puff!"

"Whoa. Don't you dare speak that way about the spinach puffs, buddy. They were amazing and-"

"I don't fucking care! You couldn't have done anything else?" Ben snarls. He's standing so close to you that you can feel his anger heating the air between the two of you. "Or better yet, you couldn't have just stayed out of my way? I had this handled! But NO you just had to get between him and me didn't you?" His eyes are narrowed at you, glinting in the night like emeralds. "I would have had him!"

Why is he so angry about this? All I did was push him out of the way. You suddenly think back to how when you landed Ben immediately rolled so that you were no longer in the line of fire. Did he do that on purpose?

"WHAT? I saved your life! A thank you would be nice-" You snap back.

"No you didn't. All you did was make things even more difficult for me. Just like every other fucking woman."

You narrow your eyes at the sexist comment. "How did I do that? All I did was help you!"

"No you fucking tackled me! And believe it or not Petals, I'm not going to let you get fucking electrocuted because you keep trying to save me!"

"I didn't want you to-"

"What? Die? I hate to break this to you Petals, but I'm not some pussy like that plant fucker. And electricity doesn't kill me."

"How do you know that? It could-"

"It fucking doesn't, because those assholes in Russia already tried all that shit on me!"

His words make your breath catch. You were trying not to think of all the horrors that Ben suffered in his forty year captivity, because each time you did it made your heart break for him. No one deserved that, not even him.

"Oh." You whisper quietly pressing your lips into a tight line.

"So next time you want to risk your fucking life for me, don't. Because anything that asshole can do to me, worse shit has been done, and I'd rather feel a little fucking electricity than watch you get blasted to pieces." He snarls and stalks off, in the direction of the apple tree you used to get on the roof to look for the supe.

The smell of ozone is still in the air, the sounds of the city rising from below, the bright lights of the distant skyscrapers standing like stoic watchmen. You can just catch a glimpse of Vought Tower amongst them.

And as you stand there in the aftermath you wonder if Ben really didn't care about you, then why was saying that he'd rather get electrocuted than watch you die, and why did he turn his back to the supe and shield your body from the coming hit?

A/N: Wow a lot happened in this chapter…. But honestly R.I.P the apple tarts and the spinach puffs. But, yes I know a lot of angst, a lot of the reader and Ben both living in denial. I promise that I do have a plan for this fic and that they WILL end up at the end. Y'all just gotta bear with me. 😂😭

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd liked to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know :)

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307 @libby99hb

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

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[wlntrsldler]

how to disappear | luke castellan

warnings: betrayal, fluff, mean!luke for like five lines, extremely long, not canon, drug use and language, probably got some things wrong but it's for the plot; i sobbed writing this. (this might be my favorite piece i've ever written)

part 2: shades of cool

pairing: aphrodite!reader x luke

description: based on how to disappear by lana del rey

i. all of the guys tell me lies, but you don't. just crack another beer and pretend that you're still here.

"hey, angel," a voice startled you out of your thoughts. your feet were dangling over the pier as you stared out into the lake. you twisted your head to see luke approaching. a soft smile was on his face. "been looking for you everywhere."

"needed a breather," you said, scooting over so he could join you. "sometimes i forget how overwhelming being back here is."

he rolled his cargo pants up to his knees, letting the cool water touch his bare skin. "i get it. sometimes i wish i could take a break."

"you can, you know," you nudged his shoulder, "you're old enough to leave camp during the year. nobody would fault you for wanting to go away for a while."

he dug into his front pocket, pulling out a messily rolled joint and the pink lighter you gave him last summer. the heart you drew on the plastic with sharpie was starting to fade. he placed the joint between your eager lips and lit the end. he tried to ignore the sparks that shot up his arm when your fingertips brushed against his.

luke shrugged, "i know, but then who would take care of the kids? mr. d isn't really the model citizen."

you quirked an eyebrow, passing him the joint, "and you are?"

"better than mr. d," he let out a chuckle before taking a drag. luke closed his eyes as the smoke escaped his lips. he could taste your lipgloss. "maybe when you get your own place, i'll take some time off and visit you."

"i'm off to college soon," you said. "going to california. i got a scholarship."

"of course you did," he grinned. the weed didn't take effect yet. usually, when you smoked with luke, his brown eyes are hazed over by the effects, but while he was speaking, his eyes twinkled in pride. "didn't doubt it for a second."

"you'd leave camp and visit california for me?"

luke had a knowing smile on his face now, as if you were ridiculous for even asking that question. "'course. only problem would be that i'm broke as shit right now. being camp counselor doesn't really pay the big bucks, y'know."

you hummed. it was weird really, how camp was just a fraction of your life. your dad made sure that you could have a semi-normal life, or at least as normal as a half-blood's life could be, but not all demi-gods had the luxury, luke included. his dad made sure of it.

at first, luke despised you for it. why was it fair that you were your mom's favorite child while his dad barely cared enough to make sure he survived his failed quest? if aphrodite was his godly parent, he was sure that he wouldn't have this ugly scar on his face to remind him that he was nothing but a failure. she would stitch him up and make sure that he was okay.

this is not to say that luke liked any of the gods; he just preferred aphrodite above all of them. she gave you to the world, after all.

"what else is new?" he prodded, passing you the joint again after his third drag. "anything else exciting happen in your life since last summer?"

"nothing much," you coughed slightly. you didn't smoke unless you were at camp with luke. "just the usual senior year things, i guess. graduation, prom, you know."

"no, i don't know, actually," he laughed, "well, i know the idea of it. did you decorate your graduation cap? did your senior year live up to your expectations? did you have a date to prom?"

"yes, yes, and no." you pretended not to notice how luke's shoulders relaxed at your answer. "i did decorate my grad cap. my dad has it framed with my diploma. the design was my college's logo. i didn't have a date to prom because i didn't really like anyone at school. i would rather take a date i actually enjoyed the company of."

"that's fair," luke said. he took another hit from the joint. you watched the smoke evaporate into the air, the smell of weed surely sticking to your clothes. "tell me about your senior year."

"it was fun," you said, longing on your face. "it's weird to think that i'm kind of on my own now. after camp, i'll be shipped off across the country to take classes for some bullshit degree that i probably won't need because i won't make it long enough to see the workforce."

luke chuckled at that. it was morbid, sure, but he would be lying if he said that that reality wouldn't be a possibility. he didn't like to think about it much, the idea of you dying, but the life of a demi-god was unpredictable. he's surprised he even made it to eighteen.

you continued, "but i got to be a kid and i'm thankful for that. i just can't stop thinking about how this is my last summer here. i'm eighteen now. i've aged out."

"you can come back, you know," luke said. these summers with you were the only thing he looked forward to each year ever since you first arrived. "i'm still here."

"that's because if you step a toe out of this camp, they'll find you," you said, although you knew luke knew this already. he was powerful. he would attract monsters left and right and he'd be putting himself in jeopardy if he left. your suggestions for him to visit you were more wishful thinking than anything. in those moments, you let yourself pretend that you and luke were normal, that nobody would be trying to kill you if you tried to watch a movie at a theater or something.

"fair," he offered you the last hit, but you shook your head. you already felt your head spinning. "beth wants to go to college, too."

"does she?"

"yeah," he put out the joint on the wooden pier. neither of you spoke as the flame was extinguished with a sizzling sound. "told her to talk to you. you know more about it than i do."

"i'd love to talk to her. i think she'd do great in college."

"she would," he smiled, sadly. his eyebrows furrowed in thought. his mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was trying to find the right way to frame his words. you sat in silence patiently. he gulped, "i feel like everyone is moving on without me."

luke propped his elbows on his knees. he looked across the lake, watching the sunset turn into a pink horizon. he couldn't look at you while he spoke. "don't get me wrong, i'm so proud of you for leaving this place. and i'll be proud of annabeth when her time comes, but i think i just hate the fact that at the end of it all, i'll be alone. everyone in my life has a life outside of this, but i don't. this is it for me. i don't know what it is about this place, about this life, that keeps me stuck here, but i am."

you weren't stupid enough to correct him. you both knew the gods had a plan for luke. it was something bigger than the both of you, though neither of you truly knew what it was; but it was always this looming dark cloud above him, a second shoe waiting to drop. luke tried to ignore the feeling most days, but sometimes, he couldn't help but feel himself get pulled into the darkness; like in these moments, when reality hits him a little harder. you probably won't be back after this summer.

"well," you placed a hand over his own. he flipped his hand over to hold yours properly. he still wasn't looking at you. "let's just make the most out of this summer, yeah? think about everything else when we get there."

he squeezed your hand, "yeah."

ii. met me down at the training yard, cuts on his face cause he fought too hard.

"castellan."

luke winced, not because of the pain of the open cuts on his face, but because of the tone of your voice. that voice meant that he was in trouble.

he mustered up the courage to smile weakly at you, trying to ignore the droplets of blood that spilled from his open wound. "hey, angel."

"don't angel me," you hissed, marching to him. you grabbed his face gently, inspecting the damage. "what were you thinking?"

"i was thinking the kid was a bitch."

"castellan."

he cringed, "sorry."

"what happened?"

"i haven't been getting much sleep," luke whispered, "nightmares are back."

you sighed, picking up a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. the apollo kid who was tending to luke earlier was smart enough to leave the room when you walked in. you muttered half-hearted apologies as he hissed in pain. "i'm sorry to hear that, but that's not the answer i was looking for."

"he was just talking shit," luke said through gritted teeth. whatever the ares kid was saying must've been really bad because you could feel luke's anger rising again. you rubbed his back slowly until he calmed down. "don't wanna talk about it."

"okay," you resigned, finally wiping away the final remnants of blood off his face. you stared at him; even with an open lip, red bruises, and flecks of blood on his face, luke was still beautiful. he plopped his forehead against your stomach, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer.

this was common with luke. he acted all big and bad around all the other campers, but in your presence, he turned into this; always looking for comfort, always touching you somehow, like he was finally allowed to breathe. you cradled the back of his neck as he let out shallow breaths, leaving feather-light kisses on his crown when you thought he wouldn't notice them. he always felt them, but he never let you know that he did. he was afraid you'd stop doing it if you found out.

"how bad are they?"

"bad," he sighed, eyes closing. he tugged on you to bring you even closer, though you didn't know how that was possible at this point. "haven't slept in days."

"why didn't you come find me?"

"your sisters don't like it when i interrupt their beauty sleep."

"why didn't you tell me sooner? i could've stayed in the hermes cabin."

"it's gross in there," he laughed. "you deserve to sleep on your soft bed in a cabin that smells like fucking roses, not on my cardboard thin cot in a room that smells like sweaty socks."

you lifted his head up to look at you, "yeah, it's pretty bad in there."

luke snorted, finally letting you go, but a hand stayed connected to your hip. he played with the loose thread on the hem of your shirt. "i still won, by the way."

you cocked your head, "huh?"

"the fight," luke's cocky smirk was back on his face. "you should see the other kid. if i'd been well-rested, he wouldn't have been able to land a blow."

you smacked his shoulder, laughing as you fell onto the bed beside him, "shut up, castellan."

"there it is," he mumbled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. he was so close to you.

"what?"

"castellan," he mimicked your voice, but there was no mockery there. he said it like he treasured it, like he was trying to memorize the way you spoke. "you're not mad at me anymore."

it was hard to stay mad at luke. the longest you'd gotten mad at him was when he didn't choose you for his quest. he stood outside the aphrodite cabin the entire day before he was set to leave, begging for you to let him explain. you were too stubborn, too hard-headed, to listen to him. when you were sure that he was gone, you finally left the aphrodite cabin to find a letter from him tucked away under the welcome mat.

you kept the letter, but you never opened it. it wasn't until he returned from his quest, on the brink of death, that you opened it. you were sitting beside his bed, eyebags darker than ever that even your mother couldn't salvage you. your eyes were stained red from crying so much.

in his letter, he explained how he didn't want to put you in danger, how he would never forgive himself if something bad happened to you because of him. your insecurities just got the better of you. you always feared that people saw you as shallow, like you didn't actually have the skills to fend for yourself. many people had misconceptions about the aphrodite kids, but not luke. luke knew that you were incredible. you just didn't resort to violence as quickly as he did.

you felt stupid then, even now, you regret how you treated him before his quest. you hated yourself for how you acted. he never gave you a reason to doubt him, to not trust him; you should've known that he had his reasons. you hated yourself for even questioning him for a second.

luke pulled you into his chest, allowing you to cuddle into his neck. the beads of his camp necklace rested beside your temple. you reached over to play with them, letting the beads thump against his collarbone when you let go. you felt luke twirling strands of your hair around his finger, gently undoing the knots that formed at the ends of your hair because of his antics. you lay there in silence, just enjoying the presence of one another. you felt luke's breathing even out, a sign that he was drifting off.

luke's words from the pier bounced in your head then. did he think that you'd forget about him after you left camp? as if you'd forget about this, about him. a life without luke castellan became unimaginable when you met him when you were fifteen. there was no version of your life that didn't have luke in it.

it was foolish to think that way, you knew that. it was stupid to let someone have a hold on you like this, demi-god or not. even your friends from home warned you about being so attached to luke, though in the version of events you told them, the stakes were much lower. to them, he was just a boy you see at summer camp a few months out of the year; he was just another hometown boy that they urged you to forget when you moved away to college so you could live your life unrestricted.

but luke wasn't just that to you and you knew you weren't just that to him either. there was something between the two of you that was hard to explain, but didn't need an explanation at the same time. even your mom noticed it. she let you know once to tell luke to stop praying to her to give you a sign whenever he missed you.

"i can't keep making flowers bloom whenever he misses you," she wrote, "it wouldn't make much sense for flowers to bloom in the winter, my child, or for flowers to bloom every second of the day."

sometimes, though, on particularly hard days when you'd miss luke, your mom made exceptions. you'd find bunches of hibiscus growing within the cracks of the sidewalk of new york city on your way home from school.

you knew luke was thinking about you then. just the thought of it made your day better.

iii. i know he's in over his head, but i love that man, like nobody can. he moves mountains and pounds them to ground again.

luke didn't know what you'd say if you found out. well, he did know, but he deluded himself into thinking that you'd listen to his reasons, that you'd actually understand why he did what he had to do. maybe you'd even join him.

percy had left camp with annabeth and grover for his quest yesterday. the air at camp felt different since percy was revealed to be a forbidden child. luke, as much as he tried to keep his resentment for the gods at bay because percy was hard to dislike, the poor kid just wanted to save his mom, felt his blood boil when poseidon claimed percy.

he hated the gods, this wasn't new, but luke struggled to understand how he was supposed to feel. he saw so much of himself in percy. he thought of his mother; her hugs that he hadn't felt since he was nine, the taste of her burnt cookies that he hated at the time, but now he just wished he could taste the burnt crisps on his tongue one last time. he even missed her frantic mumbling in the middle of the night.

luke saw a version of himself in percy, the version that had a chance at happiness. luke hated it.

it was too late, anyway. the plan was already in motion. his allegiance to kronos was set. kronos visited him in his dreams often. luke stopped calling them nightmares because nightmares are only nightmares if they happen once in a while. what made them bad dreams was when they were compared to good ones. he didn't have those anymore.

luke hadn't slept much since he stole the bolt. it was easier to think about you, about the happy times, when he was awake. he smoked more now. it helped sometimes. he would pretend your lipgloss was still on the tip of the joint and that you were beside him on the pier, trying to get away from all the noise of camp.

as he walked toward the hermes cabin, smiling cordially at the younger campers who beamed at him, he saw the corner of a pink bag against his bed. his face dropped. luke stopped in his tracks, clutching the beads of his necklace.

you weren't facing the door. your back was turned while you folded the sheets on his bed. he saw you spray perfume on his blankets. he could almost smell the sweet fragrance from where he stood. it took all his might not to run to you and hold you in his arms. it's been months since he last saw you, since last summer. luke's hands fell to his sides before he twisted his body to turn the other way.

he went to the one place that gave him comfort. with his cargo pants rolled up to his knees, he watched the sun fade into the dark sky. there was no pretty sunset tonight. luke didn't think too much of omens, but he figured that was a bad sign. and when your soft footsteps thumped against the boards of the pier, he was certain that it was.

"you damn near running away from me when you saw me was not the reaction i was hoping for."

luke closed his eyes and took a deep breath. out of habit, he moved a bit to let you take your usual spot beside him. when he opened his eyes, he was met with the face he'd thought about for months. a kind smile adorned your lips. you looked different. your skin was a deeper shade, no doubt due to the california sun; your lips were pink and torn apart, like you'd been chewing on them; but your smile was the same.

"what are you doing here?"

"sorry i was late," you said, sheepishly. you played with the small braid in your hair, "i had to move out of my dorm so i had to take a later flight."

"i thought you weren't coming back," luke replied.

"heard there's a war coming," your voice sounded small. luke knew why. he'd listened to you talk about the dreams you had for yourself for hours over the past summers. the idea of an impending war meant that those dreams would take the backseat and you'd have to fight before any of them could come true. "is it true?"

"percy, a forbidden kid, poseidon's, is trying to make sure it doesn't happen."

"do you trust him?"

luke felt his heart crumble in his chest. how cruel is he to keep you in the dark like this? when the only thing you needed to feel okay was to hear that he trusted the kid meant to stop the war?

luke's voice was hoarse, "yeah, i do. beth does too."

"okay," you placed a hand on his thigh. luke stiffened at your touch. you pulled away, embarrassed. "sorry."

"don't apologize," he placed his hand next to yours. he could feel the warmth of your skin. "i've just been on edge."

"it's just me, luke."

he didn't know how to tell you that that's exactly why he was on edge. it was you. the girl he'd been in love with since he was fifteen. the girl he told everything to. the girl who knew him so well that if you were to touch him for longer than a second, you'd know everything.

this summer, for the first time since he met you, he was glad you didn't show up to camp. he knew that the minute you were in front of him, he'd tell you everything and there was a chance you'd want nothing to do with him after it. that was something luke couldn't handle. but now you're here, looking at him like this like his actions just hurt you.

"'m sorry, angel."

"you're acting different, luke."

"'m sorry."

"i don't need an apology," you said. "i want to know why."

luke rubbed his face with his hands, "i don't know, okay?"

"you're lying to me," you were frowning now. luke was angry. he wasn't angry at you, he was angry at the whole situation, but it didn't matter. he was taking it out on you.

"gods, angel, can you just-- not right now," he groaned. you got a good look at him. his eyes were tired, shoulders slumped like he'd been carrying a weight on his shoulders with no reprieve. "i don't really feel like talking."

"you don't have to be mean about it."

he didn't feel like himself anymore. he would never talk to you like this, but there was something in him that made him snap. luke scoffed, "i'm not being mean, you're just being so pushy right now."

you blinked, pulling your hand away from his. shivers ran down your spine, "luke, what the fuck?"

"what?" he stood up. you followed suit. under the moonlight, you saw how dull his brown eyes were. they no longer carried the same glow when he looked at you. luke's eyebrows were furrowed, eyes narrowed, "i just can't handle this right now, okay? can you just drop it?"

"i'm just trying to talk to you!" you raised your voice, disbelief on your features. you walked towards him. holding his face in your hands. he was crying. you wiped away his tears. "i just missed you, okay? i just wanna talk to you because i haven't gotten to in months and i'm miserable."

he let out a shaky breath, your touch grounding him. he felt himself coming back to him. he nuzzled his cheek in your palm, kissing the flesh there as he mumbled apologies into the night.

"i missed you so much," a sob escaped your lips. luke didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you, continuing his train of apologies into your ear. you continued, "i-i thought that you'd be happy to see me because i've been counting down the days until i saw you again and i just thought that even though the world was falling apart, we'd be the same. it's always been us, you know?"

"i know."

"and then you avoid me and run away from me and i just needed to see you, luke. i needed to talk to you."

"i missed you, too," he confessed. "so much, you have no idea."

"you have a funny way of showing it," you joked through your tears.

luke laughed. it shocked him. it was like he had forgotten how to. he hiccuped, removing one hand from around you to rub the tears away from his eyes, "come on."

selfishly, he ignored the pit in his stomach. he allowed himself just one more day to have you like this. as he lay on his bed, he held you close to him. he was overwhelmed with how much you filled his senses; the smell of your perfume, the feeling of your lips ghosting on his chest as you told him nonsense stories from college, the sound of your quiet giggles when he made some stupid joke, the look on your face in the dark, staring at him.

an unfamiliar feeling took over his body, rest, he realized it was, a while into lying in the darkness with you.

"i love you, you know that, right?"

luke didn't trust his voice anymore. he pulled you closer, hoping that that was enough for now.

iv. think about those years as i whisper in your ear. i'm always going to be right here.

"i love you."

you turned your head at the sound of luke's voice. camp was in disarray. percy was badly hurt and annabeth was frantic, sobbing about how luke was behind it all. you ran away after hearing it.

you didn't want to believe it, but it was annabeth. she wouldn't say that about luke unless it was true. you knew it killed her just the same to accept it.

"what are you doing here, castellan?"

it felt like a dagger was plunged into luke's heart. he'd heard his name leave your lips in different ways over the years; jokingly, angrily, but never like this. disappointment.

"i couldn't leave without telling you," luke licked his lips, keeping his distance. he was pressing his shirt on the spot percy broke skin. he looked down at his feet, "couldn't leave without letting you know that i love you."

"why did you do it?"

"i don't know."

"okay," you walked towards him. "when did you get so comfortable with lying to me?"

"angel," he sounded broken. "please, don't do this."

"you were wrong, by the way," you said. "you're not stuck here anymore, but i don't think the place you'll end up in is any better than this."

luke was silent.

"go, luke," you whispered. "don't make it any worse than it already is."

he nodded. this was it. you watched as he disappeared into the dark.

you were too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice it then; your mind was plagued with worry, but in the gaps of the wooden pier, a single hibiscus flower bloomed under your feet.

[starlightkun]

➠ word count: 21.3k ➠ warnings: cursing, once again everything i know about hockey is from the internet and only for this fic i’m sorry, a couple different blood/injury mentions, needle/injection mention and descriptions, mentions of other medical testing/settings, just chronically ill girlie things 🤪 ➠ genre: fluff, sooo much fluff they’re sooo in love tbh, a bit of hurt/comfort sprinkled in, established relationship, college au, hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), christmas-y for a couple scenes in the middle, sequel to buzzer beater ➠ extra info: this is the sequel to buzzer beater, which you should definitely read before this one so you know what’s going on! the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ author’s note: i’m sooo down astronomically bad for hockey player sungchan and i hope you all are too bc take a look at that word count lol. anyway have fun!! ➠ series masterlist | spotify playlist

You felt more giggle than human at this point, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his collar to hide it from him and get a moment to recover your aching smile muscles. He hugged you even tighter to him, resting his chin on your head.

i. i will give you my palm to help you walk through the hurtful, want to give you that calm that you have so long searched for

[sicheng: come get your mans]

The random text from Sicheng made you shoot up on your couch. Hockey practice was happening right now, you were expecting Sungchan to come over to your place after—and also to not be getting texts from anybody on the team at the moment.

[you: hello? what?]

[sicheng: no seriously come pick him up he took a puck to the face]

You rushed through the automatic doors into the rink, looking around for any sign of paramedics or— The rest of the team was still practicing, and there was no obvious bright red blood on the ice, that was a good sign, at least. Nobody on the ice seemed to have even noticed your entrance. Okay, so maybe not a huge emergency then.

Taking a couple steps down the hallway that led into the locker room, you called out, “Sungchan? Sicheng?”

“Yeah! In here!” Sicheng replied. “You can come in!”

Throwing the door open, you immediately saw the goalie standing over Sungchan, who was sat on one of the benches, holding a rag up to his face. The white towel was blotted with crimson blood, and you gasped.

“Sungchan!” You darted towards them.

Sungchan lowered his hand, and you could finally see some of the damage. The blood was streaming down from a gash on the right side of his forehead, by his hairline.

No black eyes, though.

He gave you a wincing smile, and you thankfully saw all of his teeth still there. “Y/N, hey...”

You looked down at him incredulously, “How did you even—”

“I’m okay, baby,” he reassured you, reaching out with his free hand to squeeze your forearm.

“That’s not what I said. Aren’t you supposed to be wearing a helmet and visor out there? How did you get a puck to your bare forehead?”

“I’ll leave him to you,” Sicheng declared, backing away from you two. “I’ve got to get back to practice.”

“I wasn’t on the ice,” Sungchan explained. “I was talking to Sicheng by the gate. Rogue puck, he ducked in time, I didn’t.”

You knew whereabouts on the rink he was talking about. The school’s rink was also used for ice skating for some extra money, and had a separate entrance onto the ice for those patrons aside from the entrance from the players’ benches. Since he wasn’t anywhere on the ice, Sungchan must’ve felt comfortable taking his helmet off.

“And you didn’t have your helmet on.”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Open gate, no helmet, rogue puck to the face,” you summarized, taking the towel from his hand to wipe up a drop of blood that had been inching down his temple while you two spoke. It at least wasn’t bleeding as profusely as before, the blood starting to coagulate.

“Really, isn’t it Sicheng’s fault? For ducking? He had a helmet on, he would’ve been fine if it hit him.”

“Mm, of course. Blame the guy with better reflexes than you.” You tossed the rag into the team laundry basket in the corner. “Alright, get changed, I’m taking you home.”

“Okay,” he agreed with a great sigh, bending over to untie his skates, then immediately sat back up. “Woah…”

As Sungchan blinked quickly to get reoriented, you dropped to one knee in front of him to start undoing his laces. “Lightheaded?”

“A bit…”

“I don’t know if I should be hoping for blood loss or concussion.”

After you’d gotten his skates off him, he was able to change out of his uniform and into casual clothes on his own. Slinging his practice bag over your shoulder, you handed his gear bag to him, knowing that you wouldn’t quite be able to manage that yourself. Without even waiting for him, you grabbed his arm to wrap it around your shoulders and snaked yours around his waist, the memory of him getting lightheaded replaying in your mind.

As the two of you left the cold rink into the equally cold December air, you kept an eye on Sungchan for any signs of him needing medical attention beyond your capabilities. Aside from the injury itself, he seemed fine, just with a slightly jutted-out bottom lip as he kept his eyes trained on the ground in front of his feet.

“What’s the pouty face for?” You asked.

“I’m not pouting.” Sungchan resisted.

“Yes you are. You look like a 186-centimeter baby. What’s wrong? Other than your acute case of puck face.”

The pout become even more prominent as he mumbled, “It’s like you’re not even worried about me...”

“Ah, of course I’m worried about my Sungchannie,” you promised, pulling him even closer with the arm you had around his waist. You moved it up to rub his back as you leaned your head against him affectionately. “I’m just so used to seeing guys get their teeth knocked out and their noses broken at your games that when Sicheng said you got a puck to the face, that’s what I was expecting to see. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it seem like I didn’t care. I was just relieved, is all.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded firmly. “Besides, I’m clearly worried enough to take you home and patch you up myself.”

“You are?” He asked hopefully.

“Oh yeah, I’ve got this first aid kit that’s about as big as you are. You’re going to be good as new, baby boy.”

His face finally cracked into a smile. “Why do you have a first aid kit that big?”

“It was the only one at the store that came with alcohol wipes. I need them for my monthly injection, to disinfect the injection site.”

“Right.” He squeezed your upper arm. “Of course, the girl that has to have an entire pharmacy in her kitchen.”

You nudged him with your shoulder teasingly, “And my Sungchannie, who has to take hockey pucks to the face.”

Once the two of you had arrived at your apartment, you immediately pointed to your couch. “Sit.”

Sungchan obeyed easily, plopping down without another word. He took off a couple layers now that you weren’t in the biting winter cold, setting them on the cushion beside him as you bustled over to your kitchen.

“My head hurts,” he announced, sounding downright pitiful.

“Really? Your head hurts?” You pouted at him, getting on your tiptoes to pull down your massive first aid kit from your cabinet.

“Uh-huh.”

“Aw, my poor Sungchannie,” you cooed, setting the huge first aid kit down on the coffee table and popping it open.

The apartment heating had kicked on, so you finally took off your heavy parka and overcoat as well, leaving you just in the base lounge clothes you’d been in before you’d hurried to get dressed with the urgent texts from Sicheng.

First, you tipped a couple of over-the-counter painkillers into his waiting hand, and he knocked them back with a sip from his water bottle.

Grabbing a couple alcohol swabs and boxes of bandages, you asked, “Okay, Hello Kitty, spaceships, or Pokémon?”

“Mm… What kind of Pokémon?”

“First gen. I think it’s mostly Gengars and Psyducks left in there.”

“A Gengar please,” he requested sweetly.

You fished a bandage out, pre-ripping the end of the packaging before setting it on the arm of the couch. Standing in between Sungchan’s legs as he was reclined back on your couch, you leaned over him, very gingerly brushing his hair back from his forehead so you could see the injury better. Thankfully, the bleeding had stopped between the rink and your place, all clotted blood and the start of scabs. Less thankfully for him, you were about to sanitize all of that. Gently turning his head so you could get better light, you tore open the first alcohol wipe and lightly touched it to the very edge of where you thought the wound started. Sungchan’s forehead wrinkled, but he didn’t make a sound. You continued at your task for another second before he finally spoke up.

“Y/N.”

“Sorry, I know it stings, but I’m almost done.” You promised. “I’d go faster but the lighting isn’t great in here, and some of it goes into your hair.”

“Don’t you think you’d be able to see better…” A pair of hands grabbed your hips, encouraging you closer, closer, down, down, until you were straddling Sungchan's lap, a knee on either side of him. “Like this?”

You were about to make a retort, except this tragically did get your own head out of the way enough to stop casting a shadow where you needed. So instead, you looked down at him with an eyebrow raised.

“How injured are you, really?” You questioned, pink-tinged alcohol wipe still in hand.

“So injured,” he fake-whined, settling his hands on your thighs.

“I’m sure.” But you made no move to leave, instead leaning in and getting back to work cleaning up the area.

Sungchan provided no more obvious distraction to you as you did so, seeming content to just smooth his thumbs over your clothed thighs and trace shapes there with his fingers. When you were finally able to see where the skin was split, you frowned, using your fingers to part his hair and inspect how far back it went.

“How long do I have, Doc?” He joked.

“You’ll live, but the bandages aren’t going to help the part that’s in your hair,” you forewarned. “That means be gentle when shampooing while its healing.”

“Sounds complicated. What if I mess it up? I think you should do it for me,” he suggested with a smirk, fingertips playing with the hem of your sweatshirt— well, really it was his sweatshirt, but he’d forfeited it to you some time ago.

“Is there something about getting injured that just turns you into a horndog?” You scoffed. For emphasis, you pinched the sliver of skin on his stomach that was exposed where his own t-shirt had ridden up above the hem of his pants and boxers.

He sat up then, forcing you to lean back to avoid smacking faces, but he just chased you forward until you were nearly nose-to-nose.

“No, there’s something about you being so worried and taking such good care of me that makes me want to show you how much I adore… you… back...” He punctuated the last three words with kisses that went up your neck to your jaw.

You looked up at the ceiling, as if pretending to consider this reason. But the happy smile that was working its way across your lips clearly gave away the fact that your mind was already made up. You snaked a hand between the two of you to push him back against the couch by the chest and hold him there.

“Alright, but at least let me put this Gengar bandage on you first, hm?”

ii. you are so beautifully, so brutally out of comprehension, and how lonely i was in the before and after

With a sigh, you rolled over in bed and checked the time. One hour until Sungchan was supposed to pick you up. It felt like somebody was slowly squeezing your head in some kind of medieval torture machine. There was no way this migraine was going away before your date. When it’d come on within thirty minutes of you waking up, you were hopeful that it’d pass and you could still make it, but clearly you had no such luck.

You sullenly drafted your text to him.

[you: hey, channie, im really sorry about this. i know we were supposed to go skating this afternoon but i’ve got a migraine, so i have to cancel]

Of all the dates that you had to flake out on. Sungchan had been really excited to take you to the rink during one of their open skate times, to share something he loved with you, and you were looking forward to it too. While you weren’t the best at ice skating, you were going to have the captain of the hockey team with you, so you hadn’t been too terribly concerned about your safety. The way his eyes had lit up when you said yes in the first place. God... you felt awful. In the back of your mind, you knew that you were just going to reschedule but still, it just made your head hurt worse to think about.

Ten minutes later, and he had texted back.

[channie: do you want some company?]

[you: ah, you really don’t have to. i’m sure you’ve got other things you need to do]

[channie: 1. i already cleared out my day for you 2. i want to be there with you and 3. i’m already outside]

You smiled at the harsh, painful light of your phone screen, reading the third bulletpoint over again as you typed your response.

[you: spare key under the fucked up looking gnome]

The door to your bedroom was slowly opened just a few moments later, and you wordlessly rolled over in bed to make room for Sungchan to slip under your blankets with you. You rolled back over practically on top of him and buried your face in his chest, happy to have something else to block out the light aside from your blackout curtains. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your hair. The corners of your mouth quirked up fondly.

“Hey...” You mumbled a greeting.

“Hey,” he murmured. “How bad is it?”

“Not as bad as the one from Halloween,” you reassured him, throwing an arm around his waist. “No lobotomizing or anything. Just... hurts.”

“That’s... good, I guess.”

“You put my key back under the gnome? Or did you bring it in?”

“Put it back. Also why do you have that fucked up looking gnome?”

“I saw him on clearance and he was just so horrible, I had to have him. So now I hide my spare key under him.”

You didn’t know if Sungchan had found your answer satisfactory, or just decided to leave the topic be for your migraine’s sake, but he said nothing more. His arms shifted a bit tighter around you, and you could sense his sour mood without even needing to see his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“What?”

“My Sungchannie…” You said in a hushed, teasing sing-song tone. “You make a terrible cuddle buddy when you’re this tense.” You poked his stomach for emphasis, which was solid as a brick wall. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, sorry.” He readjusted again, and you did feel his muscles relax a little under you. “You’ve got a migraine, you shouldn’t be asking me what’s wrong.”

“Well, we already know what’s wrong with me. So, what’s wrong with you?”

He let out a deep sigh. “It’s weird. When one of the guys gets hurt on the ice, I can see where they’re hurt and either slap a bandage on them myself or take them to someone who can. But when you’re hurting, my girl... I can’t do any of those things. I hate it.”

“Just you being here makes me feel better, Channie.” You squinted one eye open so you could reach a hand up to gently stroke his cheek. “I promise.”

“If you say so.”

Despite his melancholy words, he turned his head quickly to give a fleeting smooch to the tip of your thumb before you dropped it back down to lay the hand flat on his chest.

“And... ‘your girl?’” You asked slyly, wishing that there wasn’t a thick hoodie between his bare chest and your hand in that moment, as you were sure you would’ve been able to feel his heartbeat jump under your fingertips.

His eyes widened minutely as his head tilted in confusion. “Are-Are you not?”

“No, I am. Definitely.” You contentedly squished your cheek against his front.

“And I’m your guy. Right?”

“As if that could even be a question,” you giggled, the words punctuated by a yawn. “Yes.”

“Good,” he breathed out in relief, and you finally felt him truly relax underneath you. “Uhm, I’m keeping you up, sorry. You should go to sleep.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “My sleepy girl.”

“Mm, okay. Goodnight,” you mumbled, rolling over in his arms and letting your thoughts fully drift away.

“Love you...”

Sungchan continued staring down at you as your breathing evened out. The words seemed to have come out of your mouth as naturally as your breaths, and he fought back the urge to shake you awake again so he could say them back to you. Instead, he brushed your hair away from your face, planting a couple gentle kisses on your temple before scooting into his spot as big spoon for today and settling in for the duration of your sleep.

“I love you too,” he murmured into the crook of your neck, letting his own eyes close as he replayed the memory of you saying it first.

You woke up not even knowing your own name.

After taking a few seconds to properly come to and get reoriented from your migraine nap, you turned to your other side, immediately greeted by Jung Sungchan with such a tender look on his face that you had the breath knocked out of you.

Finally, you coughed out, “Hi...”

“Hey,” he smiled softly. “Sleep good?”

“Mhm... What time is it? How long did I sleep?”

“A few hours, it’s almost eight.”

“Cool, there goes my non-existent sleep schedule.”

He laughed quietly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. I mean, blegh, but no migraine. Just... eugh.”

“The way you classify feeling good and bad fascinates me,” he commented.

You shuffled onto your back, staring up at your ceiling. “It’s all relative. One of my good days looks different from another chronically ill person’s good days. Same with my bad days. And no two abled people’s good and bad days look the same either. I mean, before I had migraines, I wasn’t out there being a hockey superstar like you. So yeah, right now I feel blegh and eugh, but in comparison to before my nap, that’s pretty good.”

“Huh.” Sungchan flopped onto his back too. “I mean, I guess I kind of knew that but... never really thought it through like that.”

“It’s a working theory,” you shrugged. “I’ve only been like this for... a little less than four years? And I’ll have these for, you know, the rest of my life. So, I’ll continue to refine it as time goes on.”

“Oh. Huh.”

“What?”

“You’re really going to have migraines for the rest of your life?”

“Yeah. Unless some miracle cure is discovered in my lifetime. It’s a lifelong condition.”

“That’s… damn.”

You let out a chuckle. “It took a while for it to sink in for me, too. When my neurologist mentioned it at my first appointment, it was like, whatever, but now four years later… yeah, it’s really starting to sink in that this is my life.”

“Woah…”

“Anyway, I’m sorry again about ice skating. I know you were really excited for it.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll go another day,” he promised. “Thank you for letting me be here, with you.”

You pushed yourself up to sit cross-legged, and put your hand over his that he’d been resting on his chest. “Thank you for coming, Sungchan.”

His face scrunched up. “What’s with calling me that? Am I in trouble?”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys…”

“One of what guys?”

“As soon as they get a nickname or a term of endearment they won’t answer to their government name anymore.”

“It’s not that, it’s just… it feels like I’m in trouble. Like, am I not your Sungchannie anymore? Am I not baby or baby boy to you anymore? I’m no longer Channie?”

“You’re not in trouble,” you told him, slotting your fingers with his. “But… as a literary student, I understand the importance of diction and the symbolism of names.”

“Yeah, exactly.” He nodded firmly.

You snickered, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you for being here with me, my Sungchannie.”

He caught the back of your head with his other hand before you could sit up all the way, guiding your lips down to his. It was a sweet, lingering kiss, which neither of you moved to deepen nor rush. When his hand fell from your hair, you straightened back up, smiling down at him fondly.

“Well, are you ready for dinner?” You asked. “I was thinking frozen pizza and very quiet movies. Unless you can’t stay the night.”

“No, I can stay.” He nodded, propping himself up on his elbows. “That sounds great. Whatever you want.”

“Perfect.”

You climbed out of bed, taking a second to get to your feet before heading for your bedroom door. Sungchan was still under the covers, though, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. You stopped at the threshold of the door, turning around to look at him.

“Channie?”

“Hm?”

“By the way…” You paused, letting silence descend for a couple seconds as he patiently waited for you to finish. “I love you.”

You immediately darted away towards your kitchen, laughing as you heard him scrambling to get out of bed and chase after you.

“Hey, come back!” He cried out, and you swore you heard the thud of an elbow or a knee bumping into a piece of furniture or a doorframe. “I need to say it back to you! Baby!”

You couldn’t run very far, sliding across your kitchen tile on your socks before skidding to a stop in front of your fridge. Sungchan came barreling around the corner right after you, wild-eyed, clutching his elbow and out of breath.

“No fair…” he whined. “You got a head start and I hit my funny bone on your door.”

“Your legs are like twice as long as mine!” You pointed out. “I think that’s just equity.”

“And my funny bone?”

“I’m sorry about your funny bone, baby boy. Want me to kiss it better?”

“In a second.”

“Alright,” you giggled, waiting patiently for him to finish his point.

“You know what’s not equitable?” He asked with his hands on his hips, slowly advancing towards you.

“Aside from you busting your funny bone on my door?”

He’d gotten you in arm’s reach, seizing you by the waist to pull you into his chest again. “You saying it to me twice now without giving me an opportunity to say it back.”

You laughed and wriggled around in his grasp as he held steadfast to you.

“So not fair!” Sungchan complained teasingly, showering your forehead, nose, and cheeks in kisses.

You felt more giggle than human at this point, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his collar to hide it from him and get a moment to recover your aching smile muscles. He hugged you even tighter to him, resting his chin on your head.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re not an athlete, you don’t play fair,” he chastised you. “Being so unbelievably cute while I’m trying to prove a point here.”

With another loud smooch to the top of your head, Sungchan let you go, removing you from him and holding you at arm’s length by the shoulders. You raised your eyebrows as you eyed the several kitchen tiles of space between the two of you.

“Very romantic, Channie.”

“Ahh, well I can’t think when you’re so close to me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. However you need to.”

“No, you’re right, come back here.” He pulled you flush to his front again, cupping your cheeks to tilt your face up to look at him.

You looped your arms around his waist, offering him a sweet smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he echoed, stroking his thumbs over your cheekbones. Sungchan looked over your features fondly, his lips twitching as he was clearly trying and failing to suppress a giddy grin. “I love you. I love you. And, I love you.”

You chuckled at him having to say it the third time, as your whole body buzzed with joy. Yeah, your insides were never going to un-mush at this rate. They’d been long gone since your first date.

“I love you too, my Sungchannie.” You gave him a gentle kiss, feeling him smile against your lips.

iii. i hear the secret whisperings of the world in the curves of all your bursts of laughter

Sitting in a stadium seat at the ice rink one afternoon, you watched the team’s practice as you waited for your boyfriend. Well, half-watching the practice. Now that the semester was over, you wanted to catch up on your personal reading list with the free time.

A sudden bang on the barrier in front of you made you startle and look up from your book. It surprisingly wasn’t Sungchan, but two other players—23 and 24.

You slowly waved at Jeno and Yangyang before turning your eyes back down to your reading. That just started up more fervent banging on the plastic and indistinct shouting from them.

“Oh my God! What?” You yelled back, tucking your bookmark into the pages.

Their words were indistinguishable though, because of the barrier, distance, and the fact that they were talking over each other.

“Hold on!” You huffed. Standing up and picking your way down through the rows until you were directly in front of them, you asked, “Okay, what? One at a time.”

“Are you coming to movie night tonight—” Jeno started.

“—at the Puck Pad?” Yangyang finished.

Your brow furrowed as you stared at their shining eyes as if they had just said a normal thing to you. “I’m sorry, the what?”

“Movie night?” Jeno repeated.

“You seriously think that’s what I’m confused about? I know what a fucking movie night is, Jeno,” you rolled your eyes. “What the hell is the ‘Puck Pad?’”

The two of them exchanged a look before Yangyang spoke up, “Where your boyfriend lives? The house that me, Sungchan, Ten, and Sicheng all rent.”

“The team is having a movie night there tonight!” Jeno reiterated. “We were just wondering if you were coming too.”

You blinked at them. “I’ve never heard Sungchan, Sicheng, nor Ten call the house that. Are you sure it’s not just you, Yangyang?”

Yangyang ignored your question with one of his own, “Are you coming?”

“Yeah, Sungchan mentioned some movies at his place tonight. I’ll be there.”

“Awesome!” They said in unison.

“So… the Puck Pad?” You asked abruptly as Sungchan came out of the locker room, your arms crossed and head tilted.

His elated smile dropped off his face as a bewildered look of confusion took over, and his arms fell down to his sides from where he’d been holding them out for a hug. “What…? Who told you about that?”

“So you do call your house that?”

“Look, we joked about that like once or twice when we moved in last year. It’s not like there’s a sign up or anything.”

“And you didn’t want to tell me about this because…?”

“It’s lame and makes us sound like a bunch of losers.”

“But you are.”

“Unh!” He held a fist over his chest as if he were grabbing some invisible weapon that he’d just been stabbed with. Clutching onto your shoulder with his other hand, he slowly started leaning more and more of his weight onto you as he made more fake noises of pain. “Oof! Oh God… Oh, that hurt, Y/N… My own girl… Ugh… Agh…”

Giggling, you had to change your stance to keep the both of you up as he was fully slumped against you. You let out a grunt of exertion as you readjusted to push on his chest and prop him back up into a somewhat standing position.

“Channie, get up!” You complained as he just flopped back over on you, bringing another bout of laughter from you as you struggled to keep the both of you up. “Channie! Seriously, you’re such a baby! Just a big loser baby!”

“Yeah, but I’m your big loser baby, right?” He teased, supporting just enough of his weight to be able to look you in the face as he pouted at you pointedly.

You pinched his bottom lip just a bit meanly. “Yeah, and you’d better not forget it. Now can we go? You do know that the team has been staring like the whole time waiting for us, right?”

The guys were all crowded up by the automatic doors in a huddle, in various stages of pretending not to watch and very obviously looking and snickering among themselves. Donghyuck and Yangyang were in the latter, the two underclassmen feeling rather brave tonight as Yangyang yelled out first.

“Come on, loser baby! We’re waiting!”

“Yang, it was big loser baby, actually,” Donghyuck corrected him facetiously.

“Right, of course,” Yangyang nodded seriously. “Come on, you big, stinking, whining loser baby!”

Sungchan straightened up, all humor drained from his features as he snapped his fingers and pointed at them. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Are you ready to go, Channie?” Jeno joined in.

“Don’t fucking call me that!” The captain shot back, grabbing your hand as he started leading the way over.

“Seriously, guys,” you spoke up once you had joined the pack of hockey players heading out of the rink. “Don’t call him Channie, please.”

Sungchan’s house—The Puck Pad—was a close enough walk that on nights like this, where the team would hold movie nights or other team events after hockey practice, the players would all leave their cars at the house beforehand and walk over. So you all had a roughly twenty-minute walk back there now, a gaggle of hockey players, their practice bags, a couple gear bags, and you.

“Why not?” Donghyuck fake-whined.

“Well for one, he asked you not to. That should be enough,” you retorted. “And two, that’s my nickname for him. Come up with your own instead of stealing mine.”

“Since you asked so nicely, okay.”

“Thanks, Hyuck.”

A phone alarm suddenly went off just a moment later, and you calmly turned it off from your watch before rummaging through the tote bag on your shoulder.

“Evening?” Sungchan asked knowingly, watching as you tipped out one pill after another into your palm, then grabbed your water bottle.

“Mhm.” You confirmed before knocking them back in several rounds. The two of you were thankfully towards the back of the group, so they didn’t notice when you had to stop and start every time you had difficulty swallowing your sips of water.

When you closed up your tote bag, took his hand in yours, and continued down the sidewalk at a brisk pace intent on catching up with the others, a frown cut across Sungchan’s face. “Aren’t you supposed to take those with food?”

“Forgot to restock the go bag with snacks yesterday. I’ll live taking one dose without it,” you shrugged. “Besides, we’re going to be at your place soon anyway, I’ll eat there.”

Sungchan reached into his practice bag, fishing out a slightly misshapen protein bar, “Here. Sorry, it got a little crushed.”

“Oh, you don’t—”

He tore open the wrapper with his teeth, then pushed it into your hand that wasn’t holding his. “Y/N, eat it.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

At The Puck Pad—which you were learning, it turns out, the entire team calls the house when nobody else is around—you ended up being pretty glad for the protein bar Sungchan had given you on your way over. You only ate half of it before you got to the house, but the guys were so disorganized that it wasn’t until almost two hours after you’d arrived that everybody was finally settled in the living room with popcorn, candy, pizza, beer (soda and water for you), and a movie playing on the TV.

You and Sungchan had a plush, reclining armchair to yourselves, tucked cozily under a blanket. Sungchan had an arm around your waist holding you close to him as the other moved between his plate that was balanced on the armrest with a stack of pizza slices, and the small end table where your drinks sat. You were happily curled up into his side, head resting in the crook between his shoulder and his chest, and your legs in his lap as you propped your own plate up on your knees to eat from.

The guys had picked a horror movie first—one without jumpscares, as both you and Mark hated them. Blood, gore, body horror, or psychological thriller didn’t faze you, but under no circumstances could you handle jumpscares. Mark, on the other hand, didn’t care for horror movies in general and would only tolerate them if everybody else wanted to watch it. His hard line was jumpscares, though, which you two could agree on. So everybody had checked over multiple websites to be sure that this specific movie definitely didn’t have any jumpscares. Just lots of blood, as you were now finding out.

“Gross, dude…” Mark muttered under his breath from the couch. When you looked over at him, you could see his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the screen with a curled lip of disgust.

“Ugh, he had all those frogs inside him?” Yangyang pretended to gag, not looking away from the screen for a second.

“Good thing Hendery already went home for the holidays, huh?” Ten laughed, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth from where his head was pillowed in Sicheng’s lap.

Chenle, who had also been invited, snorted with amusement. “Hendery would be climbing the fuckin’ walls right now.”

“I’m with Mark, this is fucking nasty.” You shook your head, turning to bury your face in Sungchan’s chest. “Let me know when there’s no more frogs doing gross stuff to people’s internal organs.”

“You can pick next, baby. Promise.” Sungchan wrapped two arms around you. He leaned in even closer to you to whisper, “Please pick something not scary.”

Once the horror movie was over, you proudly picked a Christmas rom-com, making sure to get one that had the perfect balance of a low critics’ score and high audience score on Rotten Tomatoes, was at least as old as you, had a low budget, and starred two famous actors that hadn’t gotten their big break as of filming.

When Jeno tried to grumble, you merely stuck your tongue out at him. “‘Tis the fucking season, Jeno!”

“Oh, fuck yeah! Christmas movie!” Yangyang cheered through a mouthful of pizza, walking back into the living room with a newly filled plate of slices. “Jeno, did we already have this one on our list?”

“List?” You asked with facetious innocence.

“Jeno and I marathon shitty Hallmark Christmas movies every year when we go to his parents’ place on break,” the junior explained, plopping down into his spot next to his friend. “He keeps the list in the notes on his phone, so I wanted to make sure he checked it off if we had it on there.”

While your immediate instinct had been to tease Jeno like the other guys were doing, something Yangyang said caught your attention instead.

“Wait, Yangyang, you go to Jeno’s parents’ place on break? You don’t go home?”

“My parents don’t live here. I’m originally from here, but we moved abroad when I was a kid. They still live there. The holiday break we get for hockey is too short to make it all the way out there.” He shrugged, taking another huge bite of pizza. “Jeno’s family is super cool. His mom about lost it when she heard that I’d be staying at school for the holidays my freshman year, insisted Jeno bring me home. So I go every year now.”

“And you two binge Hallmark movies together,” Chenle cooed, pinching their cheeks in unison. “The bestest of fwiends.”

Jeno shook his head and rolled his eyes, but there was no denying the bright grin on his face when Yangyang talked about staying with his family, or when he snuck his phone out to open the notes app and covertly check something off on a list that you couldn’t quite read from the other side of the room.

The movie ended up being actually a really good laugh. Both intentionally and unintentionally. Some of the jokes still held up after all these years, which surprised you, and also, the movie was just funny bad sometimes, which was even better. You found your cheeks hurting from how much you were laughing by the end of it, and surrounded by similar smiles on your friends’ faces. Which made it all the more enjoyable. The ending was the perfect amount of cheesy, sweet, funny, and satisfying, and felt like the perfect way to finish off your own night.

As the credits started rolling, still with a smile lingering on your lips, you turned to Sungchan, only to find him already gazing fondly at you.

“Oh. Hi…” You squeaked softly, completely caught off guard.

“Hi, baby,” he murmured back. “Good pick, by the way.”

“Not too scary, I hope.”

“Well, I had my girl there to protect me from that terrifying small-town baker and the down on his luck yet equally terrifying single dad, you know.”

The rest of the guys were having a debate about the next movie to watch—Pride and Prejudice (2005), Donghyuck’s idea vs. The Amazing Spider-Man (yes, Andrew Garfield), Mark’s idea. A debate that was expeditiously devolving into a very loud argument, so you weren’t particularly worried about them hearing the quiet, playful conversation that you and your boyfriend were having in the couple of inches of space between your heads.

“Always happy to protect my guy from the horrors of cheesy rom-coms,” you quipped back. “Anyway, I think I’m about done. Unless you want to watch whatever they end up picking?”

Sungchan shook his head minutely. “Apparently Hyuck’s been watching that movie like every day since this girl in his Brit Lit class rejected him like two weeks ago—”

“You need a better fucking coping mechanism than Keira Knightly, dude!” Mark’s exasperated voice rang through the living room.

“Would you rather I take up heroin, then?” Donghyuck screeched back.

“No! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The frat president groaned. “I meant like Tinder or something!”

“Oh, really great advice from my Big here! I should go get myself an STD or 7 because he doesn’t want to watch one movie with me!”

“It’s not one movie, this is the fifteenth time this month, Hyuck! And you know we have condoms in the house, man! Use them!”

“And that’s our cue,” Sungchan declared only to you, nudging you towards the front of the armchair.

You scooted off his lap, getting to your feet and stretching as your boyfriend spoke over the still-bickering Nu Chi brothers. “Alright guys, we’re done for the night. See you.”

A couple of the spectators gave you two ‘goodnight’s, but everyone else was still locked into Mark and Donghyuck squabbling match as the Little was now fake-sobbing into Sicheng’s arms about how his Big couldn’t care less about him and his safety and maybe he should go get every single sexually transmitted disease if it’ll make Mark’s life easier. Mark turned towards the closest wall and started banging his forehead against it as you and Sungchan headed up the stairs.

The Puck Pad was three floors and an attic. All of the shared family spaces were on the first floor: the kitchen, living room, dining room, laundry room, and a half bathroom; the second floor had two bedrooms and one bathroom, currently inhabited by Ten and Sicheng; and the third floor had two* more bedrooms and one and a half more bathrooms, occupied by Yangyang and Sungchan. Being the captain, when divvying up the rooms, the other three just kind of shrugged and gave Sungchan what was technically the master bedroom. It was at the end of the hallway, and while it wasn’t that much bigger than the rest of the bedrooms, it was the only one with an en suite bathroom. You would hesitantly call this a four bedroom house, as you were pretty sure that Yangyang’s room wasn’t actually supposed to be a bedroom. At least not when the house was built. The layout of the bathrooms had been your first clue, with there being just a half bath for him to use—he had to either go down one floor to use Ten and Sicheng’s shower or into Sungchan’s bedroom to use his shower—and the fact that the doors (yes, doors, plural, he had two doors to his very normal-sized bedroom, one of which was the actual entrance and exit from the hallway and the other, which was in an interior wall, could not be opened, despite having a handle and hinges) looked like they had been added decades after the frames had been built. You were stumped as to what the room could’ve originally been, but you were confident that it wasn’t a bedroom, at least. It was something that puzzled and mystified you every time you came over.

Donghyuck and Mark were either done with their spat, or the sounds of it couldn’t carry at the way up here. Either way, you were going to be well onto your way to dreamland soon as you settled down for the night with Sungchan, having done your nighttime routine, changed into your pajamas, and gleefully climbed under the covers.

“Are the other guys staying the night?” You asked Sungchan as he readjusted his pillow next to you to get comfy.

“Don’t know,” he said. “Usually they will if they drink a bit too much, or if they just don’t feel like going all the way home then having to come back this way for Saturday morning practice.”

You made a noncommittal noise, still ruminating over your half-idea in your own mind as you laid there with your eyes shut. The mattress and the sheets shifted beside you as Sungchan curled up behind you, resting a hand on your waist.

“Why are you asking?” He questioned curiously.

“Hyuck…” You sighed, placing your hand over his and slotting your fingers together. “Worried about him, is all.”

“It was some girl in his class that he’d talked to like once in the whole semester. He’ll be okay. Donghyuck’s just got to get the dramatics out of his system first.”

“Even so… Even if he’s just a bit bummed or whatever… Isn’t that what friends are for? To make you feel better when you’re bummed out?” You mused.

“Yeah, I guess so. That’s what Mark’s been trying to do, and he just ended up watching Pride and Prejudice fourteen times.”

You let out a soft burst of air, a quiet chuckle, at that. “Taking one—or, fifteen—for the team.”

Sungchan’s chest shook with a couple silent laughs.

“But really— Can you bring him back here after morning practice tomorrow? I want to take him out. Get his mind off it.”

“Yeah, sure. We can do something.”

“Ah, Channie, I was kind of thinking just me and Hyuck.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you guys pick on him.”

“He picks on us!”

“Baby?”

“Alright, alright,” he relented. “I’ll bring Donghyuck back after practice tomorrow for your little friend date.”

You turned your head to be able to press a fleeting peck to the tip of his nose. “Thank you, baby.”

“But I’m making you breakfast. You two will have to figure out something else.”

In the morning, you were faintly aware of an alarm going off early before it was quickly shut off and you rolled over in bed, burying your face in your pillow. Beyond your eyelids, it was still absolute darkness. You could feel the shifting of the mattress beside you and the press of a gentle kiss to your temple as you quickly sank under the calm waters of sleep once more.

You were half-awoken again some time later, a faint light streaming into your consciousness as the covers shifted once again, and a presence enveloped you from behind that hadn’t been there before. Letting out a peaceful sigh, you listened to the sounds of yours and Sungchan’s breathing as they eventually synced up, and you drifted back off without even realizing it.

Fluttering your eyes open, you groaned softly against the bright morning sunlight. After a couple seconds of squinting and blinking, your eyes had adjusted for the most part, and you rolled onto your other side. Sungchan smiled at you fondly as you rubbed at one of your eyes.

“You awake?” He asked quietly.

“Yep, ‘m up,” you offered a bleary thumbs up. “Just don’t make me solve any differential equations or whatever the fuck. Actually, don’t make me do that when I’m at full capacity either.”

He laughed softly, cradling the back of your head to pull you forward and press a kiss to your forehead. “Good morning, baby.”

“Mornin’ Channie,” you said back, punctuated by a yawn. “How was practice?”

“It was good. Donghyuck’s playing video games in the living room with Yangyang, by the way.”

“Good, good.”

“I think that was our smoothest Saturday morning yet. Were you able to go back to sleep okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t even remember waking up at all, really.”

“Success,” he grinned.

You momentarily closed your eyes again, enjoying the peaceful moment as you let your body slowly work towards fully waking up. Sungchan gently stroked the backs of his fingers up and down your arm, and you relaxed even further under his touch.

“I like waking up next to you,” he admitted softly. You squinted one eye back open to look at him as he continued. “Doing it twice in one morning… I think that’s the most I’ve ever loved somebody.”

Shooting up just to push him back against the mattress, you held him there by the shoulders, your grip so tight it probably would’ve hurt if he wasn’t already used to much worse on the ice. He looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Are you trying to kill me, Jung Sungchan?” You accused. “Saying stuff like that to me first thing in the morning, I could melt into a puddle and never re-form! My heart could explode!”

“You don’t think my heart feels like it’s going to explode when I wake up and see you next to me first thing in the morning?” He huffed back. “That just sounds like equity, baby.”

“You don��t know the meaning of that word.”

“Maybe so…”

With a final shake of your head, you let go of him and fell onto your back next to him. He propped himself up on an elbow on his side so he could see you, the beginnings of a pout on his face.

“And what’s that pout for?” You teased, already with a sneaking suspicion.

“Oh, nothing…” He picked up one of your hands, dropping a line of kisses to the back of it and up your wrist and lower arm.

“Okay,” you played along with a smile on your face. “Because I was just thinking that I’ve been awake for a whole five minutes with no good morning kiss. But if it’s nothing, then—”

You couldn’t even finish your sarcastic dramatics before Sungchan had captured your lips with his in a sweet but intense kiss that pressed your head back into the pillow just a little bit. Curling your fingers in the hair at the back of his head and grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt with your other hand, you pulled him even closer, wanting to just be able to melt into each other completely like it felt like your mouths were doing.

Another alarm suddenly went off in the bedroom, different from the one that had gone off in the wee hours of the morning, and you broke the kiss for just a second to snooze it on your smart watch.

“Oh! Your meds.” Sungchan immediately looked over towards his dresser where your go bag was sitting safely.

“I snoozed it; I’ll take them in a few minutes,” you reassured him, grabbing his face to pull his lips back to yours.

He indulged you for a few seconds until you reached a natural break for air, where he instead pecked your cheek before sitting back on his feet. “I’ll grab them for you, I don’t mind.”

With that, he clambered off the bed and over towards the dresser.

It was impossible to get mad at him though as he so eagerly went to help. You were instead filled with such an overwhelming fondness and joy, unable to do much but smile tenderly at him. “Oh, Channie… thank you.”

“Morning, morning, morning,” he muttered to himself as he rooted through your tote bag to pull out the various pill bottles. “That’s… half of this one, one of these, and… one of this? Oh, and you just added this one, too. And your blood pressure cuff.”

“A-plus, Nurse Jung.” You beamed up at him as you sat up in bed, getting in the correct position to take your vitals with the cuff.

He came over to you, dropping your meds in your waiting palm. You looked over the colorful pills momentarily, pleased to see that he’d gotten it exactly correct. After taking them with your water that was on his nightstand, you held out your hand for him to give you your cuff. But instead, he undid the Velcro and went to loop it around your wrist himself, brows furrowing as he concentrated on the task at hand.

“How’s that?” He asked once he had it secured.

“It’s a little too close to my hand, actually, but good first try.” You undid the band, scooting it to the proper position. “It should be a little further above my wrist bone.”

“Okay. Got it.”

The two of you were silent as you waited for your cuff to take your blood pressure and heartrate, the only sounds that of your breathing and the usual ones of the device in operation. After the final beep and deflation, you brought your wrist down from your chest to look at the screen.

“Is that good?” Sungchan asked, focused on the results as well.

“Well these are my pre-dose numbers. And they’re actually a little lower than normal,” you explained, typing them into your health record on your phone with your free hand. “Only by 10 points, but that means that depending on the post-dose I’ll probably just have to keep a closer eye on my numbers today.”

“So now we set a timer for 30 minutes.”

“Yep,” you did so with just a couple more taps on your phone. “And in the meantime, you make me breakfast like you promised.”

“On it.” He smooched your temple, his hands tentatively reaching towards your wrist. “Can I take your blood pressure cuff off you now?”

“Of course.”

He gently peeled off the strap with a rip of the Velcro, standing back up to put it away in its case. Holding the cuff in its hard carrying case in one hand, he offered his other out to you, and you gladly took it, getting it to your feet.

“Hold on a sec…” You muttered, squeezing your eyes shut as you got light-headed for a moment, bright lights flashing in your vision.

“I got you, baby,” Sungchan murmured, pressing his arm to yours and grabbing your other shoulder with his hand—he must have set your cuff down or put it in his pocket.

Once you felt stable on your own two feet again, which took just a few seconds, you blinked a couple times, then smiled up at him. “Okay, ready.”

Downstairs, you could hear video game sounds as you emerged into the kitchen, accompanied by the muffled shouting of three voices. Yangyang, Donghyuck, and that last one had to be Ten, it wasn’t nearly deep enough to be Sicheng. You sat up in the corner of their kitchen counter to watch Sungchan as he cooked, occasionally in the way, but he never asked you to move, and you never offered. It was a simple breakfast, but nothing could beat the proud, happy grin on his face as he held your plate out to you.

“It looks great,” you told him, patting his cheek. “Thank you, Channie.”

“Anything for my girl,” he replied, absolutely beaming as he leaned in to give you a soft kiss. You could feel the curl of his smile against your lips.

The two of you had just taken your first bites sat at the kitchen table when Yangyang and Donghyuck wandered in.

“Something smells good,” Yangyang announced, his eyes immediately landing on your food.

You protectively pulled your plate closer to yourself.

“There’s plenty left in the fridge to make your own,” Sungchan replied, pointing towards the kitchen.

Donghyuck plopped down in the seat directly next to the one that you and your boyfriend were jointly occupying—you were on Sungchan’s lap. The sophomore stared longingly at your breakfast.

“Didn’t you guys already eat?” You asked. “You had morning practice.”

“That was forever ago.”

“You’re not stealing my girlfriend’s food, you ungrateful little shits,” the captain glared at the both of them. “Go make your own if you’re so hungry.”

“First Mark wants me to get chlamydia, now you want me to starve,” Donghyuck bemoaned. “Will I ever have a good role model in my life?”

Sungchan fixed you with a pointed look, but you could only giggle at your friend’s dramatics.

“Daddy issues much, Hyuck?” You ruffled his hair, earning loud cackles from Yangyang, and distant laughter from Ten.

Donghyuck stared at you with a dropped jaw as you heard a couple dumbfounded sputters from Sungchan behind you. The younger player recovered quickly, though.

“What gave it away? My unhealthy attachment to older male friends that I see as reliable, or my ‘I Heart DILFs’ shirt?” He retorted sarcastically.

“You do wear that shirt a lot,” you jested back easily. He owned no such shirt to your knowledge.

“And here I thought I was being subtle.” He clicked his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“As a trainwreck,” you nodded. “You and Yang either go get your own food or shut the fuck up, okay?”

Donghyuck stood up from his chair, giving you an overzealous salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Yangyang went to follow his friend with a shake of his head. “Mommy issues much, bro?”

You couldn’t contain your laughs, tucking your face back into the crook of Sungchan’s neck to muffle them just a little bit. He wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you even closer to him. You kept laughing, even as he gently brushed his lips over the crinkles at the corner of your eye.

iv. because life is beautiful but life is work, so full of joy, so full of hurt

“So tell me about her,” you prompted Donghyuck as soon as the front door shut behind you two.

“What?”

“The girl that you like. Tell me about her.”

“Sungchan said you wanted to take me out to get my mind off it.” He regarded you suspiciously. “And everyone else is telling me I should just move on, stop moping and thinking about her all the time. Don’t know how talking about her more is really going to help that.”

“I heard that she was in one of your classes this semester and you two talked once. But if you’re this broken up about her… sounds like there’s more going on,” you shrugged. “If you want to tell me, I’m all ears. I know you feel like you have to ham it up for the guys all the time, make them laugh and stuff. But you don’t have to do that for me, okay? You don’t owe me entertainment in exchange for tolerating your presence or something. I’m hanging out with you right now because I want to.”

“I talked to her twice, actually. Not counting when she rejected me,” he began abruptly. “We were in the same Brit Lit class this semester, she sat in the seat in front of me. On the first day of class, she turned around to hand me the syllabus and accidentally bumped my water bottle. She smiled, apologized, and handed me the stack of papers and that was that. It’s so not me but I just, I couldn’t talk to her. It’s not just that she’s pretty—I mean she is, like the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen—but she’s so smart too. Whenever she’d answer one of the professor’s questions, she’d say something about the story that I would’ve never thought of in a million years. And like, the professor would be impressed too! But every single time I tried to hype myself up to say something, literally anything to her, I’d end up panicking and not doing it.”

“What was the other time? You said you talked to her twice, outside of when you asked her out. What was the other time, after the syllabus?”

He grimaced. “Ugh, right. I was walking across campus from the library to the parking garage one day. I was supposed to be meeting up with Mark at his car to hitch a ride back to the house. I had one of my sticks with me because I was taking it home to retape it, just sort of slung over my shoulders while I waited at the crosswalk. And it was dark, and I heard something behind me, whipped around to look, and ended up knocking her right in the eye with the butt of the stick.”

“Oh no,” you hissed sympathetically.

“I kept apologizing, but since I didn’t have my gear bag on me, just my bookbag and weapon, I didn’t have anything to patch her up with. She had some tissues in her bag thankfully… but I felt so horrible.”

“Aw, Hyuck, it was an accident. I’m sure she knows that.”

“And I felt even more horrible when I saw her in class a couple days later with that same eye black and blue.”

“Ouch…”

“And then on the last day of class, I caught up with her in the hall after turning in our finals, and I finally did it. I finally asked her out. And she said no.”

You let out a forlorn sigh, looping your arm with your friend’s. “I’m sorry, Hyuck. If it makes you feel any better, I think she’s missing out on a really great, sweet guy.”

“That doesn’t really help, but thanks, I guess.”

“I think it’s good to go ahead and be sad for a little bit, if that’s what you’re feeling.”

He let out a cynical chuckle. “I think my sadness is a bit of an inconvenience for the guys.”

“That’s not true,” you reassured him. “They’re just worried about you. You’re usually this big, unstoppable ball of sunshine. It’s like when one of you gets hurt on the ice, right? One of your teammates will slap a bandage where it hurts and you’ll keep playing. They don’t get why the bandages aren’t enough this time.”

“I don’t know if ‘ball of sunshine’ is a phrase that any of them of would use to describe me.” The corner of his lips twitched. “But thank you, Y/N. I didn’t really know what to expect when Sungchan told me that you wanted to hang out with me 1-on-1 today, considering you don’t really know me like you know some of the other guys. Like, I don’t think we’ve even been alone in a room together before, you know?”

“Huh. Yeah, I think you’re right.���

“Now I get it, though.”

“Get what?”

“Why everyone thinks you and Sungchan are gonna get married.”

“What?”

“Not like, now, but that you guys are going to, you know, make it, or whatever. Soulmates or something.”

You quirked up an eyebrow at the underclassman. “You believe in soulmates, Hyuck?”

“Yeah, I think I do. And I’m only telling you this because I don’t think you’ll call it stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid. I think it’s sweet,” you reassured him, patting his shoulder. “A jock with a romantic streak, very swoon-worthy.”

“That how Sungchan got you?” He teased, elbowing you in the side lightly.

“Something like that.”

“Hmph.”

“This isn’t the end for you,” you said knowingly.

“I know, I know. Just feels like it.”

“I get it. Next time you want to watch Pride and Prejudice fourteen times, you can call me up, okay? Give Mark a break.”

“Careful, I might take you up on that.”

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t serious. But for now, arcade?”

His eyes lit up at you finally revealing where the two of you were going. “Oh hell yeah! I’m so going to annihilate you at air hockey!”

“Don’t count on it,” you warned. “Sungchan’s taught me a few things.”

“Hey, baby, I’m back—” Sungchan skidded to a stop in the threshold of his bedroom, bag of delivery food in hand.

“Hey, Channie,” you smiled up at him as you were sat against his headboard. Donghyuck was curled up on top of the blankets by your legs like a cat, his head in your lap as you gently played with his hair.

“I was gone for like a minute,” your boyfriend gestured to the sophomore with bewilderment. “Does he just have a sixth sense for when you’re alone?”

“I told them they could join us for a movie.”

“Them?”

“Yo, you mind, bro?” Another voice piped up, Yangyang ducking under your boyfriend’s arm to walk in. He flopped across the foot of the bed, partially on Donghyuck’s legs.

“Oh, hey, Sungchan,” Jeno almost sounded surprised to see the captain in his own room as he followed his teammate in, laying down on his front with his arms and head resting on Yangyang’s back, and his feet up by the pillows.

“Well, I didn’t order enough for all of you,” Sungchan sighed, climbing over Jeno to settle into the empty space left beside you. “And no filching off Y/N, Donghyuck. Go downstairs and get your own food if you’re hungry.”

Hyuck tried to protest, “But—”

“Two of you don’t even live here, be grateful I let you eat as much as I do from our fridge, you’re not also getting the dinner that I bought for me and my girlfriend.”

“Fine. I’ll text Mark to bring snacks.”

“Mark, too?!”

Walking back with the guys to the Puck Pad after the last hockey practice of the calendar year, there was an elated buzz in the air now that the athletes were all finally on their own winter break. They were going over their plans for their short break: Jeno and Yangyang were going to Jeno’s parents’ the next day, Ten and Sicheng would both be leaving for their own homes tonight, meanwhile Mark and Donghyuck were both from the area, so they were staying at the Nu Chi house and just meeting up with their families on the holidays.

Realizing that you and Sungchan hadn’t really talked about your holiday plans yet, you peered up at him, about to ask, when suddenly your head started feeling light. You furrowed your brow, trying to blink away the momentary confusion as whatever you were about to say had slipped from your mind. Your head didn’t feel right on your body, but you couldn’t put your finger on what exactly it was.

Sungchan took just one look at you before letting go of your hand to instead grab your upper arm to steady you. His other hand went diving into the pockets of the practice bag in front of you, fervently searching for something.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Jeno, the owner of the bag, whipped around to look at him incredulously.

“Where’s your snacks?” Sungchan was fumbling into another pocket now.

“Ate them already. I’m bulking.”

“Dude, bad idea,” Ten snorted.

“Shut up, Ten!”

Sungchan had started ransacking another teammate’s bag, and successfully pulled out a sports drink this time.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Yangyang protested.

Your boyfriend stopped and sat you on a bench nearby, cracking open the drink. “Y/N, here.”

“Bad idea to what?” You squinted your eyes up between Ten and Jeno curiously.

“Why does she need—” Yangyang was still complaining.

“Jeno’s been talking to Sugar n’ Spice,” Donghyuck answered your question, mischievous glint in his eye.

“Who—” You mumbled, but got cut off by the bottle being pushed against your lips insistently.

“Y/N,” Sungchan’s stern voice refocused you, and you obliged, taking a small sip of the sugary drink.

Ten continued filling you in, “Sugar n’ Spice and Everything Nice. One of Johnny’s old girlfriends.”

Jeno crossed his arms with an indignant huff, “They were not—”

“And who are you really going to believe? Johnny or her?” Donghyuck retorted.

“You didn’t even go here when they—”

“Guys, shut the hell up!” Mark finally snapped at all of them, gesturing to your general unwell demeanor.

“Oh shit dude.” Yangyang’s eyes widened.

“Yeah.”

“Bro, she does not look good,” Jeno stated the obvious.

“She’ll be fine in a minute,” Sungchan replied, holding the bottle back up to your mouth. His voice was firm but gentle as he instructed you, “Y/N, drink some more.”

“Anyway, Jeno, no matter how much you bulk, it’s not going to make up for the inches you’re missing. Height or otherwise,” Donghyuck taunted nonchalantly.

“Lee Donghyuck, I’m going to break your fucking nose, come here!” Jeno lunged for the underclassman, only making him yelp and dart away.

“Don’t—!” Mark’s warning was cut off as Jeno chased Donghyuck down, his voice fading out as he sighed and finished quietly, “...Cause any permanent damage...”

“You okay, Y/N?” Sicheng asked, as you took a couple more small sips.

You nodded. “Just a bit low, uhm, blood sugar. I’ll be okay.”

It always took you a few minutes to realize when you were low on your own, but Sungchan could tell with just one glance at you—it made you wonder what you looked like when you got like this.

Back at the Puck Pad that evening, you had already said your goodbyes to Ten and Sicheng; and Jeno, Donghyuck, and Mark were upstairs in Yangyang’s room allegedly helping him pack. Judging by the video game sounds you could hear from the bottom of the stairs, they had gotten a little distracted. Sungchan and you had settled down in the living room to watch a movie, and with the fog lifted from your mind, you were able to remember what you were going to ask him earlier.

“Hey, Channie?” You picked your head up from his chest to be able to look at him. He was laying on his back across the whole couch, you snuggled in on top of him.

“Hm?” He looked from the TV to you.

“What are your plans?”

“Oh. Well…” He paused the movie, his hands coming to settle on your lower back and sneaking just under the hem of your (his) hoodie to trace spirals into your skin. “Our lease ends after graduation, and Yangyang’s been talking about looking for a place with Jeno, and Ten and Sicheng are probably going to get their own place. I know we haven’t talked about it yet, but every time I try to think what I’m going to do, I just imagine that we would move in together.”

Your dumbfounded silence encouraged him to go on, his voice sounding far away and dreamy.

“Like, I don’t know, being able to wake up next to you everyday, and sleep in on the weekends with you with no practice. Cooking breakfast for you every morning, even just grocery shopping together. It’s all I can think about, really.”

You finally choked out, “I-I meant for the holidays. Like, visiting family, being in town…”

His cheeks started flushing. “Right. Sorry. I’m visiting my family on Christmas Day. What about you?”

“Me too.”

“We should spend Christmas Eve together, then.”

“Yeah, sounds good. New Year’s, too?”

“Of course. Who else would I kiss at midnight?”

A fond smile spread across your lips, and you tilted your head up to give him a peck. “Of course.”

“So, uhm,” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “The other thing I mentioned?”

“What are you doing after graduation? Made a decision about that PhD program?”

“Yep… more school,” he sighed.

“Me, too.” You pulled a blanket up over you two. “I think… Yeah, we can move in together. I’d really like that.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You make me so happy, baby.”

“You could just move in with me? To my apartment?” You suggested as a grin spread across your face. You were getting giddy already imagining it.

Another forehead kiss. “I would love that.”

“You make me really happy too, Channie,” you murmured, your fingertip tracing mindless figure-eights into the front of his shirt.

“I love you so much.” He cradled your face with two hands with a tenderness that made your heart ache to be a part of him in a way that you could never physically attain.

You leaned in to touch your nose to his. “I love you, too.”

Christmas Eve was just a couple days later, and instead of walking in the park amongst the freshly fallen snow, or touring the elaborate lights put up in the rich neighborhood nearby, or baking Christmas cookies while watching cheesy Christmas movies, or any of your other cute Christmas plans with Sungchan, you were bedridden with a migraine. A bad one.

You let out a soft whimper as tears welled up in your eyes, both from the pain and from pure frustration at having something else ruined for you because of these stupid migraines. Ice skating you could reschedule, but you couldn’t take a rain check on your first Christmas (Eve) together.

Sungchan curled his arms around you tighter, a steady pressure across your back. “It’s been two hours,” he murmured as quietly as possible.

“I don’t want my stupid fucking medication that isn’t fucking working,” you practically spat out, the first tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Sungchan pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, careful to avoid your scalp, which currently felt like it was on fire in addition to your usual squeezing and stabbing migraine pain. Side effect from a new rescue medication your neurologist was having you try. Safe to say it wasn’t a winner.

At the distress in his own tone over his usual regrets of seeing you hurting but not being able to help, you finally broke down into open sobs. Clenching your eyes shut tight, you clung to his arms. Your chest shook with every breath as you quietly wailed, burying your face in your pillow. You couldn’t bear to turn around and see the angst on your boyfriend’s features.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “If I could take all your pain away and put it on myself, I would. God, I’m so, so sorry.”

You could hardly talk past the solid, hard lump in your throat, at first letting out a couple more strangled sobs as your tears and spit ruined your pillowcase. When you finally blubbered something out, your voice was distraught and despondent, “Why can I never… never have nice things? Why does it feel like the world is so big and nothing can go right and it all hurts so much… and I’m just so small and my body and my brain are… so broken?”

“I don’t know, baby, I don’t know,” Sungchan replied desperately, fully weeping with you into your shoulder now. “You don’t deserve this. I’m so sorry.”

You eventually fell asleep, but unlike your typical migraine naps, this one didn’t bring any sort of peace to Sungchan’s mind. Usually the naps were a good sign, you would wake up without the migraine and be relatively all better. But you’d never cried yourself to sleep during a migraine before, and having to hold a bawling you in his arms while he couldn’t do anything but apologize for being absolutely useless had left him shaken up. He didn’t think he’d be able to nap with you this time.

Sungchan didn’t dare move, keeping watch over you as you slept as if he could keep anymore pain away. He could still hear the echo of his heart breaking into a million pieces the moment you’d started crying.

Your head still fucking hurt. But this was a different throbbing than before, and was definitely from the heavy crying you’d done earlier. You groaned, covering your eyes and sniffling.

You could hear Sungchan’s breathing next to you, but he didn’t say anything as you rolled over to bury your face in his neck. Letting out a deep sigh, you found that you were dried out, unable to summon more tears. Finally, you spoke, “What time is it?”

God, your throat was dry.

“Six forty-five…” he replied softly.

“Well, Merry Christmas, Channie,” you grumbled.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Do you think it’s too late to go see the Christmas lights?”

You could feel him tense up under you.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to make yourself do anything for me, baby,” he reassured you, rubbing your back.

“I want to…” You insisted. “I just… probably need my earplugs. And sunglasses.”

“Of course, whatever you want.”

“And then we can come back and do eggnog pancakes?” You asked hopefully. The migraine had started right before Sungchan could start cooking this morning, so you weren’t able to enjoy your promised festive breakfast prepared by your boyfriend.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“And then presents.”

“Like I said, anything my girl wants.”

And so Sungchan drove you around in his car with the radio off, your sunglasses on like it wasn’t dusk right then, and earplugs in to drown out the sounds of passing traffic. The two of you were silent through the whole ride, communicating solely by squeezing the other’s hand that was laced with yours over the center console, pointing at any lights and decorations that either of you particularly liked, and smiling and nodding in acknowledgement.

When you got back to your apartment, you took off your sunglasses and earplugs to plop yourself down at your kitchen table while Sungchan once again brought out ingredients. He hummed Christmas carols while he cooked, and you rested your cheek in your hand to watch him fondly as he bustled around.

Your head was still throbbing, and you winced as you pulled your hood up and gathered your knees to your chest. As Sungchan opened the fridge to put the eggnog away, you saw him pull something else out, a familiar box.

“When is your injection?” He asked quietly, holding the container up.

You scrunched your nose as you brought out your phone to check your calendar. “It’s… oh shit, today.”

“I’ll leave it out to warm up.” He set it on the counter before going over to your stove and setting a timer for an hour.

You were supposed to wait at least 30 minutes after the medication left the fridge to inject it, but you liked to wait closer to an hour or two to make sure it had fully come to room temperature, to reduce any injection pain.

The pancakes were ready soon, and Sungchan and you ate them on the couch, the odd bits of conversation floating around between bites.

“So what are you and your family doing tomorrow?” Sungchan rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Oh, dinner’s at my parents’ place. I’ll pop over to Chenle’s family’s Christmas, too. They’re just across the street,” you hummed. “We don’t do a lot, but everyone comes over, so it’ll be a packed house.”

“That’s nice.”

“What about you, Channie? Any Christmas traditions?”

“You’re eating it,” he said proudly. “My dad always makes eggnog pancakes on Christmas morning. Then we go to my grandparents’ house for the day.”

You couldn’t wade through the slop that your mind was covered in to be able to aptly express how you felt about Sungchan sharing one of his family’s Christmas traditions with you, so instead you turned your head to press a long kiss to his cheek, squeezing his forearm appreciatively. He seemed to get the message, and moved his head to be able to kiss you gently.

“I love you, Y/N,” he mumbled against your lips. Then, pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. “I’m so glad we got to spend today together.”

You couldn’t help but bite down on your tongue bitterly at that. “Yeah, I love you too, Channie.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“My stupid migraines ruined our day! Again!” You turned away from him, dropping your face in your hands.

Immediately, one of his large hands rubbed your back while his other came to rest on your knee. “Baby, baby, my day wasn’t ruined.”

“We didn’t get to do anything how we wanted, and all I did was cry and make you cry!” You felt your eyes growing wet again. “And I’m fucking crying again!”

“I really do wish you hadn’t spent all day in pain,” he admitted. “You deserve to have the perfect Christmas Eve like all the cheesy rom-coms you like. But please don’t feel like you ruined my day or anything. I spent the whole day with my girl, which is a perfect day in my book.”

You wiped at your face messily, looking over your shoulder at him. “You really mean that?”

“Of course.”

“Even though I made you cry on Christmas? …Eve?”

“Well, it wouldn’t have been fair for you to be the only one of us who did.”

That finally made you chuckle, and Sungchan gave you a soft smile in return as he pulled you into him. You wrapped your arms around his waist, enjoying his warmth.

“Thank you, my Sungchannie,” you mumbled. “For being the most wonderful boyfriend in the whole universe.”

“The whole universe?” He repeated skeptically.

“Yep. Not even a competition.”

The kitchen timer went off then, and he gave you a final shoulder squeeze and peck to your temple before standing up and heading into the kitchen. He returned with your medication and stupidly large first aid kit. Popping the first aid kit open, he dutifully started pulling out an alcohol wipe, then an antihistamine. Sungchan had been around for your last injection by happenstance, and watched your every move carefully, so you weren’t surprised that he was able to get everything ready now.

“I don’t need that unless I break out,” you tried to point out. You weren’t allergic to the medication, but sometimes you got hives around the injection site within the first day or so just from it making your skin more sensitive.

“Baby, you always break out,” he insisted, presumably remembering when you started reacting less than an hour later last time, and all your stories about other post-injection reactions.

“No, there’s been like… a couple times I haven’t.”

He pointedly set the antihistamine down with the alcohol swab, then held up the bandage options for you to choose from.

“Mm… Sanrio,” you nodded to your newest addition. “I want a Kuromi.”

He fished out a bandaid with a Kuromi pattern on it, setting it aside. You broke the seal on the medication box as Sungchan walked into the kitchen. At the sound of running water, you looked up curiously, watching as he thoroughly washed his hands to the elbow like he was about to scrub in for an operation.

As he sat back down beside you, he held out his hands. “Can I do it?”

You froze, freshly opened box in hand. In the nearly two years that you’d been taking the injectable, you’d always done it yourself. Even your first demonstration dose at your neurologist’s office you’d done on your own to learn how to operate it. It had never occurred to you to ask anybody else to, really. Technically, the directions said you could, but you lived by yourself, had always been alone.

“If you’re okay with it,” Sungchan added after a couple beats of silence. “It’s fine if you want to do it yourself. I get it. You’ve just had a really long day, I want to help.”

“They say someone else can do the back of your arm…” You looked down at the small card of directions that you picked up out of the carton, a diagram highlighting all the possible injection areas. “But I want to be able to see it. So you’ll still have to do my thigh.”

“Okay.” He nodded seriously, accepting the box as you handed it to him.

He took a moment to study the instructions very carefully, and you opened the bandage in preparation. When he set the directions down and picked up the alcohol wipe, you rolled up the leg of your shorts and readjusted in your seat.

“I usually do it here.” You pointed to a spot, and he wiped the cool material over the area thoroughly.

Next, he grabbed the auto-injector from the box, pulling the cap off the end and dropping it back in the carton. You consciously tried to level your breathing as he paused to read the directions one more time. Sungchan pinched your skin and pulled it apart until it was properly taut.

“Do you want a countdown?” He asked.

“No, but hold on, I need to relax my muscle.” You flexed and eased your thigh a couple times, letting out a deep breath. “Okay, good.”

You kept your eyes focused just off to the side of the injection—you’ve never been able to watch needles go in you that you weren’t operating yourself, but you couldn’t fully look away this time. So instead, your gaze was on Sungchan’s forearm, the auto-injector enough in your peripheral that you could tell if something were to go wrong.

He pressed the blunt plastic tip against your skin. As requested, you had no countdown before the near-simultaneous click of the pen and prick of the needle came, followed by the stinging pain of the medication being pumped into you. You let out a slight hiss, already counting in your mind. The built-in indicator that meant the injection was over was displayed on the pen already, but you noticed that Sungchan kept holding it there until you reached your fifteen-count in your head. He had remembered from when he watched you last time, and must have been counting himself. The directions said to leave it in until the indicator showed, about 15 seconds, but you always liked to count to 15 seconds just in case, something you’d mentioned off-handedly last time.

As soon as he took the injector out and tossed it in the box on the table, you watched as a dot of blood and clear fluid—medicine—welled to the surface. Sungchan rushed to pull the bandage out, applying it to the site, catching the drop just in time before it fell down your leg. He gingerly smoothed down the ends, Kuromi smirking back up at you two.

Sungchan took the empty auto-injector into your bedroom, and you heard the telltale sound of it clanking into the plastic sharps disposal bin you kept under the bathroom sink. When he came back, you were already picking up the trash and closing up the first aid kit.

“Don’t forget your antihistamine,” he reminded you, holding out the tablet and your water bottle.

With your hands full, you leaned forward to take a sip from the straw of your bottle, then opened your mouth like a baby bird for him to drop the pill into. You swallowed it with slight difficulty, but he seemed content that you’d taken it, at least.

After everything was cleaned up, you meandered back into the living room, stopping in front of the couch to inspect the injection site with a pout.

“Is everything okay, baby?” Sungchan sat forward, brow furrowed with concern.

“Hurts…” You whined, flopping down next to him. “It didn’t use to burn after like this, but ever since my neuro upped my dose last month… it hurts.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” he pulled you closer to him with two arms around your waist.

You made a small ‘humph’ sound, habitually poking at the injection site. Ow, dumbass.

“Thank you, baby,” Sungchan mumbled into your neck. “For letting me help you.”

The genuine relief in his voice made you smile to yourself. You knew how cut up he was every time he couldn’t help during your migraines, and at first you didn’t get why he wanted to do your injection this time. After all, this was the same guy who had you come with him to get his blood drawn for his routine drug testing by disguising it as an ice cream date then suddenly remembering that he had to stop by the student health center on the way there (and jumped at your offer to come back with him to hold his hand instead of waiting in the lobby). But in his mind, doing your injection must’ve been the best he could do to help prevent you from hurting again like he’d seen today.

“Why are you the sweetest boy ever?” You whispered, kissing his hair.

Sungchan let out a muffled giggle. “Ever?”

“Ever.”

“Mm, I don’t know,” he hummed playfully. “Think I was born like this.”

“We’ve got to make sure you don’t go out in the rain, or you’ll melt,” you teased.

“I mean what I said the other day, you know. Just didn’t want to scare you… but I really do think this is the most I’ve ever loved someone. I know it hasn’t been that long, and it always feels like I’m rushing stuff with you, but it just always feels right. Everything always feels right all the time with you.”

“I knew what I was getting myself into when you said ‘I love you’ on our second date,” you reminded him, fond smile flitting across your lips.

“I thought we agreed to never talk about that again,” he grumbled.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. But you were so adorable when you tried to pretend like you didn’t.”

“You were wearing my hoodie and had whipped cream on your nose and you were just so… perfect,” he defended himself, trailing off into a dreamy sigh. He smooched your cheek loudly. “Still are.”

You laughed, squirming a little bit at the sudden attack of affection, but not moving away as he peppered more overzealous kisses to your face. You instead cradled his cheek with one of your hands.

When he’d finally stopped to rest his chin on your shoulder again, you responded a bit more seriously to him, “I love you too… a lot. I don’t really have any romantic metric, to be honest. Migraines have sort of made it hard to date… or inconvenient, at least. But you need to know that I really do love and appreciate you so, so much, my Sungchannie.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he nodded just the slightest against you, gently rocking the two of you side-to-side.

You grabbed one of his hands to play with his fingers, slightly calloused from the weightlifting you knew was part of his mandatory hockey conditioning. Hockey season was already halfway over. His last season. You couldn’t imagine Jung Sungchan not playing hockey.

“Channie?”

“My girl?”

“I know we already talked about moving in together after graduation, but… What are you going to do after hockey’s over? I kind of can’t picture you not on the ice.”

You could feel him take a deep breath, and his free hand came to join the fray as it found one of your wrists. Specifically, the one that sported a thick blue and orange paracord bracelet with five plastic alphabet beads on it—2-7-J-S-C—that every hockey player made their freshman year. Sungchan gave you his not too long ago, on your one-month anniversary.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, as if he couldn’t make himself say it any louder. “I’ve tried to think about it too and… I can’t. I’ve been playing since I was a kid. I don’t… really have anything else. Just school, hockey, and you.”

“We’ll find you a hobby or two,” you promised, squeezing his hand. “Maybe you can take piano lessons again.”

He chuckled, letting you gently curl and uncurl his crooked pinky, the one he had broken that made him stop playing in the first place. “I don’t know… I think that might be gone for me.”

“If it’s something you really liked, you should do it,” you insisted. “It would just be for fun. I think it’d be nice, if you found the right teacher.”

“Well…”

“If you want to, Channie. I’m just brainstorming here.”

“Hockey season’s not over yet,” he pointed out. “We can circle back around in the summer.”

“That’s true, that’s true,” you agreed. “You should be savoring every moment right now, not letting me make you prematurely existential. I’m sorry.”

“You’re forward-thinking, baby, I appreciate that.”

“But it’s your last season, you don’t need me reminding you of that all the time.”

“Then why are we still talking about it, hm?” He said, mischievous smile on his face.

“We’re not! We’re not!” You held your hands up in surrender. “It’s present time! I swear!”

Sungchan laughed as he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple.

“Hi, Mr. Zhong!” You were beaming as you walked into Chenle’s house the next day, immediately being wrapped in a bear hug by his dad. “Merry Christmas!”

“Y/N! It’s been too long, too long,” he complained as you went to hug your best friend next, who had also come to greet you.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” Chenle hugged you tightly.

“Merry Christmas, LeLe.”

Letting go of your friend, you turned back to his dad, who was still waiting for a response, his hands on his hips.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Zhong,” you bowed your head in apology. “We just get so busy with school and—”

“Yeah, Y/N’s been really busy with her new boyfriend!” Chenle announced loudly, making sure that every occupant in the whole house could hear him.

“Y/N! You have a boyfriend?!” Mrs. Zhong called from the kitchen.

“Boyfriend?!” Mr. Zhong echoed in shock, his eyes going comically wide.

You were already smacking Chenle on the head and pinching his ear furiously. “Zhong Chenle, you little— I’m going to kill you!”

Chenle jerked out of your grip and ran away, you hot on his heels. He ran right into the kitchen, where his mother and several aunties immediately swarmed you.

“Y/N!” Mrs. Zhong grasped you by the wrist, pulling you over towards the stove where several things were cooking. She grabbed a spoonful of something from a bubbling pot and held it out towards you to try. As you leaned forward to taste it, she asked, “So, who is this boyfriend Chenle is talking about?”

“Is he handsome?” Another woman asked.

“Does he hold the door open for you?”

“What’s his name?”

“Does he know how to cook?”

“Do we know him?”

“Does he have a job?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Show us a picture!”

You choked on the rather delicious spoonful of soup that you’d just taken as you heard Chenle’s cackling laughter in the background. Wiping your mouth, you turned around to shoot him a glare before answering some of their questions.

“His name is Jung Sungchan, he goes to the same college as Chenle and I. We actually all had a class together a few years ago,” you started off slowly.

“Pictures, Y/N!” One of the aunties insisted.

“Yeah, Y/N, show us pictures!” Chenle repeated. “Or I will.”

“I will end you,” you said through gritted teeth as you pulled out your phone. Flicking through your gallery, you found a few that you really liked.

They were from his last home game, and these in particular were taken by Taeyong, as it had been the game against their league rivals, which drew in the graduated Nu Chi brothers and team members. You pulled the first one up, him still in his uniform as you had gone down to congratulate him right on the ice. He was towering over you even more than normal in his skates, an arm around your shoulders as you wrapped both of yours around his waist, the two of you smiling at the camera. As you went to show the picture to everyone, your skin started growing hot with the ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s that sprang up among the women.

“He plays hockey for our school, he’s actually captain.” You grew even more embarrassed as Mrs. Zhong zoomed in on Sungchan’s face.

“Chenle,” she looked up at her son with squinted eyes. “Is this your handsome friend who brought you home when you were drunk?”

“Mom, that was one time three years ago,” he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Chenle,” she said sternly.

“Yes, that’s him.”

Her face broke into a lovely smile. “Oh, I liked him. Very polite.”

“Yeah, I know, Mom. You still talk about it.”

“When was this?” You asked your friend with bewilderment. The two of you did everything together, including getting embarrassingly shitfaced as freshmen. Or, Chenle would get embarrassingly shitfaced and you would watch, thanks to your migraine meds.

“There was a Nu Chi party, after the Halloween one…” Chenle explained, and you appreciated him leaving out the details of the Halloween party in front of all these people. “Long story short, I didn’t realize how strong the punch was. Sungchan gave me a ride home.”

“Very polite, very handsome,” Mrs. Zhong nodded approvingly. She swiped to the next picture for you, this one of Sungchan kissing your cheek as you laughed and grabbed his jersey.

They all tittered and made various comments and approving noises, and you quickly turned your phone off and put it away bashfully.

“So, yeah… that’s him,” you finished awkwardly among their disappointed noises of you taking away the photos.

“I like him.” Chenle’s mom patted your cheek before turning back to the stove. “And if he gives you any trouble, you know Chenle will…”

“Mom did you see him? What do you think I could possibly do?” Chenle retorted. “He literally carried me in here over his shoulder, I don’t think I could really defend Y/N’s honor if it came to it!”

“Chenle…”

“Fine, Mom!”

v. i sat across from you, reading ulysses; and whilst i tried to project some intellect i’m not convinced i knew what it all meant, but i did know that the words were so pretty

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” Sungchan mumbled, resting his head on your shoulder.

You giggled, brushing some of his hair from his face. “Hmm, a couple times.”

“What?!” His head snapped back up, distress on his features. “Only twice?! God, what kind of boyfriend am I?”

The two of you were back in the team’s favorite dive bar, this time after the last home game of the season. It had been a smashing victory—in addition to the seniors’ last time to play a game on their home ice—meaning that everyone, including all of the long-graduated players and Nu Chi Tau brothers who had shown up, were celebrating extra hard tonight. You’d driven your car specifically to allow Sungchan to let loose for the occasion, hence his currently more-than-buzzed state.

He’d pulled you into his lap at the corner booth you were sitting at some time ago, morphing into the lovey-dovey cuddle monster that he always was when tipsy. Not that he exactly kept his hands to himself when he was sober either, but as soon as alcohol entered the equation, it was like he thought he’d die if he weren’t holding you at all times.

“I was playing, baby, you tell me that all the time,” you reassured him.

“Oh, good.” He breathed out in relief, going back to snuggling up to your shoulder. “Because you’re sooo pretty. Like, the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks, Channie.” You kissed the top of his head. “I think you’re pretty, too.”

“You do?”

“For sure.” You traced the line of the bridge of his nose. “My pretty boy.”

He hummed contentedly, but didn’t say anything more, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Ten, Taeyong, and another graduated Nu Chi brother, Kun, came over to your booth then, sliding into the seat across from you.

“Is he asleep?” Taeyong gestured to Sungchan.

“No, just a cuddly drunk,” you explained with a fond chuckle.

“‘M not drunk…” Your boyfriend protested.

“Tell that to the victory shots you were doing with Hyuck, Jeno, and Yangyang an hour ago,” you snorted, pushing your glass of water over towards him. “Here, some water, Channie.”

Kun offered out the half-eaten basket of onion rings that he’d walked over with. “Have some of these, too, Sungchan.”

“Sweet, thanks!” He grabbed a couple and stuffed them in his mouth happily.

“Thanks, Kun,” you smiled at him. “He didn’t drink on an empty stomach, so we should be ready to go in a bit. I want him mostly able to walk on his own two feet before we leave, though. Carrying a drunk Chenle and drunk Sungchan would be very different experiences, I feel.”

They all snickered, and you looked over at where your friend was currently pulling all of the cash out of his pocket to bet on a pool game between Johnny, Jaehyun—a former hockey player who had graduated last year, Jungwoo, and Yuta—former hockey player and Nu Chi brother, from the same cohort as Johnny. It looked like Dejun was running the betting pool, collecting Chenle’s money in addition to Hendery’s, Mark’s, and Hyuck’s.

“I feel like we should do something about the gambling happening over there…” Taeyong sighed, having been looking in the same direction as you.

“Probably,” Kun agreed, though neither of them made any move to get up. They simultaneously took swigs of their drinks.

“Y/N, what did you think of the reading for Direct Study?” Ten asked you, resting his very pink cheek in his hand.

“Oh, I thought it was fantastic!” You lit up. You and Ten both had Dr. Son for a Direct Study course this semester, and he was letting you two collaborate since you had such similar tastes in literature—you had a feeling  your professor also liked having only one reading list and being able to meet with the both of you at once instead of separately. “I’ve always loved that author, though. The way her short stories can either be a quick read or you can really sit and take your time with them to absorb and peel back as many layers as you want.”

“You’ve read her before?”

“I recommended her to Dr. Son a while ago, actually. I read another one of her short story collections and sort of fell in love. I’ve been working through her whole body of work on my own time, but I hadn’t made it to this one yet, so I’m going into it with fresh eyes like you. I’m excited to see what you’ve been getting out of her works.”

“I think her diction is really fascinating.”

“Yes!” You gushed. “You can tell she takes her time with which words she’s using. Oh, I just love it.”

“You’re doing the Master’s in Literary Theory and Critical Analysis next year, right?”

“Yep! Picked my classes a couple weeks ago.”

Your friend flashed you a wide grin. “Thank God. There will be someone else competent.”

“Yeah, I’m doing Lit and Crit, and this one—” you patted Sungchan’s head as he was still shoveling onion rings in his mouth “—is going for his PhD in molecular biology.”

“Woah.” Ten’s eyebrows shot up.

“And what are you going to do with that, Sungchan?” Taeyong asked curiously.

“Fish,” your boyfriend answered absentmindedly through a mouthful of food.

You couldn’t help but laugh with your whole chest at his answer, even as you went to cover his mouth. “Chew and swallow before you talk, Channie. I think you just spat crumbs on poor Kun.”

The older man was flicking a piece of an onion ring off of his arm, giving you a strained, close-lipped smile.

Sungchan spent a considerable amount of time chewing his food, then washed it down with your water before giving a more cognizant answer. “I’m going to study a disease in a fish.”

“Molecular biology with a minor concentration in marine biology,” you corrected yourself and clarified his answer a bit more. “He’s joining one of his professors’ research teams.”

“Congrats, Sungchan,” the former Nu Chi president told him sincerely.

“Yeah, dude, wow,” Ten blinked, laughed, then shook his head. “You know, I don’t even know if I knew what your major actually was this whole time.”

“Seriously?” You snorted. “You two have been teammates for four years, and have lived together for two years.”

“I mean, I knew he was a STEM major,” Ten tried to defend himself. “But past that… yeah, I had no clue. It’s just sort of you know, when you think of Jung Sungchan, you think of hockey. He’s the hockey captain. I mean, does anybody really know Mark’s major?”

“I—”

“Not you, Taeyong, we know he was your Little.”

You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times, but found yourself drawing a blank. After all this time of getting closer to the team, you had sort of prided yourself on being friends with and knowing all of your boyfriend’s teammates on some individual level as people. But frustratingly, all you could think up for Mark was that he was Nu Chi president, center on the hockey team, and had been in your Comp I class a few years ago—a Gen Ed credit.

“Well damn,” you said bitterly.

“Exactly.”

After a beat, Taeyong spoke up quietly, “Music Theory. He likes producing music.”

Ten, Sungchan, and you all let out a chorus of ‘ohh’s at this revelation. You looked over at where Mark was spectating the pool game—from a vantage point of leaning tipsily against Johnny’s side when he wasn’t shooting, and against Jaehyun’s side when Johnny was shooting. You watched with amusement as he got passed back and forth, happy to see him being taken care of for once instead of taking care of all his friends.

“I should go swap out my Little’s drink for some water,” Taeyong announced. It was then that Hyuck must have made some comment to Mark, as Mark shoved his friend away with a loud complaint, his tone sounding rather embarrassed. “And my grand-little too…”

Dejun, Hendery, and Chenle were spectating their drunken spat in fits of giggles. Dejun and Hendery both reached for their drinks again, and Kun shook his head.

“I should do the same for my own demons before they get to that point,” Kun stood up with Taeyong.

Ten followed them out, “And I’m not going to third wheel. Bye, you two!”

“Bye, guys,” you gave the three of them farewells. “Congrats again, Ten.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he beamed down at you genuinely.

“Oh, Kun!” You called for him before he could get out of earshot.

He stopped a turned to you with an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

“Thanks for the onion rings, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I have one more favor to ask: Can you cut Chenle off too?” You requested. “And I’m not sure how you all are sorting out DDs tonight, but—”

“I’ll make sure he gets home safe,” he promised. “You two have a goodnight.”

“Thanks. Goodnight!”

Looking between Sungchan and the empty onion ring basket, you then checked the time on your phone.

“Alright, are you ready to go, baby?” You asked him quietly.

He nodded with his whole upper body. “Am I going home with you?”

“Yep. I’m taking you back to my place, and our classes all got canceled tomorrow for Spring Break, remember?” You shouldered your tote bag. “So we get to sleep in.”

“That’s my favorite thing.”

You giggled. “Sleeping in?”

“No, waking up with you,” he wrapped both his arms around your waist again. “And giving you a good morning kiss, and cooking breakfast for you, and helping you with your meds and your cuff.”

“I have a feeling I’ll be getting you meds in the morning tomorrow,” you quipped, pecking his forehead. “But I think mornings with my Sungchannie are one of my favorite things, too.”

“Sounds like a perfect match to me.”

“Hard to argue you with you there,” you snickered. “So are you ready to go? The sooner we go home and go to sleep, the sooner it’ll be morning, you know.”

“You’re so smart, baby. My girl’s the smartest ever…”

Pushing yourself out of his lap, you pulled him out of the booth after you and onto his feet. He immediately looped his arm around your shoulders, and you kept a hand on his chest and an arm around his waist to steady him as you started towards the exit. At the door, the two of you stopped to give the whole bar a final wave and call goodbye to anybody who heard you. You got a loud, raucous chorus of yelled and slurred goodbyes in return before you headed out to your car.

Back at your apartment, you made him change out of his clothes that smelled like the bar and into some of his that he kept here, then got into your own pajamas for the night before flopping into bed.

“Okay, question,” you announced as he laid his head in your lap, throwing an arm across your legs as if you were going anywhere.

“About?” He asked, his eyes fluttering shut and a content smile coming to his face as you started playing with his hair.

“How do you think you made it to the top two in Phantasmagorical Phriday this year? I mean, I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m not trying to be mean, Channie, or like, a Lit major elitist or anything, but Chenle and I have both been studying this stuff for four years now, right? Hendery has at least taken professional writing classes and some other stuff for his Comm degree. I think. But, no offense, you STEM majors aren’t exactly lauded for your excellent prose. First year, okay, we’re all brand new at it, and Dr. Son actually did real workshopping with us on it. But after that, we were essentially just getting coffee together once a month and then sending him a short story.”

He squinted one eye open to peer up at you curiously. “Do you think I bought off Dr. Son or something?”

“Bought off our professor so that you would almost win? Sounds like a waste of your money. Maybe bought off Chenle and Hendery to write shitty stories this year and better your chances? But you knew I was so morally upstanding that I wouldn’t take the bribe.”

“Oh, definitely. You’ve cracked it,” he snickered, closing his eyes again to enjoy your fingers working through his hair.

“I mean… Do you have a secret poetry journal in here somewhere?”

“No. You just kind of are being a little bit of a—” he was cut off by a loud yawn “—Lit major elitist, baby.”

“Mm?” You tilted your head with a confusion, perturbed frown on your face.

“You think that every STEM major just gets their Gen Ed humanities credits and never picks up a book again for the rest of their life.”

“Well…”

“Am I wrong?”

“It’s not like I’m out here balancing equations for fun!” You tried to defend yourself. “I got my science credits and never looked back.”

“I took a few more creative writing and literature classes sometimes,” he shrugged. “Whenever I had a spare slot in my schedule, or needed a couple credits of whatever to keep my scholarship for the semester.”

“Yeah, student athletes, you guys have to be full-time in order to keep your scholarships.”

“Mhm. Sometimes all the classes I needed for my degree that were happening in a semester didn’t uhm, didn’t make the minimum credits, so I needed another class or two.”

“Why lit classes? And writing classes?”

“Baby, it’s literally what you’ve been studying for four years and you’re acting like you can’t understand why anybody would be interested in it,” Sungchan pointed out, pinching your thigh.

You swatted his hand away. “No, I’m just trying to understand you.”

“Did I really act like I hated Dr. Son’s class that much freshman year? I did all four years of Phantasmagorical Phriday.”

“No, you didn’t seem like you hated it or anything. I just thought that you would’ve used the extra slots for easy classes. PE or something.”

“Yeah, Coach was always trying to get me to take his classes.”

“But you just really like writing and lit classes that much?”

“Why is this so surprising to you?”

“Well— I just kind of feel bad that I keep leaving you out of all the crit lit conversations that Ten and I have,” you admitted guiltily, not intending to leave him out of all your fun conversation with his teammate about books in your lit classes, but he never seemed all that interested; nor had he read any of the books, to your knowledge. “Do you want to borrow books or read along so you can talk with us about it?”

“That’s okay, baby,” he told you, reaching up to pat your hands that were already on top of his head. “Honestly, I like listening to you talk about all this stuff more than I ever liked the classes themselves.” After a beat, he absentmindedly added, “I would kind of pick them half-hoping you had signed up for the class, too.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Really?”

“It was more like a little daydream that I had. That I’d walk in on the first day of class and you’d be sitting there and recognize me and smile at me and ask if I wanted to sit with you. Then, you know, we’d swap notes, be study buddies, and I would finally get the courage to ask you out,” Sungchan sighed, nuzzling his cheek against your thigh in an almost nostalgic and bittersweet way.

“Channie…”

“That was really embarrassing to admit. I thought I was going to die without telling anybody that, especially you,” he mumbled, his voice becoming more muffled as he turned his head to fully bury his face in your lap.

“You are a bit tipsy, baby,” you reminded him gently, stroking the back of his head.

He turned onto his back to fully look up at you, taking a slow blink before adding emphatically, “And I just love you so much.”

You grabbed him by the sides of the face to look him in the eye very seriously, but couldn’t hold it for very long, tender smile coming back to your features almost immediately.

“I love you too,” you affirmed, and he was once again beaming, grabbing your hand to presumably kiss your knuckles, but he missed a bit and kissed the back of your wrist instead. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course! Anything for my girl.”

“Your girl wants to know…” You said your words slowly and enunciated to make sure he understood. “On the first day of Dr. Son’s class, do you remember how you felt about me then?”

Specifically, you were thinking about the second game of the season, when you’d learned about Hendery and Chenle’s bet from freshman year. Hendery swore he could tell Sungchan had a crush on you from the first day of Dr. Son’s class, but you had your doubts. Mostly because you yourself couldn’t even remember looking at Sungchan on the first day of class, much less even talking or, God forbid, flirting with him—literally anything that would warrant him apparently outwardly crushing on you.

His face immediately scrunched up. “Mmm…”

“It’s okay baby, I know it was a long time ago, and you’ve had a bit to drink—”

“No, I remember, I remember. I’m just afraid you’re going to think I’m a creep…”

“More of a creep than signing up for classes in my major hoping I was going to be in them?”

“I’m sorry!” He rushed to apologize, his features immediately turning distraught as he half-sat up in his haste to say sorry.

“Shh, shh, my Sungchannie, it’s okay, it’s okay,” you quieted him, squeezing his hand that he was still holding and stroking his forehead, encouraging him to lay down again. “I was just teasing you, I’m sorry, that was mean of me. I think it’s cute, I promise.”

“You think I’m cute?” He asked with a heavy pout.

“Baby boy, I’m in love with you. Of course I think you’re cute.”

The corners of his mouth pulled back into a small smile. “Yay…”

“So? Will you please tell me?”

“M’kay…” He huffed and readjusted again, this time to rest some of his weight on his shoulder as his head was still pillowed in your lap. “I remember everything about that first class, you know? The room number, where we were all sitting, the Phantasma Phour…”

“Really?”

“Third flour, 3104.”

“I thought Gothic Lit was on the second floor?”

“It was on the third floor only for the first week then it got moved to the second floor for the rest of the semester.”

“Huh. Good memory.”

“I remember because the third floor of the Lang building is always super hot, but I didn’t know that because it was our first day. I wore my new hoodie from the team because I was so proud to be on the team, but I didn’t have another shirt on under it because I heard the Science building was always cold from some other Bio majors, so I thought I wasn’t going to have to take it off. So when we were in Dr. Son’s class that first day, I couldn’t take the hoodie off, even though it was like a billion degrees in that room…”

“Oh, oh no, Channie.” You attempted to coo sympathetically through your chuckles.

Sungchan sighed, pulling your hand back to his hair. “Anyway, Dr. Son had us in that Socratic circle, remember?”

“Yep, I remember.” You nodded, obliging to his whims easily and playing with his hair again.

“I was right next to the door, because I just wanted to get in and out of there. Hendery ran in a couple minutes late, and he ended up next to me. You and Chenle sat together at the front, a few seats away from Dr. Son’s desk, right next to the window. I just remember thinking that you were really pretty, with the window kind of giving you this little halo of light.”

“Baby, how is that creepy?” You chuckled. “You thought I was pretty.”

“You don’t remember what happened in the rest of that first class, do you?”

“What? What happened?”

“Dr. Son had us do an icebreaker with a partner…” He trailed off leadingly.

“Channie, I’ve taken so many of Dr. Son’s classes at this point, I can’t even remember who I was paired up with for that one,” you tried to reassure him.

“It was me.”

“Oh.”

“So not only was I a sweaty mess in that hoodie, but I had to be a sweaty mess while talking to this really pretty girl.”

“Channie…” You looked down at him, guilty for not remembering this at all. Though maybe it was for the better if he was apparently such a mess? Maybe that would soothe his distress over “embarrassing” himself in front of you.

“I thought Dr. Son was going to have us ask the normal stuff, name, major, year, you know. But it was Dr. Son, so of course it wasn’t normal.”

“Of course.”

“He made us ask all that, and made us ask each other something we were afraid of, and something we wanted. It wasn’t going to be shared with the class, just with our partner. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of you, pretty girl that I knew nothing about other than your name, that you were a freshman, and a Lit major. I really wanted to impress you, but I couldn’t come up with anything super deep. Do you know what I said?”

“No…” You confessed, tone already apologetic as you held his gaze. “I’m so sorry, baby, I don’t remember any of this.”

“S’okay…” He yawned again. “I said the truth. I was afraid of not being as good at hockey as I thought I was, and that I wanted to be team captain one day.”

“Those were good answers. It was the truth, not some philosophical lie. And look at you now, baby boy,” you told him strongly, patting his chest before going back to stroking his head.

“Mm… Back then you just kind of had this look on your face that wasn’t really dislike or even boredom or anything but just sort of like… that was exactly what you were expecting me to say. I felt like I’d just put myself into the dumb, self-centered, sports-obsessed jock archetype in your mind and I’d never be able to get out. Because then you answered and I wanted to smack myself for giving such stupid answers and wearing that stupid hoodie.”

“What did I say?”

“You were afraid of what the outcome of your brain MRI was going to be. And you wanted to hurt less.”

Your jaw dropped in mortification. “Oh my god… Sungchan, I’m so sorry I just dumped all that on you literally the first time we met. I…I had a lot going on then, with my migraines. I had just started seeing my neuro like a month before classes started, she ordered the MRI as a just in case thing, but it still made me so freaked. My appointment to go over the results was after my classes that day, I literally couldn’t think about anything else. All I remember about the first day of freshman year is that appointment, getting the clean results. Holy shit, don’t tell me I dropped that on you and left you hanging about whether or not I was fine?”

“When I saw you on Wednesday actually laughing and smiling with Chenle, I was hopeful. I didn’t want to ask you in case it wasn’t good, though, and you were just trying to distract yourself or something. So I caught up to Chenle after class a while later and asked him. After Dr. Son started the Phantasma Phour stuff. He didn’t tell me about your migraines, just said that the results were clean.”

“Ah, Channie… None of that was creepy.” You promised sweetly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“This is the creepy part…” He mumbled, gaze turning downwards. “Jeno saw me when I was talking to Chenle and invited me to the Nu Chi Halloween party that year, Chenle too. And Chenle brought you, and you got a migraine.”

“I didn’t realize you were there too. Did you see me screaming my head off?”

“No. I was trying to keep Jeno distracted.”

“Jeno?” You echoed, confused.

“Jeno said in the locker room…” Another yawn. He rubbed his eye. “He said he invited Chenle because he knew Chenle was going to bring you, and he wanted to sleep with you. But he didn’t think you would’ve come if he had invited you himself.”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully at this new revelation. “Huh…”

“I was keeping Jeno distracted with beer pong and stuff, but he finally slipped away, I guess at the same time you got your migraine. When he told me the next day that he was giving up on fucking you because you’d punched him in the face and he ‘knew better than to stick his dick in crazy,’ I thought you decked him for coming onto you and just admired you even more.”

“Not quite,” you laughed, remembering the bloody nose he’d nursed all night in the same room that you were nursing your migraine and Chenle sobered up. “But this story does add a whole new layer to my friendship with Jeno… Does Chenle know about this?”

“I don’t think so. Or Jeno would have gotten his nose broken again, right?”

“Probably.”

“Are you mad?”

“What would I be mad about? You having a crush on me? Our mutual friend wanting to fuck me one time three years ago?” You snorted, cupping his cheeks to get him to roll over and look at you again. “Baby, the only person I could possibly be upset with here is myself for not even giving you a second look in that class three years ago. Because then I could’ve had my Sungchannie this whole time.”

“Noooo…” He whined, shaking his head zealously. “I should’ve actually done something instead of just pining like a loserboy.”

“But you’re my loserboy now.”

His eyes widened. “You think I’m a loser?”

“Of course. My prettiest, cutest, sweetest, loveliest—” you punctuated each adjective with a kiss to his nose “—loserboy that I love so much.”

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” You smiled down at him. “Now, I think that’s plenty of tipsy confessions for one night. It’s time for you to sleep, my Sungchannie.”

As you started readjusting to lay down next to him on the mattress, he grabbed you and pulled you into his chest like a teddy bear.

“You didn’t want to, right?” His voice was right under your ear.

“What?”

“Sleep with Jeno?”

You lowered your voice conspiratorially, “I’m going to tell you a secret: I couldn’t tell any of the Nu Chi guys apart for the longest time. Didn’t even know Jeno’s name until I broke his nose. To me, they were all just gross frat guys who probably didn’t know how to wash their dicks.”

“Should’ve kept it that way,” he grumbled, holding you even tighter.

“Oh? You want me to unlearn all of our friends and acquaintances names?” You teased, wrapping one of your arms around him too.

“Can you?” He asked hopefully.

“Not quite how it works, I’m afraid,” you clicked your tongue. At his tipsy whines starting back up again, you hushed him once more, “Shh, it’s okay. I might know all their names, but none of them get to be baby boy.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He agreed, and you could hear the smug smile in his voice.

“You need anything else from your girl? Or will you finally let her sleep?”

“Kiss?”

“Of course.”

Tilting your head up, you pressed your lips to Sungchan’s. He hummed contentedly against your mouth, unhurried in his motions as he met your every move. You sleepily kissed him, entirely unaware of time, but finally pulling back when your lids were getting too heavy to properly open back up. Blindly giving one more kiss to the corner of his mouth—it felt more like the side of his bottom lip, honestly—you settled your head back on his chest.

“There you go, Channie.” You yawned, pushing your face further into him. “Goodnight… I love you.”

“Goodnight, baby,” he was mumbling too, presumably also on the brink of falling asleep. “Love… you…”

vi. whilst i make space for all the parts of me that i do not want, i let them be, as minds twist through the fractured expanse of our being

“Okay, thank you,” you forced a casual nod to your doctor as she entered in a few more things on her computer.

“The ladies up front will schedule everything when you check out,” she offered you a kind smile. “Do you have any more questions for me today, Y/N?”

“No, no, just uh… need to get everything scheduled, you know.”

“Alright, well it was good to see you as always,” she stood up, leading you towards the door of the exam room. “And I’ll see you again soon. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

You went through the motions of checking out and scheduling, adding the next appointments to your phone calendar with the receptionist at the front desk, then shuffled out to the parking lot. Your mind was still reeling as you got into the passenger seat of Sungchan’s car.

“Hey, how’d it go?” He turned in his seat to ask you. It was just one of your normal check-ups with your neurologist today, and with the hockey season over, Sungchan had the time to take you to and from the appointment, promising to take you out for dinner after. You didn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

Your gaze was locked on the dashboard in front of you. Your jaw clenched as you tried to battle back the tears that threatened to well up and just answer him.

“They’re getting worse again. Increase in- in frequency and severity,” you finally choked out. “My neuro wants to get a blood panel and brain MRI done again. She says we probably just need to adjust my meds again but—”

“A brain MRI?” Sungchan echoed in disbelief.

“Make sure there’s nothing in there that’s not supposed to be in there. It’s always clean, but every single time, the what if… it’s scary,” you admitted, your voice getting smaller as the tears finally came, spilling over onto your cheeks and down into your lap.

“Oh… oh baby,” his voice softened as he reached over to take your hand.

“And even if everything, all of that fucking shit is clean. It just means that my stupid fucking meds have stopped working and my stupid fucking body isn’t working like it’s supposed to and I have to do it all over again. Trying out more medications that’ll do God fucking knows what to me until we find the new perfect concoction that keeps me a semi-functioning person. God dammit!” You spat out, slamming your other hand down in a fist against the dash. “Ow, fuck, that hurt. God, fucking stupid…”

Sungchan grabbed both your hands with one of his, keeping them in your lap as he wiped at your tears with his free hand. “Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you blubbered. “That you got me and that I’m—”

“Stop it,” he cut you off sternly, with the harshest tone he’d ever taken with you. “Don’t you dare start apologizing for this. I wouldn’t let anybody else talk about you like that around me, and you’re not going to either.”

“God, yeah, okay,” you nodded and sniffled. “Thanks, Channie.”

“When is it? The MRI?”

“I-I have it in my calendar somewhere.”

“I’ll go with you,” he promised, cradling your chin in his palm to get you to look at him. “Whenever it is, I’ll go with you. And when you go get the results, okay? Car, waiting room, exam room, wherever you want me, alright? But you won’t be alone.”

You bit your bottom lip, squeezing his hand tight with both of yours. “I’d really like that. Thank you.”

He leaned across the center console to press a kiss to your forehead. “Anything for my girl.”

➠ next | series masterlist | blog masterlist

[boltwrites]

NEED to know what happens when logan meets your parents for the first time - does he flirt w/ your mom? What do they think about the age gap? Does your dad like him or is he all "nobody's good enough for my princess😤" do they know you're mutants? Giving you full creative freedom to do as you please just give it to me 😭😭

A/N: ok, so since you've given me creative freedom, we have: 20s-ish mutant fem!reader who teaches at the mansion on 10005, old man worst wolverine!logan, the two of you met after the events of dp3 and the relationship progressed from there.

also. this shit has been giving me so many problems. i was really trying to write typical white-picket fence, suburban sitcom-style parents, but honestly? i don't know dick about those type of parents. so you get these assholes instead.

this may actually be one of the worst things i've ever written. i might add a part two at some point, but really i just think this is horrible and want it out of my sight lmao. so here you go.

Your palms were sweaty, your heart racing, as you reached for the doorknob to your childhood home, Logan standing to your side. The last time you'd brought a boy home (and he had been a boy) things hadn't ended well.

Your dad was a traditionalist, you see, and your mom - well, she wasn't one to judge your choices, but you could tell that sometimes when you told her about your love interests, she was holding in laughter. But your dad - he was very vocal about the expectations he had for your partners. He'd never treated you like some kind of princess or prize - oh no. he was a man who saw his children as students of his own knowledge. No matter what your gender, he had taught you how to trim a tree, change a tire, wire a light switch, cook a filling meal - the basics of owning a home and keeping it put together.

Because of that, your parents hadn't often approved of your previous boyfriends. In high school, you'd been too frightened to bring them home. You'd only attended a traditional public school for your freshman year, and the rest of your time spent at Xavier's you'd been far too worried about your dates accidentally exposing themselves as mutants to justify introducing them to your parents. They weren't anti-mutant, per-say... but they certainly weren't supportive, and you didn't want to put even your prom date through that.

As you grew older (graduated college, was hired on as a teacher at the mansion instead of a simple student), you came to understand the reasons why your parents were so discerning as to your choice in men. Your mother's stoic judgment wasn't meant to be mean - she just wanted you to choose a man for more than just superficial attraction, to think of the bigger picture. Which, you'd been blissfully unaware of, as a teen. Your father's traditionalism wasn't rooted in outdated gender norms - it was simply connected to the fact that he wanted your partner to be able to support both you and your household in a significant way. That's why he was always harping on picking a "real man" - not some newfound conservative bullshit, but the simple understanding that sometimes men tried to do the bare minimum, and that he knew you deserved so much more.

And Logan, well. He could certainly support you. He was unlike any man you'd ever dated. He didn't have any social media you had to worry about - no feed or "for you" page filled with scantily clad women and sexist messaging disguised as finance advice - only a stupid flip phone he refused to text you on. He was helpful, attentive, affectionate - even despite the trauma you'd both experienced as mutants. You understood that his struggled has affected him far more than your had, that he still needed to heal - and even though that strained your relationship at times, you knew he cared, knew he tried - so you fought for it. That was something you couldn't say about your previous boyfriends.

Plus, you knew he could handle your weirdass parents.

"Nervous?" He'd asked you, when you asked him if he wanted to meet your parents. You'd given him a side-eyed look as you posed the concept, like you were giving him an out to decline.

"I mean, kind of?" You responded, hesitant. All he did was chuckle, smirking at you.

"What, am I gonna pull up to your dad cleaning his shotgun in the garage?"

"Honestly? Maybe, but that's not what I'm worried about," you admitted, fidgeting. "It's... it's hard to explain. I guess the closest thing is that they're - funny? Like - they'll make fun of you. My dad - he makes all of these horrible inappropriate jokes, like, all the time, and my mom is just really sarcastic, and she seems super judgmental because of it, but really, she's just being funny."

Logan just looked at you, one eyebrow raised. "

What?" You asked. You'd expected more from him. But he just snorted.

"Babe, I've been stuck in the void with Wade-fucking-Wilson. I'm not scared of your parents."

So, you took a breath, offered Logan one last "brace yourself-" and pushed open the door. Immediately you were met with the smell of something cooking - you recognized it immediately as one of your dad's signature dishes, sizzling on the stove.

"Hey, we're here!" You called out, you tried to usher Logan in and up the stairs of your split-level, but he insisted on closing the door behind you - and the shitty screen door that had been around since before you were born made a horrible shaking, scraping metal sound as it bounced along the concrete of your porch. Ah, the sound of home.

"Hey, you!" Your dad called, poking his head out of the kitchen. "What're you- hey, ho! Who's this?" He gestured to Logan with the spatula in his hand, and your face immediately reddened.

"Dad, this is Logan."

"Hey," Logan nodded in greeting, and your dad made a little shocked noise.

"Logan? Who's Logan?"

"Jesus Christ-" you huffed it under your breath, and Logan tried to stifle a chuckle. "He's my boyfriend, remember?"

"Boyfriend?" Your dad's voice pitched higher. "That motherfucker looks older than me!"

Well. There was your dad getting right to the point, as per usual.

"I am," Logan replied, and you fucking elbowed him in the ribs.

"No mutant shit - they don't know," you hissed a reminder, and he rolled his eyes.

"Hey - you see this guy, Nikki?" Your dad called to the dining room.

Your mom sighed - unlike your dad, she had some kind of decorum, and had the decency to shoot him daggers before she met you and Logan at the top of the steps.

"It's nice to meet you, Logan," she greeted him - you could tell that she was fighting the all consuming urge to shoot you a look or make a joke about this whole thing. She was trying so hard. It was like that scene in Who Framed Roger Rabbit with the shave and a haircut song.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked. "Since you're clearly old enough-"

It was like some demon forced her to spit out that line. You snorted, had to shake your head. This was a mistake.

"What do you have?" Logan asked instead, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, smirking at the whole situation. It was like he lived to see you embarrassed.

"Water, coke, iced tea -" she listed off.

"My dad's shitty beer," you added, and Logan's brow raised.

"Hey! Busch is good beer!"

"No the fuck it is not," you replied, because he didn't even drink the light stuff.

"I don't care, I'll take the beer," Logan cut in, and your dad wagged a finger at him.

"Yeah! I'll get you one - it's good shit, man. Somebody watch the stove."

Oh good lord. There he goes. Logan shot you a look - lip quirked into a little smile, before your dad clapped him on the shoulder and hauled him towards the stairs.

That just left you. And your mom.

She looked at you. You looked at her.

"Well?" you asked, stepping up to take your dad's place at the stove to watch the food. Your mom shrugged in response.

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to ask me about him - make some weird comment about his age? I mean - now would be the time," you hedged. You just hated this weird aura surrounding you all. How it felt like she had so many questions to ask, but was holding them all back.

"Obviously I can tell he's old," your mom replied. "It's not really a discussion. Is there something we do need to talk about?"

You knew what she meant. Were you safe with him? Were you happy? Did you bring him here to meet them because you needed help, not because you wanted to share your happiness with them?

Some people might find that sort of implication unthinkable, or rude to address - but you knew your mom. She watched a lot of true crime. She just cared about you.

"No," you replied, with a sigh. "I-I really like him. He's a good man. He actually - he knows how to be a man, if you know what I mean. How to take care of himself. I don't know - I didn't realize how important that was until I met him."

You mom nodded. Her arms were crossed, and she wore her typical resting bitch face, but you could tell she understood what you meant.

"Well. Hopefully your father doesn't shoot him."

[loveundrwrld]

rich yandere x con artist/scammer reader (gender neutral)

cw: blackmailing, unhealthy relationship (on both sides, lol), implied stalking, etc.

you, a young, attractive person struggling with finances, have a clever way of getting by. 

it was simple- you flirt and attract rich, lonely people. the dumber the better.

once you get your hooks into them, you move into their place as their significant other (letting you live in luxury apartments and mansions rent-free.) you ask for expensive gifts. you “borrow” small items from his house that you can sell, like watches or rings.

and, if they have not caught on to you at that point- you do your final trick- you cry and say you desperately need a lot of money, for one reason or the other. you say you need it for college tuition, or you say that your mother desperately needs surgery. 

and then, once you get the money you’re looking for- you find one way or another to disappear from their life. make them think that you run off with someone else so they won’t want you back. you use a new fake name, each time- so they wouldn’t even know where to look for you even if they did.

you set your eyes on a new target and you initially think that he’ll be an easy con. even more so than usual. you set your sights on rich yandere, a nepo baby heir to the fortune of a successful company.

he’s very sheltered, very inexperienced. it seems that he’s never dated anyone before you. it's no surprise, then, that he falls for each of your lies so easily without any questions.

all that you have to do in return is kiss him, tell him you love him, and let him hold you. very simple for someone who’s used to that sort of thing and more with people you barely know.

he moves in with you very quickly- letting you live with him in a big, beautiful mansion far faster than even you expected.

when you try tell him your planned out sob story, he just shushes you, kisses you sweetly, and gives you whatever you want when you ask. there’s no need to stress, baby, he’s there for you.

after a while you start getting cocky, forgetting to apply your typical level of caution. you ask for far more money than usual with your scheme. and far more often.

surprisingly, rich yandere never seems to care at all. and never seems to notice when your stories don’t add up together. 

actually, now that you think about it, he never even asked how you were doing in college even after he gave you all that money for “tuition” . . . 

after a while, you start to think . . . it’s only a matter of time before he catches on, right? and then, you start to subtly drop hints, to make your ‘mysterious’ disappearance in his life make sense. you start to mention a man you know and seeming just a little too interested in him.

you quickly see a new side to him. he stops you in your tracks one day and grabs you by the shoulders using your real name. “does he treat you as well as i do (reader)?” he asks. “remember how much money i gave you? he could never do that for you.”

frightened at being caught in your lies, you calm him down in the meanwhile and plan to escape the house at night to make your disappearance.

to your surprise, however, you notice that he's installed new security cameras right outside your shared room some time ago . . . almost like he was expecting this exact turn of events.

and if you try to escape again, well . . . he's quick to remind you. "no one else would like it if they heard what you did to me. if i tell them what you did, things could be very bad for you, baby, considering how much money you took . . .”

but, of course . . . if you don't leave him, nobody else has to know. so you won't leave him, right?

[coraniaid]

The scene where Willow confronts Faith is Choices is kind of fascinating to me, because ... well.

I like Choices quite a lot, and I think Willow's dislike of Faith is perfectly understandable and in character (and her speech has some fun but probably not intentional foreshadowing for later seasons), but it's hard not to notice that the narrative expects you to be rather more unambiguously on Willow's side than I think is really warranted.

I mean, Willow might not have been the most popular girl in high school, but she has multiple close friends, a nice boyfriend, a stable [and fairly comfortably middle-class] home life, she "represents the pinnacle of achievement in Sunnydale High" in the words of her school's principal, she's trusted enough to teach at the school, in a year she'll be able to go to any college she wants (and, unlike some people, she can afford to go anywhere she wants), she used to hack into government computer databases (before she ever met Buffy!) and now she's teaching herself dark magic "for fun" and she hasn't [yet] ever suffered any real repercussions for either of those things.

On the other hand, from what little we hear about Faith's past we know she grew up poor and that her mother used to get drunk and beat her, that she didn't have any friends and dropped out of high school young, she is very strongly implied on multiple occasions to have been the victim of some pretty horrific abuse before being called as a Slayer, and after being called as a Slayer she got to watch the one adult who ever told her she mattered get killed horribly in front of her before fleeing across the country to a town where she doesn't know anybody, still has no friends, doesn't have a job or go to school and lives alone in a motel in the bad part of town. And when she accidentally killed a man, while trying to do the whole slaying vampires thing she's supposed to be doing, the Watcher's Council -- who never actually bothered to send her a new Watcher of her own -- decided to have her abducted and dragged away to England [a fate which surely nobody deserves].

Yet a part of Willow clearly thinks (and almost outright says) "oh, well, yeah, but she hangs out with Buffy sometimes when I don't get to and she slept with the guy -- not my nice boyfriend! -- who I used to have a crush on (and who I was briefly cheating on said boyfriend with), so it's clearly impossible to say which of us really had things worse and I don't need to feel sorry for her". And -- again, while this is great characterisation for Willow -- it's kind of hard not to notice that the writers think she has a compelling point.

Yes, sure, Faith has defected to working for the Mayor and has a knife drawn on Willow this scene (she's not anything like a blameless victim at this point of the story) and it takes a certain level of physical bravery for Willow to stand up for herself despite that. But ... I mean, come on. "You had friends like Buffy" is only true if you accept it to mean "you had exactly one friend, who was Buffy". "It's way too late" for Faith to seek forgiveness ... how many people has Faith killed at this point? One, by mistake? Giles has killed more people than that. "Some people think you had a lot of bad breaks?" Yeah, actually in Faith's shoes I'd want to hit Willow after she said that too.

I realize that part of the show's central thesis -- something that explicitly came up as recently as Earshot -- is the idea that everybody, regardless of how comfortable their life might seem from the outside, has their own sorrow and pain and (only occasionally metaphorical) demons to fight. But while that's not entirely wrong, it's also ... not entirely complete? Everyone has it bad sometimes, but some people really do have it worse than others. Pretending otherwise is ... not a serious position to take.

Willow's life could be better, but she's not gone through anything like Faith has. I'd argue she literally can't imagine how bad Faith's life has been. She really doesn't have as much moral authority as the show's writers think she has at this point.

[Compare this part of Season 3 with the first half of Season 6, when the show is overflowing with sympathy for Willow's abrupt descent into magic addiction but has no sympathy at all for Amy Madison, whose own magic addiction is just implied to be because she's inherently a Bad Person who Willow needs to avoid and whose own horrific past and abusive mother and complete lack of support system is just entirely forgotten about. Or, indeed, to the weird take of Dead Man's Party, which has Buffy apologize to Willow for ... what? Having problems of her own that don't revolve around Willow? Being too busy mourning the loss of everything she ever cared about to tell Willow how uniquely special and amazing she was for learning rudimentary magic? Not being grateful enough for Willow restoring Angel's soul without bothering to ask Buffy if that was something she still wanted her to try?]

So, the overall effect is ... yeah, it's a good scene. But it's almost a good scene despite the writer's intentions, not because of them. It's much less of an ambiguously triumphant moment for WIllow than I believe we're meant to read it as.

[pirateprincessblog]

Read For Me 》 P. Seonghwa

NEW! Read the ongoing full version on Wattpad!

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔:

One

Two

Three (new!)

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: books, fanfictions, TV shows and games took your excitement about real life away. nothing has your heart beating fast, everything is pretty much the same and dull to you. nobody could pull you out of your void of fantasy for a long time. still, your best friend decides to try one last time. she does succeed, but not in the way she meant. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: psh x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.9k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: smut, angst, best friend's father seonghwa 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, nsfw scenes, unprotected sex 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: in my dilf atz phase.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

༻♡༺

Buried into your books and the void of the fantasy world, you had little to no excitement left in your body for the real life events. They lacked... something. Everything was awkward, miscalculated, weird and stiff. In books, the world was so fluid. Tension, passion, strong emotions like love and hate were on almost all pages. It filled your empty memories and fantasies just right. You now wished to drop out of college, buy a castle, run into a mysterious higher vampire and be the reason he exists as a good person now. Or maybe succeed in going through the wall and ending up on Platform 9¾, preferably face first into Cedric Diggory's chest.

Erotica isn't foreign to you either. They say the dirtiest ones are usually the virgins. And they weren't wrong. The amount of frustration trapped in you did you no good. You used to wonder how your male friends could do it so often, but once you got a taste of that side, you understood better than anyone. Countless nights of your fingers working on all your sensitive buds had you only wishing for more, even after release. It just wasn't enough. You hoped for a miracle every single time. You hoped that one of the men from your fantasies would appear in your room and satisfy you just how you wanted. Wouldn't it be just perfect if Henry Cavill appeared in the room? Preferably in his Witcher costume? If not him, then Lee Dong Wook would do equally good.

You drop your book on the bed. Your eyes skimmed over words, but you didn't pay attention to a single thing that was written. You decide to take a break from reading. Maybe you could even drink your first glass of water today. The sun was almost setting, yet you only had a bowl of cereal and half of a pizza slice. You glance at the clock. You despised it. It only reminded you of how fast time flies. You didn't even get to the steamy part of your fantasy, yet you already had to get dressed and wait for your friend in the driveway.

Your college best friend is back from her seasonal vacation in the Alps. Or was it Greece this time? It didn't even matter. It seemed like they only went to keep the tradition, not because they wanted to. She was probably richer than the whole college combined, yet she didn't know where to use all her fortune. So she settled for buying presents for her friends, which is why you now have a full wall covered with books and collectible figures and movie props.

Thirty minutes later, you are outside, your eyes searching for a black Mercedes with light up wheels and a suspicious looking driver. All three of their bodyguards were funny. They weren't as they described them in books. Her bodyguards were stiff, bland, and didn't say more than a greeting. You didn't exactly expect them to flirt with you any chance they get like you were used to on the pages, but the behaviour was still a disappointment for you.

Chills run up your spine as you watch the sun set. You regret picking out the outfit you are wearing. As if you weren't aware that the summer days are far behind. You wore the dress you got from her last trip to Paris. She had a great fashion sense and loved fashion in general, and to turn down her clothes meant a heartbreak for her.

"As soon as I saw it, I thought: her."

The way she described how she found it was amusing to you. It was knee-length and had long see-through sleeves. You felt the prettiest in it.

Finally, you heard the familiar engine. You didn't even have to look. The vehicle pulled up in front of you, and before the driver could get out, the door opened. A tall masculine figure stepped out of the car, and opened the door all the way for you. You feel chills run up your spine once again, this time not from the cold, but from the sight in front of you.

The man in front of you was absolutely stunning. He had the sparkliest and biggest eyes you had ever seen, broad shoulders, a confident smirk and-

"Dad, stop messing with her! She will think she is going to get kidnapped!" Your friend's voice yelled from inside the car.

You gulped, eyes still not leaving his face. In the three years of your friendship with her, you never saw her parents. Especially her father. Not even on photos. So, naturally, you'd need time to recover from this shock.

"Whenever you are ready."

The man politely bowed his head towards the seats, then stepped back so he could close the door after you. He sat in the front seat, then nodded towards the driver as a sign to turn on the engine.

The ride was peaceful, if you exclude your friend's nails clicking against the phone screen.

"I hear you like books." The words drip from his lips like honey.

You blush at simple eye contact through the rear mirror. His gaze has your fingers playing in your lap and your thighs pressed together.

He is so hot.

"I do, Mr Park."

"That's lovely. It's rare to find people in younger generations that enjoy reading. They mainly use it as a reason to bully someone."

"It truly is," you confirm, wanting to keep the conversation going. "You enjoy books too, Sir?"

Fathers of your other friends usually tell you to call them by their names. But not Park Seonghwa. He sure as fuck is not like other fathers you've met. You don't remember the last time your cheeks felt so hot because of someone.

"Of course. I have a whole library in my house. You are free to see it if you wish. My sweet social daughter will show you. Won't you, darling?"

His gaze switches to your friend, who is too invested in the ongoing conversation on her phone to pay attention to the one happening in real life.

"Sure, sure."

Park Seonghwa shook his head with a chuckle, then sat back in silence. You looked around you. The girl next to you was dressed beautifully as usual. It surprised you how she could make all those weird elements feel so ordinary and pretty. You, on the other hand, struggled to pair the jeans and a top. You barely figured out which shoes went with the dress. You felt underdressed. Her father wore a suit, and she had an elegant short blazer which matched her trousers, paired up with heels and a matching purse. You had a phone in your hand and a tote bag with your pajamas for the night. And a jacket to keep you warm. It didn't go with the outfit you had poorly put together at all. You wanted to run back home and wear something more fitting for the house you'll be staying in for a day or two.

You were in it once. You felt ridiculously small inside it. The ceilings were so high, dazzling chandeliers hanging from them. The windows were tall and in a minimalistic style. You only wondered how much time it took to clean them. They had all sorts of things you thought were unnecessary. Like a pool. The beach was just fifteen minutes away, the pool was there just to show off. So many bedrooms also had you confused. Since Spring, only two people live there now; your friend and her father. The mother filed for a divorce as she found love in a tourist from Poland. Poor Mr Park.

"Let's go," your friend finally put the phone away.

It took you a few moments to take in all the differences that were made. The portrait of a woman and a child above the fireplace was now gone and replaced with one of the man you just met and a young lady in which you found a sister 3 years ago.

"Anyone want my famous fig cheese prosciutto bites?" The man held a silver plate full of the said bites in front of the girls.

"No, dad, disgusting. Fruit and meat?"

"Growing up this spoiled one would think your taste in food would get better. Chicken nuggets don't really pass as an appetiser meal."

You watch with amusement as the two exchange a few funny grimaces, before your friend makes her way towards her room. "You eat some of that, since I know damn well you didn't eat shit today."

"I so did."

"You're so lying, bitch."

You laugh, ready to throw the word right back at her, when you feel Mr Park's gaze on you.

"Cuss her out all you want. It is none of my business."

"No, no. It's not quite appropriate for someone to talk like that."

In front of you, you add in your mind.

He hums, then smiles at you. "Bite?"

"I'd love to."

It takes only an eyebrow raise from him to let you know that you could've worded it better.

"I mean, I'd love one."

You take one from the plate, then admire it. Were you supposed to shove the whole thing in your mouth? Maybe pull it apart and eat it in rows? Bite into it?

"I don't usually try to poison my daughter's friends, doll. Just enjoy it. If we don't eat these tonight, they will go bad and I'll have to throw them away."

The little nickname slip had your toes wiggling in your shoes. He is so effortlessly breathtaking. Seeing that you're still struggling with the food, he takes one bite in his hand. He removes the toothpick holding the ingredients together, then steps towards you.

Every thought you had in your mind until then disappeared. Park Seonghwa gently cupped your lower jaw, and you relax into his touch. You look straight into his eyes as he puts the food between your lips. When you fail to move on your own, he smirks with amusement. Two fingers gently push the food into your mouth, resting on your tongue for a split second.

"Can you chew that for me?"

You feel your core throb. You feel fragile and weak under his touch. Most of all, you feel horny for your friend's dad. You remember to blink, then start chewing on the delicious food. He does not avert his eyes as you do so. Once you made sure to chew enough times, you finally swallow. A satisfied smile decorated his face as his thumb caressed your cheek, hand still cupping your jaw.

"Good girl."

You think you see stars. Park Seonghwa has an impact nobody ever had on you. And lots of them tried. Park Seonghwa didn't even need to try. He just - existed.

The man lets go of your face, then silently makes his way towards his room. At least you assume it is his room. He walked away so calmly, almost making you think you imagined what had just happened. Your face suddenly feels empty and cold without his touch. He had you in a chokehold with a simple touch and a smile.

You almost forget about your best friend waiting in her room. You hope your blushing won't betray you. After all, she must be tired of people wanting to fuck her dad.

Your conversations and jokes don't stop until after midnight. By now, you've had a stand-up show, a few episodes of your favorite TV show, a few funny clips of your favorite artists, and a fashion show. You are exhausted, almost ready for bed. Almost. You still need to get the frustration out somehow. The younger girl is more than ready for bed. The moment her head touched the pillow, she was out of this world. You laugh at her smeared makeup, then reach for the box of wet wipes. You gently clean her face, then try to do her usual routine. You don't remember it, but you try your best.

You make your way to her tall mirror, ready to clean your face too. If your best friend didn't study and work with fashion, she would surely be a makeup artist. It's a pity that you have to wipe down the art she created. Your hands fall down, and your eyes skim over your outfit and hair. She made you wear the brand new lingerie she got for her birthday as a joke. It was funny when they were in her hands, but you'll never forget the gasp that came out of her when you stepped out of the big wardrobe.

"Wanna scissor?"

You'd be up to try it, just not with her. Not while you have her dad on your mind. Perhaps- perhaps you could suddenly get thirsty and go to the kitchen dressed like that? The lingerie was now hidden under a short silver silk dress she wore for her ex boyfriend's birthday party. It looked plain and stupid, but the young girl had the power to turn it into something jaw dropping. Paired with silver heels and dazzling makeup, you looked ready for, well, someone to destroy it.

You open the door, then slowly step in the hallway. The girl explained that Mr Park's room is at the end of the hallway, but you cannot just walk in and expect something to happen. Maybe he simply liked teasing. Maybe he never responds to all those calls for pleasure. He is surely aware of what an impact he has on people, and maybe he finds it amusing. You still have a shot to see for yourself.

You drink a glass of water. Then another one. He isn't here. He must be asleep already. He is a hard working man after all. All this didn't come into his life easily. God, good looking and hard-working? He must be the whole package. Who in their right mind would leave a man like this? Perhaps she couldn't keep up with his sex drive. You hope.

You set the glass aside, and examine the kitchen again. Many drinks decorated the shelves, along with luxurious looking glasses and other glass decorations. You could only dream of having a home like this. You could probably afford a single spoon from the bottom drawer. You just couldn't wait to meet your soul mate and force your brilliant ideas on them. After all, you have a gift for that. Decorating, I mean. Not the forcing part.

You feel less sleepy now that you've drank so much water. You wander around the living room for a while, hoping he would come down at any moment. Yet it still doesn't happen. Your feet carry you to the door near the staircase. You slowly open it, then look around. With your luck, he will come down now that you are snooping around his home. He better stay asleep now.

You step inside, debating whether to turn on the lights. Fuck it, you think. Your hand finds the light switch on the cold wall. You squint at the sudden brightness. It takes a while for your eyes to get used to it, but when they do, all you can do is gasp.

The walls were covered with antique bookshelves, each filled with books from top to bottom. They were divided in sections, and they had the most beautiful covers and spines you've ever seen. You step inside, closing the door behind. The room was endless rows of fantasy, sci-fi, romance, poetry, educational books, and-

Erotica.

Fuck, lots of erotica. A whole wall, maybe even two, dedicated to the sinful delight. You didn't even need to check if you're right. You'd recognise some of those spines even in darkness. A single desk is placed in the middle of the room, along with a comfortable looking chair. Pens and notebooks are neatly placed in the top corner, and a book rests at the edge. A suit jacket, most probably Mr Park's, is placed over the backrest. The room was organised, clean, and smelled like sandalwood mixed with jasmine. It was pleasant enough to just stand there. Yet the curiosity got the best (or worst) of you, as it always did.

The smell of books takes over your senses. You feel the worn out spines and edges under your fingertips. He has them all: from the very first romance novels with the very first sex scenes to steamy books who had sex written all over them. You weren't sure which ones you liked more. You only knew that you'd settle for anything just to get a little taste.

Your gaze falls on the book which laid on the desk. His most recent read, perhaps? It still had a bookmark, you notice. You sit on the chair, and almost sink into it from the softness. You close your eyes, inhaling all the scents you can. You sense a hint of bourbon. Even his scent makes your lower stomach burn with unreleased sensation.

You take the book into your hands, then turn it over. The summary made your curiosity even worse, and you could forget about sleep for at least two more hours. You lean back, put your feet on the desk, and happily start with the book. It has a plot, of course, but currently? You couldn't give a single fuck about it. But you aren't one to skip pages just to get to a certain point in the story. So you force yourself to read through the little boring descriptions. In the corner of your eye, you spot a box of tissues peeking out of the bottom drawers. You see no other chairs around here. It means that nobody enters the room.

A man and a box of tissues mean only one thing.

You sigh at the picture that forms in your head. You see Mr Park sitting on the chair. He is wearing his suit vest, a book in his hand and legs spread comfortably. His other hand is wrapped around his cock, which you know is thick. Your eyes have dropped down there once or twice. He is lazily stroking himself, his attention still fully on the book. There is just something so fucking hot about watching a man satisfy himself.

You feel your throat go dry. You open your eyes, ready to put the book away and try to go to sleep. Yet the plot has just started to get steamy. You sit back once again, the book in your hand not getting any rest tonight. Your eyes skim over the hot descriptions, each making you more flustered. The thought of Park Seonghwa reading this is driving you crazy.

Nicholas has waited for this moment for months, yet it felt like years to him. He would use every second of it, and he will be the best she ever had.

He worshipped her all night long, explored her body with his tongue, whispered sweet nothings into her ear, and grabbed at anything he could. He devoured her, his wet muscle tirelessly working on her sensitive bud. Her cries of pleasure had him cumming in his own pants, yet he didn't care. He existed for her, and her only.

Was it too much to ask for a simple eating out? You wonder how it feels. You had one, a long time ago. Along with a messy first time. God, the second time might've been ever messier. None of it was enjoyable. You too wanted to be manhandled. You too wanted to be worshipped. You wanted someone to tirelessly eat you out until you cream. And scream.

You groan. Continuing will do you no good, but going to sleep is impossible. You could rub out a quick one and then try to rest. Wouldn't be your first time. You feel yourself dripping through your panties. All these descriptions have your head spinning. You reach for the box of tissues. The last thing you needed was to leave evidence that you snooped around. If you're going to leave one, it better not be an arousal stain on the chair.

You pull the drawer so you can take the box out easier. If your jaw could drop to the floor, it probably would. Deeper in the drawer laid a purple gadget. You knew very well what it was. You were never brave enough to get one for yourself. Your parents liked to snoop a lot, and just now you realise where you got it from. He didn't use it on anyone, did he? Your friend did not mention any women near Mr Park. Besides, it feels good for men too.

You carefully take out the wand. It looks brand new, the see through film still wrapped around the head. It could help you out. You'd be finished even quicker. Nobody will ever know. You cannot afford it anymore anyway, so wasting an opportunity like this seems like a shame to you.

You put each leg over the armrests, then lay back comfortably. You press a button. The buzzing sound has your stomach filled with excitement. You resume the reading, the wand dangerously close to your crotch. You didn't remove the film, nor will you remove the panties. If someone barges in, you can throw it in the drawer and act stupid.

You bring the buzzing device closer, and closer, until it finally touches your burning clit. A gasp leaves your lips, the first vibrations giving you the satisfaction you needed. You try to focus on the words, yet the toy feels so good against you that you choose to drop the book and enjoy. You throw your head back, sighs and hums leaving your mouth as you work the toy on your clit. Your mind is clouded with thoughts of a single man. He is so close, yet so far. The scent from his vest is helping you get a clearer picture. He is skillfully working his fingers on you, filling you up just right and licking your juices off his hand so sinfully.

You groan. The vibrations are strong against you, and you don't think you can take it. You are not used to it. Fingers will have to do. You blindly search for the button. When you fail to find it, you open your eyes.

"Fuck-"

The rest of the words come out muffled. A hand is placed over your lips, and another one is covering yours on the wand. You shamelessly stare into the eyes of the man you want to fuck so bad. Judging by his gaze, you think he shares the idea. Without a single word, he presses the toy back into your clit. You sigh into his hand, head falling back and your back arching. You try to close your eyes, but a slap to your inner thigh makes you jump.

"Look at me."

You do as you are told. He does not avert his gaze, not even when you beg him to stop. You are feeling overstimulated, even though you did not orgasm.

"Found yourself a book to read?" He asks, eyes falling on it.

You nod. Now you know why the scent was stronger in the room. How long was he there?

"Come here."

He removes his hand from your face. You are taken aback by his demands. It is turning you on even more. With a single swipe, he drops all the pens and notebooks from the desk on the floor.

"You like wearing cute little dresses and parading around the house?"

"I wasn't-"

"I didn't say I didn't enjoy it." He licks his lips. His hands cup your waist, and you feel your body rise up. He places you on the desk, then rests his hands on your knees. In the most erotic way ever, he looks deep into your eyes, then gently spreads your legs. You want to melt into his arms right there. Mr Park steps between your thighs, hands resting on your cheeks.

"You look so innocent. So pretty for me to ruin."

You say nothing. Instead, you get closer to him. You wish to feel his lips. You wish to feel his tongue in many places.

"But you are far from innocent, aren't you? Probably the biggest slut I've ever met."

"Sir-"

"I don't fuck my daughter's friends, you know."

He places a hand on your chest, gently pushing you to lay down on the desk. He climbs on it with one knee, hand still caressing your cheek.

"Didn't promise anything about best friends though."

His lips hover above yours for a while. He is making it painful for you. He is making you beg. And you are ready to go down on your knees for him.

"I want to fucking ruin you, doll. I want to do all the things you've read about." He whispers into your mouth. His tongue peeks out to lick his lips, accidentally touching yours too. "I want to pound into you as you read your favorite book and struggle to focus. I want to tear you apart right on this desk."

You moan at his words. You swear you could cum from his dirty talk only.

"Will you let me get a taste of you?"

You nod eagerly. He chuckles, then presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. He is looking into your eyes in a way that has you rubbing your thighs together so you can get some friction.

"I need to hear you, love."

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"I'll let you get a taste of me," you repeat. It didn't sound as hot as when he said it. It didn't matter anyway.

Time passed so slow. You had an orgasm to chase, yet Park Seonghwa wouldn't move a single finger.

"Will you let me smear that pretty makeup of yours?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Will you let me stuff you with my cock like a good girl?"

"Y-yes, Sir," you breathe out. The formality is only adding up to the mood. First names are outdone anyway.

"And will you do as I say?"

"Yes," you nod, "yes I will. Anything."

"Anything?" He asks, his eyebrow raised.

"Anything, Sir."

Just when you think he is going to press his lips against yours, he reaches for something behind you. He holds the book in front of you, signaling you to take it.

"Read for me."

Read? It's erotica, not a bedtime story. Yet how can you say no when he asked you so nicely. You clear your throat, then continue where you left off.

"Nicholas held her thighs down to keep her from squirming. His tongue lapped at her clit without stopping. She begged, and begged for - oh!"

The buzzing device is spreading sensation on your clit. You look over the book, and find Mr Park focusing on the space between your legs. He is lazily dragging the wand across your crotch, occasionally pressing into the sensitive bud.

"Keep going," he ordered.

"S-she begged, and begged for more. She had cummed twice on his tongue already. Yet he didn't have enough. He wanted to watch her shake in his arms, beg ‐ ah, ‐ beg for him to stop. Nicholas then inserts his fingers into her, the tips searching for the sweet spot which - f‐fuck - had her groaning with pleasure."

The speed is increased, and your thighs are shaking. You think you're close already.

"I don't think I can handle it much longer." You say.

"I didn't ask."

With that, he increases the speed, this time dragging the toy more forcefully on your crotch. You could spill over the edge at any moment. You want to orgasm with his fingers, not a stupid toy.

"The books isn't going to read itself."

"She held onto his hair for dear life. The pressure was building up at the bottom, and- ah, fuck ‐ and, and-"

"And?"

"I'm going to cum," you cry out.

"I don't remember that being in that scene yet."

"Please-"

"Read."

Your eyes fall back on the words. You just want to lay down and enjoy. Why does he enjoy teasing so much? It's not as fun as it looks or sounds.

"‐and she could feel herself cumming all over his face once again."

You lower the book, just enough so you can look at him. He is focused on his movements. His long, slender fingers are gently pressing your thigh against the wooden surface, while his other hand is working the toy on you. The vibrations change speed and strength, and that's what's keeping you from finishing right in front of him. His tongue wets his lips again, and his lips stay open. He lets out shallow breaths as he watches you clench around nothing.

"Look at you, shamelessly dripping on my work desk." He says, his voice low and raspy. He looks into your eyes, right before he lifts the toy.

He does not break eye contact with you. He climbs on the desk again, spreading your legs with his own and resting his hand on your exposed lower stomach. His hand is hot against your skin. You are ready to give yourself to him in any way.

"You like the book so far?"

"Yes, Sir."

He drags his hand up your stomach, lifting your dress along the way. He takes his sweet time, doing nothing but giving you goosebumps and making your breathing harder. The dress is now scrunched above your breasts, your friend's brand new lingerie completely exposed to his big pupils. It was an ugly colour, but somehow, Mr Park seemed astonished by the view.

"Ah, fuck."

You feel your bra being yanked down, and right after that a warm wet muscle circling over your tense nipples. A gasp leaves your mouth. Then another, and another, with each lick he generously gives you. He squeezes your breasts, massages them, works his tongue on them like it's the most delicious meal in the world. You swear you could orgasm just from this.

Mr Park allows himself to get a bit vocal. He hums around your nipples, gently sucking at them and squeezing the soft flesh around them. He enjoys your squirming under him. He enjoys your moans and gasps. He enjoys your fingers pulling his hair. Most of all, he enjoys how you lift your thighs up and try to meet his crotch, in hopes of getting more relief down there.

He lifts his head from your sensitive breasts, and gets closer to your face. His breathing is heavy against your mouth, and you can almost feel his heart thumping against your chest.

"Tell me, what is your favorite scene from the book?"

"What?" You ask, confused as to why he is insisting on reading and talking about the book.

"You heard me," he speaks into your mouth. He is so close, yet he doesn't dare touch your lips. It's making you extremely frustrating. You wanted to taste the lips that spoke sinful words. You want all of him.

"Well, I kinda liked the first time he fingered her."

"Did you now?" He acts interested. His eyebrow is raised with amusement because of your utter confusion.

"Yeah, I mean, it was hot as fuck. Him fingering her right there in the corner of the club? I swear I'd — oh."

His finger dips inside of you with ease. Your walls swallow it, clench around it, and feel warm against it. Mr Park is lets out a groan. Still, he continues, still looking into your eyes. "What exactly did he do?"

"He made out with her. And fingered her."

"That's all?"

His finger is not moving. It sits there comfortably, enjoying the warmth of your pussy. He licks his lips for the third time that night. He is fighting every urge inside him to just slam his cock into you and ruin you on the table. He wants to enjoy everything you want to give him.

"H-he—" your eyes roll back as he gently presses his finger upwards, "he uses one finger first, to get her used to it. He fingers her slow, and- and‐"

The man slowly pulls out, then equally slowly goes back in. He repeats the motion, and each time it seems slower to you. It is more intense, but you don't think you have the patience.

"He inserts another finger, to stretch her out. He speeds up a bit, and asks her- ah, fuck, asks her if it feels good."

Mr Park leans into your ear. "Does it feel good?"

"Oh, fuck yes."

You feel another finger stretching you our, then another. He watches as his fingers disappear between your tight walls, preparing you so well for him. He speeds up his pace. The sounds of his palm slamming against your pelvis along with your cunt making wet noises is making you arch your back from the table. You shamelessly moan into his mouth, hands grabbing at his shoulders, hair, face, anything.

You are pulled away from the world of ecstasy. You find yourself sitting up straight, your wrists caught in his hand. You are ready to whine about being so close, yet he stops you by pulling you off the desk. The dress falls down your body, covering it once again. The man pulls you off the table, and in a split second, he has you slammed against the bookshelves. You are ready to complain, but he stops you by slamming his palms against the shelves near your head. He looks at you, as if asking if you still want it. You respond by getting closer to him, testing the waters. He doesn't pull away. Instead, he captures your lips with his, hungrily sucking on them and biting them. His tongue is gentle against yours, giving it light strokes and circles. Your fingers find themselves tangled into his hair, then down his neck, shoulders, until they finally rest on his chest. He stops your hands from unbuttoning his snow white shirt. He pulls away too quickly for your liking.

You stare with surprise as he drops down on his knees. Fuck, you love the way he looks at you from down there. His fingers graze the skin of your thighs, then gently lift up the dress.

"Hold that for me." He orders in a whisper. You quickly obey, grabbing the material and holding it above your lower stomach. "Then what happened?"

"The guy took her outside, behind the club. He made her stand against the wall, much like me now. And then—"

You now realise what he is doing. He is recreating the scenes you have just read. He is fulfilling your fantasy. He is doing just what you always wanted, and he doesn't even know it. A sudden boost of confidence enters your body. You could drop a few lines that weren't in the book. He wouldn't notice now, would je?

"He ate her out."

"Did he?" He asks, voice dripping with horny thoughts said out loud. "And just how did he do that?"

"He licked every inch of her skin, explored every curve and bump, and sucked on a specific spot."

The man smirks, then pokes his tongue out. You finally get a chance to see exactly how long it is. He licks a warm stripe over your folds and clit. Your knees are wobbly, and you wish you could've stayed sat down. His hands are gripping you thighs, buttocks, and the back of your knees. He is fully focused into absolutely ravishing you.

He mercilessly licks your clit, each swipe making you more sensitive. He works it up and down, then in circles, then flattens the wet muscle so that he can take in all of you. He makes lewd noises, almost slurping at your arousal and folds.

"So heavenly," he groans. He hums as he speeds up his tongue against your clit.

Short moans leave your mouth, and you find yourself gripping your nipples over the shiny fabric. You pull and squeeze his hair between your finger, and you think you'll choke him with your thighs. He doesn't complain once.

"I'm close—" you whimper, white dots already appearing in front of your eyes.

It was as if you said "stop". He stands up, hand resting on your jaw. He lifts your head to look at him. His lips are glistening with your arousal, and you think it's the hottest thing ever. He dips his thumb and index finger into your cheeks, making you hollow them and open your mouth. He leans in, and just when you think he is about to kiss you, two fingers find themselves resting on your tongue. He proceeds to push them back, right at the end of your tongue. You tear up, but don't gag. He is very distracting with his stare.

You close your lips around his fingers, tongue circling around them and wetting them. He takes them out, puts them in his own mouth. He steps back for a bit, and you carefully follow his every movement. He rips the fabric of his shirt, and buttons drop down on the floor. The sight has you dripping down your legs. You don't get a chance to say much, he pushes you against the desk, this time with you facing the surface. You feel the wet digits spread your folds. You then feel a wet trail rolling down your pussy.

Did he—? Did he spit directly on your pussy?

You hear the belt unbuckling, then fabric shuffling. Something hot touches your other cheeks, gently caressing them and leaving a trail of precum. His hand reaches near you, taking the book and opening it where you marked it. It then cups your neck, gently pressing the sides of it just enough to make you dizzy.

"Read for me, doll."

"But-"

He leans down, feeling a bit annoyed at all your protests. "Read for me so I can stuff you with my cock in peace."

You have no other choice but to continue. You feel him circling your folds, but not touching you where you need it.

"Nicholas couldn't believe how long it had been since he last felt her. He pounded into her like there was no tomorrow. His hips forcefully connected with hers— ah!"

You feel him stretch you out. The sweet burning sensation is back, this time actually pleasant. He fills you to the end, hands tightly holding onto your waist and neck. He pulls out, just to slam back into you, much like Nicholas.

"He watched her tits bounce with every hip thrust he m-made, a sight for sore eyes. He fondled her nipples, listened to her moans and watched her face twist wit-th pleasure—"

His hands move your body towards him, making him reach spots that have you gripping the edge of the desk.

"Please let me enjoy this, Mr Park. Oh please, let me."

He pulls your hair, making your back arch and your head fall back. He looks at you from above, hips still working their pace.

"You're saying you're not", thrust, "enjoying this?"

"No, I just—"

"I spoiled you," thrust, "in such a," thrust, "short," thrust, "time."

He proceeds to thrust a few times faster, then slows down. He fucks you nice and gentle, occasionally letting out a grunt or a hiss. He goes deep, making you roll your eyes.

"Look at me," he pulls your hair more.

You whimper, the pleasant pain spreading over your body.

"Look at your pretty makeup running down your cheeks."

He wasn't lying when he said he is going to ruin you. He turns your body over with ease, and you wonder just how strong this man is. Mr Park lifts your legs on his shoulders, the position giving him more access to all the sweet spots. He slams into them with no mercy, abuses every weak spot you have, and fills your mouth with his fingers to keep you quiet. They don't help much, since you are equally loud even when he tries to make you gag.

"Want me to fill you up like a stuffed toy?"

"Please," you manage to beg.

Your eyes roll back from pleasure, and you are feeling like you're floating. You are so close, and if he cums inside you, you will cum right then. Mr Park is now moaning. His hands are gripping your waist, slamming your weaker body into his hips. Sweat is decorating his exposed body, and his hair is sticking up everywhere. Watching him focus on chasing his high is something you'll always remember with love. He is progressively getting sloppier and louder, and you just can't wait to see him cum.

You are squeezing and milking him so well, he could go all night long with you. He lets out a prolonged moan as he spills into you, hips still working in and out. You follow after, the feeling of warm seed touching the right places.

"Fuck—" you moan, moving your hips and riding out your high.

The man drops on top of you, cock still deep inside.

You notice the windows are foggy, and the smell of sex is more than present in the room. You don't want to move. You want more. It just isn't enough.

"Ah fuck, I could go for a second round." He admits.

"I can handle it."

"But I can't so please go to sleep or go fuck outside."

Shit.

[verysmolnerd]

Dating post NWH Otto

Been wanting to do a hc collection of Otto related stuff if you’ve seen my previous headcanons. But they’re really not HCs as they are more story oriented. :p

First of all, dating him appeared to be off the table. In his mind at a least… Even thought he was no longer seen as an enemy of the public, there is so much suspicion that he’s still evil. Like all reformed criminals are.

Not to mention that since he’s a supervillain, he doesn’t get privacy from the daily bugle. Not to mention finding a job that’s willing to hire him. The robotic arms welded to his back and his criminal record is enough evidence of what his previous experiments did to him.

He can only work for Oscorp which also has a reputation of cranking out scientific orientated supervillains. He’s making a living, but the judgement of others becomes more prominent.

It’s hard to tell at some point. Which is harder? Reforming and reconvening into society or fighting off the actuators and Spider-Man at the same time.

He’s pitied by the public eye or alienated entirely. Nobody takes him seriously, even if he’s never killed a person, nor attempted to. He only wanted to finish his work under the influence of his own work.

Then along came you with a company merger when Oscorp was bought by a larger company.

You never interacted with him, you were in a different department and were far too busy to talk to any of the newer Oscorp employees, which includes a lot of the supervillains.

It’s not like you wanted to talk to them. They’re still people, not zoo animals like your colleagues assume they are. So the best way of showing respect in your eyes is to give them the space they needed. If they want to talk to you, then they’d find you.

However, neither of you expected to meet outside of work.

Of all places you’d meet…. a public library. Informal, tired, and bags under your eyes. It’s almost like a college love story, while one partner sacrifices their grades in order to help another graduate with honors.

He was holding a book by Neil deGrasse Tyson and you were holding a three pines book. (Honestly, you though he was Armand with the level of exhaustion you had)

You just stared at each other, Otto even dropped his book. He apologized and then you commented on the book.

So now you’re both sitting in a lounge talking about the type of books you had. Which buds into conversation.

There’s almost a relief in his eyes that you were holding a normal conversation, as if he’s a normal person. He felt seen and purely human only for a moment.

So it’s natural for him to gravitate to you. AKA you see him near your office during work. Whether he needed something, he’d get it from your side of the building just to see you.

You’ve caught him gazing at you from your door window. For a man with four additional arms and eyes, he seemed pretty blind sighted by you and would walk into a water cooler.

So he also starts messaging you via faxes or other mundane office supplies. You’re shocked that he’s using them to lure you into his clutches.

One fax you got was just his phone number. Like that’s anything subtle. Smooth one, Otto. There was also one just asking you out for dinner… you faxed him back.

“Ask me in person and then we’ll talk.” He read aloud. The fact that you’re going to play his silly games is promising on his end. The last person he’s done that to was.. well.. it’s best not to bring up the past… for now.

So when you have him ducking under your door to get in your office with a paper rose (that he folded himself) he’s nervous, and the actuators are giving that away very well. Other than that, he’s very good at hiding emotions.

And now you find yourself sitting across from him at a nice restaurant.

Now that the professionalism line has completely evaporated, you both open up. Otto seems to loosen quite a bit the longer you two were talking.

You ended up closing down the place, and the wait staff were kind enough to remind you that they need to leave.

Then, he ended up spending the night with you. Not wanting to part with you. And you are you to deny that. He intrigues you as you do him.

Then one thing led to another and now you both are sitting on the couch, sharing a bottle of wine.

He trusts you with information that no other human being could have ever known.

Of course he tells you about Rosie. He hesitated at first, but you were quick to reassure him that he could. It was therapeutic almost. To hear about the previous light in his life.

“Oh, you’d love her. She thinks outside of the box. And she always had riddles to tell, never the same ones. She was so smart.”

He’s more vulnerable around you! He trusts you with his life, even though he’s probably protect you more than you can him.

That being, you both move into an apartment and now you’re with him almost every waking moment.

His actuators do a lot of work for him that he doesn’t like doing. The menial tasks that are just awful to him.

He carries you to rooftops to get a view of New York or any other surprise date he’d come up with.

The actuators wrap around you to show his subconscious form of admiration. Sometimes the actuator claws would clamp on your body as a form of kisses or long hugs.

He loves to cook. He knows recipes and often makes the same dinners that Rosie would make him.

You know that woman is happy to see that he’s moved on, the shadows of his past are able to be forgiven.

You also pet his actuators and sometimes use them as an extension to his hands, so you hold hands with his actuators.

He also uses the arms to pick you up for a proper kiss. He’s super affectionate if you haven’t picked that up already.

He loves to read books to you. Sitting on his lap, snuggled up against him as he reads TS Eliot.

You wear his glasses sometimes, you have no idea how he can see. He’s blind pretty much.

He’s wearing his heart on his sleeve around you, and he loves with all his being.

Treat him nicely, he’s already lost someone before and he’ll go to wits end to make sure that doesn’t happen again.

[cu7ie]

big bro satoru ! ୨୧ — see: virgin killer, cherry popper — mdni!

( ˶ᵔᴗᵔ˶ ) — cw. perv!gojo, alcohol consumption (you're both drunk-ish). reader's a virgin. just some casual headcanons. pornography viewing! voyeuristic reader (sorta.) drabble at the end. vagina having reader.

imagine hanging around with your friend and they offhandedly mention they have an older brother. they don't talk about family much but he sounds just as cool as he actually is when you finally meet him.

you're out of highschool and you still don't have much experience with relationships. your friend on the other hand has had tons, and sometimes they're giving you lengthy talks about their past relationships or inadequate sex life and you just smile and nod through it luv. 

on the inside you're burning up! they tell you the raunchiest shit with no filter or padding, your virgin baby brain has grown ten sizes bigger with knowledge you honestly have no business knowing. 

leaves you all hot and bothered, grappling with these new feelings - maybe a desire to try it out for yourself? you shake your head. as of now, it’s not like you have many prospects.

you’re a stranger in college. nobody knows your name, and your bestie is only your bestie because they practically forced themselves into your socially inept arms.

so you put a pin in it, for the time being.

gojo only comes into the picture because your friend invited you to hang out with them both, and gojo didn't mind you in his house, so boom:

you guys are chatting. and siblings being siblings they have inside jokes and banter you can only laugh at!! then you're trying to contribute, but the conversation just takes the strangest turn .

your friend starts talking about their ain't shit ass boyfriend (again, they always do this) and gojo is a supportive sibling, so they take turns tearing the dude to shreds.

you can only quietly wonder why she’s still dating the guy, anyway.

you guys are passing drinks around at this point, and your friend , verrry tipsy, starts getting a little … provocative with the complaints. slurring their words, they look you in your eyes and just starts rambling.

"shrimp dick," , "can't fuck worth a damn", "shit head-giving ass"

gojo's mostly overhearing, but responds to everything she says. he’s just like: “can't relate. that’s soooo crazy. could never be me tho!” 

irritated by his interruption, more than a little drunk, they start to bicker.

friend: "nobody cares about your dick satoru!"

gojo: "hey hey maybe your friend does!!!  … been side-eyeing me all night."

!!!! the way your head snaps to look at him !!!!

because you did, but you didn't think he'd notice!

and plus it's not like that ?!! he's just very handsome man ,,

he is very pretty .....

but he really made you nervous !! you're all hot in the face and it's not cause of the alcohol and your friend is making a face at you now, a little dramatic disappointment curving their lip and it's just like,

bff: ew?? right in front of me????

you'd hide in your drink if you could.

you: uh n-no i wasn'- it’s not like that!

they don’t believe you, just roll their eyes and say:

bff: i know you don't get any but like??  calm down lol there's more fish in the sea, get out of your little pond, babes.

and you're embarrassed and can't come up with anything witty in response so you just lower your head and sip your drink while they just fall back into banter.

you guys end up watching a movie. 

your friend drank too much and ended up falling asleep! you're a little tired but gojo's wide awake and maybe he's drunker than you thought because he's slurring a lil.

gojo: heyyyy, pst

he slides a little closer to you, beer bottle in hand. wraps his arm around your shoulder and the contact jolts you out of any sleep you could have been having.

you: wah?

gojo: i said -

you: i heard you ... what did u want ??

he leans into your ear and whispers in it.

"i got a movie for you. way better than this shit they put on .. check it"

and you expect him to pick up the remote but he just fishes out his phone and pulls up a video from his gallery , and it looks blurry at first, but the camera comes into focus and,

your breath hitches.

it's a video taken of gojo, nose deep in some pussy. 

the video is taken by someone else clearly, his head in between their thighs just slurping up on that clit - it's so slick and wet and squishy and the audio isn't down so you are a few feet away from your friend on the couch , who's knocked

and you're just watching this, wide eyed and clutching onto this pillow for emotional support and gojo's hand on your shoulder feels heavier

you: hhhh satoru-san, i don't think i should be seeing this ... isn't it a little private ?

little is an understatement

gojo: well i don't mind showing if you don't mind watching ; )

you: ....okay

you whisper as you sink further into the chair.

he's showing you multiple videos.

there one where it's not his face - it's a girl's, about your age maybe - but he makes sure to point out that it is, in fact, his penis going into her mouth. it's so big she's tearing up. what you think is mascara follows tracks on her cheeks and you gasp at how sloppy the ordeal is. you wonder how she's even breathing.

then there's another one, where he's bouncing them on his cock so good they're crying, 

"deeper, deeper! harder - fuck!"

and that’s when you put your hand up to the phone and your cheeks are so hot they're numb. you feel like a voyeur !!! and you don't know if you enjoy it or are just shocked but something's getting to you !

gojo just points to the video , looks at you and says

"i think you'd look good in these kinds of movies. i think you're real pretty ..... n' well.... i'd fuck you."

and he giggles and pats your head and you're gaping like ???!!!!!????? satoru-san why are you speaking to me like that! 

you: "satoru - san. i .. i think you're handsome too but i don't ... i'm not ... "

gojo pulls your body closer to his, you're touching his torso with yours and

gojo: i really like the way you say my name. it's... kinda turning me on 

and you don't pull away when he grabs your hands and one onto his crotch, wraps your fingers around him until you’re cupping his balls and your thumb is grazing his clothed cock.

he's so annoying actually 😭

like satoru is cute !! you've told him as much several times !!

but your hand slowly traveling up hard cock is too too too much!

you: satoru-san! i've never umm.. really done something like this before ? please. we shouldn't, n-not here anyway.

gojo: we head up to my room ?

you: satoru-san ..... that's not what i meant..

but he's already picking you up easily and carrying you down the hall despite the little squeak of protest you offer!

he mentions something about being glad to "pop your cherry"

gojo: she's always on and on about how you've never had a boyfriend,,, ssssweird but that probably means you've never been fucked either right ???

you sputter and flush, satoru’s grin nearly reaching his ears as you tremble but don’t struggle in his grasp.

you: that's none of your business!! seriously what is -

he pushes his door open and you're cut off by him tossing you onto his bed, fumbling with his lamp until he remembers how to turn it on. 

your back hits his mattress and you sink into it immediately. satoru’s room is cool, but the situation at hand ensures that his decor is the last thing you’re interested in. the warm orange lamp light fades out the jewel tones of the night’s shadow, though gojo’s silhouette cuts into the brightness and for a moment his presence takes your breath away.

you feel like a mouse caught in cat’s teeth. “i know about your type.” the way he curves his words makes your ears perk up, your elbows propping your body up as you retort, “and what could you possibly know ‘bout m-me….?” your voice trails off as satoru clambers into bed beside you, overtaken by impossibly soft sheets, stare directed right at you.

“you wanna fuck. i know that look from a mile off. lucky for you, i can help you get off." he whispers in your ear, and you feel your pussy clench down on absolutely nothing. his hand brushes against your thigh and you quiver.

"hnn." you make a noise of indecision, the arousal pooling in your panties feels sticky and irritating, and satoru - the tease - stills his hand on your leg, and feels along your tummy instead.

"oooh."

"you like that baby?" he's disarmingly charming, coaxing you out of slumber into your grand sexual awakening.  "um.. i.." satoru pauses.

he mutters. "go on… use your words, precious." 

your resolve escapes you at satoru's teasing. he's already so experienced - his .. aptitude makes you confident that he'd treat you well, there's no reason why you shouldn't …

just be a little selfish.

"c-can we kiss?" gojo laughs a little softer than you're used to.

"what's so funny? i just want to-" satoru flips you onto him, gripping your hips and adjusting you so you comfortably lay atop his. 

"s'not funny, really. you're just as cute as i thought you'd be, though. wet pussy and all and you still just 'wanna kiss'." his second laugh is heartier, but not loud.

"watchu waiting for then?" he grins cheekily and you body grows frustrated. it's too hot in here.

 your hands are curled onto his chest, your head close enough to his that you can smell the alcohol on your breath - he could probably smell it on you, too - but you don't care.

he's hard beneath you. you feel his cock pressing into your ass and he uses his big hand to squish you against him. 

your cheeks burn.  "kiss me-"

your lips press to him with a fervent need. your inexperience is cute to him, so he lets you take the lead. you have spirit, the ambition of a slut - but no skill. you squeak and moan a little nervously as he deepens the kiss, his hands cupping your ass gently as he starts to play with it. he palms the fat in his hands and nips your lower lip before you pull back to catch your breath.

your body is hidden under your clothes and it makes gojo suck his teeth, trying to ascertain with his hands instead, those curves and planes of your body, starting at your hips and moving up. a whine gets caught in your throat as his hand creeps beneath your shirt and you realize just how cold he is.

"satoru!" you jolt, feel your nipples grow diamond tough in response.

"hush hush. they're still asleep, n' as far as they know, you were coming onto meee…" you look down at him, pupils blown and mouth parted and lips slick.

"you're a pervert, satoru-san. i-i'd tell them as much." satoru laughs louder and you can't be convinced he's not doing it on purpose, now.  your positions shift again.

you yelp as he flips you over suddenly once more, your back hitting a velvet duvet and your head gracing the soft, cool top of his pillow, your breathing more labored that it had been before. 

he whispers. "let me eat you out." he's already weaseled his way between your thighs, looking at your shorts like the idea of them offends him. "these shorts make ya ass look fat. but skirts are easier access. you ever wanna have a quickie again, take notes." he's already peeling them from your thighs, infernal heat pouring off you in waves. your panties follow in short order.

"oh wow." satoru's excitement renews unbidden, getting up close and personal with the pretty petals between your thighs and licking his lips like it's his last meal on earth.

you feel your nerves prickle. an uncertainty that pervades your chest cavity makes an uncomfortable heat rise. you can feel his every breath. your pussy throbs like it's your heart and for a moment, your unsettled. "hey!"

you clasp your hands over your mouth and satoru's eyes slowly drift up. "s-sorry. didn't mean to-"

"yell? 's fine. you still want me to keep going?" 

he looks unreal like this.

his hair sticks to his forehead a bit, swear dewing on his temple as he shudders and huffs, basking in this smell of you. is it sweet? his lip curls in hunger, and you know every instinct in him is primed to eat.

your hands find themselves tangled in his hair. you fold your fingers between the strands, flipping it up and out of his face. "yessss. please. i need this." you beg, and he gives in without ceremony.

the sensation is tantalizing. he curls his tongue in between your folds, gathering your slick on the tip of it. he groans, spreads your thighs wider so he can bury his whole face in your box.

first, it makes your spine twitch and your toes curl - the feeling so intense that your body wants to rip you away from it. your back arches; his lips wrap around your clit and you whine as he starts suckling on you. the sound of wet lips on wet pussy is obscene.

he slurps loudly, eagerly, not even paying mind to how quickly you've fallen apart in his arms. 

any mess he makes, he cleans up with his tongue. he laves the muscle over your precious pussy, teasing you with how deep he can go into the fold. 

you never noticed his tongue was so long. 

you're soaked. there's something coming - and you,

yelp just then, feeling the barest sensation of teeth against your cunt. "s-satoru!" (he chuckles into your muff and the sensation makes you groan.)

 even distracted, you can feel it. just stronger now. a coiled snake in the depths of you, beautiful and aching and eager to be free.

you've masturbated before - er, tried it. you're just a little awkward on your own, and it's never felt anywhere near this. incomparable in every sense of the word.

you didn't even realize you closed your eyes until you hear gojo say, "you squirt?"

the whole of your face burns. "i.." you're searching for breath you didn't notice you lost.

you shake your head. "i dunno-" 

"well, let's see." his hand leaves your thigh, and the pad of his thumb presses onto your clit molasses slow. the way he pushes and tugs at the nub nearly makes you cum on the spot.

your moan is broken and cracks, and you're too far gone to be embarrassed to ask for more. "you … are we going to h-have-" sex, is what you were going to say, but satoru interrupts, tearing his eyes away from your slick cunny.

"just say fuck. 'are you gonna fuck me'?" he mimics the lilt of your voice faithfully. "say it." he goads, urges you even, massaging your cute clit with his thumb. 

"a-are… are you gonna fuck me?" you mewl, and gojo's ministrations ease up. you don't know if you want to cry out in relief or desperation. your whole body feels like its throbbing. you need this so, so bad…

a mischievous glint in satoru's eye appears, sudden. you bite your lip.

"say my name." you don't hesitate.

"satoru-saaaan." gojo's breath catches. then he laughs at you. a question settles on your tongue - what's so funny - but you're shuddering and don't have a mouth to speak.

great thing that Satoru's observant.

"you're tryna be here all night, clearly." 

[berzahoes]

you and me | izzy stradlin

summary: no matter what axl told him, izzy could never stop loving you.

an: it’s about time i wrote something for my man izzy <3 not an exact timeline of how things actually went but hey, that’s fanfiction for ya!

warnings: axl rose that should always be a warning

the moment izzy saw you, he swore he was in love. at the time, you were both in high school. he had long hair and beat up shoes that were years old. on the other hand, you were the nicest clothes and shoes while your hair was perfectly cut and brushed. he noticed that you always wore a locket, maybe a family member had given it to you as a present.

you were known as the nicest girl in school. nobody had anything bad to say about you until a certain lead singer saw how in love his friend was with you.

“she’s a prude. why waste your time on her?”

izzy would immediately defend you. “you don’t know her. stop saying shit if you don’t know her.”

it was after your high school graduation that you and izzy began to talk. your family had thrown you a party. as you were helping your mom bring in decorations from her car, izzy just so happened to walk by since your houses were close to each other. you noticed him and waved for him to come over. he couldn’t believe that the most popular girl from high school was about to talk to him.

“hi, jeffrey.” you said in your sweet voice that izzy loved.

“you know my name?” he asked.

“well, yeah. we went to the same elementary school. remember mrs. smith? she wore those big glasses?” you said.

“i remember now and i remember you doing a project about the ocean and you said your favorite animal was a betta fish and some kid made fun of you for liking a fish.” he realized how much information he remembered. was it normal to remember all that? he probably looked like a creep—

“it still is. it’s a pretty fish.”

izzy only nodded.

“do you want to come over later? i’m having a graduation party and i would love for you to come.”

“yeah, thanks. maybe i’ll drop by. i’ve been busy with my band.”

“you’re in a band? that’s cool! what kind of music do you play?”

izzy wished he didn’t even the band, but at the same time, he wanted to share what he loved with you. “it’s just a . . band. you know, rock, we play that.”

“cool, maybe i can come see you guys perform?” you questioned.

“if you don’t mind sitting on a old couch in a garage.” he joked.

“every band starts somewhere, jeff.”

“izzy, i go by izzy.” he was nervous about what you thought about his name. did you like it? did you hate it so much that it made you not want to talk to him ever again?

“well, izzy, i still mean what i said.”

during the party, you introduced izzy to your parents. izzy thought it was a bad idea since most parents took one look at him and instantly thought he looked like trouble. but your parents weren’t that type.

“mom, dad, this is izzy. we went to the same elementary school. he graduated too.” you said as izzy shook hands with your parents.

“nice to meet you, izzy. congratulations on your graduation. any plans for your future?” your mom immediately asked.

“honey, the boy just got out of school. the last thing he wants to do is think about college,” your dad said. “our daughter says she wants to travel for a bit before she goes to college. we told her that as long as she has the money and she’s with someone we trust, she can travel as much as she can.”

then you whisper something into izzy’s ear that had both of your parents wondering. when you finished, izzy chuckled and nodded.

“he let me say this, izzy is actually in a band.” you blurted out.

“a band? that’s great. you know, i was almost in a band once. . .” your dad spoke.

and that was your cue to take izzy someplace else so you ended up in your old treehouse that your dad built. the party was still going on as you and izzy layed on the wooden floor.

“do you want to go to college?” izzy asked.

you sighed. both your parents went to college so they expected you to go as well. but all of you wanted to do was travel. you were born and raised in lafayette, the only time you went out of state was for your cousin’s wedding in georgia that you didn’t remember because you were five years old.

“I don’t know. you know how our teachers always say you have to go to college to get a good job and good money? i don’t think that. i want to go anywhere, everywhere. i don’t need a math degree or read shakespeare,” you explained. “i want to go to los angeles, i want to experience it so bad.”

“then let’s go.” izzy said casually.

“what?” you turned to him.

“let’s go to los angeles, you and me.” he repeated.

“but what about your band?” you asked.

“we were never going to make it out of the garage anyways. maybe los angeles has something for me.”

so after a few weeks, it was decided. you and izzy were going to the city of angels. when you told your parents, they were hesitant, but you reminded them of your dad’s words. they helped you pack and even gave you extra money so you wouldn’t worry.

back at izzy’s house, axl was trying to talk him out of leaving, especially with ‘the prude’ as he nicknamed you. but izzy wasn’t listening to him. he continued packing as axl listed all the reasons why it was a bad idea.

“she’s not going to survive the streets of los angeles, izzy. look at her! she’s going to break and then she’ll come back crying to mommy and daddy.” axl stated.

“she won’t because she’ll have me.” izzy replied.

“then you’re both dead.”

soon, you and izzy were on your way to los angeles. your parents had payed for your plane tickets. when the plane touched down in lax, you smiled at the feeling of being out of indiana.

“you ready?” izzy asked, grabbing your hand.

you nodded. “ready.”

1982

you and izzy now called los angeles your home. it took months of working and saving up money, but you and izzy found a nice small house in a good neighborhood. your parents often called to make sure you were okay. you would sometimes find izzy on the phone with your dad.

when you and izzy arrived to the city of angels, you immediately started looking for a job. a record store owner hired you since the store had just opened and the way only had two employees. it was definitely a dream job for you.

it was a spring break when izzy’s friend, axl, decided to join you and permanently move to los angeles.

“you’re still here?” axl asked you when he saw you walk through the door of your house. he was sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table. he definitely took the phrase ‘make yourself at home’ too literally.

“yes, axl, i’m still here. this is my home.” you clarified as you walked towards your and izzy’s shared room. you dropped your purse on the floor then threw yourself on the bed. you were exhausted from work and all you wanted to do was sleep, but of course when axl rose is in your house, sleep is not an option.

“hey, you hungry?” you heard izzy ask from the doorway.

you could smell mac and cheese. “not right now, izzy. my feet hurt, i have a headache and i have the opening shift tomorrow.” you groaned.

“you have to eat something.” izzy encouraged.

“she doesn’t want to eat, let her starve i guess.” axl took the pot of mac and cheese from izzy’s hands so he could eat it.

“what is he still doing here?” you had enough and got up from your bed.

“don’t even start with me, bitch!” you heard axl yell as izzy closed the door to your bedroom.

“i’ll make him leave. he’s only here because we were rehearsing. we got a few gigs coming up. i promise he’ll be gone soon.” izzy assured you.

“he just gets in my nerves.” you sighed.

“i know. but he’ll be gone soon and you and i can continue where we left off this morning.” he started kissing you. then axl happened.

“you guys fucking in there?” he pounded his fists on the door.

“i’m going to fucking kill him.”

[lazycats-stuff]

Ok it’s like 2:30am rn and I’m supposed to be doing a poster that’s due later but I saw the notification that your open again and I had to drop everything and run🙈

Can I request a Ra’s Al Ghul with oldest son reader who turns out to be like quite moral grey? Like the only reason he isn’t some assassin or super villain is bc he loves his family but is legitimately terrifying to the point Ra’s is scared of betraying him more than Alfred or his family.

I hope this makes sense, just some silly moment between Ra’s and reader when readers like “I’ve killed 275 people am nobody knows😆😘”

Okay, don't drop school for me, school is important. But this is just perfect. Ra's is like, who am I dating? Who am I courting?

Summary: (Y/N) is not like his family.

Warnings: (Y/N) has killed, Ra's is confused, (Y/N) loves Ra's and vice versa.

Ra's has been happy ever since he has start courting, but he still wonders how he managed to get him. To land him, as the slang goes. He knows him very well and they know each other for a long time. (Y/N) is the oldest son in the family, he came before Dick even.

Ra's only started dating him when (Y/N) graduated from college. He never expected to catch feelings for (Y/N) and it was weird when he started making sure he is okay and what he is doing.

Ra's never wanted to date. After the death of his wife before even starting the League, he promised himself that he wouldn't love anymore. If he had a wife, then it was to have heirs, but he outlived them all.

And then (Y/N) came.

There was something different about (Y/N). Ra's watched him grow from a child to a grown man and he turned into a, in Ra's eyes, beautiful man with a strong character and mind too. That was rare now a days and Ra's wanted nothing more than to love him and court him.

There was only one problem. His family who was fiercely protective of him and it was just difficult to even show them that he didn't have any ill intentions. To this day, Bruce and Jason were still suspicious of him. Alfred never trusted him to begin with and Damian was ready to fight him at the moment's notice.

So the road wasn't easy, but they have decided to accept the fact that (Y/N) is with Ra's and try to be civil. Really try to be civil. Bruce is trying. Jason and Damian are trying for (Y/N). Not for Ra's.

But there was just something darker about (Y/N) that Ra's liked and what attracted him to the young man. He is different than Bruce and the others. Before being adopted by Bruce, he was put through hell and back and that caused him to be rather... Morally grey.

It made his character strong and he had a certain degree of... Well, lets just say that he was terrifying to people. Sometimes, he was more brutal than Batman. The hell he went through he went as a child made him numb to certain things and brutal in some aspects.

Ra's wondered if he has ever crossed the line and killed. Of course, he didn't say anything about that because Damian and Alfred would have his head if he tried to explore that opportunity.

But Ra's thought about (Y/N) if he was ever a villain, what type he would be? Ra's could think about. He could see how he could be brutal and he could even rule the underworld. His brutality, his intelligence...

But (Y/N) was too loyal to his father and family to even consider being a villain. Alfred and Bruce are just to blame for (Y/N) not becoming a villain. Did Ra's really want him to be a villain? God no.

He could probably be worse than the League of Light combined and that was a scary thought. Even big Ra's al Ghul was scared of betraying (Y/N). He loved (Y/N), he really did and he would never ever betray his lover, his beloved.

And if something were to happen and Ra's betrayed (Y/N), although Ra's wouldn't, (Y/N) would burn down the League. Ra's was certain of it. But there was a side of (Y/N) that Ra's didn't know just yet.

Even now as the two laid together in bed, just ready to go to bed, Ra's decided to ask (Y/N) the question that was on his mind.

" (Y/N), what would you do if I ever betrayed you? " Ra's asked, hugging (Y/N) from behind, murmuring the words into (Y/N)'s hair. (Y/N) always enjoyed Ra's proximity.

" Ra's, I have killed over 200 people that not even Bruce knows about. I would think about it before doing it. "

Ra's thought that (Y/N) was joking and laughed, but (Y/N) turned around in his arms and looked him dead in the eyes.

" Ra's, I'm not kidding. " (Y/N) said and Ra's searched for any sort of sign that (Y/N) was joking.

There was none.

" What? "

" That's all you need to know. " (Y/N) said as he turned his back to Ra's, moving his hands to its original position. Ra's looked at the back of (Y/N)'s neck and paled.

What?

Sure, he thought about (Y/N) crossing the line, but he didn't think that (Y/N) has actually done it. Now he had to think about who the hell he was courting and he had planned to propose in the near future, but he had to see what the hell has happened.

200+ people is not a small amount and there had to be something where he could search about it. It shouldn't be so difficult to find the event that (Y/N) was talking about. It really shouldn't be.

Right?

None the less, Ra's loved (Y/N) and he will propose, but only when he looks more into it. How the hell did he miss this side? The side that crossed the line that Bruce outright refused to cross, (Y/N) has crossed without any hesitation?

Ra's blinked a few times. No. He will look into it and tomorrow morning, over breakfast, he will ask him to give him more details about the... Could it be labeled as a massacre? Ra's left that thought and closed his eyes, falling asleep next to his beloved.

Breakfast came that morning and the two ate in silence, just enjoying the food and coffee. (Y/N) had to have his coffee and his caffeine, otherwise he wouldn't function at all. Ra's thought about breaking the topic. How to do it?

Well, just asking will do the trick. No beating around the bush.

" (Y/N), " Ra's started as he took a sip of his coffee, glancing at his beloved who was eating. (Y/N) paused and Ra's knew that he had to do it now. " Did you tell me the truth last night? About those 200 people? "

(Y/N) blinked a few times and then he put the mug down.

" If it's something sensitive, you don't have to talk about it. But it would help me understand. I have never seen a side of you that has crossed the line. " Ra's said and (Y/N) smiled reaching his for Ra's hands. Ra's extended his hand to (Y/N) and the two interlocked their hands.

" It's not sensitive, don't worry. I was on my own mission while doing my own case. Bruce was aware of the case and the mission too. What he didn't know is what has happened on that mission. All of those people were evil and vile people. " (Y/N) said, stopping for a second to ear some more. He did love Arabic breakfast after all.

" Now, nobody would miss them. And at that moment, it was me or them. Of course, I didn't kill 200 people at once. It was over a 3 day period. And I would like to say, me or them. " (Y/N) said and Ra's has decided not to pry anymore.

(Y/N) has just told him the truth and that was all that mattered.

" I have to say, that eases me a little bit. You have scared a bit last night when you told me that, so serious too. " Ra's said, chuckling quietly, squeezing (Y/N)'s hand once more.

" Sorry about it. But you can't tell Bruce at all. " (Y/N) said and Ra's said of course. It's not really life threatening so Bruce doesn't have to know anything about it.

" Of course I won't. " Ra's said and (Y/N) removed his own hand from his and showed him his pinky finger.

" Pinky promise Ra's? " (Y/N) said and Ra's smiled, indulging (Y/N).

" Pinky promise. " Ra's said as he leaned closer to (Y/N)'s face, giving him a kiss. (Y/N) smiled into the kiss and has moved to sit in Ra's lap.

" I wish I could spend the day with you beloved, but I have work to do." Ra's said after breaking the kiss, caressing (Y/N)'s cheek.

" I have work to do too. We will meet for lunch? " (Y/N) asked and Ra's nodded, giving him one last kiss and (Y/N) hopped off of Ra's lap.

" Later Ra's. "

" Later beloved. "

[deconstructthesoup]

Thinking about a Nerdy Prudes Must Die swap AU

Steph---the mayor's kid who was put under a lot of academic pressure growing up, resulting in her getting lumped in with the nerds despite her struggling in school. She has to try twice as hard as everyone else, which gets seen as her being a buzzkill who does nothing but study, which makes teachers expect more from her... and, yeah, she's infinitely stressed. So stressed and burnt out, in fact, that when a pop quiz gets thrown at her out of nowhere, she finally breaks and asks to cheat off of...

Pete---one of the few popular kids who's popular not because he can play football or soccer or whatever, but because he's genuinely nice. He's taken Ted's advice just enough so he can seem cool without actively being a sleazeball, and he's even managed to be class president. Of course, he's still got a lot of nerdy interests he keeps under the rug, and he's also a lot smarter than he passes himself off as---so he never in a million years would've suspected that the mayor's cute nerdy daughter would want his help on a test, but he's prepared. Until, of course, they get caught by...

Max---the pastor's son who's well known throughout the school to be a judgmental and self-righteous asshole, holding himself and others to ridiculously high standards. He's still an untouchable menace, but instead of it being because he's a football star, it's because every single teacher and authority figure is swayed by his Good Christian Boy attitude, despite the fact that he has a C average (hey, you don't need to worry about grades if you're just going to take over running the church when you grow up). By all accounts, he's pretty much perfect---except for the fact that he has a secret thing for...

Grace---the head cheerleader who still grew up in a very Christian family, but she's embraced her crazy and has successfully talked her parents into letting her do more stereotypical high school stuff like, well, cheerleading ("it looks good on my college transcript, and it's a way for me to get steady exercise and keep myself in shape") and the occasional party ("it's just a fun thing between friends, and if any of them do anything reckless, I want to be there to help"). In reality, of course, she's the most unhinged popular girl in the history of ever, and nobody fucks with her because she's the type of girl who will bite you if you give her shit.

Brenda and Kyle are Steph's fellow struggling nerdy friends---Brenda got lumped in with the nerds because she's in the fandom zone, despite the fact that her head's usually in the clouds and she can barely pass classes, and Kyle's the awkward theater guy who's a total romantic but can't even properly talk to people he likes. By contrast, Richie and Ruth are Pete's friends, and while they aren't exactly cool, everyone knows Richie as the weirdly funny school mascot, and Ruth is Pete's incredibly cocky vice president. So, social clout.

And, uh... yeah

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

#23: “The Miraculous Ladybug Movie May Give You What You Want, but My Show Gives You What You Actually Need! You Don’t Work in Television, so You Wouldn’t Understand.”

I've been running this blog for almost three years at this point, and I've seen Astruc talk trash about various things while claiming his show is better, like Winx Club, Paw Patrol, Pokemon, and Pixar as a whole. I never thought I'd see Astruc act like his show was better than a movie based on his show though.

For those who don't know (and you'd be forgiven, seeing how Astruc has barely talked about it on his Twitter), there was recently a movie that hit theaters based on Miraculous Ladybug called Ladybug & Cat Noir: The Movie. Supposedly, it's meant to be a retelling of how Marinette and Adrien met as civilians and as heroes. While I haven't seen it, it seems to be getting good reception, with some saying it's better than the show it's based on.

Of course, Astruc had something to say about this.

Okay, I sort of get what he's trying to say here. It's hard to compare the experience of watching an hour and a half long movie and a TV show with five seasons under its belt, but at the same time, the way Astruc phrased it still made it seem like he was trying to say the show was the better option because it “gives you what you need”. Nobody was expecting the Love Square to be resolved in a few episodes. Most people at least wanted more stories about the two to be told that don't involve constant padding. Astruc also acts like the Love Square is the only draw for the series instead of, oh, I don't know, the superhero action? You're really telling me they couldn't have tried focusing more on that after resolving the Love Square? I'm just saying, if The Office can continue after Jim and Pam got together, you can at least try to actually write other stories after the Love Square becomes canon.

One user in particular had some things to say in response to Astruc's claims, and you can guess how well Astruc took that.

Again, nobody is saying that working in television is all sunshine and rainbows, Astruc, but just because someone isn't familiar with dealing with network constraints and test audiences, it doesn't mean that they're unable to provide any meaningful criticism.

Also, Astruc is once again using a psychology term, in this case, the Dunning-Kruger Effect, to act like he's smarter than the critics. This man took psychology as an elective in college, didn't he?

But then again, this is coming from someone who doesn't think constructive criticism is a real thing.

Funny how he once again acts like anything that isn't positive feedback of his show is delusional, isn't it?

Eventually, this devolved into Astruc posting a little tangent about how fandoms have only gotten more toxic, which would have been a decent point... it if didn't come after all the things he said about fans not being able to criticize his show.

Again, there's nothing wrong with what he's trying to say here, but it feels less like a critique of how fans have become more toxic with the advent of the internet, and more like he's complaining about how mean people have been to him lately.

And, of course, this led to the usual fare of people calling out Astruc for his close mindedness, and Astruc once again saying how people aren't allowed to criticize his show in any way that isn't blind praise.

And here's the thing. We're still not done yet. This little tangent only warranted more comments about how Astruc handles criticism, only this time, it's also about calling out the people who think they can do a better job handling the show.

First, do you mind giving us an example of what kind of constraints you have to deal with, Astruc? We all know that TV executives suck, but I think we'd have more of a reason to understand your struggles if you actually explained some things that needed to be changed because of executive meddling.

Second, nobody wants a beach episode, Astruc, especially after that one issue of the comic you're choosing to ignore. We just want a more consistent story that doesn't rely on endlessly padding out the Love Square.

And finally, did you just say you have to be French if you want to rewrite Miraculous Ladybug? What does being French have to do with any of this? I remember seeing a little tweet a few years ago suggesting you would be a good choice to write a Superman story, but last time I checked, you aren't American.

Let's review in case you got lost. Someone tweeted that they thought the Miraculous Ladybug movie did a better job at the story it set out to tell than the Miraculous Ladybug TV show, Astruc tried to explain how his show is still good in its own way while justifying how long it's been going on for, he ranted and raved at fans for daring to criticize his team's writing before going on a tangent about how the internet has made people more hostile over the years, and when people still weren't happy with him, he claimed that you could only criticize or rewrite the show if you're an experienced French TV writer like him.

So just keep that in mind, fanfic writers. Unless you're French and have experience writing for television, you don't have a chance in hell to successfully write your own version of Miraculous Ladybug.